Wandering Wonderland: Mochi Madness

She stood there, her flaming hair flickering gently in the breeze, eyes locked onto him with an expression of mild curiosity. Her lips curved into a small, amused smile.

The girl had eventually left her sanctuary. She was just… Standing there, looking from him to the well, her expression unreadable. She looked more thoughtful than anything, one finger tapping her chin in slow, rhythmic movements. Her eyes, though, were bright with curiosity, studying him like some sort of rare specimen.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

He just floated there, his mind racing, desperately trying to figure out what she was thinking. How had she found him? Was she planning to drag him back to that kitchen of horrors?

The girl tilted her head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

For a moment, he thought she might just be enjoying his discomfort in silence. But then, she spoke.

“Ah, elarë,” she said softly, her voice lilting with amusement, “laima lírë.”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even know what to say, as he couldn’t understand her words.

The girl’s smile widened as she crossed her arms, her eyes never leaving him.

I’m done for…

“Kira nath’ra valith?” she said, her voice lilting with a strange, melodic tone. The words sounded smooth, almost like a song, but he still had no idea what she was saying.

His confusion must have shown on his face—or whatever passed for his face in this form—because the girl sighed and waved her hand dismissively. “Ki valith kran y’shilra?”

He blinked.

She frowned, tapping her foot against the ground impatiently. “Dos koheth nal yhan shil?”

The tone was unmistakable—she was getting frustrated. Her words grew sharper, the once melodic cadence replaced by something harsher, like she was scolding him.

She threw up her hands in exasperation. “Malek orashka veth kra-shad!”

That definitely sounded like an insult. His nonexistent pulse quickened as he floated there, helpless and utterly confused.

The girl crossed her arms, glaring down at him. “Grrak vosh draal, ni’koth?” She muttered in another language, this one guttural, rough, like stones grinding together. It had the resonance of something ancient, something primal.

He could only stare.

The girl groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose as she muttered again, “Sha’karr? Veshkal thrin?” This time it sounded like crackling fire—sharp, angular words that seemed to spark and fizzle with energy. Her tone was sarcastic, biting, like she was mocking him.

“Gurkh talthak!” she grunted in what could only be Orcish. Her voice had dropped into a low growl, as though she were mimicking the way a massive orc chieftain might speak to an insolent underling. He didn’t know what she was saying, but the exasperated way she waved her hands at him made it clear she was commenting on his stupidity—or, at least, how slow he was being.

When that didn’t work, she switched gears again. This time, her words came out in a breathy, ethereal whisper, like wind rushing through a celestial choir. “Dra’shal—netha—en’kirra?”

He blinked again. Am I supposed to know that one?

The girl didn’t stop. She was relentless, cycling through language after language—one spoken in low, rumbling tones, like the shifting of tectonic plates; another in short, choppy bursts that made him think of someone casting a spell; yet another in sharp, precise clicks, like the sounds of chisel hitting stone.

Is this even real anymore? How many languages does she know? He felt bewildered, and honestly a little stupid.

Then came a language that made his nonexistent hair stand on end—ancient, primordial words that seemed to echo through the space itself. Her voice became low and reverberant, each word carrying the weight of millennia.

“…thalath…doral…aeth…ra’kor…”

He shuddered. Whatever that language was, it wasn’t one he ever wanted to hear again.

She finally stopped, taking a deep breath as she rubbed her temples. She was clearly frustrated, muttering to herself now in yet another tongue—this one smooth and magical, as though her very words were laced with power.

Then she seemed to brighten up, as though remembering something. She snapped her fingers and cleared her throat.

“Bonjour? Parlez-vous français?” she asked, her voice suddenly elegant, with a slight French accent. This shocked him more than whatever other languages she had spoken. SHE KNOWS FRENCH? When he didn’t respond, she sighed and switched again. “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?”

He could only stare at her now with a blank look, more terrified than ever. How does she know Earth languages? Wait, what if…

The girl rolled her eyes and switched to yet another language. “Annyeonghaseyo?”

He shook his head, or what passed as his head, refusing to say anything.

She groaned, muttering something he actually understood a part of—Baka janai no?— which made him feel more insulted than when he didn’t understand anything. Finally, finally, she spoke in a language he recognized. “Just a few more tries, before I—”

Her eyes went wide as she saw him suddenly look as if he understood what she said.

“English,” she said, exasperated. “You only know English?”

He nodded eagerly, relieved that he could finally understand her. “Yes! Yes, I speak English! Please don’t kill me!” He almost let out tears, of both horror and joy, as he was glad he could understand her and had responded just in time, otherwise he didn’t know what she’d do with him…

The girl sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. “How pitiful. Only one language? And it’s English, of all things?” She clicked her tongue disapprovingly. “How limiting.”

He bristled. “Hey, I didn’t exactly have time to learn Elvish or… Whatever those other languages were,” he shot back, though his words lacked bite. He was too relieved to just be alive and talk with someone, even if it was with this devilish little girl.

The girl tilted her head, studying him with that same unsettling curiosity. “Well, I suppose it doesn’t matter now. You don’t seem very bright anyway… Besides, you can barely keep yourself together as a soul, it won’t be long before you simply disappear now.”

He grimaced. “I’ll have you know that I actually understood some of the previous lang—” Wait… “WHAT?”

She floated towards him, her ethereal wings fluttering lazily behind her. “Anyway, now that we can finally communicate, allow me to introduce myself.”

“Wait wait wait—”

She simply ignored him as she straightened up, looking oddly formal as she placed one hand over her chest and gave a dramatic flourish with the other.

“I am Lucy,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “Though my true name is something far longer and more complicated to pronounce, in order for your tiny mind to remember me, you can simply call me Lucy.” He felt his left eye twitch out of annoyance, but she didn’t pay him any mind as she continued. “I am the ruler of the Eternal Tower, guardian of the Primordial Vault, and creator of Lumenis, whom you’ll meet in a moment.”

He blinked.

Lucy’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “You don’t seem impressed.”

“I’m just trying to figure out how I ended up here,” he replied, still dazed.

“Ah, yes, well… That’s part of the mystery, isn’t it?” Lucy said, tapping her chin thoughtfully again. “You’re a bit of an anomaly. I wasn’t expecting anyone to survive the tower’s traps, let alone end up in the Wishing Well, and come out alive on top of that.”

He let out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, about that…”

Lucy smiled, her expression softening into something more mischievous. “This could be a great opportunity actually.”

“Opportunity?” He echoed. “This doesn’t feel like much of an opportunity.”

Lucy floated closer, her wings barely making a sound as they fluttered. “You have two options now, based on your current situation.”

His entire being tensed up. “What… ‘two options’?”

Lucy leaned in slightly, her eyes gleaming. “Option one: you stay out here, until… well, until something gobbles you up as a snack or you disappear in a puff of smoke eventually. It could be days, weeks, years—who knows? Time doesn’t really work the same way here.”

His stomach churned, or at least he felt it did despite not having one. “What’s option two?”

Lucy’s smile widened. “Option two: you become my little minion. I’ll provide for you, even give you a body so that you don’t wink out of existence, and if you play your cards right, you might just survive and find out that life can be—oh so beautiful.”

He stared at her, his mind racing. A minion? Subordinate? Is she some sort of Mafia Boss? None of this made sense. But the way she was looking at him—the curiosity, the faint amusement in her eyes—it was clear she knew more than she was letting on. Perhaps he wasn’t in as much danger as she was insinuating, perhaps it was all a trap…

“Those are my only choices?” he asked, his voice weak.

Lucy nodded. “I’m afraid so. But don’t worry, I think you’ll make a great little experi— I mean, subordinate. If you do well, I’ll reward you, and perhaps even promote you.”

He wasn’t sure how to feel about all this. But he was sure she was about to say something else there…

Letting out a deflated sigh, he gave up. He didn’t have much of a choice. To be honest, he was tired at this point, and it seemed like she was quite powerful in this area, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to have such a boss. He also missed having an actual body.

“Fine, how do we do this?”

The moment he agreed to Lucy’s offer, her mischievous grin spread even wider, stretching ear to ear. With a flourish of her hand, she summoned a scroll from thin air. It materialized with a whoosh, the parchment rolling out before him, fluttering lightly in the breeze. The scroll was old, its surface uneven, like it had been made from the hide of some poor beast. The script inscribed upon it glowed faintly with a bluish light, written in a language that twisted and turned, making his eyes hurt just from glancing at it.

He recoiled instinctively. “Uh, what’s that?”

Lucy’s smile deepened. “Oh, nothing too dangerous… Just a simple contract.” She waved it off as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You know, the usual stuff. You work for me, I give you a body, you don’t vanish into the ether. Simple, right?”

He stared at the parchment, his nonexistent stomach churning. Even without understanding the words, he could feel the weight of it, the power it radiated. Something about it was… Off. Very, very off.

His gaze flicked back to Lucy. “I don’t know… Maybe I should, you know, read it first.”

Lucy’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Oh? You think you’ll understand it?” She gestured to the script, the symbols shifting and twisting in unnatural ways. “This is written in a tongue older than your world, older than even this one. There’s no point in you trying to decipher it.”

He stared at the contract, the strange, twisting script making his nonexistent eyes ache. Every instinct screamed at him to run, to put as much distance as possible between himself and this devilish girl. But then he glanced down at his translucent form—already starting to flicker, parts of his essence thinning out like mist. The realization was a cold, hard stab of fear: he really was fading.

He forced himself to look up at Lucy, who was floating in front of him now with a grin that practically radiated mischief. She twirled a lock of her flaming hair absently, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“What exactly would I… have to do?” he asked cautiously, trying to sound casual even though his voice wavered. “If I agree to be your ‘minion’ or whatever.”

Lucy’s grin widened. “Oh, it’s nothing too terrible!” She waved her hand dismissively. “Just a few simple tasks, really. Cleaning up after my experiments, fetching ingredients, running a few errands into other realms…” She paused, tilting her head as if deep in thought. “Oh, and maybe dealing with the occasional rampaging void beast.”

His essence rippled. “Wait, what was that last part?”

“Rampaging void beast,” she repeated cheerfully. “Don’t worry, they’re usually more bark than bite… unless they’re hungry.” She giggled, and the sound sent a shiver through him. “But if they are, well, you’ll just need to be quick.”

He floated back slightly, his misty form trembling. “You want me to… fight monsters?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t last for even a second in a straight up fight against such beings. Just need you to sometimes distract them, lead them off a cliff, show how tasty you are… It’s really up to you. Flexibility is one of the perks of the job.” She flashed a grin, her eyes gleaming with something that made his soul shudder. “And then there’s the matter of helping me with my experiments.”

He felt his form flicker again. “What kind of experiments?”

Her expression brightened, her wings fluttering with excitement. “Oh, all sorts! I’ve been dying to test a few reality-bending potions that might turn you into… stuff, for just a little while—just to see how you react, of course. Then there are some other ‘experiments’ that ran away and I need you to bring them back to me from places that I can’t really enter…”

He stared at her, mouth agape. “That’s… Horrible!”

She pouted, crossing her arms. “Aww, don’t be like that. Think of it as an adventure!” Her grin returned, sharp and playful. “Besides, most of my previous minions had a blast—well, at least the ones who came back in one piece.”

His form flickered again, this time with such intensity that he felt himself sway. “I-I don’t know if I can—”

But then he noticed it. His hands—or rather, the misty suggestion of hands—were nearly see-through. His whole form seemed to be thinning out like smoke dissipating into the wind. The realization hit him hard: he was already on the brink. And the memory of that skeletal energy from the well flashed in his mind, how it had kept him together just long enough to escape. Without it, he would’ve… vanished. Should I just go back down there? But those two monsters…

He gritted his teeth, or at least felt the phantom sensation of it. “And if I say no?”

Lucy’s smile faded, replaced by an expression of exaggerated sympathy. “Well, if you choose not to accept, you’ll slowly fade away, and I’m afraid even I can’t save a soul that’s fully dissipated.” She reached out, and he felt the touch of her hand—her wisps of fire warming him up, making his form a bit more solid. “Your choice, really. It’s either a little bit of chaos… or nothing at all.”

The weight of her words settled over him like a shroud. His form flickered again as she removed her hand, and this time, he felt a piece of himself pull away, dispersing into the air. The reality of his situation crashed down on him. There was no escape—at least, not yet. Not without some kind of body to anchor him.

He looked back at Lucy, her expression now one of pure anticipation, like a little devil waiting for him to sell his soul to her.

He sighed. “Fine. But if I end up dying, again, I’m haunting you for the rest of my existence.”

Lucy’s grin returned, sharp and triumphant. “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll be just fine.”

The scroll unfurled before him, glowing brighter as she gestured for him to seal the pact.

He hesitated, his misty form flickering as he stared at the glowing scroll. It hovered just inches from his reach, its light casting long shadows across the ground. Every instinct screamed at him to pull back, to float away from whatever trap this was. But he had no choice. He was fading, and with every flicker, he felt pieces of himself slipping away, drifting into the void.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath—if he still had lungs to do so—he reached out. His hand, translucent and ghostly, stretched toward the scroll. The moment his fingers brushed the parchment, a surge of energy shot through him, like a jolt of electricity. The symbols on the scroll flared with brilliant blue light, and he felt his soul connect to something incredible, something powerful. It was as if invisible threads were weaving between him and Lucy through the contract, binding them together.

The energy flowed into him, washing over his form like a tidal wave. He felt his essence solidify, the once-weak and translucent mist of his body becoming stronger, more defined. The constant flickering stopped, and for the first time since he had arrived in this place, he felt a sense of stability. Relief flooded through him, the warmth of his newfound strength pushing back the fear that had gripped him for so long.

He let out a breath, savoring the sensation of being whole again. “It… It feels—” he paused, the uncertainty gnawing at him. “I don’t know if this was the right choice.”

Lucy’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she watched him. “Doubts already?” she teased, her voice lilting. “You just got a taste of power, and you’re still hesitating?”

His gaze shifted away. “It’s not that… It’s just…” He met her eyes, his expression conflicted. “What if I made a mistake?”

Lucy’s smile softened, a mysterious glint in her eyes. “Well, that’s the fun of life, isn’t it? Not knowing how things will turn out.”

She then let out a sigh, shaking her head as if disappointed. “You mortals are always so suspicious. Fine, I’ll introduce you to someone who might make you feel better, and show you the real benefits of your choice.”

With another casual flick of her wrist, a small sphere materialized out of thin air. It hovered in front of him, floating with an elegant grace, swirling with ethereal light. The orb was a mixture of metallic elements and radiant energy, its surface humming with power. He could feel it—this thing wasn’t just an object. It was alive.