Lord Of The Lost

The Water of Life worked wonders, far more potent than any simple bandage. As William gulped down the last of it, he felt an immediate surge of energy coursing through him. The dull ache of his serious injuries faded, transforming into mere discomfort. Just moments ago, the werewolf had nearly torn him apart; now, he felt like he could take on the world.

"Wow, I actually feel… amazing!" he exclaimed, stretching his limbs as vitality surged back into him. The once severe wounds were healing rapidly, turning into nothing more than minor scrapes. He looked down at the jar filled with a dense cluster of mushrooms, feeling a bit like he was in a mystical market on the silk road of old.

Glancing at the game prompts, he saw that these mushrooms had various magical properties; hallucinations, toxins, explosions, paralysis, and healing among them. However, only skilled pharmacists and potion makers knew how to harness their powers.

Deciding against asking more questions, he remembered the witch's demeanor. She wasn't exactly rolling out the welcome mat. Isolated in her cabin deep within the Misty Forest, she had spent years studying potions, shunning contact with others. Many adventurers had wandered into her domain, but few had ever caught a glimpse of her, and even fewer had been fortunate enough to receive her assistance.

Now, with William and Little Red Riding Hood bringing bad news, it was clear she was on edge. Little Red Riding Hood's connection to the pollution from the Black Forest and William's mention of the Witch of the Wilderness and Calcifer weighed heavily on her.

These were the two names she dreaded the most.

Memories flashed through her mind: the moment she betrayed her teacher, stealing the treasure she had deemed too powerful for anyone else. From that day on, she had known that disaster was inevitable. Fleeing from the kingdom, she had navigated through blizzards to reach the remote wilderness and settle in the Misty Forest, hoping to evade her past for two decades.

But the Witch of the Wilderness had finally come calling, and she was not ready to face the ghost of her former mentor. The memories of the witch's immense power haunted her, leaving her paralyzed with fear.

"Alright, I can give you the Water of Life," the witch said reluctantly, her voice heavy with resignation. She wanted to send them on their way as quickly as possible. Better to let that wretched Calcifer deal with the Witch of the Wilderness.

"What about me?" Little Red Riding Hood's voice cut through the witch's thoughts like a blade.

"What does your grandmother's life or death have to do with me?" The witch replied curtly, avoiding eye contact.

Little Red Riding Hood's heart raced, anger boiling within her. "My grandmother guarded the Black Forest for ten years, ensuring peace for everyone in the border town. Now she's old and sick, and you say it has nothing to do with you?"

She clenched her fists tightly, her nails digging into her palms. Resentment towards the witch had simmered for too long, and now it threatened to boil over. "You can't just refuse us! Don't think I won't smash this place to bits if you turn us away again!"

The witch regarded her with a mix of annoyance and intrigue. "And what do you think that will accomplish?" she snapped back, crossing her arms defensively.

"I'll make you see reason!" Little Red Riding Hood shot back, her resolve unwavering. "You have the power to help us; why waste it?"

William stepped in, sensing the rising tension. "Look, we understand you want to avoid trouble, but if you truly care about your own survival, helping us might be the best option."

The witch's eyes narrowed, weighing her options. The room was thick with tension, the air electric with unspoken challenges. Would she relent, or would she dig in her heels against two determined young souls?

The witch pressed her temples, feeling a headache brewing. "Little Red Riding Hood, listen carefully. Pollution cannot be cured. It's not a disease; it's a curse. I can't turn that creature you brought back into what it once was. Once tainted, there's no going back; he will only become a new source of pollution.

It's irreversible."

She glanced anxiously at the door, envisioning the chaos that could ensue if that monster entered her sanctuary. Her precious magical plants, each one a rare treasure cultivated through years of dedication, were at stake. Some of these plants took centuries to bear fruit, and if a monster ran rampant in her cabin, the devastation would be catastrophic.

She couldn't let the Misty Forest fall into the same fate as the Black Forest.

Little Red Riding Hood's eyes widened in realization. "So you really do know what's been happening here," she said, her voice tinged with frustration. "You stood by while little Bob lost control!"

Fury bubbled inside her, and she gripped the witch's sleeve. "I didn't ask for your healing! I just need the werewolf potion!"

The witch sighed, exasperated. "The werewolf potion requires the complete essence of a pure-blooded werewolf as the main ingredient. Without that, I can't brew the potion. Why would I risk angering the werewolves over this?"

"Then use my blood!" Little Red Riding Hood shot back, her eyes glinting with desperation. They were starting to redden, a reflection of her true nature.

The witch paused, taken aback by the boldness of the girl before her. "You... you really are something special," she mused. "Combining the blood of a werewolf and a witch might just yield a potion of incredible power."

Her excitement was palpable as she continued, "Witches are the sovereigns of the night. Since the original moon's fall, the new moon goddess has turned her back on the werewolves. The full moon no longer grants them strength, and now, the witching hour is their only hope to reclaim it..."

The witch's eyes blazed with fervor, her breath quickening. She was deeply obsessed with her craft, and the prospect of creating something extraordinary was too tempting to resist.

"Alright," she said, her tone shifting. "This could be dangerous for you, but I'll be gentle."

With a predatory gleam in her eyes, she reached toward Little Red Riding Hood, who stood her ground.

"Um, can I say something?" William interjected, sensing the tension rise.

"The Fountain of Life is yours; let's not get ahead of ourselves!" The witch flung a crystal bottle toward them.

[Hint: You have obtained the Fountain of Life]

[Life Spring Water: This water is infused with the essence of the spring, brimming with vibrant life energy, and offers a multitude of extraordinary effects.]

William caught the bottle, the weight of their situation pressing heavily on him. "Let's focus on what matters; finding a way to help your grandmother first."

Little Red Riding Hood nodded, determination replacing her earlier frustration. "You're right. We can deal with this later. Right now, we need to save her."

With a newfound sense of purpose, they prepared to leave the witch's cluttered cabin behind, hoping to confront the dangers ahead with their newly acquired power.

William stared at the small crystal bottle in his hand, trying to grasp its significance. The 'Fountain of Life' was supposed to be something special, but the full extent of its power eluded him. He lacked the deep knowledge of occult science to fully appreciate it.

The bottle itself was quite stunning; about three inches long, with an incredibly thick crystal that seemed to lock the liquid inside, keeping it perfectly still. No movement, no swirling; it was as though time had frozen inside that tiny vial.

He frowned and asked the witch, "Is this really enough?"

The witch, clearly not in the mood for long explanations, pointed to the large vat near the door. "As long as you add a single drop of the water of life into that, you'll have a full vat of the water of life in return."

William's eyes widened. He didn't need more words to understand. This little bottle was worth far more than it appeared. With just a few drops, he could have an endless supply of the water of life.

With a satisfied nod, he carefully tucked the bottle away. By his estimate, there were dozens of drops inside; enough to last a lifetime. The mission's goal had been achieved, but something still bothered him.

"I made a wish on the four-leaf clover when I entered the forest," he muttered, almost to himself. "But it doesn't seem to have helped me at all."

Indeed, his journey had been a series of unfortunate events. He'd been attacked by werewolves, taunted by Little Red Riding Hood, and nearly lost his life more times than he could count.

The witch glanced at him, her expression almost amused. "I knew the moment you made that wish that the power of the four-leaf clover wouldn't work on me."

"Wait, what?" William was genuinely surprised.

"You made the wrong wish," she said matter-of-factly. "Whether you could obtain the water of life was never up to fate. It was always up to me."

William stood there, dumbfounded. All this time, he had been banking on luck, trusting that the four-leaf clover would guide him. But it seemed Calcifer had known better. The clover's power had only ensured that he made it through the Misty Forest safely, helping him avoid some of the dangerous magical creatures lurking within.

Still, it wasn't perfect.

Calcifer hadn't accounted for werewolves, monsters, or Little Red Riding Hood; all of which had thrown his journey into chaos. The power of the clover couldn't change that, nor could it influence the witch's decisions. It was strong, but not 'that' strong.

As the witch had explained, her woodland cottage was protected by powerful barriers. No amount of luck could break through them. The only reason he had made it to the cabin at all was because 'she' allowed it.

A sudden, ridiculous thought flashed through William's mind. He chuckled to himself, imagining a far-fetched scenario where he stumbled upon the witch's cottage, only to find her accidentally drinking a love potion, falling for him, and then giving him the Fountain of Life after a night of romance.

The idea was absurd, but it illustrated the limits of luck. Luck could only take him so far; it couldn't force the witch to help him.

Realization dawned on him: this plain-looking witch before him was far more powerful than he had first assumed. She had controlled the outcome all along.

With a sigh, William lamented, "So all that effort with the four-leaf clover was a waste?"

He wasn't even sure why he felt so heartbroken; after all, the clover didn't belong to him. But the disappointment gnawed at him. He had relied on fate, only to be outplayed by the very forces he thought he could manipulate.

In the end, he realized with a touch of irony, he had been the fool. He had mocked Calcifer and cursed the witch's actions, yet here he stood, humbled by the very power he thought he could cheat.

"Is this how fate works?" he muttered, half to himself. "Those who try to take advantage of it end up being played by it?"