I step into the building — the fog-filtered light blares into the darkness of the room, illuminating the countless shelves standing tall, bolted to the floor with heavy iron bolts. I move quietly; stepping on the edge of my foot to not allow the hard heels to echo against the stone floor. I take out my phone and shake it to turn on its flashlight. Broken flasks glimmer in the bright white, and the shattered remains of unused furniture sat in the far corner, where the light barely reaches.

On one of the shelves, I find a picture book. The same scratch mark letters as those scrawled on the kris; with hand-drawn pictures of small cat-like people playing with one another. If I had to give a rough estimation it was like those little books in kindergartens and preschools that teach children the alphabet. I slide it into my backpack. It’ll be useful when trying to decode the language.

As I look through the contents of the shelves for anything that might be of use something stirs beneath the pile of wood. I pull out my wand and approach after I strap the shield over my arm. With the tip of the wand, I push up the top layer of wood.

A sharp hiss pierces the silence as my light shines on the black scales of a large, coiled serpent— about the size of a large anaconda with feathered wings tucked on its back. I hop backward as it lunges toward me, and as I find my footing it slithers forward. It unfurls its wings once it's free of the sharp shards of wood, and with a single beat of its crow-like wings, it lifted off the ground and darts forward.

I dive behind a shelf as it neared and drop my phone on the ground. I only catch a brief glimpse of the glimmer off its scales before it darts forward. I have enough time to raise my shield to intercept it on its path to my throat. The winged serpent’s fangs pierce the black, riveted wood: puncturing through to the other side. My hand burns as the venom on them seep out and begin to eat away at my skin.

“Dance for me, o’ daughters of the wind.”

I wince and hiss as I begin the incantation before it has a chance to remove its fangs from the shield. I draw the rune as quickly as I could — an upright triangle with a line going through the top, much like ensnare’s runes, just upside down.

A heavy wind breathes to life around me as a fierce gale blows apart the shelves on either side and topples them. Within these currents of winds, winged women danced hand in hand with one another.

The whirling wind rips apart the wings of the feathered serpent and rips it off the shield; one of its fangs still embeds itself in the shield. When the winds stop the serpent is tossed against the ground. I draw the kris from my belt as it writhes and thrashes on the floor, trying to make itself upright, and discard my shield: both of its top fangs were stuck within the black, riveted wood, and both still oozed with venom.

A quick flash of the dagger separated the serpent’s head from its body; though its heavy body still writhes for minutes after. When it finally lays still I approach it. While it was in flight, I noticed something danging around its metal — the quick glint of something silvery and metallic hanging around its middle. When it finally stops thrashing after about ten minutes, I approach and rip it off. The cast image of a small, black dagger piercing a skull dangles in the middle of a silvery chain.

“Is this the talisman?” I ask the Shard on my wrist.

“Seems like it.”

“What do I do now?”

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“Destroy it.”

“How?”

“Are you really asking how to destroy something?”

A flash of embarrassment surges through me, and for the next twenty minutes, I devise ways of destroying the talisman. I pried out a rock from the cobblestone road and beat it against the talisman until the rock cracked and split in two, I hit it with the hilt of the sword until it did the same. The only damage I was able to do was make a few dents against its surface.

With one last ditch effort, I started a fire in the middle of the street. I start by gathering up a bit of fuel — strips of cloth, and broken pieces of furniture from the corner that the snake was hiding in, when all of that was gathered, I cast ember at the ground a few feet away.

A deluge of orange ash pours from my wand and piles on the cobblestone street. Too much. Way too much. I let go of my wand to stop the spell as the ash pile begins to get up to the height of my knees. The spell stops, and I sigh in relief.

Before the ashes cool, I wrap the talisman around one of the pieces of wood and toss it into the pile of ash. On top of that, I pile wood and cloth until the fire is roaring. One hour passed of me feeding the remains of shelves and clothes that no longer were to be of use. I’ve healed myself as I waited, to seal the portion of my skin eaten away from the serpent’s venom. Two hours. The fires still aren’t hot enough. The talisman sits charred yet unbroken. Three hours pass. Why is this so hard? Four. Then five, then six. Most of the fuel had been spent.

Despite the passage of the day, the dull white light within the fog never changes. I wonder if the day and night cycle has somehow stopped in this world. I drum my fingers. Over the course of the passing hours, I find a variety of things inside the shop to take back with me; a few full flasks of glowing red and blue, and green liquids that clinked together in my bag. A few kept together books, and a golden ring with scratch-mark letters carved all around the circumference of its underbelly. It fits around my pinky finger, and when I wear it, a tingling sensation like loose electricity flows through my entire body. I slip it off my pinky and slide it into my pocket.

Seven hours. Eight. The fuel is getting low, yet the pendant held despite the ever-growing heat of the flames. Nine hours, and then ten. Black smoke stains my hair, and my face feels like it is on the verge of cracking from the heat of the flames. My throat is dry, and my tongue feels swollen. I need water.

Eleven hours. Twelve. It is ten in the evening in the real world. I worry for Clio. Thirteen. It is nearing midnight now, and yet the pendant is there; amongst the crumbling pile of ash and charred wood, mocking me.

“Can’t you give me a hint?” I ask the Shard; my voice is husky and frayed.

“It is metal, so thinking of smelting it down is smart.” Came the reply, “But the heat of this fire isn’t enough.”

“Then how can I destroy it?”

“What happens when heated metal is suddenly cooled?”

I hop off the ground and pull open my bag. Did the bottle still have water in it? No. It was empty. I click my tongue, then hurry inside of the shop. I look behind the counter; and, just as I suspected, there’s a hatch. Rats don’t live above ground, after all. I open the hatch and climb down.

Instead of a tunnel burrowing through the earth, there was a well with a grappling hook and rope attached to it. The roar of the aqueducts is like a siren’s song as I pull up the rope and hook. I tie the empty, open bottle to the edge with the hook and release it. It falls and splashes beneath the surface of the running water. I let it stay there for a second before pulling it back up. Water sloshes around in the half-filled bottle as it sways back and forth on its assent.

I take it by the neck and empty half of its contents down my throat to wash away the coarse sand-paper-like feeling. The water is cold, so cold it hurts my head. It’s perfect. I untie the bottle, and rush up the stairs and to the fire; blaring in the night.

With the help of a brace that had once been used to help keep a chair sturdy, I fish the talisman out of the heat of the flames and drop it into the bottle. The water steams and hisses I drop the bottle and step away just in time for the bottom of the bottle to break from the rapidly boiling water. The talisman, once a shining onyx color, is now a dull black. I pick up the stone I had used earlier and smash it against the brittle metal; black shards scatter in every direction.

“The door will close in five minutes.”

Ah, that’s plenty of time. I gather up my things and leave the fire raging in the middle of the street, as I step through the door of the burnt-up house, and back onto Earth.