Springtime danced through the breeze of the Ceilya prairie. The TriCoran sky shimmered green and blue with sparkles of crystal and the aroma of nectar. Flowers festively flung left rainbow trails of color where they flew. Blooming hillsides of them rolled onto the horizon: black stems and each petal a different color.

Music sounded of flutes with star patterns grown into the wood, spectacular silver horns held aloft by balloons, spiraling stringed instruments, and bells of crystal. They echoed across the fields and on to the distant color mills.

A vast array of races danced in the clearing. Humans with skin of both pink and brown, changing color by patterns on their bodies, dragons tall and true, a few cautions cats with long silver fur, sprites, fairies and many more. They dressed in festive fashion with frills and feathered hats, capes and brilliant colors.

Magie arrived by carriage, hoisted by griffins. She emerged in full armor adorned with medals for her part in the Heart of Crystal war. She stepped out onto the petal laden path and people bowed in respect as she passed.

A woman with stone-blue skin and long black hair trod up to her. She wore the most exquisite gown of the party: fit for a ball and woven of live flowers from the purple Harpe trees. A violet veil cast mystique and shadow over her face. She and Magie held their hand up and intertwined fingers in a traditional TriCoran greeting.

“You must surely be Sheikanna. Fabel has written of you countless times with not but the most glowing of terms. It is an honor and a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance,” Magie smiled.

“Magilike Eizinhairess, Fabel’s little sister, the great war hero! The pleasure is my own. I certainly have a behemoth of expectations to step into the Eizinhairess family shoes,” Sheikanna pulled the veil from her face and Magie stepped back in shock to find only emptiness there. No one else seemed to notice however so Magie smiled and replied, “nonsense, you are most welcome! How goes the day?”

“Truly, I could not be happier but am feeling the lacebugs in my stomach. We’ve planned today for many lunar cycles and, in honesty, my whole life. Now that it has come I feel lost at what to make of myself,” Sheikanna fanned herself with her bouquet.

“It is natural to be nervous. Sure as the sun, everything will be wonderful,” Magie replied. She appeared a woman of advancing years in this incarnation.

A blurry dragon came and said something to Sheikanna, occupying her attention. Magie glanced around. Many of the people were blurry and lacked faces.

“My pardons but the ceremony has begun,” Sheikanna said. She flipped the veil back over her head and walked away.

Magie sat on a chair on Fabel’s side of the isle. His only living relative. She remembered faintly how he had raised her when their parents were killed.

The seats filled instantly by a crowd talking and laughing, but they fell silent as music began to play. Magie saw him, Fabel, standing at the alter. He too lacked a face and she couldn’t distinguish what he was wearing. He felt right though; she knew it was him.

Sheikanna walked down the isle, holding a bouquet of ceilya blossoms. Everyone starred at her primed elegance. Step by careful step, she made her way up to the alter, trailing a bountiful train of flowers from her dress.

A sapphire scaled dragon stood behind the alter, ready to wed them. Magie couldn’t quite make him out and squinted to see better. “Dearly beloved...” he began.

“Wait, a scratch has come into my eye,” Sheikanna stopped him and flipped up her veil. She rubbed where her eyes would be had she a face.

“My love, are you alright?” Fabel asked, taking her arm.

“It scratches. Itches, burns awful! I cannot get it out!” Sheikanna moaned, rubbing harder, with both arms. She leaned back and began to scream. Thorns! Vines! Ghostly red flowers erupted from her face and chest! They burst outward, more by the second, hurling high into the air.

The guests began to panic, yelling, screaming. Chairs were cast aside like ships off an iceberg and the sun was snuffed out by dark clouds.

Magie observed the chaos. She had to do something! Suddenly standing, she pushed her way to the alter only to be impaled in two spots through her ribs by the needle sharp stems. She cried for help but the guests had all disappeared. She found herself alone in a field of red flowers with more sprouting violently from her chest.

 

Magie woke in frigid sweat and colder blood. She clutched at her chest to find it swaddled in bandages. Darkness loomed around her. She was shaking.

“Hello?” she called.

A fire crackled into being and she could see trees flickering in the dim light; not the lush green ones from before but craggy and dry with brown leaves and steel chains hanging from their branches.

“Oh, I’m so relieved you’re awake. How are you feeling?” Mr. Shade asked.

“My chest hurts. What happened?”

“The bookworm impaled you; that caused a reaction with your schism. Louise and the characters fought it away and found the soul shard for you. Phallun had tasked the ogres with keeping it. Look yourself over; you’ve grown a bit more,” Mr. Shade explained. Magie did feel slightly taller and stronger now and her body had matured to the age of thirteen. Her hair was still bright red but darkening with time.

She unwrapped the bandages. Her wounds had healed with the shard although a scar was present just bellow her ribs on either side.

“And we’re safe here?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” he replied. She sighed with relief.

“Oh, Mr. Shade, I had the most horrible dream. Sheikanna was there and eerie red flowers burst through her eyes and chest!” Magie exclaimed.

“Phaseforoxxine blossoms. You really don’t like those,” he observed.

“They’re terrible! What are they?”

“They’re the product of the Ogigah Foranga. Foranga is a god, the green one, very alien and mysterious. She’s literally a flowering mass of vines, which spans the length of the Emerald Galaxy. Or she was, before the convergence when all the Ogigah were destroyed to rid the universe of schism decay.

Not much is known about her but swarms of insects called the Saciya originated from her galaxy. They would fly from planet to planet, devouring all life in their path, and leave behind nothing but fields of phaseforoxxine blossoms. They were stopped by some brave and devilishly handsome individual killing all their queens.

The flowers are still an enigma. They grow and spread but never die. Somehow they manage to circumvent the ghate. This goes against natural science,” Mr. Shade told her. “Now, did you say Sheikanna?”

“Yes, I remember, she married Fabel and he was my brother. I can’t recall much of anything else though. Why do you ask?”

“No reason. Never mind. Do you think you can get some more sleep?” he replied.

“No. I’m awake,” she said. The first breath of day was creeping over the horizon and setting it ablaze. Long shadows swept from the trees casting a cage of darkness and light over her face. Mr. Shade snuffed the fire.

“We might as well head out. We’re in the Chained Kingdom of Phallun’s dominion. It’s part of Evnyance just like the Veilands and Weeping Clogway. I don’t know much about it so we’ll need a guide. There’s a town about a kilometer from here where we can find one,” he said. Magie didn’t move. She stood there in the budding dawn, clasping her hands.

Mr. Shade waited for a minute or two, what seemed more of five or ten, before asking, “are you alright?”

“I don’t know. I feel not. What of the bookworm? It nearly killed me. Are more monsters like it waiting for me?” she asked.

“It’s never easy. You’ve had your first brush with mortality, sort of. I won’t lie to you; the path ahead is perilless. It’s not something you can choose to disregard either. Believe in yourself; although you don’t remember it, you’ve led a life of surmounting challenges. You commanded an army and became the arch sorceress. I saw that in you yesterday and all the days before. You’re no ordinary girl. If anyone can do this it’s you,” Mr. Shade told her.

“I’m scared,” Magie said.

“Can you get through today?” he asked.

“I guess so.”

“Then focus on today. You can worry about tomorrow and the next days as they come. Just take it one day at a time.”

“Okay.”

Magie walked through the trees. A dry marsh of sun scorched cracked dirt, withered shrubs and chains. Metal chains that rattled and clanked as she passed but occurring as if they were natural. She saw them everywhere, hanging like vines and holding down patches of earth that threatened to rise up into the sky.

Soon she came upon a dirt road. Massive tread-marks were embedded in it and laced in oil. Rusting scraps piled along the side. It was wide and dry as anything and everything else. She followed it.

The sky, even well after dawn, had an amber glow. Hot and empty although not without dark clouds forming on the horizon. No wind to blow, nowhere to go but ahead.

After some time, a rusting iron robot stomped past, forcing Magie off the road. Not as advanced as the sleek designs of starfaring races, it whirred and clanked, bellowing dark puffs of smoke. It was chained to a large wooden cart with several figures sitting on it; hauling it like some beast of burden. The figures wore leather or hide of something or other, brown and cracked as the dirt. A few were human but most appeared to be made of stone.

Seeing how it was traveling the same direction as her, Magie jumped onto the kart. The creatures riding did not like that. “By the bindings, wot’s this? Have you coin for the fare?” one asked.

“No.”

“Then off ya go!” he shoved her off the kart, bruising her with his stone hands.

“Black hole!” Magie yelled. The caravan rolled away.

“Magie, we’re in enemy territory and it would be best to not draw attention. Try to keep a low profile,” Mr. Shade advised.

“But he was a jerk!” Magie sulked.

“And if he gets suspicious of us we could swiftly be swarmed by nightmares. We need to blend in.”

“Wait, I know. I touched his cloak. With a sample, I can alter mine to the same material,” Magie said. She cast a spell and her cloak and robes shifted composition to the brown, cracked leather. Simple.

“Such is the work of signature engineering; preserving the same signature energy but shifting its form,” he said.

“Damn, this is heavy. How do they wear this?” Magie fuddled with her cape.

“I suppose if you’re made of stone, the weight doesn’t matter,” Mr. Shade said.

“Yes, they must take their strength for granite,” Magie giggled.

“Gneiss one,” Mr. Shade added.

“Well I appreciate the sediment.” She continued down the road, “do you suppose we’ll ever see Louise again? I want to know her story.”

“Me too, after hearing about the RAND Corporation. Maybe someday, when this is all over, we will. Everyone has a story to tell but fewer are good story tellers,” Mr. Shade replied.

They walked for an indeterminable amount of time, fifteen minutes by Mr. Shade’s gauge and hours by Magie’s. The traffic thickened as they neared a town. Robots were abundant, rusty and dirty with nuts and bolts, smokestacks and exposed gears. Great loads of rocks in chains were hauled. Gorgons with snake bodies and ferocious faces toiled with pickaxes and hammers in addition to few humans and dragons and more rock people. They all wore metal armor or brown leather, despite the heat, which blended Magie very well.

It was becoming increasingly obvious this was a mining town. Large factories rolled raw ore in on conveyor belts and shipped out crates of some packaged material. Robots assembled other robots and weapons of war. The technology seemed very primitive compared to that of Rainbow’s Wane with chains, springs, cogs, smoke and clunky animations. No hover repulsers or sleek designs although several buildings were chained and bolted down at risk of drifting away. In such a large universe the developmental stages of different civilizations varied drastically.

“They’re outfitting nightmares with weapons, look,” Mr. Shade said. Shadowy creatures with long teeth and dead eyes exited a spike laden factory with robotic parts grafted to them: guns, saws and rocket packs. Some featured exposed shadowy rib cages, long snouts and claws. Others looked like multi-legged bugs. The procedure made them even more nightmarish, like bizarre half decayed cyborgs. Magie quickly shuffled by.

She walked, keeping her head down and attracting little notice. Everyone had their own toils to attend and cared not for yet another cloaked figure. All for the better, she felt.

“Here’s a tavern. Pop in. We need to find a guide through the Frunn Chainwood. Discretely,” Mr. Shade said.

“I’m not a child. I know how to be discrete.”

As she walked in a drunken man of stone was raving about Phallun’s tyranny. Two guards swiftly dragged him outside and beat him with picks before dragging him away.

“When people don’t fight for democracy, democracy dies. Always with consequences,” Mr. Shade said.

“How does this happen?” Magie asked.

“I don’t know. Stupid people like to worship narcissists.”

The tavern was carved of dark wood and a wall of chains decorated the entryway. Oil lamps cast dim light and a meaty, greasy blend prowled the stagnant atmosphere. Hot and dry. Inside she found much the same types as before but louder and more inebriated. They sang and played some game of rolling small stones like dice on very solid tree stump tables. Large racks of purple meat were served and devoured. Tales told, drinks sold.

“Attention: I’m looking for a guide through the Frunn Chainwood!” Magie yelled but her voice drowned in the sea of ruckus. “Hello? Can anyone guide me through the Chainwood?!” Nobody paid her any mind.

Magie headed to the bar and hoisted herself up on a large and uncomfortable stool. A man sized insect with three eyes, wings, and a pine green exoskeleton sat next to her. He sat guzzling some rank concoction that was better left without description. The bar tender was preoccupied.

“Hey, a Raydaytion,” Mr. Shade said. “That reminds me, a Raydaytion and a Whittitteron scuttle into a bar and look around. It’s dank, dirty and empty. The Whittitteron says, “my analysis finds this unsatisfactory. I suggest we leave.” You know Whittitterons, right? So the Raydaytion asks “how come?” The Whittitteron responds, “can you not see, it’s dead in here?” And the Raydaytion says “in that case we should stay for a bite!””

Magie stared blankly at her shadow, which he occupied.

“You know, because Raydaytion eat their own dead? It’s funny if I don’t have to explain it. How about this one: how many Raydaytion does it take to change the hover repulsers of a personal cruiser?” Mr. Shade continued. Magie looked over to see the Raydaytion staring at her. She giggled nervously before grabbing the bar tender by his sleeve.

“‘Ello there little one. Wot can I git ya?” he asked, polishing a mug. He was a tall and grizzled man, well built and poorly shaved. Tattoos and scars paraded across his muscular arms and a dirty apron dangled from his neck.

Magie was taken back; she hadn’t thought that far ahead, “um, well. Lets see… I believe I will have a… a Manhattan.”

The bartender laughed, “well link me up, aren't ya cute? Whoever ‘eard of that rubbish? ‘Ere, I’ll give ya somethin I whip up when the miners bring their youngins in.” he turned around and poured several colorful liquids together in a mug. “Try this, sweetheart.”

Magie grasped it in both hands before taking a swig of the concoction. Her eyes bulged. The instant it touched her tongue she spit it out in a sticky and colorful spray, “Eew, that is vile! By the gods! Ugh! Never have I tasted such foulness! What is this? Is this how you mix drinks? How do you work here?!”

“Now there’s a story,” the bartender began. “Ya see, before I was a workin ‘ere there was a fella called “Stumpy Barg”, lost his leg to the distillery equipment, he did. That mess took a heap of cleanin’ I can tell ya. Before ‘im came three fingered Jak; a real killer wit the ladies or so he thought. One day he was showin off wit tricks peelin fruit- took his fingers clean off. But my story don’t stop there, it don’t, because before ‘im came one eyed Willy. Do ya know wot ‘appened ta ‘im?”

“Bottle explosion?” Magie asked.

“Tax evasion. Just goes to show ya don’t need ta be no genius ta work ‘ere. Just smarter than the fellas before ya,” the bartender tossed a knife up into the air. He tried to catch it but it bounced off his hand and almost stabbed him in the boot. He laughed and picked it up before going about his business.

“I see,” Magie said.

Mr. Shade sensed something; a dark presence and lust for blood approaching the door. “Magie, quick hide!” he warned.

Magie darted to the back hallway. She checked the three doors nestled there: locked, locked and locked. Damn. Thinking fast, she transformed into an orange tabby cat and jumped from some barrels up into the rafters. From there she could survey the whole room.

The chains hanging from the entryway were sliced apart and clanked to the floor as a figure in a black cloak entered. She cast the hood aside to reveal long, blood red hair and a pretty face. The Weaver. At this time only her two normal eyes were revealed.

A waiter carrying a large tray of food and drinks bumped into her, sloshing rum on her cloak, “sorry miss.” Her fingers extended through his skull and retracted, dropping his lifeless body to the ground. People paused and stared. It was a tough tavern, it had to be, and they soon went back to their distractions as if nothing had happened.

The Weaver sat down at the bar. Magie angled her sensitive ears to better hear her over the crowd. The bartender nervously approached, afraid to keep her waiting, “what’ll ya ‘ave?”

“What a question. Appropriate. What would you give a woman who has never lived?” the Weaver asked. He handed her a bottle of something expensive. She took a sip and swirled it in her mouth, savoring the oaky complexion.

“Interesting,” she observed. “Give me something else. Something different.”

She tried sips of two more drinks, “I have memories, thousands of memories of different drinks on different tongues but this is my first time trying one myself. Very nice. Well, back to business.”

She turned abruptly and a golden scythe appeared in her hands in a plume of purple fire. She smashed it well through a table and into the floor, “attention vermin! I’m searching for someone; a human girl. Red hair, pink skin about so high. She was last seen wearing a black cloak and robes. Sources tell me she might head through here. Give her to me and I may just spare your miserable lives.”

The room fell silent for a moment then people called out, “git outta here!”

“There’s no such girl here!”

“Cast me in irons, who does she think she be?”

“Very well,” the Weaver said. She held high her free hand and a deathly silence fell. The breath was stolen from everyone in the room. Magie felt a tugging sensation, like her heart was being torn from her chest but cast a barrier to protect herself.

The people’s eyes and mouths were forced open wide and silver threads poured from the orifices. Their souls were expelled as orbs of light, which flowed on the threads into the Weaver’s hand. With a sharp gesture she crushed them into sparks and spun the threads into a glowing web, entangling a room of husks. They hung limp and dead.

“Pity. I should have left the bartender alive to fetch me another drink,” she muttered to herself before walking calmly out of the tavern.

“And that’s why they call her the Weaver. She just murdered a room of her own workers,” Mr. Shade said.

“She looks like me,” Magie observed and it was true to a fault; the Weaver was a perfect copy of her but fully grown.

“Don’t worry about that now. We have to leave and fast. Find a door we can open so I can take us away,” he said.

Magie shifted back to human form as she leaped from the rafters. Careful to avoid the webbing, she slipped across the room, stopping to look at the bartender’s corpse. A disturbing sight, withered and webbed, it dangled like a puppet on strings.

“He deserved better than this,” she said, caressing his arm. She bowed her head for a moment in respect before leaving.

Outside the people continued their work, blissfully unaware of the atrocities that occurred. Magie looked around for a door; she felt faint. The few shops had chained curtains in place of them. Large factories featured equally large and inaccessible steel barriers. She was starting to draw suspicion, darting about and checking around.

A stone guard in leather armor noticed her confusion. He was hoisting a crude but very large gun that measured as long as he was tall. He yelled with a deep, rough voice to match, “you there! Who are ya? Wot’s your business with the forgeworks?”

“svitch!” Magie cursed and began to run. She turned a sharp corner and out of his line of fire but nearly got trampled by a hulking four legged robot hauling rocks. She continued running but in that, drew more and more attention. Guards were everywhere.

As she passed by a shop, a hidden door in the wall swung open and something yanked her in by the shoulder. A firm hand covered her mouth.

Magie instinctively struggled but, for all her power, she was still a thirteen year old girl in body. The captor was larger and stronger.

“There, there. Calm down little one; I’m here to help you. You made quite a fuss with the guards. If you’re quiet, I’ll let you go. Can you do that for me?” a woman’s voice asked. Magie nodded.

The hand released her and Magie turned to find a woman in a white dress with ribbons and bows. This felt off as the hand was cold against her skin and, upon closer inspection, Magie realized it was actually a life sized wooden doll.

Its skin was painted pale and very lifelike save for the joints featuring screws. The face looked and moved just like a real person’s and smiled at Magie, “that’s much better. We wouldn’t want them to hear us, of course. Not before I can offer my services anyway. A little butterfly fluttered by and whispered in my ear that you and your spirit friend are looking for a guide through the chainwood.”

“So, you noticed me,” Mr. Shade said. “Actually we were just leaving...”

“Naturally you know it’s best to be off before the rorschachs come. If you miss your window you won’t be able to travel for six cycles. What a shame that would be,” the doll stated. Her voice rang sweet yet smug, fitting for one making a sale.

“Rorschachs?” Mr. Shade asked.

“You aren’t from around here, are you? The rains. You won’t get very far in the downpour and they could come any day now.”

“I think we ought to go,” Magie suggested.

Mr. Shade considered the offer, resting his shadowy chin on his fingers. “Who are you and can you get us out of town?” he asked.

“Adle, Iza Adle. I’m a traveler, a bit of a treasure hunter in breath of honesty, and I know Evnyance like a comfortable old boot. Leaving town presents no problem. But where exactly are you going? The chainwood is an awfully large place,” Iza said.

“We’re heading to the temple of script and we’d like to keep it under wraps. What would you ask as payment?” he asked.

“My, my, to the point, aren’t we? I like that! The temple of script happens to be on my own list. To visit, to see. A little souvenir from there will be all the payment I require,” she snapped her fingers.

“You’re too kind. Really. But we have no choice. It’s a deal,” Mr. Shade said.

“Wonderful! Alright, Moonflower, follow me. Large tracks of abandoned mines stretch under this town. We’ll be out before you can say “butter my bread”,” Iza told them.

“My name is Magie and this is Mr. Shade,” Magie said. Mr. Shade masked his concern about revealing their names.

“And it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Magie. Follow me,” Iza turned to lead them through the passage. As she did, they saw the doll was puppeteered in thin golden strings by a small ghost with big yellow eyes, covered in tar. Less than a meter tall in levitated in place, always behind the doll. Magie and Mr. Shade stared at this development.

“Oh don’t mind that. Remember, I’m right here,” the doll said, pointing to her face. Magie nodded.

“To each, her own,” Mr. Shade said.

Iza lead them down rickety wooden stairs and into a tunnel. She always acted as the doll, able to see through its eyes and move like a real woman. An orb of light was emitted from her hand and drifted before her.

The tunnel stretched far, carved of solid rock and held aloft by wooden support beams. A seasoned track was laid for carts but they saw none. Only the occasional rusted hammer or pile of scraps could be seen abandoned with the mine.

“What exactly do you hope to find in the temple of script?” Mr. Shade asked.

“Oh, just a bit of my own business. I might ask you the same?” Iza replied.

“That’s our business as well.”

“Then we’ll all merrily go about our business, won’t we?” Iza said. Her words echoed down the passage.

“Echo, echo and off we go!” Magie sang. In a whirl, she flung back her cape and it spun into its natural black fabric form. What a relief.

A whisper of light formed in the distance and it grew as they progressed. They exited the mine shaft to a bright and amber midday.

 

A dried and withered swamp spread around them. Gnarled trees on tall roots with brown leaves and chains wove into the landscape. Cracked dirt and dead plants filled the riverbed. Reeds and the like, brown and dry, whistled gently in the hot breeze. Of particular notice, long scrolls of parchment grew up from the banks. They flapped like flags and curled at the tips.

“What are those?” Magie asked, pointing to scurrying rodents. Fluffy things, they had brown ridges of fur running down their backs and fan like tails.

“Skitmunks. They’ll be hurrying to set up shelters and stock nuts before the rorschachs. Notice that canopy over there? That will be their work,” Iza said. Two chains hung parallel between two trees with sticks and leaves placed between them. The skitmunks chattered in clicks and squeaks and ran across it like a bridge.

Magie knelt and began clicking at them. The skitmunks took notice and clicked back. Soon three or four scurried to the ground and joined in the conversation.

“I hate to be a downer, Moonflower, I truly do, but we have a two day march ahead of us. The clouds are gathering overhead,” Iza told her. True to her word clouds black as coal drifted over the edge of the sky.

Magie stood and jogged a bit to catch up with her, “I was chatting with them.”

“What did they say?” Mr. Shade asked.

“Well Everest and Linda work in an office as interns and Mr. Flufferbum is an attorney. He’s complaining that his wife doesn’t trust him with his hot new secretary. Linda says if she had a secretary like that she wouldn’t be trustworthy either. An awkward silence creeps around the water-cooler...” Magie said. They continued on.

Soon they came upon a large floating island, bolted and chained into the ground from several points. These chains were thicker than those hanging from the trees, with each link measuring half a meter long. It swayed uneasily and pulled the chains taut.

“Isn’t that just like the Chained Kingdom? They mined out the heavy metals and crystals but that caused the land to float away. So they rectified this in the most crass way imaginable: by chaining it down. I’m afraid it’s a path we must take if we’re to reach the temple of script,” Iza observed the obstacle.

“No worries!” Magie cartwheeled up the chain.

Iza was more hesitant, carefully stepping one foot then the next with her arms out for balance. Of course, her heels didn’t help. “Oh dear. I haven’t a head for heights,” she said several meters from the ground. Indeed she had slowed to a crawl and looked quite distressed.

“Can’t you levitate and carry the doll across?” Mr. Shade asked.

“Why, I suppose I can,” she replied. The ghost then pulled the doll by its strings up to the island. Mr. Shade was sure to note this odd behavior. Perhaps she hadn’t been a ghost for very long.

They trekked on for the remainder of the day. Magie took it in stride, more or less, then more of less, until she became quite intolerable as the sun began to set. “I’m bored. My feet hurt. Are we near?” she moaned.

“Moonflower, Magie, as I have said, we need to progress as far today as we possibly can. Then another full day awaits tomorrow. The temple of script is tucked away deep from any settlement and we can’t take known roads for fear of patrols,” Iza said for the fifth time.

“I’m famished. The air has grown chill. Can’t we stop?” Magie whined.

“Alright, alright! This is as good a place to camp as any. Fortunate for you an experienced guide is well prepared for all contingencies,” Iza pulled a large pack from the mouth of the ghost. How it fit in that tiny ghost remained a mystery to the others. She tossed a bundle in the air and it unfolded autonomously and landed as a tent.

“Would you like me to start a fire?” Mr. Shade asked.

“Not necessary. I remember how to do it myself,” Magie said, gathering stones into a circle around a pile of wood. She snapped her fingers and a huge fireball erupted with a crackling boom. It set ablaze the trees nearby and Magie scrambled to extinguish them with blasts of cold mist from her fingers.

“Maybe a bit more practice,” Mr. Shade said.

“Well aren’t you a talented young lady? The mystic arts are no meager undertaking, especially for one your age,” Iza marveled.

“Mystic arts? It’s signature engineering. Magie simply transitioned her potential signature energy into heat,” he scoffed.

“Oh, another nonbeliever I see. Well let me tell you: such is a feat bestowed on select few by the heavens! It’s magic,” Iza threw her hands up in the air.

“What do you think Magie?” he asked.

“It’s magic,” Magie replied. Mr. Shade remained silent.

Magie had a meal of meat and grains produced from Iza’s pack. The same purple meat from the tavern, rich and gamy. The other two could go without sustenance. Before bed Iza said a prayer to Foranga in some ancient tongue. Magie recognized it; half the words about. She had heard it before. Many were those who worshiped the Ogigah and continued to believe even after the convergence.

About this Magie wasn’t sure. If what Mr. Shade said was true, Foranga was responsible for those horrible red flowers. Still, Iza Adle didn’t seem to mean them any harm. She could have turned them into the guards at any time if she was working for Phallun. But what were her motives? Suspicious.

Magie decided not to worry further. It had been a long day and she was tired. She tucked herself into a bedroll and slept a dreamless sleep.

Morning came not with the chirping of birds but rather the patter of rain. Light for now but the clouds overhead grew ever darker.

Magie held her hand out the tent flap and was surprised to find a black blot occupy her palm. “It’s ink?” she asked.

“That will be the rorschachs. They saw it fit to come sooner than I had hoped. This will make our trip more troublesome. But never fear, I came prepared,” Iza said exiting the tent. She tossed a disk in the air and it unfurled into a hovering umbrella of sorts over Magie’s head. A second was used for herself.

Magie observed the changing landscape. Black blots, the size of a coin, formed on the leaves, dirt, chains and every conceivable surface as ink drizzled down from the sky. Drip-drop, plip-plop, it fell. She was thankful for the disk so not to look like a Dalmatian.

The dry banks grew muddy and dark, soon to fill with trickles of ink. Scrolls of parchment began to resemble its namesake. Breakfast was rushed. Iza was quick to pack up the tent and be on her way before the conditions worsened.

They hurried forth with muddy boots. Hours ticked by. The ink fell faster and heavier. Rivers filled as ponds rose up and the once desolate badlands were transformed into a black but lively marsh.

Creatures stirred from their long slumber. Snakes with manes as long as their bodies, two headed waterfowl, fish and turtles with gelatinous glowing shells all emerged to have a swim. It didn’t matter what color they were as all became stained with ink.

“This is fun,” Magie said, pointing to splotches. “The ink tells stories. Atticus and Mr. Tiddlywinkle worked in the same office-”

“You really like offices, Magie?” Mr. Shade asked.

“Yes but let me finish. Atticus and Mr. Tiddlywinkle worked in the same office but didn’t care for each other. They were designers and- eeee!” Magie screamed as the ground gave out beneath her and she tumbled down the hill in a gushing mudslide. She landed with a sploosh in a wide river of ink. It span deeper than she was tall.

She surfaced and wiped her face. The ink felt lukewarm and thick across her skin. It didn’t burn and behaved much like a body of water. Opaque water that she couldn’t see a decimeter through. That worried her. It wasn’t long before her worries were founded.

“Magie there’s something in the ink with you!” Mr. Shade warned. Magie looked to see a long winding ripple break the surface. It approached her and fast.

“Svitch!” she swam the opposite direction. A snake? A reptile? She didn’t want to find out.

“Magie, catch!” Iza threw a chain across a branch overhead so it hung down like a pulley. Magie frantically swam for it. The creature was gaining. What was that? It looked huge! Could she make it before the beast caught her? In a desperate sprint she lunged for the chain. She grabbed a hold and was pulled out as a black set of jaws clamped together beneath her. They could easily have swallowed her whole.

Magie clung to the tree branch, shaking from the fright. Her breath fell heavy as the rain. That was close, much closer than she cared for. This part of the dreamscape had monsters too. She crawled along the branch toward the trunk and back over land.

“An inky bogswattler fancied you for lunch. I told it you had other reservations,” Iza said, helping Magie down.

“Thank you!” Magie shook the ink off her.

“Oh, no need to thank me. I look out for my clients. It’s good policy. Here, get cleaned up,” Iza handed her a white handkerchief. The ink that fell on it vanished mysteriously, leaving it clean. Magie proceeded to wipe her face and hands off.

They continued on rout. When the mud grew too deep they took to the trees, hopping from branches and swinging on chains. The canopies made by skitmunks acted as useful natural bridges.

 

“There yonder, the temple of script,” Iza pointed as they crested a hill.

A magnificent structure waited in the distance. Built of steel, it shined silver in the blotted light. Tall, thin stained glass windows the shape of eight pointed stars ran every few meters. The temple curved around in a cylindrical shape with the two wings wrapping around a smaller cylinder in the center. The back end rose into a sharp tower holding a sundial. Pillars lined the exterior and scrolls of parchment hung from them, now blotted with ink. The entire structure was decorated by bronze letters of ancient script.

“Why did we need a guide to find this place?” Magie asked.

“Because, Moonflower, the temple is never found in the same place twice. It moves about by means lost to history. A perfect place to hide tribute and treasure I must say,” Iza told her.

“So how’d you go about finding it?” Magie asked.

“That’ll be my little secret. Come, treasure awaits,” Iza hurried ahead, certain at long last that the temple housed what she was searching for. Yes, she could taste it like copper in her mouth.

Magie followed. A moat encased the temple. Magie distinctly did not wish to find out what monsters waited therein.

“Well, I can levitate across can’t I? No point in waiting; I’m sure you’ll make your way in soon,” Iza’s ghost began to carry the doll across. She didn’t get far however as the ground began to quake.

The temple shook and began to change shape. The pillars propped it up and spun together underneath forming two spiraling legs. It stepped forward like a golem and raised the side wings like arms. Magie leaped out of the way as they came down with crushing force. The doors opened and it let out a mighty roar in the tone of a deep church bell. It had come alive and angry.

“Magie! The words of life are scribbled across the wall,” Iza pointed to glowing gold letters painted on the cold metal. Magie recognized them. She remembered. If she could erase them the temple would fall dormant again. But they were stories high. How to get up there?

Magie dodged another blow as half a temple crashed down behind her. She jumped on the arm and attempted to climb but the metal was slick and smooth. She slid off as it raised its arms for another attack.

Magie struggled through the mud, trying to gain distance. She couldn’t run; everything was bogged down. But she had to get away; the temple would crush her.

Mud and rain everywhere. Wait- a tree! If only she could reach the chains hanging from it. They were too short and she too far. Unless…

Magie focused on the tree. She could feel her power coursing through it. The chains, were they part of the tree too? She concentrated and willed one to grow. Link after link sprouted and it slithered down to her in a serpentine fashion. She pulled to safety seconds before the temple slammed into the ground again.

Brilliant, but that wasn’t all she could do. She felt powerful and determined. Magie willed the tree further and its branches and chains crept around the temple, tying it down.

More! She needed more trees! Magie spread her power through the ground and into their roots. The trees around the temple curled up its pillar legs and spread over its surface. They strained and cracked but Magie willed ever more life into them, growing them as fast as they broke.

She transformed into the cat and climbed the tangle of trees. Up she went, higher, faster. The ground shook as the temple struggled to break free. She leaped from branch to branch, making her way to the golden letters.

There she transformed back into a human and wiped them with the magic cloth Iza had given her. Golden waves of energy raged over the metal as she worked. The trees shook but the letters dissolved to her touch. Almost finished… There! The temple reverted back to its building form and crashed to the ground in a cloud of splinters, leaves and bark. She landed in the mud.

“Thank Foranga! That was a bit more excitement than I cared for. But aren’t you useful? Well done, bravo! Come, let us enter before anything else happens,” Iza said. She cast the steel doors open with a loud clang. Magie followed.

Iza illuminated the dark chamber with a ball of light. The interior felt cool but at least it was dry. No mud nor rain, save the mess they tracked in, seeped through the sturdy walls. Although metal, it was decorated and carved in ancient characters well deserved of a temple. No surface was left bare. Pillars of bronze letters stretched to the ceiling and cabinets could be found filled with rolls of script. The floor was a work of sapphire tiles and the ceiling curved up to an arch. Despite being abandoned for some time, no dust nor cobwebs were present.

Silver letters hung like curtains in the air, suspended from no poles nor cords. Magie ran her finger across one to find it sharp enough to draw blood. “Ouch,” she tried to say but no sounds emerged from her mouth. Instead visible letters from her lips spelling the word wrapped around her, equally sharp.

“What’s this nonsense?” Iza produced more silver letters from her mouth. They circled her and, when she attempted to pass, cut the wooden doll’s fingers off.

Mr. Shade formed letters of shadow on the wall: “Don’t speak. It’s a trap.”

Magie nodded. True to a temple of script, spoken words were forbidden. Magie cast a spell, draining the letters of their energy. They fell to the ground.

Iza reattached the fingers with some unknown force and picked up a scroll of paper and a quill. Both were readily available. She wrote, “we can communicate through notes. Let us divide to cover more ground.”

Magie nodded. Aside from the faint patter of rain, the room was quiet. The kind of quiet that spoke volumes in an unknown, eerie and ancient place. Her footsteps echoed and thin glimmers of color shined from where the windows were not covered in ink.

Magie cast a ball of light of her own and it cast long shadows of letters. The chamber led into several doors and one was as good as any. She pulled it open with a long metallic creaking and stepped through.

This lead to a large dome, the bulk of the structure. It portrayed a night sky but with colored characters as all seemed part of a large body of writing. The letters shined deep indigo with white mixed in where stars would be. Near the bottom they changed to pink, yellow and orange with a setting sun.

Magie recognized the language, or half of it at least. She recalled grand universities where she studied so many things. But blurred with gaps, always incomplete. The schism was a wicked thing.

She wandered the chamber, pouring through its marvel and drinking its majesty. Suddenly she remembered that slaves built it, with sobering effect. Phallun’s regime was one of art and authority. Many grand structures were commissioned and others simply dreamt into being. Evnyance, a place of wonder and despair alike.

Something called to her; that familiar familiar feeling. Her soul shard was kept here, beyond the setting sun. But how to access it? The sun was in the way. She saw no doors besides the one she entered from.

She looked around. Bronze urns overflowing with metal letters lined the walls. Magie picked one up and it hung in place. Finding more, she crafted a sentence, roughly translated: “Calm in the fall of rain”.

As soon as it was completed, the dome’s letters turned dark grey, like clouds, and letters began raining from its sky. She quickly tore the sentence apart as they fell like blades. This caused the dome to revert to its clear night pattern again.

The commotion drew Iza’s attention as the letters landed with loud clangs. She ran in and handed Magie a note: “Have you found something?”

Magie scribbled a reply under it: “Perhaps.”

She walked over to the setting sun. “Sunset” was one character apart from “Sunrise”. She pulled the suspect character out and replaced it with the appropriate one.

The letters glowed and mechanisms were set in motion. The sun climbed its way up into the sky, illuminating it in amber light. The dome became very bright, shining so Magie shielded her eyes with her hand. Where the sun had been waited a door, enticingly almost.

They entered to be welcomed by vast hoards of coins and rare jewels. A treasure chamber, well hidden and better stocked. There, resting on a mound of star gold, bronze and silver was a crystal box and therein her soul shard. Magie hurried over.

‘Hold on,’ Mr. Shade thought in Magie’s head. ‘Lets wait until Iza leaves.’ Magie nodded and held the box tight.

Iza didn’t notice as she was consumed digging through piles of treasure, searching, almost obsessively for something. When she found it, she laughed with glee, forgetting the rule of silence, “there you are, yes at last. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” The temple’s curse seemed to be broken with the opening of the chamber. They could speak normally now.

As Magie turned, Iza quickly stashed the small object in her breast pocket. Mr. Shade could feel it radiating with energy, an almost familiar sensation.

“I see you have found what you came for and I as well. Lets not dwindle on the details and call it a successful day for all,” Iza said.

Mr. Shade had a growing suspicion but wanted to avoid a line of being questioned more that his own line of asking his own. “Alright, farewell. We’re going to stay and look around for a while but I’m sure you’ll want to be on your way,” he replied.

“Yes, consequently I’ll be heading to the Consumed Etropolis. It is said Phallun keeps a vault there. As a fellow treasure hunter and growing young lady it may behoove you to go as well. Perhaps I’ll see you there. Ciao Moonflower,” Iza said and strolled out of the temple.

“Bye!” Magie waved.

“That’s suspicious. My scans did find a shard of your soul is in the Consumed Etropolis. It’s quite the coincidence,” Mr. Shade pondered.

“She seems nice enough and did save my life after all,” Magie replied.

“I don’t trust her, she’s too helpful and too knowledgeable. Everyone has an agenda and she’s adamant to keep hers secret.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Magie, if I’ve been secretive with you it’s for a very good reason. I’ve no right to ask you to trust me but you have to trust me. Come on, lets find a door and get out of here.”

A wooden cabinet began to rock, swaying back and forth until it tipped over. Magie froze. Rolls of script popped out and unfurled on the tile. She stared. Waited, holding her breath. Nothing happened.

“That startled me,” she said and began to investigate. All was still.

Suddenly the parchment flipped into the air. A ruby lion head with sharp pincers poured out of it: the bookworm!

It landed on its long abdomen of human hands and roared at Magie. She screamed and bolted for the door. Slinking back and forth, it skittered toward her, mouth gaping and foul of secretion. She pulled metal letters from an urn and threw them like disks at the demon; they bounced off its hard exoskeleton with no ill effect. It intercepted her at the door forcing a swift turn.

“Magie, the parchment!” Mr. Shade yelled. A gelatinous portal had oozed out, just like in the library. Magie dove into it head first.

She landed in a copper sky of ancient drifting black letters, the size of her body. An incomplete story or dream; just letters and sky as far as the eye could see.

Magie clutched at a letter hoping to throw it in defense but her hand passed though and emerged covered in ink. Ink! That’s it! Magie positioned herself to the side of the portal. She could float freely.

As the Bookworm slithered in after her Magie dodged it, exiting the portal and landed back in the temple of script. She snatched the parchment and carried it outside. There she quickly submerged it in a puddle of ink.

Inside the paper the Bookworm roared in burning fury but black walls closed in from all sides. It couldn’t move as the writing had been blotted illegible. It was trapped forever in a tomb of ink and that was the end of the demon.

“Yes! Haha, you shall fall!” Magie cheered. “No demon can defeat me!”

“Good thinking,” Mr. Shade applauded. “Remember your mind is always your most powerful weapon.”

Magie panted. Her heart beat light-years a minute but she felt a great weight lifted off her shoulders. A renewed confidence. She walked back in the temple and picked up the crystal box from where it had landed in the chaos. She held it in shaking hands.

“Go on, open it,” Mr. Shade nudged.

Magie hesitated, “I’ll grow older should I do that. What if I don’t want to grow up? Don’t want it to change me?”

“Change is inevitable; it happens to everybody sure as the seasons’ sun to night and night to sun. It’s just happening to you all at once. Don’t be scared. You’ve walked this path before. I knew you before the shattering. You were uniquely wise and brave. You helped my love grow into the amazing woman she is today. You can do this; you can do anything.”

“Oh, thank you. That speech magically made everything so much better,” Magie replied sarcastically.

“Tough luck kid; you’ll die if you don’t.”

“Alright,” Magie cast it ajar to be flooded with golden light. It felt good, warm and healing like eating a hot pie on a cold winter’s day. When the light faded, she had grown to the age of fourteen and a half.

“Good. Head for the door and lets get out of here. We’ve got to stop Phallun and end this war,” Mr. Shade said.

“I’ve been thinking. It was Phallun who shattered me, right? And he’s waging war across the universe with his nightmares. But who is Phallun? Why is he doing this?” Magie asked.

“Phallun’s the blood king, ruler of Evnyance for centuries. He’s immortal but his love and soul mate Ahrizon wasn’t. She died and he’s tearing the universe apart to open the ghate and try to find her,” Mr. Shade explained.

“Is he really that bad? He’s only in search of his love. Wars are waged all the time for worse reasons than that. Besides, I have my own problems. Why should I care about this war?” Magie asked.

“Let me show something important to you. Can you create a barrier that would let you breathe in space?” he asked.

“That’s simple,” she cast it, a glowing aura of light around her body.

“Alright. I’m going to phase us out of Evnyance. Remember what happened at the tavern?” Mr. Shade worked and the world blurred in accordance. Magie slipped through the floor as gravity outlasted its tangibility. She fell, soon to float as blackness enveloped her. When light came into focus again she found herself in a blanket of stars orbiting a blue marble.

‘It’s the Earth,’ she thought.

‘Look closer.’

Magie peer down at the continents. Masses of green and brown with grey boarders as cities stretched out over every ocean. White clouds covered them so it was difficult to tell at first glace but when she focused the sight painted her pale and stole her breath away.

‘The whole planet is covered in webs!’