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Blog Post 61: The Adventure Shop: Part 28:

9/13/24

“So where are we going?” Bart asked as they continued walking for what seemed like ages. 

“To the next town that she visited. We should be there soon. If you are tired of walking and need to take a nap, the wagon is open,” Hazel offered from the front seat next to Mistral who held the reins of the horses they had acquired in the previous town. Bart stretched and thought and seemed to think about his options as Dahlia smirked at his side. The wagon was not the most comfortable and currently half of it was occupied by a snoring Borg.

“I am fine, after all, we can rest once we get there,” he noted, looking down at his feet, still seeming to debate.

Dahlia looked around at that party. After walking for what seemed to be two weeks, the tired party joined the previously disjointed groups. Dahlia peeked up at Mistral where she sat with fading blue still on her skin. Apparently, there were no guarantees when a dye like that would come off. She wondered about the others she had dyed green, pink, and yellow. 

Aster walked on her other side and stayed silent as they walked and the others talked around them. Laz complained about the sun, even though he carried a parasol and was covered in a cloak. But it was understandable since it was so hot and Laz seemed to prefer being the face of his crew and not getting his hands dirty. 

Valentina stayed quiet around all of the people. It was a lot and for someone with her past and being more introverted–it made sense to Dahlia to be overwhelmed in this situation. The only reason Dahlia wasn’t is because she loved being around people as much as she loved being by herself. After all, that was the best of both worlds.

Brawn, Pertinax, Caridad, Xaxol, and Jubair were comparing the exercises they like to go through and the timeframe they could spar with each other. Aislin, Tadgh, Lothar, Kamali, and Ainia played games as they walked. They slowly got to know each other over the two weeks, and it had been fun watching most of the party work together.

“We are coming up on the town!” Hazel noted as the sun began to set and they saw through the parts in the tops of the trees and the roofs of their destination. As the sun shone a bright, golden yellow in their eyes, the town seemed to spark to life and people bustled about everywhere. The crowds of people made the adventurers come closer together to avoid being bumped and separated from their party.

“We should find an inn,” Borg shouted from the back of the wagon, looking barely awake.

“Yes, I bet you are tired from the journey,” Bart quipped as Aster smirked and Dahlia laughed. Borg glared their way before hopping out of the wagon and taking the lead.

They had broad people already on their team, but between Xaxol and Borg at the front, the crowd soon flowed around their party. He led them all over and soon found an inn that had rowdy attachments of taverns on each side. The inn was large and seemed to accommodate any size, from Giants to little Pixies. 

“Are you looking to store your wagon and horses for the night?” someone called out. 

“If we are, how can we be certain that you won’t take off with it while we sleep?”

“Well, that is not a great way to run a livery, and I would be out of business if that was the case.” The scrawny man looked around at the adventurers. “And I would be scared to enact vengeance from such formidable travelers.”

Jubair whispered to Borg, and Dahlia wondered what he was saying. Jubair had not talked to her and seemed to not acknowledge her. She was not sure why he traveled with her and the others. Aster calmed her anxiety and said he was trustworthy, but she was not sure. Borg also seemed to like him and nodded at the advice given as Jubair went to the cart and began saying things as he walked around it and to the horses while Borg talked loudly to the livery owner. Dahlia could sense the magic around the cart as they continued forward, and Jubair walked back around and followed behind her, Aster, and Bart. 

“Aster, do you sense anything odd from this place?” he asked.

“Yes. There seems to be a lot of magic, but none at all. I can’t seem to place my finger on it.”

“Like it is a passing shadow that is difficult to catch ahold of?” Jubair asked.

“That is just rude. You should never try to catch a shadow,” Aislin noted in her wispy voice as she chided them.

“Aislin, I apologize. It was only an analogy.”

“I know what an analogy is, but I know you magic types. You see something intangible and try to explain it with logic. The air doesn’t need to explain itself to the earth. And the earth could not comprehend the air if it tried. You need to stop trying to force it and just let yourself relax into what you know. The place is alive with hallow and firm. Everything alive and nothing real.”

They looked at each other as they tried to decipher her meaning. But Dahlia understood about how some people tried to quantify things that could only be felt and known deep within. That it didn’t need to be experimented and prodded to be understood. 

Closing her eyes she stopped for a moment and listened. Silence startled her as nothing, no commotion, no bustling, nothing sounded. She tripped and opened her eyes to catch herself as the sudden shouts, bickering, horses, and commerce rang up around her. Breathing quickly, it felt like a trick of her mind as she felt a hand on each of her arms. 

“Are you okay?” Aster asked as she looked between him, Jubair, and Bart.

“No. Something is not right. Close your eyes and listen.” They closed their eyes and opened them a moment later, giving her a quizzical look.

“What did you hear?” Jubair asked, talking to her for the first time.

“Nothing. That is the problem. When I closed my eyes and listened there was nothing. No sound, no commotion, no voices. There was nothing.” 

“You could just be tired. It has been a long journey,” Jubair noted before walking around and ahead of them, barely looking at her as he passed by. Of all the others she had begun to know, he seemed to avoid her if possible. Dahlia shook her head as Bart caught her eye.

“What was it like when you opened your eyes?”

“Like a force of sound assaulting every aspect of me. As if it was trying to force me to believe what I am seeing is real. The physical sensation of being crowded in. The smells of shops and taverns pressed in on my nose all at once. My eyes forced me to take in sight after sight, everything sparkly and fascinating. The spirit of the town is alive. It feels like it is all being forced into my being, and I must accept what my brain and senses are trying to tell me, but it is all wrong.”

“Interesting.” Aster stroked his non-existent beard, and Dahlia laughed since the form she knew him in did that many times with a bushy, white beard. 

He caught her gaze and smirked. “I know, it doesn’t have the same effect without my other form.”

“You can shapeshift?” Bart asked surprised.

“Some simple forms I like to use to instruct new adventurers. They are more willing to listen to an old man than, well, me looking like this.” He waved his hands up and down.

“That is understandable. There is a stereotyped role that is given to older adventurers, but I have known a few and not all of them were wise. Most were still quite foolish, but it made the travel fun.” Bart joined in the other two laughing. 

Dahlia sighed; maybe she was mistaken about the feeling. Maybe there was no magic afoot and she was just sensitive like Jubair said after many days of travel. She stretched and yawned, liking the idea of the inn more and more. She could even go to bed without dinner–which was saying something at this point since everything smelled so delicious. 

She followed the others as they settled the cart and horses and made their way to the inn, feeling like she was in a daze. A sleepy fog that only a pillow under her head could cure. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dahlia jerked awake and found herself standing in the same place where she started to drift off the night before. She was standing, and standing alone in a town that looked like it had not had visitors for over a hundred years. 

The road had holes and debris from the buildings, as well as overgrown weeds growing wild as if they had long taken over the area, the sole survivors. She could hear nothing, as if even the wind dared not blow and disrupt the appointed solace. Her friends seemed to be nowhere in sight. With such a large party, and quite a few larger members, it would be easy to spot their presence, but as far as she could tell, she was the only one here. 

Dahlia continued to explore, going through each building carefully, and avoiding the ones with the potential to fall on top of her. The smells produced by the wares of the individuals last night seemed to be a long-forgotten dream. And what stood in their place was gray dust that was once spices, and rocks that still took shapes of foods she supposed they could be. 

Farther in town was a spot they had not journeyed to last night. She saw a fountain. A fountain that flowed freely with an amber hue. She would almost suppose it was honey, except the rate that it flowed down, down, down, into the large pool below. 

Dahlia peered over into the pool and gasped when she saw a skeleton reflected back. Jumping back, she pulled her knife from her bag, and waited. As she waited, she realized how stupid it was to try to fight a skeleton with a knife. What would she do? Stab it to death? And stab what? A dog looking for a good bone to chew would be more potent than her at this moment.

Breathing aloud, which felt too disruptive in the silence around her, she leaned in again and paused. The skeleton paused, waiting for her next move–which gave her an idea. Moving slowly, she placed her hand toward the water–like substance. The creature reached out, but it did not break the surface. 

She touched the liquid. Her body quaked and flew backward as the shock rolled through the town. Dahlia’s body crashed into a wall as splinters shattered around her. Her breathing grew ragged as the pull of pain while breathing told her she had damaged something. She felt herself being pulled up as night surrounded her and lights exploded.

“What are you doing, lass? Did you have too much to drink? I didn’t think that was possible for you!” Borg said, pulling her along. She winced in pain but felt none. Looking around, the town was full of life, with vendors selling their wares and bartering with customers. Everything seemed to be restored, vibrant, and alive. There was a party atmosphere in her comrades as if they had just been having a jolly, good time. 

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Back to the inn, silly girl. You must be out of it,” Hazel chided.

“Back? Where were we before?”

“Dahlia, we already discussed this. We all thought staying here a few days to recover was a good idea. You even said how nice it was to sleep in a bed the first night.”

“First night?” Her heart began to pound as fear flooded her senses. The lights grew fuzzy and the sounds seemed muffled. 

“How long have we been here now?” 

“This will be the third night. Maybe we should have left you behind. Aster said he thought it would be a better idea,” Hazel noted.

Dahlia looked around for her friend who may know what was happening. 

“Where is Aster?”

“Who is Aster?” they asked her.

Something was wrong. She had to find him. Dahlia began to run away from them to where they had just left, searching for him. Her limbs began to feel heavy as if she was swimming in syrup. The fog grew in her mind.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“AHHHHH!” She screamed in pain, as it jolted her awake where she had fallen the day before. Was it the day before? Was there any way to tell where time existed and flowed strangely? She pushed herself to stand as she cried out. A wooden stake was embedded in the right, lower side of her torso and seemed to have gone through her lung. Dahlia should have been dead.

 What was more concerning was why she was not.

Walking slowly, she made her way back to the fountain. It oozed brightly in the sun, providing the only sense of life in the dilapidated town. She eyed it suspiciously, not planning to try it again. At least she learned that much. The next thing she wanted to try was to see if she could leave. A magic barrier could explain the odd feeling she had had all this time. 

“Dahlia!” She heard a whisper of wind. “Dahlia! Please! Help me!” The voice was a woman’s. She knew the voice. But as much as she knew it, she could not place it. 

“Dahlia, pull me out! I’m caught in-between!” Dahlia shook her head as she stopped at the edge of town.

“No, don’t try it. Please!” the voice begged. Being a person of a curious nature, Dahlia didn’t listen as she partly ran, partly hobbled toward the edge of town. Before she could comprehend what had happened, she flew and felt her head hit something hard with a crunching sound. 

As the world seemed to fade, the voice cried, “No, no! Wake up! Don’t die!”

“Dahlia, do you want to go play a game of cards?” Valentina smiled brightly at her as Dahlia stared at her.

Something seemed off, but she could not quite remember why. “Sure! Why not!” She stood and wobbled before collapsing in the chair she was sitting in. 

“I swear, we tell you we are taking a break for a few days, and you spend the days drinking and passing out. Were you always like this?” Laz laughed at her.

“I am not drunk. Where are the others?” she asked, looking around at the two smiling faces.

“What others? I knew this party was doomed. How can we help you if you can’t even help yourself?” Valentina scolded with a smirk. “But don’t worry, rest and good fun can cure stress!” 

She remembered something. Something that seemed from somewhere else.  “I need to go. To the fountain. I have to go to the fountain.” 

“There is no fountain, silly. Just forget all your stress and come play with us!”

“No. I have to go.” Dahlia stood as Valentina and Laz forced her back down. 

“Not until you play with us, silly. We must have a good time. Fun.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because. It is the best way to relieve the stress of long travels.” Valentina smiled. It seemed odd to her, but Dahlia was not certain why it would cause any concern. 

“Dahlia, please, wake up! Pull me out of the in-between. I am stuck. I need you.” Dahlia’s head throbbed. Placing a hand to her head, she felt a gooey substance. As she looked at her hand she saw red. Vibrant, bloody, red. 

“That’s it! Wake up!” the voice cried.

Dahlia screamed as pain jolted her awake. Laz and Valentina were gone, and now she looked at an overgrown weed.

“Stand up and help me,” the voice called again.

Slowly she stood and looked down at a rock covered in blood. Her blood. Dahlia felt her head and felt a cavern where part of her brain should have been. 

“Don’t worry; you are okay. You are in the in-between. Anything that happens here will stay here. At least I think it will. I forget how it works for solid people.” The voice flitted away with a laugh.

“Aislin?” Dahlia’s eyes grew teary.

“Yes, I am here! Well, not here, here. Something is making it hard for me to form. I just managed to force my way through enough to call you.”

“I am so happy to hear your voice. What is going on?”

“There is decay in this land. An old magic that poisoned everything here. It is still seeping into this place. That is why we cannot get out. It is sucking the life force out of us.”

“I thought you were a wraith.”

“We have lives too! It is just a little different than corporeal beings,” she pouted. At least that is what it seemed like to Dahlia, without seeing her face. 

“Alright, so it is draining the life–how?” 

“By pulling at the desire to forget. To forget stress, to forget death, to forget loss, all worry and care. To give into the desire to lose all hardships.”

“Why would that be so bad?”

“Because if you forget that, then you forget yourself! Think how many trials formed you, and how many losses changed you into who you are now. What worries and hardships brought you to this moment? If you disregard part of the things that made you wiser, stronger, and the person you are today, then you are not anything. You are an image of the past. And the past fades. That is what is happening to everyone, they are beginning to fade and become living shells.”

“The skeleton,” Dahlia surmised, as Aislin agreed.

“Yes, shells of the past, of decay. We must hurry.”

“Why am I the only one awake?”

“It is your power. It still flows in you. You have always been a curious and powerful creature. The fog that pulls the others in is not strong enough to pull you down with it. So it is fighting to destroy you. To make your mind think you are dead. To kill you here so you cannot fight.”

“So here in this place, which you woke me up to, is where the magical decay is trying to poison me, and you decided to bring me back?”

“It is the only way I could reach you. It is easier to talk here. And it took me forever to be able to reach you.”

“What do you mean forever?”

“We have been stuck for over two months. I have seen you become destroyed here. You may feel your skin, your hair, you may see no change, but I…” her voice wavered. “I have seen you die and decay here. Forgetting who you are again and again. I have attempted to remind you and only now have found a way. Dahlia, here you are a skeleton and if you do not hurry you will become that in the real world too. I have to send you back, but you have to remember to get to the center of town and bring your knife. Everything will stop you, but you must push forward, and I will do what I can, but I am not strong enough. It keeps forcing me out.”

“Will I die if I end this?” Dahlia asked. Aislin was silent, and her voice turned serious with no hint of whimsy or airy silliness she was usually known for. 

“I don’t know, Dahlia. I don’t know. Everything that has happened here. If your mind remembers and thinks at all that you died here, well, I am not sure if you will live.”

“But you all will.”

“Yes, but, uh! I wish there was more I could do!” Aislin cried, sobs echoing in the world around them. 

“You woke me up. You pulled me out of the fog long enough to help.”

“You were already stuck in-between, like me, but different.”

“Aislin, you used your power to reach me. To try to help our friends. You are the reason I can try to help them now.”

She sighed. “I usually just play the part. I am not that strong or helpful.”

“You are not just someone to laugh and play with. We–I–value your insight. I love the stories you tell. I enjoy that no matter what when it seems the darkest or most heartbreaking moment, you make yourself silly so we can laugh. You take care of all of us by drifting in and out of our lives. And so much of the time we forget the substance you possess.” 

Aislin stayed quiet, seeming to take it all in, and Dahlia wished she had seen her friend as more than a vapid ghost. She was so much smarter and had more to her than Dahlia ever gave her credit for.

“Why are you telling me all this now?” she asked with a sniffle.

“Because I might not be able to later,” Dahlia answered truthfully. Dahlia heard Aislin take a sharp breath and Dahlia shook what nerves she had, before asking, “What do I have to do to get back?”

“To save everyone you must stab the heart stone. It will dispel the magic. And to get back, you must…”

She paused as Dahlia waited for her before prodding her to answer. “Go on.”

“You must die here again. One final time. I can’t help you.”

“How can I die again?”

“Well running and touching things you shouldn’t seemed to work all the other times.”

“How many times have I done that?”

“A lot. If you were a cat with nine lives, as they all have, you would have been on your twentieth and past renewal.”

“Good to know I am consistent.”

“Another word for stupid.” Aislin laughed with an airy voice. Dahlia smiled and was glad she could make her friend laugh, at least one last time.

“Take care of them for me!” she shouted as she ran to the barrier. As she bounced off, she felt her back hit a tree and the large branch impaled her body and limbs with its own.“See you on the other side,” Dahlia said as the world grew dark.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A sharp breath of fresh air coursed through her. Her head was clear as if she had come out of the sea from a long swim to the surface. She looked around and saw her friends’ gaunt features. Dahlia could not remember their faces, but she remembered her mission. 

Running out of the tavern she seemed to wake up in, she felt herself being pulled back.

Her limbs felt heavy, aching with each movement. “Aislin? What is wrong with me?”

She waited for an answer, but none came. Determined, she continued to move, pushing her way past the crowds to the center of town. 

“Get away from here. It is dangerous, Dahlia.” She looked as her friends blocked her view from the fountain. 

“No, you go play a game or something.” That seemed to distract them enough as they discussed what game to play while she made her move. Pulling the knife from her bag, she ran to the center and halted. 

In the center was the body of a Dragon. Impaled and decaying on the fountain as its amber blood mixed with the bright, blue water. That is why Aislin said the heartstone. The Dragon’s heart stone was keeping the magic alive surrounding this place, and the blood was poisoning the ground, causing the whole place to be engulfed in the Dragon’s ancient magic. 

She felt a hand pull at her, but she pushed it off as she began to climb.

“Get down from there!” the townsfolk began to call. 

“Get her away from there!” Angry shouts and taunts began to pull at her confidence, but she pressed on. She stood on the Dragon’s front shoulder and shifted up, only to slightly back down as the decaying flesh slid easily down the bone. She adjusted her grip and fought to get to its heart. Dahlia made her footholds by kicking in flesh to the bones underneath. Covered in flesh, blood, and decay, she continued to make her way to the top.

“Dahlia!” She paused, hearing Aster’s voice. “Please. Don’t do this.” 

She looked behind her. His face was uncertain and it felt for the briefest moments as if her actions were wrong. 

“Save,” she heard Aislin shout above the noise. Dahlia climbed with renewed purpose until she got to the Dragon’s heart. The giant stone covered the heart, like a geode with hints of green, blue, and red.

 Pulling her knife out, she landed the blade in the center and felt it shatter like glass, and the sound seemed to silence only her friends’ voices. Slowly, her hands began to lose their hold as she lost all feeling in her limbs. Red began to mix with amber as her blood poured out of her. The sensation of falling felt like the dream she had been living in all this time.

 She would wake up in the in-between with Aislin soon.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“No! No! No!” The voices cried around Jubair as he shuddered awake. The sound of glass breaking woke him from his daze as he realized he was watching Dahlia fall from a fountain with a decaying Dragon impaled on its center.

He flew quickly to catch her before her body hit anything that would harm her.

“No.” Aislin, the Wraith Lothar like so much, sobbed, as Dahlia’s body began to seize.

“What is wrong with her?” Aster shouted.

“Her mind thinks she was impaled. She is dying,” Aislin sobbed. “Dahlia saved us.”

“What happened?” Pertinax came and wrapped his arms around his friend. 

Jubair felt his mind drift as scenes from Aislin’s mind came through of the past two months.

“Two months? We have been here that long?” Brawn asked.

“That is not the point. Her body thinks she is dying. It was the only way to escape the in-between,” Aislin sobbed as Dahlia began to foam at the mouth.

“We have to fix this,” Bart demanded. 

“Someone do something!” Aster yelled, not being able to think.

 Jubair held Dahlia and sighed. He swore to himself never to use this magic again. To never be tied to another person, but as much as he denied it, he knew she was not ordinary. 

“I swear allegiance to my new master. To serve and protect, to be bound until such a time as I am released.”

“No, Jubair, not the Genie’s oath,” Valentina said worried, knowing how much he hated what it had been to him and what it was now.

“I swear to take care of my master’s body as if it were my own. To ensure no harm comes to her in my time of service. I bind myself with this oath to Dahlia until such a time as she no longer needs me.” He felt the sting of the tattoo form around his wrists and ankles as the tattoo formed near Dahlia’s heart.

With the bond, he began to search her mind for the image, for the thing that told her body to shut down. As he went through, he began to pluck at the memory as if he were unweaving a tapestry before he sat down in her mind to begin a new one. He weaved the image of a small wound, one easily healed. Convincing her body it was not dire. Calming her heart and mind with each tug of the thread as he weaved. If it were a real wound this would call for an entirely different magic, but mind magic he knew well. 

He called forth the image of healing and rest. The skeleton image she saw became her real face smiling back in the bright liquid. Slowly, he pulled back and saw a new image. The image of friends laughing, of a small wound gained by tripping over a branch, and them laughing over new connections. 

As he left her mind, he saw her in his arms, breathing softly as if merely asleep.

“What did you do?” Aster asked as the others crowded around her.

“I told her mind what to believe. What to see. I told her body that it was not harmed. I moved the magic and broke the spell cast over her as she did for us. He winced as his arm slowly formed a wound where it would have been normally on Dahlia, but with the oath, was now his to bear. 

Another reason he hated the oath. 

Jubair stood and let the others crowd and hold her as he walked away.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Dahlia looked at where they had cleansed and buried the Dragon in a protected, sealed casket. Large enough to accommodate the remaining flesh and bones. They looked around town, and they were able to find a document noting that the townsfolk killed the Dragon for their own greed. Hoarding its gold and creating a town of commerce so it was well-known in its time. 

“The Dragon had cast a curse on the town before dying, that they would be destroyed by their desires and their greed. The townsfolk began to get sick and started dying only to rise the next day from their caskets as if nothing occurred. Soon all travel and commerce stopped as the legend of the walking dead began to encircle the town. All who had come to visit were never heard from again. The Dragon’s vengeance could be felt in the century that followed. Its blood wept in the fountain that once provided life to the town. And they were all caught, knowing it caused their ruin, but not wanting to destroy what had given false prosperity to their lives,” Dahlia read out loud. “This is my final word as I can feel myself succumbing to the curse. If only I would have said something when they proceeded with their plan to kill the noble beast. Because I have done nothing, I am as much to blame for my silence as the others who did the deed themselves. This is my hope that someone will save us from our folly and right our wrongs. I can feel myself giving into the curse. To leave everything but my desires, and become nothing but a shell. Living, but dead in every way that counts. If you are reading this, you may have broken our curse. If you have, please bury the Dragon respectfully in a way we never did. And burn our bones so that we may never rise from the grave again. Light the town in fire and let the ash purify this land. And let us be forgotten for all our achievements and known only for the folly of the fools we have been.” 

Dahlia looked up from reading and at the others as they stared at the town blazing in bright reds and oranges. Everything burned as the unknown writer requested. And Dahlia stuck the scroll in her bag, planning to ensure that their request was seen fully through. That their story would not be lost any longer, but be a warning to any who thought to follow the same path. 

The others seemed to be uncomfortable and on edge. Dahlia understood that with all that occurred. She felt the tattoo above her heart where the new lines sat puffed up from the healing skin. No one told her why she had it, and she could not remember. Jubair still seemed as distant as ever. The only thing that seemed to change was Aislin. 

Aislin became more vocal, not only to make others laugh but to debate potions with Hazel and Aster. Discussing the best style for each person with Laz, and generally anyone she could offer a moment of conversation. From the depths to light-hearted topics. And it seemed to change the others in their thoughts, but not Lothar, who seemed to already know that about his favorite Wraith.

Dahlia ran into a branch and it cut her cheek, but she felt nothing. Reaching up to where the scratch should have been there was nothing. Jubair hissed behind her as he held his cheek. She turned before he saw her staring. 

This was not good. 

She had been paired with a Genie before and had released them when she disappeared. Dahlia had no intention of staying bound again in the barbaric and outdated practice, no matter his intention. 

“Where to now, Hazel?” Bart asked giving her a charming smile. 

“I am not certain. I believe the witch knows we are following her.”

“Why?”

“Because that was no accident. We have just stumbled into the first trap she has set.”

She looked at Dahlia and the others, as Dahlia wondered what else lay in store for the party. It seemed like anything could happen next, and as long as it didn’t involve ice, she was content.