The Wayward Witch Chronicles

Sunny’s wings hugged around her as they entered the newly uncovered room. West grimaced. It wasn’t a good sign that she was already on the defensive. Gently, he asked, “Do ye know this one, lass?”

“Yes. Only a b-bit,” Sunny answered with a tight frown. She indicated the open door with a nod. “Once someone enters that room, its door will close, and the other w-will open. Then the person who went to the r-right will be locked in. I think there’s some way for th-the others to open the d-door to the other side, but I don’t know how.”

Looking from one door to the other, Vera thought it over. “Before, you went through the right alone?” Tightening her arms around Lím, the Mani nodded. Vera frowned. “So you don’t know.”

“It makes sense,” Roman said, examining the two doors. “Should we do it the same way?”

Sunny spun to face him. “N-no. No!” Her voice nearly broke under the force, but she planted her feet. “Th-that’s not– no, absolutely not! Not again, I won’t.”

“What’s gotten into you now?” Roman cocked his head. “It’s not about what you want or don’t want, it’s about what the best tactical move is.”

“Roman.” West pitched his voice gently. “Take a moment and think about it, aye? If she doesnae know what’s on the other side, then that means nobody let her out after. Meanin’ either whatever’s on the other side was more than they could handle, and she got to sit there listenin’ to it all happen… or they jes’ went on without her. I cannae blame her fer nae wantin’ to go through that again, can ye?”

Most people would probably have been struck by revelation in that moment, like the thought of leaving a companion behind would never have occurred to them. Roman, however, merely furrowed his brows, annoyed. “So what would you suggest, Investigator? Who would you rather put in that position?”

“... Ach.” West had to admit, the options didn’t look good. He couldn’t imagine Roman willingly putting his fate in the hands of others, and Vera– well, if Roman ordered it, she might, but not if West suggested it. Which pretty much only left… “I suppose it’ll have to be me then, aye?”

Roman's eyebrows shot up. “Well! I didn’t think you’d actually volunteer. Truthfully, I’d much rather you out here – you at least have been useful beyond a few vague warnings – but in the circumstances….”

Sunny looked as though she wanted to object, but like West, she must have concluded that there was no other answer. As he turned to the open door, he thought he heard her mumble: “I’m sorry.”

He smiled heedlessly. “So, I jes’ gotta step in there, and that’ll let ye all get on through?” Sunny nodded. “Righ’ then, easy enough. I’ll go on ahead, and see ye on the other side. Dinnae make me wait long, aye?” With a jaunty wave farewell, he stepped through the door. Under his feet, the floor of the small cell clicked softly, and the door slid itself shut smoothly behind him.

***

If he’d been hoping for something to change once the door closed– a light would sure be nice, fer one– West was disappointed. And, he discovered, he’d been wrong about one thing. Sunny couldn’t have been listening to anything happening to her ill-fated companions while trapped in there. He couldn’t hear a damned thing, no more than he could see his own hand in front of his face. The sensory deprivation was overpowering, and he felt his sense of time slipping away as seconds began bleeding into the musty, stale dark. Putting out his arms, West could easily touch the walls on all sides around him without a single step.The primal fear of trapped crept on him. It pushed in differently than the artificial terror being in Whistler’s vicinity had forced over him before, but was no less insidious or powerful.

Light was something he could fix, at least. From his pack, West produced a sprite-light. Flicking the copper tube with his fingernail prodded it to life, giving off a heatless orange glow. Better, but it didn’t push back the oppressive tightness of the walls.

The Investigator cased the small room, running his fingers along the airtight cracks of the doorway behind him and its match in front, finding no catch or give. Putting his back against one wall and his feet against another, he tested lifting his weight off the floor to see if that would open the weight-triggered mechanism, but to no effect.

He dropped back to the ground with a huff of disappointment. It hadn’t been likely West could free himself from inside, but he’d had to try. Seating himself with his back against the wall, he began sorting through the rest of his discomforts.

First, he needed calm. As usual, self-control began with the breath. In, careful and steady and deep, and out again, pushing from the furthest crevices in his lungs. The flow of his air was like the ripples of the Pond, and the calmer he imagined the surface, the steadier the thrum of his heart, and the slower the cadence of his breath.

Which was good, because West wasn’t convinced there was any way of air getting into the room with both doors shut like this. Best to just keep breathing calmly, and not think too much about what might happen if they got into trouble out there and couldn’t sort out a way to open the door fast enough.

Or if they decided to just up and leave him.

Norui wouldnae ever, though, he told himself firmly. Assuming she was still the same woman he knew, who’d put herself through a three-day marathon flight to bring warning to the Order a few days faster. Even if Sunny thought he was a stranger to her, West had faith: She wouldn’t give up on him.

***

As Sunny watched West disappear behind one door, the other opened welcomingly. “Well, let’s get to it, then,” Roman directed his companions, leading through the new passageway. Sunny struggled to slow her pounding heart and followed.

Intricate, blocky symbols of the Zorrocean language dominated the outer walls of the expansive room. The room itself centered around two waist-high partitions that curved about the epicenter, separated by a pathway leading straight down the middle. One partition consisted of bricks of a lighter shade of red, the other much darker.

They circled something far more exciting: a circular stone altar, no more than a meter high. Steel wrapped its rim and its top sunk into a basin, and sparkling brightness studded its sides.

“Now those are gems!” Roman exclaimed.

Roman steered around the gap between the elliptic walls, approaching the altar. He stooped to inspect the facets of dozens of glassy-clear gems, each resting in a small alcove on the altar’s sides.

Sunny’s eyes glued to the back of the room. The door to the next hallway was wide open already, beckoning. They didn’t need to worry about this puzzle at all, and could simply walk through… if they didn’t mind leaving West in that locked cell, that was.

No wonder I was left behind, if it was that easy, she thought glumly. She tried not to think of the throat-closing tightness, the darkness, the time slipping by as it got harder and harder to breathe. It was her job to rescue someone else from that horror, now.

Roman didn’t seem to register the exit. “How much would one of those be worth, Vera?”

“Lots. Magic.” The scholar’s eyes lit up with excitement.

Less enthused, Sunny studied the gems. She didn’t see any pattern to them, but there was certainly magic there.

Roman tested one of the gems, and it readily dropped into his hand. “Well!” he exclaimed, pleased. He tossed it to Vera, pulling out the next as the Glamori inspected it. “Can you make heads or tails of the enchantment?”

“Not my expertise,” Vera muttered, turning the gem in the light. “That altar is magic too, though.”

“I suppose they must interact somehow,” Roman mused, testing the weight of the gem in his hand.

“They must,” Sunny said, “b-but we need to be careful, before we do anything. We don’t know what might happen if we get it wrong.”

“Of course– we need to look after our Investigator, after all. Vera, that writing; can you read it?”

The scholar set the gem atop one of the partitions. “Some, yes.” Vera crossed to the wall, her lips mumbling to decipher it. “Says something like… the tale of Vaari and the tooth He pulled.”

“Th-there might be something there. Some detail that matters. Can you r-read it out loud?” Sunny asked.

Vera sighed. “Yes yes. He was great, He held the riches of the world. Vaari something something.”

Sunny frowned. “Something something?”

Vera turned her head and glared. “How much Zorrocean can you read? Something something means, words I don’t know. Don’t interrupt.” Sunny bit her lip and nodded. Vera snorted and turned back to the wall. “So, Vaari something something, and wished to bestow them upon his chosen children. And when he pulled his golden tooth, into the world sparked the gift of alchemy, and with it the power to change the fate of the Zorroceans. Vaari’s Tooth, something something, gift of alchemy. The end.”

“Thank you, Vera,” Roman said, and the scholar bobbed her head. “Did you glean anything useful from that?”

“Alchemy… and teeth,” Sunny answered uncertainly. “It’s p-pretty obscure, isn’t it?”

“That’s Zorroceans for you,” Vera said with a shrug. “If they wanted to be understood, they wouldn’t hide away at Rockhearth, not letting anyone in or out. Not even researchers.” She sounded personally affronted by this last bit.

“Not m-most of them, anyway,” Sunny murmured, crouching and touching a finger of her free hand to trace the shape of one of the gems.

“Whatever happened to the ones that were here, anyway?” Roman wondered. “How did your Whistler wind up taking over?”

Sunny felt her heart slam in her chest. “It is not my anything,” she spat, wings ruffling. Roman bowed his head, waiting for her to calm. She realized how hard her face had become, and how sharp her glare. Closing her eyes and brushing Lím’s fur with her fingers, she forced a slow breath through her lungs and reoriented her mind, chasing after the tail end of the conversation before she could lose its place. “... But. I imagine they p-probably died out themselves, long ago. Or simply abandoned this place.”

“Unlikely,” Vera said. “Why leave all their valuables behind?”

“Well… I’ve h-heard theories,” Sunny said, still searching the gems for clues. “Only theories, mind you, but a group of Zorroceans came through once. They thought this place was s-something of a t-training grounds, or even a trial; a sort of proof of strength among the Vaari cultists, to prove their f-fitness for some prestigious title or another.”

“Ah.” Roman smiled. “That would make sense, wouldn’t it? Better than the rumors of it being a colony, at least. Nobody would design a deathtrap like this for a home.”

“From the way they t-talked, the cult was long since gone, but I never asked wh-what happened to them. I had other things on m-my mind at the time… like we should now.” She gestured to the gems, reminding them of their task.

“True enough,” Roman said. “Vera, besides the gems and the pillar, do you see any other magic here?”

The scholar peered around the room. “Nothing I can see,” she said. “Behind walls, who knows?”

“Right. Well, let’s try it out, then.” Roman slipped the gem into the basin of the altar. As though anticipating the offering, a small glyph lit up on the flat surface beside the basin. “Like the one West triggered, eh?” The nobleman pressed his hand to the symbol, but nothing happened.

“G-gloves,” Sunny said, indicating her hand. “The glyphs only work b-barehanded.”

“Ah.” Roman stripped the glove off his right hand, and reached for it again.

When his fingers lighted on it, its magic sprang into action. Blinding energy burst from the altar. Roman howled like he’d been stabbed.

Sunny shot to her feet, too late to help. When the streaks cleared from her vision, the nobleman clasped a bloodied hand. The suspect gem in the basin skittered and hummed with energy. It sparked bright red, then with a sharp crack, flung itself clear of the altar.

Not just the one gem though; all of them. Sunny yelped and shielded herself with her wings as the sparking gems set into the pillar likewise hummed and scattered. They bounced off walls, ceiling, floors, and landed like fistblows on any unlucky body in the way.

When the chaos settled, glittering gems sprinkled the floor.

Vera rushed to Roman's side, grabbing at his wrist with concern. Her jaw sported a fresh mark, soon darkening to a deep bruise, but she didn’t even seem to notice. “Sir–”

“Blast it, the thing’s magic all right,” Roman growled, injured hand dripping. Fumbling at the pouch on his belt, he found a small glass vial. He knocked its contents into his mouth like a shot, then threw it aside. Its violent shattering rent the air, and Sunny flinched. The rawness of his hand began to visibly mend, blood staunching and redness fading.

Sunny silently began to collect gems from the ground, while Vera fussed over Roman's healing hand and scolded him for his recklessness. Roman scowled, bitter and frustrated.

They knew what happened with a wrong guess now, at least. “One of them must be r-right,” Sunny muttered, turning one gem after another in her hands. She sorted them into piles on the floor as she went, categorizing them roughly by shape. “Or… maybe we have to d-do something to them, to make them right…?”

Roman interjected, “What do you propose we do? Try each one until one works?” He held up his bloodied hand. “I doubt we should survive the process!”

Sunny hesitated, then set her jaw. “If that’s w-what it takes.”

“Fine. You do it next time, then.” He stalked away from the altar, kicking one of the gems as he went. Vera watched him, brows upswept and shoulders hunched, as if she was somehow to blame for his violent temper.

Sunny closed her eyes, refusing to let herself be rushed or swayed by the swordsman's anger. She needed to focus and sharpen her mind. But the harder she tried to think, the more tired and sluggish she felt.

If only she could rest. Maybe then she could think clearly, piece together the clues, and find an answer. But proper rest was a luxury she could barely remember now. One way or another, she had to make do with what she had to solve the challenge.

Sunny pictured in her mind the gem that Roman had tested. It had been one of the short, flat-topped ones, hadn’t it? What was the meaning behind the different shapes, and the counts of them? Before she could get anywhere, she needed to understand. And she couldn’t even begin with everything in disarray the way it was.

First things first, then. Sunny approached Vera entreatingly. “C-could you please help me gather the rest of the gems?” she asked. Vera glanced at her, then grunted agreement.

Roman watched darkly from a far corner of the room and muttering to himself. It hurt to even look in his direction. She’d seen it too many times now– what happened when the frustration and despair crossed a breaking point, and the violence waiting just on the other side. She didn’t dare risk approaching him, so for now, it was better to let him stew.

Together, the women gathered up the gems and piled them up. Sunny surveyed them, and began to think aloud.

“Thirty-two g-gems.” She pointed to the four distinct piles they had sorted. “Four come to points. Four have rounded tops. Eight are tall and thin, with flat tops. And sixteen more are short with flat tops.” Focus and certainty steadied her voice. “The shapes must matter. The numbers might.”

“When the one on the altar sparked,” Vera put in, “the rest did too. They’re linked, magically.”

“They’re all important,” Sunny said. “One more important than the others… teeth. Thirty-two t-teeth?”

Vera looked down at the gems, her eyes lighting up. “Yes! Vaari’s Tooth!” Excited, the scholar rewarded Sunny with a smile. “Vaari’s Tooth must go on the altar.”

Progress! Sunny smiled back. Her glee didn’t last long, though. “But… wh-which one is Vaari’s Tooth, then?”

Nonplussed, Vera pulled back a lip and pointed at her far right molar. That narrowed it down, then– Sunny directed her attention to the pile of eight tall, flat-topped gems. One of these had to be different….

“I can't tell,” she murmured after a moment, looking at Vera hopefully. “C-can you?”

The scholar inspected the eight gems thoughtfully, but shook her head. “No meaningful differences. Might be that any of them would work. Or,” she shrugged, “maybe we’re wrong anyway.”

“Doubtful,” Sunny said. Thirty-two teeth meant eight incisors, four canines, eight premolars, twelve molars. The count matched one-to-one with the gems they’d collected. There had to be some means to distinguish between them. It would be easier to examine them if they didn’t have to stoop down, though. As she mulled the problem over, Sunny began relocating them, one at time, on one of the partitions half-circling the altar.

As she laid them out though, she got a good look at the wall partitions themselves.

At first, they had seemed like ornamentation, and she’d overlooked them in favor of the central altar. Sunny inspected the lighter colored of the two. It started blush-pink on one end, running toward rose-red at the other. Like its darker twin across the way, raised piers capped the wall at regular intervals. The white tile caps were slightly hollow in the center, but the hollowed shapes weren’t quite regular. Four were thin and rectangular at the center, then two more slightly wider on either side… and here at the ends, the width and length were bigger than the rest.

That was the clue that finally clicked for her. “Oh!” she exclaimed. Sixteen divots on this wall, and she’d bet anything that the opposite partition bore sixteen more. The gems were all linked, because all of them had a place they were meant to be. These little nooks on the ends would hold the molars, then these ones the premolars, and….

Excitement overcoming her exhaustion, Sunny rushed to grab up the gems and fit them appropriately– yes, perfect, they slid right into place! Watching, Vera intuited her purpose and busied herself doing the same, building a row of teeth on each wall. “Do you think it matters which one goes where?” The scholar asked.

“Beyond having each type wh-where it ought to go… I’m not sure,” Sunny said. There was nothing to indicate if any were in the right place. Experimentally, she cycled one canine through each applicable slot, but to no effect. She looked in askance at Vera, but the scholar only shrugged.

Sunny struggled to think of some other approach, but there was nothing else her tired brain had to offer. “Well, hopefully one is as g-good as any other, then.” She took the appropriate incisor from its spot and approached the altar. “Ready?”

Vera stepped far clear, ducking behind one of the partitions, then nodded. From his corner, Roman straightened from his sulk, slipping his shield over his arm in case of another crystal onslaught. Holding her breath and tucking Lím protectively against her far side, Sunny leaned in, gently set the gem into the basin, and touched the glyph.

Oh. The flash came before the pain. Oh no.