Here’s your unique version of the What Does It Matter story. Leona’s braved this adventure alongside Arin, and created it with the choices they made. The end is nigh – Feb. 7th, 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?”
She got up from the table and let her gaze wander the dining room. Sweeping it left to right, taking in all the details she could pick out. Something felt really off, as if an itch at the back of her mind that she couldn’t scratch. Everything seemed fine at first glance – a typical family space, but there were subtle hints that made it feel off.
Her eyes landed on the coat hanger by the door, it had four hooks on it, and only three coats hung on it. Beside it, on the wall was a coat rack, also with four hooks.
“Why four,” she murmured.
Her father glanced up from his newspaper, “Hmm?”
“Nothing,” she swiftly replied, “Don’t mind me, just thinking.”
Her gaze continued drifting around the room, searching for something else that seemed out of place or odd.
Above the fireplace stood a framed photo, the only photo in the room. Arin walked over to it slowly, and as she got closer, she froze for a moment. There, on the photo was their family: her mother, father, herself, she was quite young, perhaps six or seven in this photo, and another child, a girl that stood near her. They were holding hands.
“Who’s this?”
Arin asked curiously, reaching for the photo, and then showing it to her parents.
“That is…” her mother began and then paused, staring anxiously at the photo.
“Hun? Who is that?”
Her father glanced over his shoulder, “That’s… uhh, wasn’t that our neighbor’s daughter at the time? Uhmm, Amelia wasn’t it? Sure’s been a while huh? They moved out pretty quickly if memory serves me right, we didn’t quite get to know them well.
“Aha, yes, right,” her mother agreed.
“I… see…” she carefully sat the photo back where she took it, and nodded. A chill ran down her spine; her memories still felt jumbled.
She returned to the table and sat back down, leaning heavily on her hand.
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.
“What’s this ring?”
“A beautiful ring, isn’t it?” her mother grinned.
“I made this ring myself, back in the days when I was a scholar; pursuing the secrets of the ancient magical traps inside dungeons and tombs. At its core is a ruby I discovered in a dungeon. The ring helps the wearer discover that – which is hidden.”
“Sounds handy.”
“It saved my life many times.”
“What does the bracelet do?”
“My mother’s bracelet. Your grandmother, a battle-crazed witch she was… She’d charge head-first into any kind of dangerous situation and accept every duel and challenge. Seriously, she was a crazy witch, and this bracelet inherited her battle craze, in a sense. This bracelet is essentially an amplifier, enhancing and empowering the witch’s spells, quite formidable I dare say, just as your grandmother was.”
“I’ve made my choice!”
“Excellent. Well then, which shall it be?” her mother queried.
“I’ll go with…”
“The Bracelet of Power!”
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.
The bell above the magic shop’s door jingled softly as Arin stepped inside. The familiar scent of herbs mingled with the faint aftertaste of magical residue. The shop’s shelves overflowed with oddities: glowing vials, enchanted trinkets, remnants of various creatures, and ancient tomes.
Behind the counter was a hunched-over old man, master Theox. He squinted at her, his beady eyes gleaming beneath his bushy white brows. He was only half Arin’s height, especially when hunched over, a self-proclaimed ‘not a dwarf’, but nobody buys that.
“Ah, Arin! Come to browse or buy?” he groaned, his voice dry and sharp, like creaking wood.
“Just browsing,” she replied, “got time to kill before the academy,” her gaze wandering over the cluttered shelves.
As she walked through the shop, a faint hum drew her attention to a small orb resting on a pedestal. The orb pulsed faintly, its light shifting like a heartbeat.
“That’s a Spellcatcher,” the old man explained, appearing suddenly at her side.
“It absorbs stray mana from the air. Handy if you’re low on reserves, but it’s not cheap.”
“Figures,” Arin muttered, struggling to tear her gaze away.
She eventually settled on a few small charms – nothing extravagant, but useful enough.
As she handed over her payment, Theox smiled slyly, “Good luck at the academy today,” he said, his tone oddly knowing.
“Thanks,” Arin replied, the back of her neck prickling as she left the shop.
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.
Taking a deep breath, she fixed her posture, squared shoulders, and readied herself. Her eyes narrowed with unearned confidence.
“If it worked for some boy wizard, it’ll work for me,” she muttered.
With a running start, she charged straight at the wall, arms outstretched like wings, as if about to take a leap of faith. For a fleeting moment, she felt victorious, free – and then there was a smack. The wall was as solid as her poor decisions, and she bounced off of it like a basketball.
Dazed, she lay spread out on the ground, akin to a starfish, a very baffled starfish. Groaning softly as a squirrel peered at her from a nearby tree, its tiny eyes brimming with judgment. She waved it off, muttering, “Don’t act like you’ve never tried something stupid.”
Her only reward was a bruised ego and the sound of faint giggles somewhere behind the wall.
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.’
Before turning the page, something caught her eye. There was a stain at the top right side of the page, as if pencil writing had been erased sloppily. She traced it with her finger, a spell surfaced in her memory. It was a harmless, basic spell of undoing change to an object or a part of an object in order to restore it to its former state.
‘Many humans who are not versed in magic confuse this for some kind of time manipulation, but the spell is much simpler. Rather than manipulating the time, it’s more akin to accessing a specific historical record and reconstructing something to be in accordance with that record.’
Arin leaned closer, examining the imprint left on the paper by the writing utensil. It was illegible, just a smudged mess that seemingly held nothing of worth or interest.
The blurry – smudged mess twisted and danced on the page for a short moment, before at last becoming smaller and smaller. Letters took shape from the smudged mess. Arin’s jaw dropped as she read a rather alarming hand-written note ‘don’t trust him’.
A chill ran down her spine after reading the alarming message. She resisted throwing a glance at Kira.
She noticed a word, just barely visible, beneath – ‘cerleno’.
“Flip to the next page.”
‘Sorcerers, contrary to popular beliefs and myths, are neither the sixth, seventh, nor eighth sons of a wizard or mage. In fact; sorcerers, historically have been first or second sons – though the myths claim otherwise. The birth order had no deciding factor and sorcerers were just simply exceptionally talented mages, who were born with a connection to the magic beyond what anyone can achieve through studies or practice.’
Before reaching for the corner of the page, she noticed something, debossed on the page – as if something was written by a pen with no ink. She moved her finger, light emitting from the tip of it, at an angle such that it was easy to see the debossed writing. Reading it, she shuddered slightly.
There was a word she couldn’t quite make out, except that it started with the same letter as her name, the rest of the phrase read – ‘… help me.’.
‘Witches, unlike wizards and mages – can never become sorcerers, albeit during the Magical Golden Era, occasional anomalies would happen. One such anomaly were the Witch Twins of Disaster, a pair of girls who were born to a witch of darkness, among the strongest witch types. The twin girls inherited her gift in different ways. One was born with white hair, with never-before-seen talent toward the power of the light. The other – a stark contrast to her sister, had hair black as the abyss itself, and eyes like two voids that stared back at anyone who so much as glanced in her direction.’
The text seemed a little strange, perhaps too out of context. Something seemed off about it. She thought of spells that might come in handy to reveal that which is hidden. A simple spell, one she was quite accustomed to as a witch who had a hobby of dungeon exploring. The Secrecy Unveil spell, shows that which was intended by the creator to be hidden. It’s great for detecting traps, deciphering messages, and so on.
As she murmured something under her breath, the text on the page began to fade, with the exception of a few words.
‘Witches, unlike wizards and mages – can never ascend to become sorcerers, albeit, during the Magical Golden Era, occasional anomalies happened.
One such anomaly was the Witch Twins of Disaster, a pair of girls who were born to a witch of darkness, among the strongest witch types left. The twin girls inherited her gift in different ways. One was born with hair as white as the winter’s first snow – she could harvest a power never seen before – the power of the light. The other – a stark contrast to her sister, had hair black like the abyss itself, and eyes like two voids that stared back at anyone who so much as glanced in her direction. As one would guess, her gift was that of darkness. Even compared to the mightiest sorcerers – the sisters stood triumphant, for their sheer magical power could only be rivaled by the gods.’
‘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, ever-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?”
The professor eyed her for a moment, before smirking smugly, “Back in my days, silence indicated consent. How delightful. I’ll have you step up in a moment here.”
He pointed 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?”
“Actually, professor, I’m not so sure about this whole ‘dream death’ thing,” she hesitated. Fiddling nervously with the hem of her robe, she continued, “It sounds, erhm, not very safe to say the least.”
The professor raised a single eyebrow, and the class fell silent, every pair of eyes darting between Arin and him.
“Witch Arin,” he began with a theatrical sigh, “you are aware that this is the graduation exam, not a picnic? You can’t sit the graduation exam out… Fine, if you’re feeling so inclined, you may submit an essay instead, twelve-thousand words on the applications of arcane dream weaving, due at dawn tomorrow. Complete with diagrams.”
Her heart sank faster than a brick in a lake, “Twelve…thousand?” she whispered, horrified.
“Or,” he continued, a devilish grin on his lips, “you can join us in the dream world and get some actual experience for the exam.”
Arin glanced at the board, her classmates, and then her trembling hands. The essay loomed in her imagination, a beast far more terrifying than any nightmare. She swallowed her pride and nodded.
“Fine, dream it is.”
Dreams Beyond
The professor took a few limping steps toward her, for a moment Arin thought he resembled a waddling penguin and had to resist a laugh. He was leaning heavily on his cane with every step.
As he got close, he placed his hand on Arin’s head and murmured a cantation of swords, which Arin hadn’t ever heard before. Just as he finished, she felt a surge of his magic, like a tsunami, wash through her body, and with it, her consciousness faded.
She was not sure what to expect of the dream world, but one thing she was certain of – it was darker than she had anticipated. The stale dusty air made her uncertain if she ended up in a dungeon or a cave.
Arin squinted so hard her face contorted like someone trying to read the fine print of a thousand-page legal document in the dark.
She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to focus on the darkness ahead; but the shadows persevered – unbothered by her valiant efforts. They remained as thick and unyielding as ever.
“Well, that didn’t help,” she muttered to herself. The darkness didn’t seem any less dark, it was still dark dark. Still, she held her head up high, confident that she’ll come up with a solution.
As the darkness pressed itself against her, enveloping her entirely, Arin’s breath caught in her throat. A cold sweat dripped down her back – she couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t… oh, she could hear at least, and she just heard something.
“What was that sound?” she gasped, ‘was that a rustle? a shuffle?’ she tried to keep calm but her senses were overwhelmed. Her panic surged like a storm. Her hands were a blur of desperate motions. The air crackled and then a fireball shot from her fingertips, speeding wildly into the void of darkness before her.
“Aaaah.”
, she yelped. Before she could regain any semblance of control, another fireball shot off in the opposite direction, lighting up the area like an accidental firework.
There were no signs of anyone, or anything of interest that she could see amidst the flashes of exploding fireballs. To her surprise – nothing was on fire and the flames went out quite swiftly.
Arin raised her hand and flicked her fingers with an exaggerated motion, as if she was trying to summon a flame on a whim, which she was. The air hummed with a slight charge of magic, and then, with the most unenthusiastic flicker, a little orb of flame appeared, hovering just beside her.
It floated there, bobbing lightly as if an impatient person waiting for a delayed bus.
“Well, you’re a real ray of sunshine,.
“ Arin muttered sarcastically, watching the flame blink lazily as it provided just enough light to reveal the environment around it. It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it looked relatively cute.
The flame didn’t seem concerned with anything other than existing in its little bubble of light, like a tiny, obedient elemental that only cared about its task. It provides a sliver of warmth and illumination, even if its enthusiasm resembles that of a bored goldfish.
The hallway was rather unremarkable. There were exactly two doors, one at each end. The door to her right seemed fancier. It had ornaments upon it that seemed rather old school. Now that she had a closer look, the entire hallway had an antiqued look to it, it seemed rather ancient if anything.
Old rugs – once fashionable, perhaps 200 to 300 years ago, lined the floors. Upon the walls with peeling wallpaper, in silence hung paintings, covered in a thick crust of dust, like ancient armor guarding them.
The door to the left seemed rather bland. It was a very basic wooden door with nothing of interest to it.
It seemed odd that there would be just two doors in a place like this.
Arin squinted at the nearest painting, leaning closer to it. As she brushed it with her sleeve, a plume of dust erupted off it, as if offended by her presence. It enveloped her like an angry air elemental that had decided to act like a desert storm.
When the storm settled at last, she frowned. The painting before her was of a very plain, non-interesting frog that sat upon the edge of a leaf – as if contemplating taking a leap of faith to its likely demise.
She pondered for a moment, wondering what kinds of hardships might push a frog to the edge like that. Then decided there wasn’t much else to see in the painting, and glanced down at the placard below it.
Words etched into copper read ‘dreams of beyond.’ She chucked, “Dreams of what? The end?”
Her gaze traveled onwards, like that of a traveler on the top of a mountain, gazing at a horizon, though her horizon was much closer – it was the next painting over.
This one was a little less dusty, and she dared not anger the dust spirits again, so she tried to perceive it through the blanket of dust that decorated it like snow.
It was a painting of a man whose mustache seemed more alive than he did. In fact, the mustache appeared so alive that it twisted and straightened itself out, like a sleepy sloth stretching itself out to the frame. After a moment, like an over-stretched spring, it recoiled back into its previous curled-up shape.
She glanced at a bare wall that looked suspicious. In fact, it was acting so suspicious that she practically felt it averting its gaze so as not to appear suspicious. Everybody who knows even a little about walls should know that the moment a wall averts its gaze, is when you can assume the wall is suspicious.
She approached it with the same seriousness of a certain renowned pink-haired detective who was closing in on a breakthrough in his conquest of the Gale’s Ale, an anecdote she had once heard.
It is a known fact that walls are sneaky, and this one tried extra hard to be even sneakier, standing very still.
With a sly grin, she knocked on the wall three times, at first there was nothing, but a delayed response soon followed, “Fine you caught me, but don’t they teach witches any manners these days? Knocking on other beings for no reason is R-U-D-E!”
“Is it? Doors are made to be knocked on, no?”
The wall seemingly pondered over her question, “Fair point… Ahem, password?”
“Password…?”
“Hah…” she exhaled in an exhausted manner, “Password-one-two-three?”
“Really? That’s the best a witch could come up with?”
“What’s wrong with it!? I use that combination for my luggage!”
Arin exclaimed angrily.
“That explains a lot…”
“Ah! I remember now; it is – ‘Dreams of beyond’ isn’t it?”
“Great!” the door replied with sarcastic excitement.
“Really? That easy?”
Arin rejoiced.
“No!” the door responded firmly and remained shut.
“Dawhh. Do I get another try!?”
“No!” the door mocked her, “That’s three strikes, you’re out.”
She sighed, glaring furiously at the wall, “I’ll burn you…”
“I am made of brick, you can’t burn me,” the wall continued to mock.
She leaned into the wall, her fingers gliding over the peeling, old, wallpaper, thinking what else to do.
The wall shuddered as if resisting a cackle.
“Hmm?” she pondered, but the wall remained silent, wiggling her fingers against the peeling wallpaper again, the wall shuddered once more, and then let out a muffled snort.
“Oh?” she smirked cheerfully.
“Sh…Shut up! Cease this tomfoolery immediately,” the wall demanded.
“And what if I don’t?” she mocked it back, continuing to wiggle her fingers.
The wall burst into a stone-cold chuckle, shuddering and groaning amidst its laughter.
“Fine hahaha, fine! Stop… hah! I beg of you, this is simply unfair!”
With the sound of grinding stone a hidden seam appeared.
She smirked, pressing the palm of her hand against the wall and pushing it open, “See? That wasn’t that hard.”
The wall huffed, catching its breath, “Hah… next time just bring the password, no need to get touchy…”
She stepped through, hearing the thud as the door closed behind her, murmuring something about ‘ticklish intruders.’.
The room beyond the door was dark, the only source of light being the light of a little flickering flame that floated around. It was a vast room, a bedroom, and a laboratory by the looks of it. Arin peeked into the room before stepping over the threshold. The room was quiet, nothing and no one seemed to be within it.
She exhaled a sigh of relief and As soon as she did, she heard a voice, like a distant echo in her mind, a forgotten memory perhaps. The voice seemed to be reading a story – barely audible, muffled by long distance and seemingly time, it was hard to tell if this was an illusion, a memory, or perhaps a telepathic communication.
Arin closed her eyes after taking a few steps into the room. Her mind chased after the voice like a fox chasing a rabbit. It was elusive, every time she thought she focused on it, the voice slipped away. Managing to catch only fragmented parts of what it was saying each time.
‘Long ago, a brave rabbit by the name of Oliver…’
She chased the voice again, a distant source, an unseen echo in the deepest corners of her mind. It would wait just long enough to be caught and focused upon before dissipating once more into an incomprehensible jumbled noise.
‘…kicked him in the face with enough force to…’
Arin’s memory stirred. She recognized these story fragments, they were from a storybook of Wondrous Tales that she enjoyed so much as a kid.
The voice was gone now, as if never there. She reopened her eyes, carefully looking around. There was no one.
As she walked into the room, more oddities came to light. Not far from the door, at the apparent center of the room was a magical circle carved out on the wooden floor. Its edge was lined in runes that Arin couldn’t quite figure out. She thought she had seen similar runes in the past, perhaps in the history books during lectures. They were runes from old magic, the magic from the times of god-like sorcerers and the abundance of magic in the world.
She trod carefully around it so as not to step into the circle by accident. Magical circles can have the most unexpected activation requirements. It would be foolish to probe it by stepping into it, especially when one can not decipher the runic spell that is placed upon the circle.
There was an abundance of curious items in the room that were worth examining.
The bookshelf stood against the far wall, its wooden frame darkened with age and dust that layered it like a warm blanket. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing over the spines of books stacked neatly. Each shelf was filled edge to edge, with some tomes seemingly laying atop the others due to lack of space on the shelves. The first thing that caught her eye was the title of a thick, leather-bound grimoire on the middle shelf, its cover adorned with gold symbols that shimmered strangely in the light of a little flickering flame that floated around, ‘Blood Magic and Its Consequences’, it read.
The title sent a chill through her body.
Her gaze moved to another volume, one with charred edges, as if it had narrowly escaped being consumed by flames. For just a moment she hesitated, feeling bad for the book. Books are precious, and priceless, so for a tome to experience flames is truly tragic. She pulled it out from the orderly row of tomes that resembled parading soldiers with how neatly and tightly they had been standing, and flipped it open out of curiosity. The tome seemingly had several missing pages, they had been torn out in a rush. The raggedy remains of the torn pages made her heart clench.
“Poor thing,” she whispered, putting the tome back in its place before continuing along the shelf. Most of these tomes appeared to be magical in nature, or contain knowledge of magics that she dared not so much as touch. There was a certain heaviness in the air around the shelf – almost as if the books themselves carried dark, forbidden powers.
Arin carefully moved from shelf to shelf until she noticed a peculiar, ornate mirror nestled between two larger volumes. It didn’t quite seem to belong among the books.
Its frame was decorated with twisted symbols she couldn’t comprehend, but they resembled ancient runes.
A chill ran down Arin’s back, a gut feeling urging her to leave it be. For a moment – memories of her class’s excursion to the Grand Library’s archives bubbled up.
She remembered vividly how the archivist of the library informed them that the grimoires and tomes in the archives were so powerful that they had to be arranged in a way to cancel each other’s magic, and a single misplaced tome could see its words come to life.
She swallowed hard, curiosity pushing her further, this was just a dream world afterall, she was safe. The mirror’s mysterious aura kept drawing her attention, as if calling for her, yet Arin dared not pick it up. She angled herself so she could look into the mirror without touching it; her reflection looked back at her, but not as she did, it was different, it blinked when she did not.
Arin shuddered and recoiled, bumping into another bookshelf that was behind her. Her reflection laughed teasingly, and then disappeared.
As soon as she bumped into the other bookshelf, the voice rang in her mind once more. It was faint, a distant whisper.
“…two fishermen, Jake and Steve, were casting their nets on the eve of a fierce storm…”
Arin paused for a moment, regaining her focus and composure.
She chased after it, each word slipping through her consciousness like sand through fingers. Images of a darkening sea, storm clouds rolling in, and the flash of lightning flashed in her mind as the voice picked up fragments of a story:.
“… a flying pig dashed through the air…”
The words faded momentarily, and she strained, desperate to catch the next part. Just as the voice returned, it was softer, fragmented, the details hazy as if told from a dream.
“…a woman in the waves, barely holding onto a scrap of wood…”
A name starting with.
“K” floated up briefly in her mind, and for some reason, it filled her with a strange nostalgia. She could almost hear the sounds of the waves clashing with the ship, taste the spray of the salty waters, smell the sea air. Then, just as suddenly as it came, the voice faded, slipping away into the silence of the room. Arin opened her eyes, a lingering ache in her chest for the story she felt she should know but couldn’t fully remember.
For a moment, Arin wondered if she’d been remembering her own memories or someone else’s – a strange, unsettling thought. She glanced cautiously around the dark room, and then at the bookshelf against which her back was pressed.
The bookshelf that Arin bumped into shook as if displeased by the fact that it got bumped into. A single book fell from the top of it, landing on the stone floor with an audible thump.
Arin glanced down at the book, it looked familiar somehow. Kneeling to take a closer look, she recognized it now. It is the book from the class, from Kira, though, unlike the grimoire she read in the classroom, this one was already in its final and true form. Its cover shone much the same as in the real world, shifting array of iridescent hues, featuring colors that Arin had never seen before; colors she could only describe as ‘ancient magic’.
She picked it up, and to her surprise the grimoire looked simultaneously covered in dust, and clean.
Before she could so much as reach it with her other hand, the grimoire flipped itself open to an arbitrary page, it was blank at first, and then images and words began to appear. It described a very complicated, and seemingly impossible ritual, a ritual of Ascension to Sorcery.
Arin recalled that sorcerers were essentially demigods. They had an ethereal connection to the fundamentals of magic, and acted as beacons for the magic to enter our world through, as such, they were the sources of magic itself, hence the name – sorcerers.
Her body stiffened as she read on.
The ritual described in essence a power transfer from two witches bound by blood, sisters, to a wizard who had mastered the control of arcana. Sisters among witches were banned by the celestial decree, yet there have been cases when a witch would birth two children. Though those cases are exceptionally rare, even more so than the mythical flower Snow Rose.
“Creepy…” she thought to herself, unconsciously keeping a hold of the book as she glanced around the room for the next thing to examine.
The desk stood in the corner, near the ingredients shelf. As she approached it, she once more noted that the old floorboards hardly made a sound. Throwing a quick glance around the desk, she noticed a few things of interest.
Among the expected clutter on a work desk – lay a diary. Perhaps it was written in just recently, as it had no dust upon its aged and cracked cover, its corners old and frayed. The clasp on the diary was undone, as if beckoning Arin to peek inside.
A quill was resting beside the diary, on its stand; waiting to be picked up and wielded like the weapon it was meant to be – a pen is stronger than the sword, they say.
She paused for a moment, her fingers lingering on the edge of the dusty desk. A faint murmur tickled her mind once more. The same soft and familiar voice she had heard before, as if carried by distant ripples over immeasurable distance, balancing on the edge between the heard and unheard.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she pursued the voice, focusing on it.
‘… You’re mister Dark-feather? A pigeon… – is that correct?..’
The words blurred as her focus wavered while she tried to remember what tale this was a part of while the voice was slipping away.
“Ignore the voice and return to examining the desk.”
Arin noticed that one of the drawers was pried open just a smidge, enough to pique her curiosity. Before reaching for anything, she took a moment to examine the rest of the table, noticing that atop a stack of tomes and scrolls laid an item covered by dark velvet of the finest quality.
She reached for the velvet fabric, pulling it up to reveal beneath it an amulet that rested atop a folded, aged parchment.
The parchment’s corners were yellowed and brittle. She carefully pulled the parchment from beneath the amulet, unfolding it slowly and cautiously.
It revealed a hand-written note.
‘To Maglamor Helin.
This is our gift to you, magister..
This amulet is your key to successful ascension, yet we advise you wield it with caution, for it binds to the soul of its bearer. Should the amulet perish, so will you.
It will create the link to the realm of magic by absorbing the magic of the sister witches, allowing you to draw upon its endless reserves.
Become our new god.
— R.H’
Arin carefully pried open the drawer, its antiqued wood groaning under the pressure. Inside, amidst a clutter of forgotten notes and small trinkets, she found a book, there was no mistaking it. The moment Arin laid her hands on it, she recognized it instantly.
It was the very same grimoire from the class, the one she had borrowed from Kira.
She opened it with caution, not knowing what to expect. What lay before her was not the book she read. The pages were not lined with tales and myths of the old times; they had transformed into something far more sinister. The page she was on was filled with ancient runes she has no knowledge of.
Arin could feel the power radiating from the pages, the power that made her bones shiver. She shut it closed and stashed it away in her pocket, wondering how a book from the real world appeared in this dream world, curious what the connection was. These thoughts persisted on her mind, but there was more truth to uncover.
With a hint of hesitation and a trembling hand, Arin reached for the diary, almost too afraid to know what she might find inside, yet curiosity got the best of her.
She flipped it over to a random page, her eyes scanned the unevenly scrawled text. Her jaw hung open as she read the entry.
‘One of the witch sisters has been captured. As expected – witch sisters are mighty even when split up. This one found my dwelling through, as she said – ‘being attracted to a source of abnormality’, tsk, I thought I hid it well. No matter, she was captured by my strongest sealing spell, the ‘reflectionless reality’, yet even now she fights and resists with all her might despite being dormant and forced to live out her dreams.
Albeit this threw my plans off the rails, step one is done, now I need to capture her sister. I’ve received the amulet, and the sacrifices are ready, as are the rest of the ingredients. Soon, very soon, I will be the new source of magic in this world.’
She gasped, panic flooded her mind. Stumbling backward, her foot got caught on the leg of the chair, throwing her off balance. The wooden floor proved to be as hard as it looked when she fell. Her robes softened the impact a little, but not enough to prevent the bruises she would soon have.
She pushed herself away, further from the desk. Her heart pounded in her chest, and each thump only further devastated her thoughts. Each thump of her heart threw her focus into a chaotic disarray.
She felt dizzy and lightheaded, dread and fear mixed into a single entity that probed at her very core instinct of fight or flight. The mana within her went haywire, occasionally sparking out of her fingers in a disorderly manner.
Her gaze momentarily fell upon a dark mirror in the corner of the room. For a moment, her mind stirred and tore at itself as if ravaged by an ancient beast that had been unleashed.
Her head throbbed; the possibility of discovering something she was not prepared for, and finding secrets that were meant to be sealed for all of eternity in this room.
After a moment to catch her breath, she pondered on what to do next.
The bed was grand yet ancient-looking, its tall posts carved from dark wood and draped with heavy, moth-eaten curtains that hung like shadows. The linens, while finely woven, had lost their color to time. Arin leaned in, catching the faintest whiff of something like old parchment and herbs, the kind of scent that lingered in a room where forbidden knowledge was studied late into the nights.
Her eyes shifted to the bedside table, its small drawer slightly ajar, almost beckoning her to peek inside. She reached for it.
Inside, Arin found a small, weathered, unsealed envelope. Opening it carefully, she slid out a letter that, despite its age, looked as though it had been written recently. The handwriting was sharp and precise, the ink as dark as spilled blood. The letter was addressed to some unknown council, its language intentionally obscure and vague but its intent was unmistakable and sinister.
‘To the esteemed members of the Obsidian Circle,’ it began, each word sounding ominous, the sharp writing style only added intensity and urgency to each of them. ‘After centuries of diligent waiting, I am on the brink of achieving what was once thought to be beyond mortal reach. I have discovered two witches bound by blood, in this very academy’s halls.
Witch sisters; the impossible. By their hand and by the power within them, I will ascend.’ It was signed – Maglamor Helin
She pulled her hand back, ‘Maglamor Helin, must be the owner of this palace.’.
The letter slipped from her fingers and landed softly on the sheets. A chill crept up her spine as she tried to dismiss the thoughts of some ancient dark wizard conspiracy theory.
“Nonsense!” she protested her worries, just to confirm them – ‘he was just a practitioner of the forbidden magic, out to capture a marvelous phenomenon witch sisters to drain them of their power to fuel his own greed for power.’.
Glancing back to the bedside, Arin’s eyes got caught on a small portrait frame near the magical lantern that was extinguished. Normally it would have an eternal-flame spell placed inside it.
Wiping away the thin layer of dust on the portrait, she revealed a familiar face. It stared back at her with cold, unreadable eyes. The man in the picture was leaning heavily on a cane, a small smile curving his lips in a way that sent another shiver through Arin. It was unmistakably – Professor Romal.
“NO,” she protested her thoughts, “It cannot be, he cannot be Maglamor Helin, surely…”
It seemed as though he had left a piece of himself here, a silent, lingering presence in this very portrait as if watching her every move. She took a wary step back, steadying breath, swallowing the unease that had started to swell within her.
She tried to decide on the next thing to examine.
Upon taking a wary step toward the mysterious object, the full-height mirror that stood beside the wardrobe, she heard the faint voice once more.
“We are Urtid…” the distant voice, like an echo of past, long forgotten, whispered to her. The familiarity of the voice sent chills through her body, she knew that voice yet couldn’t remember it. Gritting her teeth she shut her eyes, deciding, thinking.
‘No, please don’t leave! Tell me more of your tales…’ she pleaded, searching desperately for the voice amidst the silence and darkness.
On the outskirts, just beyond her reach, the voice lingers as a shapeless form, a whisp, a faint memory. The voice, barely audible, yet soft and beautiful, continues retelling the tale.
“When a witch of blood, darkness, or nature finds a snow rose…” the voice faded yet again but the phrase sparked a sense of Deja Vu within her.
Arin now found herself lying in bed, a faceless person sat beside her, speaking softly, telling her a story of a legendary witch that had once acquired a mythical flower and with its aid overcame her weaknesses and saved the life of a princess. A story of perseverance and the power of will, a story that is often told to young witches as a means of teaching them what it truly means to be a witch.
She sighed softly, refocusing herself, dismissing the sense of Deja Vu, searching again for the voice, yet not even an echo of it remained.
As she reopened her eyes, the mirror loomed before her. Arin felt a pull toward it as if an invisible thread tugged at her thoughts and body alike to approach it, to reach for it, to look into it. She walked warily toward it, her steps light and slow, hesitant yet unable to resist its pull; she approached it till she was but an arm’s length away.
Her instincts yelped not to stare into the mirror; its ominous presence made it seem like a bad idea.
After a quick glance at the mirror she shuddered, it was like staring into the abyss, and everybody knows what happens if you do.
There was a faint ripple that propagated through the mirror’s dark surface. As soon as it subsided, Arin saw her own silhouette staring back at her, yet after a moment she noticed that the details were all wrong. The silhouette wasn’t hers. The figure in the mirror appeared a little taller, and perhaps older. Her features – eerily familiar. The silhouette’s eyes were closed, body laying still as if trapped in some enchanted slumber, yet her lips moved as if murmuring something.
Arin leaned closer to the mirror in hopes of hearing what she’s saying. Suddenly the voice became audible, a sense of urgency filled the room as she heard a shout in her mind. The silhouette in the mirror remained still. Its eyes still closed yet its mouth moved as if shouting, and along with it – the voice rang in Arin’s ears. “What are you doing here!? Run! RUN My foolish sister! You must leave! You mustn’t let him catch you… Cerleno! Call out Cerleno!”
Arin recoiled, tearing her hand from the mirror; the silhouette instantly dissipated. She staggered backward, her body trembling as her mind plunged into chaotic disarray.
Fragmented memories flooded in, snippets of her forgotten past, scenes. She had remembered them differently, a person in those scenes who was gone before. Sister. The word echoed in her mind, like a rolling thunder that kept growing louder.
Two daughters born to the same witch, sisters; an impossibility…
She remembered now the whispered warnings of her mother, words she spoke to them before kissing them both goodnight, “You are my gift, my treasure. And just like treasure, there might be those that seek you and hunt for you.”
Dark wizard, Maglamor Helin. His name sounded sinister, heavy, and frightening. For a while, she forgot to breathe as she battled the onslaught of fright and confusion. Then managed a gasp at last, blinking the confusion away.
The missing puzzle pieces were now aligning. The oddities she kept noticing as of recently were no longer odd. The fourth chair at the dining table, the stranger in the family picture, the fourth wooden mug. The memories felt off and odd. It all made sense now, she was the missing piece.
Arin glanced back at the mirror, its smooth and reflectionless surface did not waver, but she heard the voice break through one last time, “Basement – 57…”
Arin hesitated, her trembling hand reaching for her robes. She grasped them, squeezing hard in a desperate attempt to calm herself down, “Ce…cer…ah…” she stuttered, letters stumbling over each other as she tried desperately to swallow the lump in her throat.
The weight of the newfound truth made her knees buckle as she struggled not to fall to the floor and break down into tears. Fear tugging at her mind and thoughts, sending them into complete disarray, rendering any attempts to focus futile. The last words she heard echoed in her mind, she murmured them unbeknownst to herself, “Basement 57.”
With fear lingering at the edge of her consciousness, striving to break in and consume her whole. She wanted to give in to the basic survival instinct and flee, yet a passage from the book she had just read in class surfaced in her mind, pushing the fear away,.
‘Even compared to the mightiest sorcerers – the sisters stood triumphant, for their sheer magical power could only be rivaled by the gods.’ That passage swept through her mind like a roar of thunder, flushing away the fear of the dark wizard.
If it truly was her sister there, that meant one thing and one thing only. That the goddess herself permitted this anomaly, and they were a living myth; proof that miracles happen. The power of witch sisters would easily rival that of a sorcerer, and now the ritual made sense. Maglamor Helin needed to absorb their powers, which would enable him to tap into the unlimited magic and mana.
Arin now stood tall and strong, albeit her body still trembled and knees still shook. Her focused gaze examined the mirror. She wasn’t quite sure how she’d break the spell just yet, but she knew that she needed to rescue her sister.
The Awakening
When she reopened her eyes, she was sitting on a simple wooden chair, behind the professor’s desk.
“Ah, you’re awake,” the professor spoke softly as he threw a quick glance at the clock on the wall. Noticing that the five minutes had not quite passed yet, she awoke about a minute too soon.
Arin glared at the professor.
“Professor Romal. Yes, I am…” her gaze softened and lips curled into a gentle smile.
“Excellent,” he said curiously, taking a step closer, leaning heavily on his cane.
“How did it go?”
“It… went well, sir,” she lied; her voice steady and focused.
“Delightful,” he responded. His lips curled up into a faint smile.
“You seem focused, more so than before it, so much so in fact, that you broke the sleep spell.”
“Oh,” she gasped and then gulped, feeling the weight of his gaze upon her as if trying to perceive her thoughts. Trying not to flinch or look away, she continued firmly, “Uhm, is the exam world going to be the same for everyone?”
The professor nodded, “Yes, how was the forest? Met any interesting beings?”
She grasped her head, wincing from pain, faking a migraine.
“Ugh, it… it was overwhelming, Professor. I think I may need some time to recover,” she said, lowering her gaze.
Professor Romal frowned, leaning heavily on his cane, studying her; he seemed torn between suspicion and concern. Finally, he let out a thoughtful hum, “Very well. You’re not the first to feel overwhelmed by this trial. Check-in with the healers at the infirmary and then go home to get some rest.”
“Thank you, professor,” she murmured softly, forcing a weary smile as she slowly got up from the chair, still clenching her forehead.
“Don’t make a habit of it,” he added as she walked past him in the direction of her seat.
“And Kira? You may help her, take her belongings to the infirmary.”
“Ah? Yes, of course, professor,” Kira seemed surprised, but a mild hint of excitement could be heard in her voice, she was eager to skip out on the rest of the lecture.
As they exited the classroom and the door shut behind them, Arin at last allowed her shoulders to slump, “Phew…” she let out a relaxed sigh.
“Alrighty then, what’s this all about?”
Kira queried, squinting suspiciously at Arin.
“Not here, come… Let’s fake my headache at the infirmary for a check-in, and get out of here… I need to tell you things…”
“Hoh? Now you’ve got my attention, bestie! Lead the way.”
They walked hastily down the hallways and out the academy’s exit. The Grand Library would be to their left, closer to the city’s center, but assuming the professor would be watching her, she opted not to act out of the ordinary should the processor indeed take a peek. They went straight, in the direction of the marketplace until they were well outside the view of the academy.
“Sooo, what’s up?”
Kira queries again once they are sufficiently far enough.
“The dream world wasn’t a forest,” Arin replied, throwing a suspicious glance around.
“Hmm? So… you lied?”
“Naturally… you would too if you saw what I saw…”
Arin replied quietly, wariness in her voice.
“And what is that?”
Arin looked Kira in the eyes, her wary gaze was filled with fright.
“Professor Romal’s… erhm… truth about him, well… maybe.”
“What does that even mean!?”
“’I don’t know.’.”
It was not unusual for the academy’s students to visit the library, rather – it was expected. The students of the academy, aspiring witches, wizards, and mages, were welcome in all of the explored library’s floors. That’s not to say that they couldn’t go about into the unexplored sections of it, it’s rather the fact that most that do, never return. However, Arin knew where to go, and so they didn’t even need to stop by the information desk. They made their way onto a circular platform on the floor that began to move down instantly, plunging them into an endless, all-consuming darkness of the library’s basement floors.
“I swear, one of these days, your hasty decisions are going to land us in real trouble,” Kira said, her voice dripping with amusement.
“Oh? Reckless is my middle name,” Arin shot back, nudging Kira with her elbow.
“You’re just too careful.”
Kira raised an eyebrow.
“Not careful, just, cautious.”
“Overrated. Hey, I’ll keep your secret safe – if it’s still a secret after I save your butt,” Arin winked as they reached the desired basement floor.
Upon arriving on the desired floor, Arin wasted no time and burst through a door that led her straight into the hallway from the dream world.
“It’s… the same,” Arin uttered under her breath. Dust-coated portraits lined the walls and the antiqued carpets dressed the old floors. The air smelled faintly of despair, mildew, and bad decisions, such as breaking into a dark wizard’s dwelling.
“What is?”
Kira’s voice, just a step behind, carried a hint of confusion.
“This, everything here…”
Arin continued, glancing around nervously while trying to maintain her composure.
“I… don’t think I follow…”
Kira responded in a puzzled tone.
“For instance, look there,” Arin pointed toward the ornate door at the end of the hall, and then to the side a little. Her finger trembled like the last leaf on a tree, struggling against the chilly autumn’s breeze.
“See the portrait? Check the placard, it’ll be ‘Maglamor Helin’.”
Her voice wavered, afraid to confirm her suspicions.
Kira raised an eyebrow but didn’t hesitate to do as told. She headed for the door, and then brushed the dust off the placard with the sleeve of her robe, squinting at the engraved name. Kira’s eyes darted up to the portrait, where her palm smeared a streak through the year’s thick layer of dust.
“Doesn’t he look familiar?”
Arin asked cautiously, her voice barely a whisper.
Kira tilted her head, her lips parting slightly.
“Wait, is that…? Holy crap. He looks like Professor Romal!”
Arin nodded slowly.
“He does…”
Kira swallowed anxiously as she read the placard, “Mag-lamor, spelled backwards would be Romal. Freaky…”
Arin chuckled softly as she walked past Kira and the portrait, heading for the door. Her eyes glinting with mischief, “In the dream I tried the Secrecy Unveil spell on it,” she said, voice light and playful, “You know, just to see if the painting had any hidden truths or secret messages. I thought maybe the old wizard left a little clue behind.”
Kira’s curiosity piqued, she raised an eyebrow.
“Really? What did it unveil?”
Arin smirked, fighting to hold back a laugh.
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing… I guess even magic can’t help us uncover whatever dark secrets this place is hiding.”
Kira stared at the portrait for a moment longer, her gaze narrowing slightly as if expecting it to reveal something else.
“Well, that’s a bit anticlimactic…”
Arin shrugged slightly.
As Arin reached for the door’s handle she realized her hand wasn’t playing along. It shook, hesitated, and then froze entirely, as if it had suddenly decided it was smarter than the rest of her body, opting not to make any more bad decisions.
Kira walked up beside Arin and placed her hand on top of Arin’s.
“Come on now, dark wizards are like tenth on the list of scary things we’ve dealt with. I’m here, let’s do this together. Besides, worst case scenario – we yoink some cursed artifact as proof, and make a run for it.”
Together they pushed the door open.
The room was like stepping into the same dream world that Arin had been in. Bookshelves lined the walls, the bed, wardrobe, even the ritual circle engraved into the floor, everything was the same. The worst thing of all was the dark, reflectionless mirror that too, was just as it was in the dream world. Faint remnants of magic lingered in the air.
“Okay,” Kira said, glancing around.
“Not gonna lie, this is way cooler than I expected. Eerie – truly a dark wizard’s dwelling huh?”
“Focus,” Arin hissed, her eyes focused in on the mirror. She swallowed hard, her stomach turned as her instincts battled reason, trying to persuade her that fleeing was the better choice.
“That’s it. That’s where she is,” Arin said, bobbing her head at a black mirror in the back of the room.
“Who now?”
Kira asked in a hushed tone.
“Kaelith…”
Arin responded.
“Run that by me one more time?”
“My sister…”
Arin murmured.
“Oh yeah, nah, that makes total sense… NOT!”
Kira exclaimed with audible, and visible confusion.
Arin sighed, speaking softly, “In the dream world I saw my sister, sealed away in this very mirror.”
Kira blinked, tilted her head, gave Arin the look of a confused puppy, blinked again, and then furrowed her eyebrows, “You have a sister?”
Arin sighed again, “I… think so? It seemed so in the dream world. It’s like, memories of something I had forgotten flooded me when I touched that mirror…”
“Oh… I see…”
Kira stared at Arin with a raised eyebrow, “well, just to be clear, if this thing sucks you into some alternate dimension, I’m not following. I’ll miss you, though.”
Arin ignored her, slowly approaching the mirror. Her steps were light, but hasty and filled with urgency. Each step Arin took made her heart pound in her ears, deafening almost all other sounds.
Arin placed her hand on the mirror. Its smooth, cold surface sent a chill through her body, much like in the dream world. She shuddered, but whispered the chant anyway. The mirror’s surface rippled, twisted, and then seemingly flipped inside out, revealing a silhouette on the other side. A sleeping body, that in its appearance, resembled Arin.
“Holy crap!? W-who is that?”
Kira gasped quietly.
“That is her…”
Arin responded quietly, “my sister, Kaelith. Now, how do we break the spell?”
Arin pondered, eyeing the person inside the mirror.
“I am not very familiar with erhm, sealing spells, and uhm, mirror prisons? Must’ve slept through that lecture,” Arin admitted.
In that instant, there was a thump as Kira fell to her knees, clenching her head and letting out a soft whimper.
“Kira!?”
Arin gasped, jumping to her friend’s aid, “Kira! What’s wrong?”
“Ughhhh! I-I remember her now… I remember now,” Kira groaned, gritting her teeth, “Kaelith… I remember her. How? She…she’s real? She’s… always been there? With us. How did we forget about her?”
“Yeah,” Arin nodded softly, rubbing Kira’s neck for a moment in a soothing manner, “I had the same reaction, a sudden flood of memories that I had forgotten, scenarios that were altered from how I remembered them. I guess it’s a sort of powerful sealing spell that removes the memories of a person from all those who knew them?”
“Yeah… ridiculous… this is ridiculous,” Kira murmured, slowly pushing herself up.
“Kaelith…” she whispered, throwing a glance at the figure in the mirror.
Arin’s head throbbed as Kaelith’s voice broke through her mind shield, whispering softly, “the grimoire.”
“Right,” Arin opened her pack, pulling the grimoire out and flipping it open to a random page. To her surprise, the page was blank, as were all the others that she flipped to out of confusion.
“What are you doing?”
Kira queried, eyeing the empty book with raised eyebrows, as if watching someone insane live up to the meaning of insanity – doing the same thing over and over in hopes of a different outcome.
“This grimoire… it’s… sentient? I think.”
“You think?”
Kira blinked a few times in disbelief, her eyebrows attempted a daring escape into her hairline. As if being inside the room of a dark wizard who is also their professor – wasn’t strange enough, her best friend was now thinking that tomes were sentient.
“Let’s see, erhm – grimoire, how does one break the mirror prison spell?”
Arin inquired of the grimoire. At first, nothing happened. Then like a ghost dropping a pot of ink, a puddle appeared at the center of the page. It swirled lazily, as though a sloth contemplating whether waking up was worth it, and then sprung to life. Tendrils of black, like some ancient god’s limbs, streaked across the page, forming shapes, and patterns that eventually formed into a sketch of the mirror, surrounded by a frame of ancient runes that Arin couldn’t decipher.
She showed it to Kira, who in turn just shook her head.
Another moment passed, and two sets of text appeared beneath the mirror’s sketch.
“When the left becomes right, and the light consumed by night, then you’ll earn your insight,” Kira read it aloud, eyeing the words curiously as they appear on the previously blank page.
“Light consumed by night…”
Arin pondered, tilting her head to the side, like a confused puppy that wasn’t sure what was asked of it.”
“Well the left becoming right is easy, it’s a mirror,” Kira remarked, approaching the dark mirror beyond which Kaelith rested.
“Except, it shows no reflecti… OH!”
Arin spun around on her heel.
“What is it?”
Kira asked.
“There’s another mirror in this room,” she shuddered momentarily, “ugh, creepy thing but it’s a mirror…”
Making her way to the bookshelf, she reached for the ornate handheld mirror that was neatly resting amidst the grimoires and tomes. Its frame much as she remembered it; decorated in ancient symbols and runes that looked identical to the ones the grimoire drew around the dark mirror.
“What now?”
Kira queried.
“Left becomes right… light consumed by the night…”
She traced the symbols of the handheld mirror, “Uh, show the grimoire to the mirror?”
Fiery Reunion
Kira held it up as Arin aligned the mirror to see the grimoire inside it. As soon as she did that, the symbols surrounding the mirror’s frame began to glow faintly.
“If this mirror reflects, and the other one doesn’t. This one now glows, but the other is still dark. Perhaps… if we make them reflect each other?”
“Then what?”
Kira asked, clearly getting lost after the first three words Arin spoke.
“Do I look like I crack ancient imprisonment spells daily? How should I know?”
Kira nodded, “Same bestie, same…”
The two made their way back to the dark mirror. Arin stood a few paces away and held the handheld mirror out in front of herself, making sure that the dark mirror would be fully reflected within it. There was a loud crack, a sound of glass shattering, and then, the frame around the dark mirror began to glow with the same symbols as the small mirror. The grimoire seemingly shuddered in excitement, and another set of text appeared, this time, it was a spell.
“Renifa, Magli, Haina,” Arin read the words aloud. She pointed her finger at the left side of the mirror, “RENIFA!”
The ancient runes turned and then faded.
“MAGLI,” she continued, pointing her finger at the runes above the mirror. They did the same, and then the ones on the right also faded by her command.
As soon as all the runes had faded, the darkness faded from the mirror. Then the surface of it became fluid-like.
Kaelith’s eyes snapped open, she gasped in disbelief, stepping through the mirror into the room.
“S-sister? You’re here…”
Kaelith whispered, choking on a relieved sob.
Arin stepped toward her, her jaw agape but no words escaped her lips.
Kaelith’s frail form collapsed into Arin’s embrace. The all-too-familiar scent and warmth flooded her.
“Kaelith, I’m… I’m sorry I took so long,” Arin whispered softly.
“No, it’s my fault for being stupid,” Kaelith responded, pushing herself back a little, she looked deeply into Arin’s eyes.
“No time for sentiments, we ought to leave, NOW!.”
“Leaving so soon? What a shame. I am sorry that I was late to welcome my guests…” the professor’s voice came from the door. It was calm, amused even. He entered the room with his iconic limp, his steps in sync with the knocking of his cane on the wooden floor.
Arin ‘s heart pounded, and her breath got caught in her throat as a shiver ran through her body. She froze momentarily, fighting the fear, before finally mustering the courage to turn on her heel to confront the evil behind her.
“I am not leaving her here, you monster.”
“No… You’re not leaving her, you’re staying with her, all of you are,” he spoke with a hint of amusement in his tone, before continuing.
“How did you find your sister?”
“I led her here,” Kaelith stepped past Arin.
“Before your spell engulfed me fully, I left a few messages in a book and enchanted it, then teleported it out so that Kira would find it. When my sister got a hold of the book, the enchantment was lifted. Along with it, a charm was placed upon her when she touched it – my memories of this room. I knew of your dream spell, the dream world for the examination, but my charm made it so that she would be sent to ‘my’ dream world, instead of yours.”
Kira gasped, but remained silent. Arin looked upon her sister in awe, her jaw agape ever so slightly from the shock.
“Kaelith, Kaelith… Ever so nosy and perceptive. The protegee of the current generation, the witch that academy was so hopeful for, and your almost good-for-nothing sister. How I despise you… I had truly hoped that your capture would ease my life.”
“Not everything in life goes as you wish, Maglamor…”
Kaelith glared at him angrily. Arin could sense her mana stirring, synchronizing with her sibling’s.
Kaelith’s fingertips began to glow, sparking occasionally as she focused her mana and prepared her spells.
“My, you dare think you stand a chance, miss protegee?”
“Not at all, not alone, but I am hardly alone now, am I?”
Kaelith’s lips curled up into a confident smirk.
“Sister, follow my lead and I promise, we’ll escape. Kira, support us with defensive spells and stay behind.”
Arin gulped, and closed her eyes. Her everything focused entirely on following Kaelith’s lead. Their thoughts connected, their mana coiled together as both extended their hands forth. From Arin ‘s fingertips a lightning bolt shot, from Kaelith’s fingertips a fireball followed, and to enhance it further. Arin shot a whirlwind that consumed the fireball, setting ablaze everything in its path.
Maglamor was old and experienced, so even their coordinated attacks proved futile. He grounded the lightning, and with ease dissipated the firestorm that aimed to devour him. His desire was to capture them, not kill them so he did not counterattack. He tried to shackle them instead. A magical bind that coiled around Kaelith’s legs like a snake, constricting her like a python it sent her tumbling down to the floor. Before the serpent had a chance to slither up Kaelith’s body, Kira’s defensive spell tore it away from her body and pulverized it.
“Tch,” Maglamor’s expression turned from amused to annoyed, his eyes darted around the room. A loud creak followed, and then there was a thump, followed by a shout.
“DUCK!” screamed Kira as she leapt into Arin, pushing her down to the floor.
The previously still statue had swung its stone sword at them, missing them just barely. In that instant, while all were distracted for nought but a moment, the room fell silent and Arin’s robes no longer glowed. An all consuming darkness enveloped the trio.
“What now!?”
Called out Kira, creating a shield all around them.
“I need 30 seconds, hold out for that long, I’ll get us out of here,” Kaelith commanded, kneeling down and placing her hand on the floor.
“Got it,” Arin responded, creating another shield inside Kira’s.
Kaelith’s hand pressed firmly against the floor, her concentration unwavering despite the chaotic darkness that swirled around them.
There was a loud crack, Kira’s barrier shattered as a vile beast slashed at it from the impenetrable darkness. Before Kira had a chance to erect another barrier, there was an even louder crack. It was sharp and sudden. The floor beneath them gave way and crumbled. For just a second, everything went weightless and Arin thought that her sister had cast a flight spell. Pondering for a moment how flying would help them escape, the gravity then reminded her of its existence. She was falling now.
The floor crashed down in a deafening ruckus, yet the trio landed rather softly on top of the ruins, finding themselves in an enormous chamber with massive bookshelves reaching the entire height of no less than five meters.
Arin threw a quick glance around, catching glimpses of runes and scriptures around the ceiling, walls and even the floor of the room.
Wherever they landed, it seemed to be some sort of sacred place, at least that was the impression Arin got when she noticed an altar at the center of the room from which the scriptures extended and reached into every corner of the room.
“Everyone alright?”
Kaelith called out.
“Yeah, although you could’ve given me a heads-up,” Kira noted.
“Where are we?”
Arin asked, her gaze darting back to the hole in the ceiling.
“You think that’ll save you?”
Maglamor’s cold voice reached them from above. Arin could see his shape descending down on wings of darkness, like a demon straight from the depths of hell.
Before either of them had a chance to prepare any spell, the massive doors on the far side of the room burst open, through it entered a woman draped in golden robes, towering no less than three meters in height, she walked hastily toward the intruders. Following her were a squad of normal-height men in silver robes with golden decorations.
“Council?”
Maglamor gasped. His wings flapped as he tried to ascend, to flee. Arin watched in awe.
“Maglamor Helin, you are under arrest for accusations of practicing the forbidden arts, kidnapping, and endangering the lives of the witch sisters and students of the academy. I suggest you do not resist.”
From the palm of her hand, a golden rope shot out. It swiftly wrapped itself around the wizard’s legs. In a swift jerk of her wrist, the rope tightened and slammed the wizard down onto the floor, burying him beneath a bookshelf that collapsed atop of him.
The woman walked past the girls, smiled softly at Kira, and then made haste for the dark wizard before he had a chance to regain his focus. Out of the six wizards following her, two stayed back with the girls, defensive spells at the ready and barriers erected in case Maglamor were to try anything funny.
Arin couldn’t quite make out the events that took place, but she heard a lot of groaning and angry shouting, and within a couple of minutes, the dark wizard was apprehended. His body was tightly bound by golden, glowing ropes, his wings no longer there.
The silver-robed wizards escorted Maglamor toward the exit. As his silhouette grew smaller, Arin noticed him glaring over his shoulder. His voice, clear as the day, rang in her mind, “This isn’t over yet. We will return, we will prevail.”
A chill ran through Arin’s body, her heart clenched out of fear for what was to come.
“Doesn’t matter, come alone or bring your followers, come as they may, we’ll take on them all,” Kaelith responded in a half-whisper.
“Come now, sister. We have much catching up to do,” she turned and smiled at Arin.
“Yes,” Arin responded with a smile.
– The End –
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