“And this knob amplifies the water crystal in the hilt.”
“Adding elemental energy to the blade?” Enrik’s jaw drops.
“That’s right. You’ve got an eye for machinery, lad.”
Ivan and Enrik walk ahead, examining the broadsword and discussing the intricacies of Galantan metalwork.
“What do you make of them?” Clara leans over and whispers.
“Hm? Oh, they seem fine. Glad Enrik is making a friend.”
“No, the creatures!” Clara points into the distance.
Ivy hovers, slowly rotating in a circle, scanning the forest with her enormous eye.
Crag pokes his snout high, sniffing for anything abnormal.
“They’re useful, that’s for sure.” I fold my arms. “I should get some pets. Imagine it…creatures working a farm! What’d that be like?”
“Easy now, farmer. Maybe try planting more radishes first.” She giggles.
Slender sunbeams shine overhead, filtering through the forest canopy. They cast dappled shadows onto the rocky, overgrown path. With each step, the forest seems to grow denser and darker. Pines rise high, fronds long and prickly. Down lower, thorny bushes showcase blood-red flowers.
The leaves rustle. Twigs snap.
Ivy’s eye narrows—a sentinel on high alert.
[Current Location: Rainsong Woods - Central Woodlands. Danger Level: Medium.]
Ivan’s necklace pulses around my neck. Its words beam into my mind.
“H-hey!” I call out. “Fall back. We’re in fae territory now.”
Ivan and Enrik nod, moving in while our group tightens. We move as a single unit, following the path up a steep slope. Climbing higher and higher, we push into the mountains surrounding the village. The overhead sunbeams fade while we gasp and pant.
Well, except for Clara. She’s a machine.
“C’mon! Hurry up!” She trudges onward, Crag scampering at her side. Ivy lands on her shoulder.
Huh. Animals seem to like her.
It’s hard to tell how long we’ve trekked, but the forest gradually opens into a round clearing. An orange sunset glows overhead, casting fiery light onto the ancient pines. A bizarre, wild structure rests at the clearing’s far end. Trees seem to have fused and warped, trunks twisting together at odd angles. The wood blends to form a tiny hut camouflaged with the forest. There isn’t a single window—only a narrow door bolted into the surface.
“Woah! This is awesome!” Enrik jogs ahead. “Look at that! A door into a tree!”
“Careful now, lad. Treasure hunters must tread lightly. There’s no telling where danger—”
*knock* *knock* *knock*
Enrik bangs his fists against the door. Clara flashes me an uneasy look.
Tension grows, but nobody moves. Nobody comes to answer.
Instead, the doorknob jiggles and turns. The door swings open as if carried by the wind, its hinges howling. There’s light inside—the faint glimmer of a fire.
We stand frozen while a bitter, herby scent wafts out.
“Well? Just going to stand there? The soup is getting cold.” A woman’s voice echoes.
We exchange glances before creeping inside, little Enrik leading the way.
A thick canopy of dried herbs hangs from the ceiling, pumping earthy forest perfume. The cabin interior is a single large room cluttered with stacks of books. Shelves line the walls, supporting jars with exotic specimens—toads, spiders, and eyeballs that spin and focus. At the center of it all, a cauldron bubbles over a pile of heating crystals.
“Hmm, hmm, hmm…” A young woman stands beside the brew, stirring with a long wooden spoon.
Tall and elegant, curly red hair cascades down her back like the grand waterfall outside town. The locks match her crimson lips and pointed nails. A witch’s hat and a black gown hug her frame, accentuating her full, curved figure.
“Oh, Willem.” She looks up, sharp eyes meeting mine.
“H-h-hi, Ayla.” I look away. My cheeks burn hot.
“What a lovely little party! Adventurers visiting my cottage!” She scans the group. “I know Lady Clara, but who have we here? A little blacksmith? A vagabond from…northern Galanta?”
“Hm, you’re good.” Ivan folds his arms, impressed with her power of discernment. “But not good enough. It’s southern Galanta—the highlands.”
“Aaah, my mistake.” She grins. “And who are these lovely cherubs?”
She extends an arm, allowing Ivy to perch on her sleeve.
“Yeeeeee!” Ivy delivers a positively horrifying smile, baring pointy teeth.
But Ayla simply tickles under the creature’s chin.
“Rooooorg.” Crag slowly climbs a pile of books, sniffing and peering into the cauldron.
“Ah, a hungry little one.” Ayla giggles. “Alright. We can eat.”
Moving to a shelf, she grabs a stack of wooden bowls.
“Great Goddess of Bounty!” Enrik blurts out. “What in tarnation is that?!”
He peers into the cauldron, nose crinkling. It’s a deep purple brew with mysterious, misshapen white lumps floating inside.
“A stew. Bogroot, toadthistle, whisperweed, and just a hint of honeycomb. Honey is the secret ingredient. Don’t tell anyone.” Ayla drops a wink.
She spoons it into bowls, ushering us to wooden chairs. They creak beneath our weight while we trade awkward glances. The soup smells like mud.
Nobody touches it.
Well, except for Crag. He slurps it off a bowl on the floor, fur around his mouth stained by the purple liquid.
“My dear lady, we must hurry.” Ivan changes the subject, rescuing us from the meal. “I’ve brought something most precious.”
He reaches for his dimensional pouch, but Ayla interrupts.
“Ah, yes. Your tapestry—quite the rare find. An archaeological marvel!”
“What…?” Ivan’s eyes widen.
“I see all in the valley.” Ayla’s lips peel back, exposing a white smile. “I know about you, Ivan Duskflame. I know of everyone. I was born long before Mayor Gaius. Long, long ago…”
I eye her plump, smooth skin. Not a wrinkle to be seen.
Powerful magic, indeed.
If she could bottle that power and sell it as a face cream…
“Well then, have you seen it? The goddess treasure?”
Ivan extracts the tapestry, spreading it across the floor. Clara and I move in. Enrik wanders, examining Ayla’s tomes and jarred specimens.
“Yes, yes…” She strokes her chin, eyes scanning the images. “I can recall it…I was but a young girl when the mayor of old told a story. A gift given to the first leader of Verda. A box kept beneath the town hall. They never could open it…”
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” Ivan leans forward. “And the upper panels? What do these symbols mean?!”
“Hm…a red pine, a bear rock, and a waterfall. Yes…these must be the—”
“WAAAAAAAAAH!” A deep howl rumbles. Glass shatters. “BY THE GODS! NOOOOO!”
We whip around, coming face to face with a terrifying sight. Enrik flails his arms, hopping up and down near a shattered jar. Fuzzy shapes ripple across the floor while he shouts.
Wait.
They aren’t balls of dust. They’re…spiders!
Thousands of them.
“Oh my.” Ayla covers her mouth. “What a shame…knocked over my collection.”
“G-get back, ya filthy things!”
Enrik stumbles, bumping into another shelf. Bottles jiggle and topple. A spark ejects from a red crystal on a pedestal.
It catches his messy hair.
It ignites.
“EEEEEEP!” His arms flail.
But Ayla moves with lightning speed. Her hand whips, jets of water bursting from her crimson nails. They sail like arrows from a royal marksman—a direct hit.
Enrik’s hair sizzles while Ayla waves her other hand. The spiders and glass shards rise into the air. Clara stares with an open mouth while the jar reassembles on the shelf. One by one, the spiders drop inside.
With a final flick of her wrist, she pops the cork back into place.
Silence reigns, broken only by the sound of Enrik’s frenzied breathing.
“Now then…where were we?” She turns to Ivan. He sits motionless, eyes wide.
“Magic…bah. Terrible stuff,” Enrik mutters, slumping into a chair.
“The panels. What do they mean?” Clara is the first to regain composure.
“Ah, yes. As I was saying, these are three landmarks across the valley. The red goddess tree, the bear’s rock, and the grand waterfall. And look here…” She points to the treasure chest on the tapestry. “…do you see it?”
“Um, a box?” I shrug.
“No, darling. The keyholes—three of them.”
She’s right. The box sports three round grooves, but they aren’t like any locks I’ve ever seen.
But Ivan is unfazed.
“Of course! How didn’t I see it before?!” He leaps with excitement. “Keystones!”
“But the question becomes…where are they hidden?” Ayla strokes her chin. “Somewhere in the vicinity of the landmarks, I’d imagine. You’re in luck—the goddess tree isn’t far from here. Only a few hours’ walk.”
“And the others?”
“Well, you know the grand waterfall already. The bear’s rock though…that’s at the forest edge on Varian Farm.”
“Ah, good, good. I’ll ask Farmer Varian for permission to search his land.”
My eyes widen. Ivan doesn’t understand what he’s talking about.
Crag finishes his stew while we chat, and our stomachs begin to rumble. Against our better judgment, we take a taste.
Not bad. Sour and sweet.
Ayla retrieves dusty blankets from a cabinet, and we’re soon lying on the floor near the warm cauldron. The lights dim while strange sights cycle through my mind.
A red tree.
A bear-shaped stone.
A roaring waterfall.
A mysterious box.
Keystones…keystones…
My eyes slowly close.
Sleep descends.
ns216.73.216.251da2
