“Mrs Lockmire used to be a professional revealer for the Willowdale Council up in Brackenwick,” Ereni said as Max followed her through Oakhaven’s charming streets, now bathed in bright, early morning sunlight.

“Sorry,” she said. “I keep forgetting you’re not from around here. Brackenwick is Willowdale’s capital city up north, far beyond Everfell Forest.”

A capital city. Max wondered how many exploration orbs he would gain for discovering it, and what he might be able to activate with those orbs.

Max was about to ask Ereni what Brackenwick was like, but then he remembered what Bron had told him about the Cataclysm, and Dreadroot preventing anyone from leaving Oakhaven Valley. Bron had said Ereni had been just nine years-old when her parents had been killed by the beast, so any visits to anywhere outside of the valley would have been when she was most likely too young to recall.

“Anyway, Mrs Lockmire’s retired now, but she should be able to help us.”

Max continued to follow Ereni through a network of narrow streets, alleys, and lanes that were dwarfed by a hodgepodge of mismatched houses, shops, and bakeries.

“That Garrick guy,” said Max, unable to forget the whisper in his ear. “Are you and him… ?”

Ereni stopped in her tracks.

“Are me and him what?” she said.

“Well,” said Max, “he kinda told me you were his.”

Ereni’s jaw dropped open.

“That vile oaf!” she exclaimed. “I can assure you there is nothing going on between me and him. I would rather eat a bucketful of bogtoad bogeys than go anywhere near that horrid man.”

“I didn’t picture him as your type,” Max said truthfully. “That’s pretty messed up he’s going around claiming you’re his property.”

“Messed up is just one way of describing it,” Ereni said, looking furious and upset at the same time. “I’m sick of him putting his hand on me when he comes into the clinic, and I’m sick of him strutting around this village thinking he can do whatever he wants without any consequence.”

It seemed this Garrick guy was even worse than Max had thought.

“If he gives you grief again,” Max said, “let me know.”

“It won’t do any good,” Ereni said defeatedly. “He rules the roost around here. Not that he earned the position. Nobody would’ve voted that idiot in as our protector. He was born into the role, and took over after his father died from drinking the wrong potion by accident.”

“Garrick may think he has the power to do what he wants to the people of this village,” said Max, “but he has no power over me.”

Ereni’s face did light up a little at Max’s words.

Maybe it was the newfound confidence he seemed to be naturally gaining in this world, or maybe it was his access to orbs, but he didn’t feel scared or threatened by Garrick in the slightest, and he was, in fact, eager to put him in his place.

Ereni continued walking, guiding Max through the winding backstreets until she stopped outside an uneven door in a wall that seemed like there was no way it could possibly be the entrance to someone’s home.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

She rapped on the door a few times.

“Porge, is that you?” came a muffled voice. “I’ve already told you, my revelation magic ain’t gonna reveal the location of your lost sock! I saw a shepra chewing on it last Tuesday! The thing’s gone for good!”

“It’s not Porge, Mrs Lockmire,” Ereni called. “It’s Ereni.”

“Ereni?” said the voice. “I’m not due my checkup for another three weeks. Or am I? Great Gorrimor, I’m losing my mind.”

“No, I’d like your help, if that’s okay!” Ereni elaborated.

Max heard some shuffling behind the door, then it opened with a great creak to reveal a plump old woman in outlandish-looking robes who seemed to be missing an eye, and had wispy white hair.

“Well, well, well,” she said, staring at Max. “I don’t remember the last time a man as handsome as this came knocking on my door. Do come in!”

As she shuffled away and began hurriedly tidying what looked like a very messy interior, Ereni gave Max a playful glance and said, “I think someone’s got an admirer.”

Max wasn’t particularly tall, but he had to stoop to get in through the crooked doorway, and he nearly tripped on a stray marrow of some kind that was sitting on the doorway’s inner step.

“Oh yes, mind that, and please, make yourselves at home!” Mrs Lockmire urged. “There’s a bit of room on the bench there if you shove aside my undies and don’t mind the weeglebugs.”

Neither Max nor Ereni accepted the offer of a seat.

Max noted how the house smelled of stewing root vegetables and autumnal herbs, although there was also a faint whiff of what he guessed might have been lingering flatulence.

“We won’t stay for very long,” said Ereni. “I was just hoping you might be able to help us using your revealing skills. Max here has something written in some kind of magic ink across his torso, and we were hoping you might be able to tell us what it says.”

Mrs Lockmire put down the kettle she was about to boil and put her hands on her hips.

“A chance to show off in front of this young man, and admire his shirtless body?” she said. “You’ve pulled my leg.”

Max removed the merchant’s shirt he was wearing, and presented himself to Mrs Lockmire.

“Oh my,” the old woman said, a lustful hunger washing over her remaining eye.

Max wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or concerned by the reaction.

“Now, stay still for me, young man.”

She placed her worn hand in front of him and, while muttering some incantation under her breath, wafted it across his chest.

She stared at the result.

“What does it say?” Max asked her.

“Hmm…” the old woman mused, then repeated what she had just done, ignoring Max’s question.

After a few more repetitions, Mrs Lockmire’s expression changed.

“How very strange,” she said.

“What’s strange?” Max asked.

“There’s certainly something there, as you say, but it ain’t responding to my magic.”

“Why do you think that might be, Mrs Lockmire?” said Ereni.

Mrs Lockmire seemed to consider it for a moment.

“It’s very strange. Very strange indeed. In all my years of revealing, I… ain’t seen anything like it.”

Without saying anything more, the old woman started rifling through the many books on her wonky shelves, pulling out the odd one here and there and tossing it aside. Max coughed a little from the dust that was pluming into the stagnant interior air.

“Could it be?” she said, pulling out a particularly old-looking tome and flicking through its yellowed pages.

“What is it, Mrs Lockmire?” said Ereni.

“A concealment magic not cast by Eldorian folk at all, but… by Eldoria herself.”

“Eldoria herself?” Ereni said in soft fascination.

“There are whispers of such things,” Mrs Lockmire explained, “though they are widely thought to be the whispers of those with wild imaginations. Certainly nothing we would ever have seriously considered during my days in the council. We shall see if there is any truth to those old whispers.”

Mrs Lockmire ran her chubby finger over the text and diagram on the page she had landed on, her eyes scanning it fervently. Then she placed it on her wooden table, and approached Max again. Without saying anything, she extended her arm and wafted her hand over his chest one last time, muttering a different, longer incantation.

This time Max felt something happen; like words were being scratched into him. It was sharp and unusual, but not painful.

He looked down and could see that this time, letters had become visible, like thin streaks of glowing, molten lava painted onto his skin, but he couldn’t quite make out what the words were.

“Kefbeck and Kavos,” Mrs Lockmire breathed.

“What does it say?” Max asked, looking from Mrs Lockmire to Ereni and back again.

Mrs Lockmire and Ereni also exchanged glances with each other.

“Tell me,” said Max. “I need to know what someone wrote on me.”

“I’m afraid you ain’t going to like the answer,” said Mrs Lockmire.

“Ereni,” said Max. “Please tell me what it says.”

Ereni’s eyes scanned the text multiple times, then she looked up and met his stare.

“It says…”