SAVE POINT 28

Initiating The Crazy Lady & Video Game Throwbacks...100%

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Sparo

Grand Dragon, Prickgada looks like a trainwreck. That wild abandon raging in the enchantress's green eyes used to be what I liked about her, but it looks like it's grown untamed like the ivy outside, shooting up and suffocating the youth in her. She'd always been a beautiful woman, but that beauty looks tired now—like every inch of life and zeal in her has been squeezed out and replaced with savage unkemptness.

Her dark hair, once lush and long, protrudes from her face in a frizzy and curling, dark mass. Her eyes are a fierce, stabbing green with none of the sun I remember. Only ice. This is the woman who'd broken my heart all those years ago?

It looks like something's broken inside her too.

Her spirit?

Replaced with bitterness. And anger. I can see it raging like one of those untethered thunderstorms she used to like to chase in the mountains. She'd make me ride across the cracking and sizzling sky with her on my back. I'd take her to the very top of the peak as the clouds brewed overhead and watch the entire show flicker and rage in her avid, emerald eyes.

...But that'd been so long ago.

Her lair, however, I could have visited yesterday; it looks nearly identical to how it was before. It's a stately room—or would have been if not for the clutter. Gold wallpaper, an ornate tray ceiling and heavy drapes give the place a Victorian feel, but the chaos of it matches the chaos in the woman's eyes: a chair pushed up against huge painting, sitting on the floor, strewn with jackets and scrolls of parchment...a rug so stacked with books and random vase ware that you can hardly make out the pattern underneath... Honestly, the entire place has a general feel of claustrophobia. All lit with the golden glow of a single-shade lamp.

I watch the Game Wardens duck inside the door, peering at their surroundings.

But Prickgada peers at them even more suspiciously. I know that, as far as she's concerned, I've brought the police to her criminal lair.

"I suppose you didn't see the posters," her eyes and lips narrow in obvious distaste even at just seeing me.

> How could I miss them?

I mumble to myself—words that don't escape her keen mind as her eyes snap to mine like a rebuke.

This was a mistake coming here. I'd told Callen it was crazy—

"Who's this?" Her words are as sharp as her eyes. She flicks an impatient finger at you, Rosabella—your limp form in my outstretched talons. And I suddenly feel very vulnerable, standing there—an enormous dragon crowded in my ex-lover's lair holding a human who I'm still scrabbling with the thought that I might have caught the feelings for.

...Isn't this one giant shit-show.

I use one claw to clear the surface of a jumbled desk, hearing jars smash as they hit the ground and papers flutter.

"Watch it!" the enchantress warns, but I'm not here to ask for permission.

> She needs a large health pack.

I rush, staring into your pale face which is growing grayer with every passing minute.

> I know you have a stash of them. With your unlimited health, they're all but useless to you. Give her the health pack, and I'll trade you whatever you need for it—

"Whatever I need?" Her eyes alight with sordid interest that makes my heart tick into uncertainty for a second. "I trade those health packs with the locals for my food," she elaborates squarely, as though driving a hard bargain that I, honestly, care nothing for.

> ...Did I not speak clearly?

I growl back, the scales near my ears bristling.

Without fail, the woman always puts me on edge. She knows I'm good on my word—

Beep.

I watch the health pack appear at the witch's spidery fingertips.

"Thank God," Callen rushes forward to take it from her, but Prickgada snatches it back, away from him.

"I'm not sure I entirely trust the word of this dragon," the enchantress hisses, her narrowed eyes bouncing to my face.

"Well, that makes two of us," the pink-haired girl agrees, stepping out of the shadow of the corner and into the light of the lamp so we call can observe her crossed arms and skeptical expression.

Seriously? Humans are utterly terrible creatures... If they want me to play the dragon card, I will happily play it—

> Give her the health pack, or I'll eat you.

I threaten the witch deep under my breath.

She chuckles, raising an unafraid eyebrow, "Now, there's the Sparo I remember. Here—"

She extends the pack, which both I and Callen reach for at the same time—

Naturally, I'm faster. I thrust it towards you, Rosabella, and watch it integrate into your health:

A collective sigh of relief runs through the room as you come to life with a gasp on the table, coughing and sputtering.

And, I can't help it, like a magnet, I am drawn immediately to your side, peering into your face just to make sure—

And you blink at me.

And I know you're okay.

But, then again, Prickgada knows something too.

Her eyes rake over both of us and come to the same realization, restarting my jumping heart. Is it just me or does jealousy flash through her eyes?

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"In terms of payment—" the witch starts.

> Wait, I still need your help.

The words fall out of my consciousness and into the woman's before I can help it. I take a deep breath as Prickgada studies my face me more deeply than I would like.

She twirls a dark curl around her fingertip coyly. "...You know I like it when you need me," she toys.

I ignore her line.

> You're one of the few humans who can do magic.

I say slowly, wording everything with as much care as I can muster.

> I know it's not creator magic, just cheat codes that you use, but you can tell me about magic and its effect on humans?

I force the words out; it's hard admitting that I need her help. Staring at your recovering face, Rosabella, I realize I need her more than ever.

But the witch turns away, her nervous eyes dancing to the Game Wardens, "I don't use cheat codes—I would never. Cheat codes are against Game Law—"

> You're not fooling anyone.

I hiss.

> And you can trust this group. They're with me.

She lets out a tittering huff, but I catch her uncertain eyes flickering over us all again. "...As far as the magic, I certainly hope I can do magic..." she huffs, "Unless I've just been perfecting these potions to grow my hair, which I certainly have; can you tell?" She leans towards Dormouse with the question. His eyes only widen like a scared rabbit as she looks his scrawny form up and down like a hungry panther. "This one's my type in a spindly way..."

"Come on, Sparo, grab Rosabella and let's go," Rainer's tone hedges on a dangerously thin line, like his face which looks more than uncomfortable as his eyes wander around the room and he nods towards the exit, "Give her payment and let's get out of here—"

But I can't leave.

Not till I know—

> I was teaching this girl how to access and use her creator magic.

I start, my voice heavy and level as I gesture towards you, Rosabella.

> It's why she's in a critical level. It's like the magic was draining her. This doesn't happen for dragons. Why would it happen with humans?

"I can take a look, but it will cost you," the woman says, her tone clipped as she raises an eyebrow and studies the color returning to your face.

With Prickgada there's always a cost... She's a shrewd businesswoman.

But I have to know or else this will just happen again...

> Take a look.

I order her.

She nods.

And, sending another edgy glance at the Game Wardens, she opens a hidden drawer in the side of the desk you lay on, Rosabella. She reaches out and turns a delicate, black nob with swift quickness.

And she carefully draws out a crystal ball, perched between her two bony hands like a relic. She balances it there, sending an unsure glance at all of us before looking back into the glass.

...Which is now swirling with vibrant blues and whites...

Her eyes gloss over as the magic takes her in.

Then, just as quickly, she shakes her head.

And the gloss on her eyes is gone.

Only her pupils are sharper, dark knives pointed at each one of us in accusation.

She turns to me, "She needs the prophesy cheat code. It's the only way or else she will drain and die every time she tires—"

> Do it.

I tell her, my voice firm.

"Hold on," Callen steps forward with a raised hand, interrupting; he speaks directly at me, "how do we know this is safe? You trust this woman?"

I wouldn't go that far, but—

> Yes.

I lie—a little. I just don't trust her generally.

> Prickgada is the best at what she does. If she says something is so, it's most certainly the case—

"We're Game Wardens," Rainer interrupts, cutting us both off, "We're supposed to keep The Game environment safe by hunting down glitches and eradicating them. I can't let her input a cheat code in front of us—"

"Then leave," the witch hisses, "This girl needs the prophesy code, or she won't be able to do what you've asked of her. You do want to fix The Game world, don't you? Doesn't that duty to The Game trump all others?"

Her eyes are beadier than a raven as she stares Rainer down.

And, after an awkward minute, he nods shortly.

And steps back, his face draining of protest and color.

"Proceed," Callen tells the witch.

I swallow as Prickgada swipes into your account in the air over your head. Her spindly fingers dart through the air with a proficiency that's always amazed me. A blank code box appears.

Please Input Code:

*Whizzkid19786332*

She types. The numbers and letters bob in the air for a second before an electronic beep ensues:

***Cheat Code Utilized: A Witch's Hack, Rosabella - Prophesy 100/100***

Your eyes blink closed.

And you're still again, Rosabella.

Too still.

Dormouse rushes forward, "Did you hurt her?!"

But the enchantress extends a hand over the boy's chest to stop him from moving any closer. "She'll need a second to integrate," she tells us, turning with a sweep of her bell sleeves to address the group.

"And I'll take this minute to give you all fair warning." Her eyes constrict, "You've put so much pressure on this girl, plucked her from her world, placed her in The Game, given her all the responsibility of fixing a universe she hardly knows."

She stares them down, "You ask why she's not strong enough. Her skills have barely been built! Her body can't handle this yet! You want her to build, but you see her as a singular member—a savior. And, yet, she is part of your group. You cannot heal the whole without working on the whole. You cannot fix it all without exploring it all. You are blind to what needs to be done. The Darkness isn't random. It attacks those who harbor negativity first. You all harbor bits of the same, and it needs to be eradicated if you wish for this girl to repair this world. You have been warned."

She turns to brush to the back of the room.

"...Well that was a load of mumbo-jumbo bullshit..." the pink-haired girl comments dryly.

"Take Rosabella and let's get out of here," Callen directs, "Sparo, can you fly us back to where we were?"

But my eyes are still trained on Prickgada.

...Because I have a bad feeling I won't be flying them anywhere.

> What's the payment?

I ask the woman in her head, whispering there and excluding the others from the mind chat.

The green orbs of her eyes are serious as she turns back over her shoulder to face me. "You," she murmurs.

And I nod solemnly back.

I understand.

And you are worth it, Rosabella. Your life is worth it to me.

"Well, come on then," the hulky, warrior one waves me forward, "Rosabella's lighter for you to carry than for the rest of us—"

> I won't be going back with you.

I tell them, opening the waves of my thoughts again.

They gape at me a little.

"Why?" Dormouse squeaks.

> Payment.

I say back grimly.

> The enchantress is taking me as her prisoner.