Prophecy Approved Companion

Qube felt the tell-tale lurch of teleportation as she fell into the blackness, accidentally letting go of the Chosen One’s hand. It meant that, unlike the sudden sick fear that crossed her mind that she’d be splattered across the ground (she really should have looked for a ladder!), instead she carefully stepped onto solid stone, the Chosen One’s hand next to hers.

The corridor smelt like wet stone. The music that played in the background of her mind was slightly morose, as if unhappy about being in such a dim place, but didn’t send out any of the normal warning signs of danger: fast beats, or sharply rising notes. If the background music was to be believed, the young Squiggles wouldn’t have run into any threats.

Either that or she’d already eaten them.

But before she had a chance to look for her lost pet, she got a face full of sharktopus. Squiggles, clearly panicked, wrapped herself around Qube’s head, clinging on for all she was worth. Which, given she was a very strong young lady, was a lot of clinging. Qube attempted to soothe her, but her kind words came out as just muffled noises.

“Oi, don’t smother your mother,” the Chosen One said, prying the frightened mascot off the party Healer. Squiggles immediately wrapped herself around the Hero’s arm.

The rest of the party stepped out of the invisible portal and into the dark corridor to the sight of the Chosen One wildly shaking his arm, attempting to dislodge a determined Squiggles.

“Lady Squiggles! You gave us all a scare!” Sencha Bard said.

“My darling!” Sexy Screamy Spider Briar skittered across the stone tiles and effortlessly freed the Chosen One from Squiggles’s vice-like grip. She held her against her heaving thorax, absorbing part of the pet. “You musn’t do things like that, little love! The world is far too dangerous for someone as cute as you!”

Squiggles tentacles lashed out, grabbing some of the Hunter’s limbs and restraining the fearsome arachnid’s arms.

“Yes, dear,” the Hunter continued soothing the sharktopus as Definitely Bad Guy looked on disapprovingly. Squiggles’s nose peeked out from one of the Hunter’s body pockets and pointed at the Mage. After a moment the rest of her face emerged, as she looked at her sometimes-enemy, other times uneasy ally.

“I have no doubt that any Deep One, even one in a younger stage of their life cycle, would have little problem handling most situations,” the Mage said coldly. He continued to look sour as Squiggles huffed to herself, pleased by his seeming support. “However,” he added, as if unable to help himself, “it is extremely reckless behaviour to enter any unknown area without support, indicating impulsiveness and a lack of critical thinking.”

Squiggles burrowed back into Sexy Screamy Spider Briar’s thorax.

Qube, however, wasn’t joining in the soothing and scolding of the team’s adorable mascot. For once, the safety sense of Squiggles wasn’t her most pressing concern. Instead, she was struggling to breathe. There was a heavy, choking presence pressed against her throat, and every breath she took was a struggle. Pain latticed out from her neck, digging into her shoulders and chest.

There was a feeling of overwhelming dread as if, by setting foot in the castle, she had doomed herself.

“[Lesser Shield], [Minor Cleanse],” she whispered, not daring to relax until the magic washed through her. It didn’t completely eliminate the feeling, but it made it bearable to breathe.

“What’s wrong?” In the dim lighting of the tunnel-like corridor, the silvery glow of her spells activating was immediately obvious to everyone. The Chosen One, being right beside her, grabbed onto her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Qube said, trying to make herself believe it was true. “There’s some kind of fear spell here, though. Sencha Bard, Definitely Bad Guy, can you check for traps? I must have activated it when I grabbed Squiggles.”

It would also explain why her fearless little monster had been so frightened.

Both the men stepped up to her side, casting detection spells. But the Chosen One wasn’t looking down the no-doubt trapped corridor. Instead he was watching Qube with a slight frown between his brows.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, quieter than before.

“I’m fine,” Qube repeated right back to him. “Fortunately it wasn’t anything more powerful. However, we should be cautious. These traps might not have been set by the Royal family.”

She couldn’t imagine Royalty stooping so low as to use mind-altering spells. Or at least not such ineffective ones.

“There, there, and there,” Sencha Bard pointed out several sections of the corridor. Other parts were outlined in purple, Definitely Bad Guy frowning at their placement.

“There is no sign of any spells, runes or traps this close to us,” he said, almost to himself.

“No doubt it was erased when Squiggles or myself activated it,” Qube said, her calm tone of voice belying the creeping dread that still nested within her chest. What was worse than the fear, though, was the pull she felt. Against the repelling fear (which would have overwhelmed someone less strong-minded than a properly trained Childhood Companion!) there was a terrible compulsion to rush forward into the castle. It was as if she was being summoned, sucked in deeper into the castle like she’d once been nearly sucked into that empty hole next to the throne in a dream she’d had.

It was certainly a very odd spell, to both repel and attract. Qube could only be glad that she’d been the one affected by it, and not someone less used to stifling complex emotions, like the Chosen One.

Still, as the party slowly navigated their way down the corridor, taking care to avoid the highlighted traps, the sense of heading towards completion never left her.

Instead it grew.

***

Aside from a chastened Squiggles refusing to come out of Sexy Screamy Spider Briar’s thorax, there was surprisingly little adventure as they picked their way through the underground passage. Qube even remembered to forcefully suggest the party stop midway through the corridor, where it looked like the traps ran out, and diplomatically demand the Mage and Bard recast their spells. Sure enough, the previously clear next segment was riddled with traps that’d been beyond the men’s initial spells.

She tactfully didn’t point this deficiency out.

There was a strange scent in the air as they approached the completely dark end of the corridor. It smelt vaguely nostalgic, reminding her of the village, mixed with the rotting vegetation smell of the Forbidden Forest.

“[Light],” Sencha Bard sang as they reached the edge of blackness. But he needn’t have bothered, for, the instant the party stepped into the darkness, blue and green balls of light flared into life, revealing a small chamber with a save point, wooden table, and two chairs.

Sitting in those chairs were Warwick and Ruth.

Qube relaxed slightly at the sight of her dead friends. The Devs must have decided they wanted to have a conversation with them again and, in keeping with the Chosen One’s promise, had arranged to speak to the entire party at once. Maybe it was about what they were going to face in the castle? She only hoped these Devs were more polite than the last one she’d met.

While, as a Healer, she naturally abhorred most forms of violence, she would have been hard-pressed to find the moral strength to try and stop the Chosen One from punching the Dan Dev again if that unpleasant person had shown up to call her it again.

Then she noticed there was something strange about the bodies sitting in front of her. More than the normal oddness of her childhood friends’ corpses being puppeteered by beings from another world, that is.

“Well, Hero,” Warwick said, and it was Warwick’s voice. He turned full to face the party and Qube shuddered in horror as his visage was revealed.

“Looks like you lucked out,” Ruth continued, also turning towards them.

Both of them were covered in black burns. It didn’t affect their hair, or clothes, or stop them from speaking, but rather seemed imprinted upon their flesh. It was as if whatever had attacked them had chosen the maximum visually impactful placement of their wounding.

“What happened?” Qube burst forward, ashamed at her momentary drawing back. “Do they need [Heal]ing?”

But even as she offered she knew that they were beyond that.

“I always knew you wouldn’t have the brains to try and save the village,” Warwick said with a sneer.

“Couldn’t you even have tried to smuggle us out?” Ruth asked, plaintively. She shifted slightly and the smell of rot grew stronger.

“Ew,” the Chosen One said as he covered his nose. Which was a very rude way to react to the corpses of someone, even if they did smell.

“The Evil Emperor took us, and cursed us to guard this passageway,” Ruth said, not offended by the Hero’s reaction. She always was good at staying focused on the task at hand. “We’re doomed to each guard one doorway, never to rest.” She’d emphasised the last word strangely, adding some meaning to it that Qube couldn’t figure out.

“Should I try and [Revive] them?” she asked the Chosen One.

“Any release would be the nectar of mercy,” Warwick added.

“It’s subtle, but I think they’re trying to give us the solution,” the Chosen One said to the others, clearly suppressing a smile, which was not at all an appropriate reaction to corpses, but at this point Qube had just about given up trying to think what was and wasn’t appropriate for friend-corpse interactions.

“Is the solution [Revive]?” she asked, an edge to her voice. Even though she’d been stuck in the sky during the Evil Emperor’s invasion, being forced to confront two who had perished during the attack was making her feel awful. It was a combination of guilt, anger, and sadness, along with a desire for vengeance, mixed with a shameful gladness that the Chosen One had saved her from a similar fate.

“I believe they’re spirits, not actual physical bodies,” Sencha Bard said quietly to Qube. She gave him an incredulous look. Spirits didn’t smell bad! Actually, now she thought about it, the last time she’d met a ghost she hadn’t even known they were a spirit until they evaporated.

“The nectar that the Dryad Queen gave us was designed to put restless spirits to sleep,” he continued. He was frowning, looking between Qube and the two unChosen. “But I’d thought… may I read the Golden Prophecy again, Chosen One?”

The Chosen One suddenly looked caught out.

“Uh, sure,” he said uneasily. “I dunno that it would help you any. Also shouldn’t we put these guys to sleep? Or to rest, or whatever. After all, they probably don’t like being burned-up ghosts.”

“It is, indeed, agony,” Warwick agreed testily.

“Do you have something that could help one of us?” Ruth asked.

For the first time Qube appreciated the true genius of the Chosen One. His insistence that they find the perfect solution to each Temple meant that they had two vials of nectar, instead of the one that taking the easy route would have left them with. She couldn’t even begin to imagine how awful it would have been to try and pick only one of her childhood friends to put to rest.

“I think we should lay only one of them to sleep,” Sencha Bard said, staring directly at the Chosen One, a challenge in his tone. “I’d prefer to have a second vial, as backup.”

“We can’t leave one of them behind to suffer!” Qube exclaimed, shocked at the Bard’s ruthlessness.

“While it brings me no pleasure, I believe we can use it to avert a greater ill,” Sencha Bard said, continuing to stare down the Chosen One.

“I think we should ask them if they want to be put to rest,” Sexy Screamy Spider Briar said, stepping between the Bard and Fighter. “Just because they’re in pain doesn’t mean they want to stop existing.”

“I would be interested in examining their curse,” Definitely Bad Guy said, surprising no one.

“Well, Chosen One?” Sencha Bard asked, still staring down the Hero. “What should we do?”