KιɾαFυɳƚσɱ’s “What Does It Matter” #1

Here’s your unique version of the What Does It Matter story. KιɾαFυɳƚσɱ’s braved this adventure alongside Arin, and created it with the choices they made. The end is nigh – Jan. 19th, 2025 which is just one of 11 possible endings.

This story was created with the Wondrous Tales 3 year anniversary interactive special .

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Heirlooms

It was a morning like every other. The singing of birds awoke her from her slumber. Her glance wandered along the ceiling, illuminated by the light that the curtains failed to block out. A black spider, the size of her fist, sat in the corner of her room. It noticed her waking up and seemingly bowed to her as if a servant greeting their master. She took a deep breath and yawned wide, while stretching in her bed.

“Good morning to you too, Serela.”

The spider wiggled slightly and a phrase appeared on its web, “Good morning, master.”

As soon as her feet touched the floor, she heard a voice call out to her, “Wash up and get down, breakfast is ready.”

“Yes mom,” she mumbled sleepily, knowing her mother had heard her.

Cold water splashed on her face. She brushed the back of her hand against the mirror, as if brushing a lover’s cheek. The mirror instantly defogged, revealing her still sleepy, but freshened up face.

“What do I want to be today…” she mumbled, parting her lips and speaking out a chant. Without making a sound, her face morphed. She was now a he, a handsome lad who grinned ever playfully into the mirror.

“Or maybe…” she murmured, continuing to morph her appearance into a beautiful person whose gender was neutral. Then she was an old hag who grinned evilly into the mirror, next a gorgeous redhead who smiled innocently. She felt quite…, Feminine today.

Arin headed downstairs where her mother was already serving breakfast.

“Morning – Mom, Dad,” she spoke cheerfully, sitting down at the dining table. Her father peeked from behind the newspapers, scanning her up and down.

“Morning darling, you look as gorgeous as ever,” he replied.

“Thanks Dad!”

As her mother served them breakfast, her eyes darted momentarily to the empty fourth chair at the table, and then the four wooden mugs that lined the windowsill; she pondered yet again about these.

“Mom?” she called out softly.

“Yes?”

“Yes, my sunshine?”

“Mmmhh… thanks for the breakfast,” she replied, averting her gaze from the empty chair to her mother’s shining smile. Her mother practically beamed with excitement.

“But of course. I’ve visited the Northern Forest overnight and collected some winter-dwelling Essin’s eggs, they’re most nutritious,” she smiled.

“Your graduation exam is coming up, yes?”

Arin’s thoughts wandered for a moment. Northern Forest was a territory of a very powerful witch – Mitra, the mere fact that her mother was acquainted with her was an achievement in and on its own.

The winter-dwelling Essin was akin to a duck – a mythical bird that only dwelled in regions of perma-frost, but their eggs were most nutritious and delicious on top of it.

“Darling?” her father queried, eyebrow perked up like a peak of a mountain.

“Oh, sorry, uh… yes! Tomorrow is my pre-exam, the first day of next week is the graduation exam,” she smiled, albeit a hint of nervousness could be seen on her face.

“I remember mine like it was yesterday… they sent us out to a magical cave, a dungeon if you will, to find any sort of ‘artifact’ we could use for our staff.”

Her mother waved with her hand and out of thin air, a staff materialized. A gorgeous, vines entangled staff, a set of branches from various trees held together by vines, with a hilt of a dagger decorating the top of it.

“Yeahh yeahhh, that’s how you met dad and that’s where I came from, something something destiny and fate, blah,” she replied teasingly, sticking her tongue out in a mocking gesture.

“Arin,” her mother began but then paused and sighed, “Exactly that. Won’t bore you with it again, but remember this, my dear.”

Arin felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, squeezing ever so gently.

“Now then, about the exam. The basics are all you need to achieve greatness and become a powerful witch. Remember them well.”

“Harmony, brewery, and arcana,” she replied smugly.

“You’re as ready as you will ever be my dear. Now… as per tradition in our family,” her mother spoke softly and gestured with her hands.

On the table appeared a very plain, and crudely carved wooden box. It had a handful of runes burned into it, Arin recognized them to be protective runes. Her mother opened it and turned it toward Arin. It held various items within it, but the few that caught her eyes were; the earrings with beautiful amethysts, a silver bracelet with a large emerald as the centerpiece, and a ring with a small but pristine and perfect ruby embedded into it.

“Our family’s heirlooms, each witch in our family takes one to the exam with them, for, let’s call it – good luck,” her mother winked, glancing over at them.

“Is… this allowed?”

“Sure is, well, still best not to speak of it, but they won’t care about an extra trinket, I assure you.”

“Okay…” she hesitated, glancing over the items again.

“What about these earrings?”

“Oh…” her mother seemingly drifted into her memories for a while, then proceeded with a smile.

“These earrings were crafted for your great-grandmother to help her replenish mana easier and focus it better. She was a spectacular witch who had single-handedly sustained a protective barrier for four days during an assault of horrors until the army showed up to relieve her. These earrings are made with the finest amethysts collected from a crystal-eyed Basilisk.”

“She did that?”

Arin commented with a gasp.

“Oh she did… She was incredible, as mighty as they get, but far from the mightiest in our family tree,” her mother chuckled.

“I’ve made my choice!”

“Excellent. Well then, which shall it be?” her mother queried.

“I’ll go with…”

“The Mana Earrings!”

The door shut quietly behind her. As she peered over her shoulder, the face made of bark peered back at her and then its lips curled up into a gentle smile.

“Good day to you, and remember – be careful,” it groaned.

“You as well,” Arin chuckled and headed down the street. Her mind raced between possibilities as to where to visit prior to the academy.

Expected And Unexpected

There were many blissful moments in life. Among them was the morning stroll to the academy. The crisp morning air was refreshing and energizing, overflowing with nature’s energy after a night’s rest. Arin could feel the charged air brush against her skin.

She waved her hand in front of herself, forming a few droplets of dew in the air.

They were no ordinary droplets however, they sparkled ever so slightly, filled to the brim with fresh energy. Contrary to many people’s beliefs, the mornings are energizing, literally at that. As more living creatures awake and go about their day, they consume that energy. By dusk the witches struggle to gather any energy from the air around them and rely solely on their own energy reserves, that is what many call the mana pool.

Arin beckoned the drops closer with a wave of her finger and opened her mouth. The cool drops burst into a refreshing mist in her mouth as soon as they touched her tongue. A shudder coursed through her body as the energy spread through it. This was, in essence, a mana potion, the core ingredient of it anyhow.

The academy was much the same, except it wasn’t. As one might suspect, a magical academy for aspiring witches, alchemists, mages, and wizards wouldn’t be boring. Every day was something new, very new in fact. Today the entrance was a solid wall.

Arin poked at the wall, it was indeed a solid wall. To her surprise, there were no other students in sight to see how they got through this obstacle.

‘Must be another pop quiz,’ she thought to herself. Tracing the edge of one of the stones that made the wall, she felt upset over the fact that she slept through the lecture when they learned the ‘pass-through’ spell.

“Windows,” she said with a nod of a wise woman.

Scanning the towering structure, Arin’s eyes landed on a modest window halfway up the wall. She cracked her knuckles, ready to scale the stones like a spider in training. Unfortunately, she forgot one crucial fact: she didn’t know the levitation spell.

Halfway up the wall, her foot slipped. Her arms flailed as gravity once more proven its superiority and defended its title as the champion. She landed in a heap, accompanied by a puff of dust and the distinct feeling of regret.

Somewhere above, the window creaked open just enough for a fellow student to poke their head out.

“You do realize there’s a spell for this, right?” they asked, smirking.

“Sure,” she grumbled, brushing dirt off her robes.

“But where’s the fun in that?”

The window shut close, but the still wall still remained; still blocking her way.

A deep breath in, hold it, and then slowly exhale. As if following actions guided by an unheard voice, she did just that. Her fingers traced the coarse rocks, examining the wall structure.

After a closer examination, it was obvious to her that the wall was not an illusion, but real. However, it was also pretty obvious that it was constructed by magic. It was known that magically constructed items were more resilient to physical damage due to the mana used to hold the object together or to animate it in some cases. She placed her hand on what vaguely resembled a crack, a fault line in the rocks, where gaps between them were larger than all others. Closing her eyes and feeling the palm of her hand warming up slightly as mana flowed through it and into the rocky wall.

The wall shuddered momentarily as the magic holding it together flickered and unraveled. The stones tumbled free, crumbling into an avalanche of gravel that clattered to the ground. This revealed the entrance to the foyer that was oddly empty, but that was hardly a reason not to rush to the lecture.

As she stepped over the pile of rubble onto the academy’s tile floor, the academy came to life. As if a veil was lifted, summoning her from a dream to reality, or rather from a sub-space to the real world. She glanced over her shoulder at the entrance that was as ordinary as ever, just a few steps behind her another student stumbled through something and glanced around confused.

‘So it was a random pop quiz,’ she concluded at last. Spinning on her heel she heard a familiar voice.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Arin. How delightful that you got through the pop quiz with such ease.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see who spoke to her; tilting her head to the side, Arin found herself stumped by the stranger before her.

“And you are…?” she began.

“Oh, right, how’s the new face? Does it suit me?” a gorgeous, blonde-haired girl responded.

“Kira, stop with the new faces every other day, I can only remember so many…”

“Yeah yeah, says you… I mean, look at you! Gorgeous as ever, you should use this appearance more often,” Kira replied with a wide grin. Her perfect, blonde hair glistened in the moonlight that beamed through the dust-speckled roof window of the foyer. One might wonder – why is there moonlight beaming through the window in the morning? But in a magical academy, there are stranger things than that.

“I’ll think about it,” she responded, turning and heading up the stairs.

“So, how did you overcome the pop quiz today?”

“Mmmh… it was an, uh… a fairly simple task, I don’t imagine a lot would fail,” Arin hesitated, recalling the struggles of getting through that simple obstacle.

“Oh, you’d be surprised…”

Kira replied slyly, her eyes hinting that she knew something Arin didn’t.

A Student’s Duty

Upon entering the classroom, Arin threw a glance around, to her surprise there were only about a third of the students present. Their professor was already at his desk, reading a book. They assumed their seats, waiting for the lecture to start.

“Did others really fail that task?”

Kira glanced over and shrugged, “That or they used it as an excuse to skip. I’d wager on the latter.”

After a hearty chuckle, they in silence unpacked their supplies in preparation for the lecture. A book in Kira’s bag caught Arin’s attention.

“Oh? What’s that?”

Arin queried curiously.

“Mmh?”

Kira glanced at Arin and followed her gaze to the book, “Ah, this?” she pulled a curiously titled book out ‘A Disaster In The Waiting.’.

“Interesting title. Is it fiction or non-fiction?”

Kira pondered, “Historical fiction I’d say. Mostly made-up stories from tell-tales of the golden times. Whatever was passed around by word of mouth, loosely based on the historical records that survived.”

“How amusing,” Arin replied, curious to learn more and to read the book. The divine decree of witches only being allowed a single child never seemed fair. Having studied history at the academy she knew of the Golden Magical Era – a time in history when magical power was abundant.

“Mind if I borrow it? Seems – intriguing,” Arin asked, her voice carrying a note of curiosity that she couldn’t mask.

Kira tilted her head, a smirk creeping onto her face.

“You? Into fiction? Now that’s a twist I didn’t see coming.”

“Well, you did make it sound intriguing,” she countered, fingers already inching toward the book.

“And I do enjoy learning about the Golden Magical Era.”

“Fair enough.”

Kira chuckled, sliding the book across the table with a lazy flick of the hand.

“Take your time. Just don’t ruin the ending for me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied with a sly grin, eager to flip it open.

Arin opened the borrowed book to the first chapter, a glance at the clock revealed that she still had ten or so minutes before the lecture would begin – enough time to get a feel for the book.

‘Prologue

When magic ran rampant, twin sisters were born. Though before going into details – one must first learn of the difference between magic users. There is a clear distinction between a sorcerer, wizard, witch, and a mage.

A sorcerer is, as the name implies – a source of magic. A being that is closer to god than human. Sorcerers have an ethereal connection to the very fundamentals of magical powers, through them the powers flow, and as such – they were the source of magic.

Wizards are those who studied the fundamentals of magic and its essence. They understand the magic and how to weave and shape it to their will, to control it. In essence – wizards are scholars.

A mage is a naturally gifted individual who is born with the gift of magic control. To them, controlling magic is second nature, something they do without thinking.

The same applies to witches, with the only difference being that witches are generally born either female or neutral gender, since by nature, witches are predisposed to shapeshifting, and often shapeshift by accident at a young age. However, unlike sorcerers, witches and mages require gathering magical energy, or as it became commonly known – mana, from the world and environment around them.’

‘The goddess Virelath watched the twins closely, and it wasn’t until their teen years that the twins became unruly. Their never-ending rivalry led them on a path of conquest, challenging stronger opponents, and each trying to one-up the other. One such day, Amelia – the witch of light challenged Virelath herself to a duel, and expectedly, such a daring challenge reached Anelia through her shadows, and she too appeared before the goddess. After their lengthy battle that lasted three years, the goddess prevailed, just barely though.

Upon regaining some of her powers, the goddess imposed a decree upon the mortals, such that no sorcerers shall ever be born again – she or her helpers would sever the natural connection should a sorcerer ever be born. The witches are not to have more than a single child in their lifetime. A decree that had remained in place for three centuries now, in that time – no single witch had ever managed to bear more than a single child.’

“Ahem… Witch Arin?” she heard a voice calling out to her. Snapping back to reality, she glanced around for the source of the voice, and then realized that all eyes were on her. A soft gasp escaped her lips, and she bowed her head understandingly.

“It would seem to me that you wish to volunteer for the upcoming exercise?”

“Yes, Professor Romal,” she replied quietly.

“Very good,” the professor commended before pointing at the lecture board with his cane, “The graduation exams are coming up, and it is our duty, as the faculty, to prepare you all. As such, the following lectures in all of your classes will focus on your final preparations and training exercises prior to the exam.”

Arin glanced at the board, noting the basic highlights of the three core principles of witchcraft: ‘harmony, brewery, and arcana’. Each heading marked the start of a distinct column, their spaces yet to be filled.

She sighed quietly and reached for her book to stash it away in her bag, but as her fingers brushed against the cover, an odd sensation surged through her – a tingle, like static electricity propagated from her fingertips all the way through the body.

The once simple cover seemingly folded in on itself, warped and twisted, and then reshaped itself to a point of changing not just its shape and looks. Even the material it was made of seemed a lot thicker, and sturdier. The letters mixed into a swirling mess, like dyes in the water. The chaotic spiral unwinded itself and took upon a new shape, forming intricate and ancient symbols upon the cover of the grimoire. The cover shone ever so slightly, a shifting array of iridescent hues like the inside of a shell, but some of the colors were unlike anything that Arin had ever seen before, they were a color that in her mind she perceived as ‘ancient magic’.

Arin heard a calling as if a voiceless voice whispering for her to open the book, it was almost irresistible. She cautiously flipped it open, so as not to attract attention to herself. A slightly yellowed, from old age, page presented itself to her. Being blank and bare, like a field of pure, undisturbed snow; awaiting something to paint its canvas. A moment later, as if a freshly spilled vial of ink, a puddle formed at the center of its page. It spun lazily, like a slowly waking beast that was still groggy.

The ink spread itself out and shaped into a handful of simple words.

“Greetings, how may I be of service?”

Arin furrowed her eyebrows at the text that just formulated itself on the previously empty page. Then heard her professor clearing his throat, in an obvious attempt to gain her attention again. ‘No time,’ she thought to herself, closing the book and stashing it away in her bag.

As she returned her attention to the board after stashing the book away, she realized that the columns had already been filled out with various words. Each describing the core principles of witchcraft.

“And now, Witch Arin, are you ready to begin?”

“Already? Uhm, yes, professor.”

The professor smiled, and gestured to his chair, “Then please, take a seat.”

She walked down the stairs with the grace of a newborn giraffe, trying desperately not to stumble or fall over so as not to attract any more attention to herself. She slid behind the professor’s desk and sat down in his chair.

It creaked in protest, but there was little it could do to resist. As she sank into the cushion of the chair she felt unease wash over her. It was as if the chair was going to swallow her whole, like a vicious mimic.

“What shall I do?”

“Only relax,” he whispered slyly, “Now then, class. I will put Witch Arin to slumber, a basic spell many of you are already familiar with, however, there’s a catch to it. I will use a more advanced version of it, that allows me to send her, and the rest of you shortly, to a specific dream world that the faculty crafted in preparation for the exam. Rest assured, death in the dream does not imply death in reality, you’ll simply awaken should anything go wrong.”

There was a slight commotion after his words, followed by murmurs as students began to whisper to one another.

“Excuse me, professor, did you say – death?” she queried him anxiously.

“That’s right my dear. The graduation exam is a hands-on exercise, it is quite dangerous, so to prepare you all, the faculty has developed a safe means of hands-on training, lucid dreaming,” he replied smugly.

“Not to brag but it was, in fact, my idea.”

The class reluctantly applauded. The professor tossed his cane up, and it froze mid-air, as he bowed like a showman at a circus, “Thank you, thank you! Now, Witch Arin will be the first one to experience it. Oh, but not to worry young miss, the dream world is rather safe, at least in the initial zone. Faculty had tested it all thoroughly. Important to note though – the time ratio between reality and dream is roughly one hundred to one. So for every one hundred minutes there, merely a minute passes here. This means that you’ll spend well over five hours in there before you awaken back here in this chair, in absolute safety. Are you ready?”

As the professor leaned closer, reaching for her head with his old, wrinkly hand, she recoiled, swatting his hand away as if it was a pestering fly that had been annoying her for a while.

“No,” she protested.

“Pardon?” professor Romal queried, watching her expression closely.

Fear And Refusal

“I simply refuse, I was not prepared for an exercise of this intensity, and don’t feel ready…” she proceeded.

“I… I am sorry.”

Professor Romal’s expression hardly changed, he kept his weak smile up, however, something in his eyes did change. They no longer glistened with excitement, rather they now seemed disappointed.

“I, understand,” he seemingly hesitated and then continued confidently, “Of course. If one isn’t ready, one isn’t ready,” he stepped away politely, leaning heavily on his cane as he held his hand out, offering Arin a helping hand to get up.

“Uhm, thank you professor,” she hesitated momentarily before taking his hand and getting up from his chair. The moment Arin’s hand touched his, she felt a light shock, as if a static discharged, and thought it to be just that.

“If it’s alright, professor, I’d opt to head home for the day,” she requested politely, wariness obvious in her voice.

“Well, it’s best that one of our brightest students gets much-needed rest. Feel better soon,” he spoke softly. There was a hint of malevolence in his voice.

“Thank you, professor,” she sounded relieved as she scurried out of the room, feeling as if she had just dodged a whole asteroid, not just an arrow. The murmuring of her classmates did not matter to her right now, she just wanted to get home as soon as possible.

As she stepped out of the academy, a chill crept down her spine, not the kind that sends shivers but the kind that feels like a warning whispered by the air itself. She paused, looking back instinctively, to her regret. She caught Professor Romal standing at the window of his classroom, his piercing gaze clearly glued to her.

She thought she could see his lips forming a faint smile. That smile wasn’t warm; quite the opposite in fact, it was cold and sinister. Her breath hitched, her instincts screamed to run, but she brushed it off with a nervous laugh, convincing herself it was just the nerves playing tricks on her. She bowed her head and hurried away, her pace quickening as the setting sun stretched her shadow long.

The setting sun painted the street in orange hues, casting her path in eerie light.

The air felt heavier with each step, as if the street itself was holding its breath in anticipation. Then she heard a clank. A metallic sound reverberated in the distance, sharp and unnatural, it sliced through the silence, like the sound of a drawing knife.

She froze, her heart skipping a beat. The echo lingered, bouncing off the stone walls, as if aiming to frighter her. She swallowed hard, her legs urging her to move, but she remained still, breathing slow and steady while focusing on the next sound.

The silence was suffocating, and the suspense was heavy. A gentle clink broke the deafening silence at last as a porcelain teacup landed on a saucer with. Its echo slicing through the quiet like a sound of thunder on a clear and sunny day.

“Ma’am. Sir.”

The detective’s voice was calm and collected, a deliberate event.

“We’re putting every resource available to us to use in search of your daughter,” he said, flipping open his weathered notebook with the precision of a man who had done it hundreds of times.

His eyes darted around the pages, the sound of the paper shuffling as he flipped through pages, and the ticking of the clock remained the only sounds for a while. And when the suffocating silence felt almost unbearable, he spoke again, “But I need you to think, and think carefully. Is there anything, no matter how small, that you haven’t told me?”

“Nothing,” said Arin’s mother softly, leaning into her hands, her body trembled and her voice hitched. A muffled sob echoed through the room.

Her husband hugged her tightly, trying to comfort his distressed wife to the best of his abilities.

“Sir?” the detective glanced at her husband.

“We told you everything we know. Have you… checked that professor we mentioned? Romal was it?”

The detective flipped through his weathered notebook again, “Ah, yes. Professor Romal, a teacher of magic at the academy, he was the last one to see your daughter. He said she was quite worked up and seemed distressed that day. Do you believe there is a possibility that she ran away? To relatives perhaps?”

“We already checked in with all the family and friends where she could have gone, she is gone! GONE!” her mother cried out.

“Ma’am… I understand how you feel, I have a daughter myself,” the detective took one last sip of the tea. As he rose, tipping his hat with a muted nod, his gaze lingered on the four wooden mugs lining the windowsill. His polite expression faltered, replaced by something sharper. He took a slow, deliberate step closer to Arin’s parents, his fingers brushing the rim of his notebook as if ready to flip it open and jot something down.

“Forgive me, but… you said you had only one child, correct?”

His voice was calm, but the question hung in the air for a while before it was answered.

“Yes,” the father replied, though his voice trembled, the word barely reaching across the table.

His lips pressed into a thin line, the shadow of a smile fighting to form on his lips,.

“Curious,” he murmured under his breath, tapping his cane lightly against the floor before turning to leave, leaning heavily on it with each step he took.

“We’ll be in touch.”

– The End –