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Quest is not for sorceress
009: Quests are evil

009: Quests are evil

It was her master, camouflaged in one of his many disguises.

Edgar trudged with long steps and grabbed her hand as he pulled her away. Mia panted all the way, struggling to keep up with his pace. They walked past the Temple of Destiny, through the busy market and into an inn. Walking further, they climbed the stairs. He kicked the door opened, pulled her in, slammed the door, and cast an enchantment around the room.

Then he roared.

“MIA, QUESTS IS NOT FOR SORCERESS!”

Mia trembled. She didn’t know what had happened. She didn’t mean to pick up the stone. Everything happened too fast.

Edgar took off his disguise and returned to his usual look. He had spent a few days looking for them everywhere he could think of. He paced around the room, agitated. Terrified of him, Mia didn't dare to say anything. She slumped on the door and waited for Edgar to calm down.

After a long time, Edgar sat down on the chair and spoke. “Mia, what did the stone said to you?”

“I.. I don’t remember,” Mia whispered.

“Hold the stone, ask it what your life quest is?” Said Edgar, closing tired eyes and massaging his temple.

“My – my life quest? Sorceress…don’t have a life quest.” Mia answered, looking confused.

“Do as I said, Mia. Hold the stone. Talk to your subconscious mind. Ask what your life quest is.” He spoke again.

Mia stared at the stone that she had been holding. After a long sigh, she closed her eyes and asked the question she dreaded the most.

RESTORE WHAT HAD BEEN BROKEN, BRING BACK WHAT WAS ONCE LOST. HER NAME WILL BE KNOWN THROUGHOUT THE CONTINENCE, THE KING BOWED AT HER PRESENCE.

MIA GISELLE DENDRAGON, THE GREATEST SORCERESS OF ALL

She repeated everything the stone had said including what it had told her back at the temple. To her surprise, Edgar let out a loud laugh. It was a horrible, creepy, and eerie laugh. Mia preferred him yelling at her.

“Mia… Mia… Mia Giselle Dendragon… What are you going to do now?” Edgar stood up and paced around the room.

“I don’t know, Master. I have no idea.” Mia shuddered. She doesn’t like the way he looked at her. She had faced his wrath for ten years. She had seen him at his worse time. However, the Edgar in front of her was different than usual. He looked angry, frustrated, sad and petrified.

“I wish I knew what to do with you, Mia…” Edgar muttered. He stared out the window, gazing at the passerby.

“What am I going to restore? What am I going to bring back? I don’t understand.” Said Mia.

“Indeed. The damn stone likes to play riddle. One day it tells you one thing, next day it says another damn thing. It’ll push you around and around, and if you don’t listen to it, it’ll send you a punishment.” Said Edgar gloomily.

“Can I throw it away?” Asked Mia. She walked to the bed and sat.

“You can try, but the damn stone always finds its way back.” Edgar sighed. He sat at the edge of the bed, leaning against the wall.

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“Master, let’s not do the quest! Let’s run! We’ll move to another kingdom, another continent! Wherever it is. You, Mia, Baddie, and Oyen. Let’s pretend today never happened!” Said Mia. She grabbed his hand and begged him.

“It doesn’t work that way, Mia. The quest is evil, I tell you. Once you picked up that damn stone, there is no way back.” Edgar muttered.

There was a long silence that followed after.

“Let’s not think about this for now. Let’s go home first.” Said Edgar.

“Master.. Our home.. Was burnt down…” Mia murmured. She finally remembered their cottage.

“I know. I know everything.”

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To her surprise, Edgar brought her back to another cottage. It stood proudly at the little hill hidden deeper in the enchanted forest. Werewolves lingered under the hill, but Mia wasn’t afraid. Werewolves were their friend, after all.

It wasn’t the same cottage anymore but Mia couldn’t be happier to see Sir Skeleton standing at the corner and the skeleton chandelier dangling on the ceiling. The Stone Lady stood erected at the garden, but she wasn’t the same Shrieking Stone Lady anymore. She was just a statue.

“Why didn’t you bring her back?” Mia asked Edgar as she looked through the back door leading to the garden.

“Too noisy, it’s better this way.” Edgar said.

Mia nodded. Although she’d miss her, she treasured her sanity more.

Baddie was elated the moment he saw a big bed in Mia’s bedroom. He rushed towards the bed and hid there the whole day and night. How he missed haunting a bed.

It was a beautiful cottage, but to her realization, it wasn’t as lively as it was before. Everything was too plain, too dull, too dead. No more giggling dust or chatting skeletons, no more busybody pot and pan.

“Everything in this cottage is too…” Mia pondered, looking for a suitable word.

“Common? Normal? Dead?” Edgar finished her word. “I didn’t cast any enchantment in this cottage.”

“Why?”

“To prepare you.”

“Prepare me? For what?”

“For your quest.”

“My quest?”

“The world out there is different from what you usually see. Their kettle can’t sing and their carpet doesn’t fly. Their broom doesn’t sweep on their own.”

“Then, who sweep the broom?”

“They have something called, maid. Although most people sweep their own cottage.”

“Maybe we can buy a maid too.”

“Not a chance Mia. The best maid I can get is the werewolf down the hill, but I believed they’ll cause more havoc than cleaning.” Said Edgar, he sat on the stool and stared at the forest outside. “Take a seat, Mia. Let me tell you how boring are the life of the commoners.”

Edgar spent the whole evening talking about the life of the commoners, the lack of magic in their daily lives, how they had stolen the knowledge of their kind and manipulated it against them. Everyone had mana, but only those who carried the blood of the Sorcerers and Sorceresses can conjure spells, hexes, and enchantment. They couldn’t made broom swept, or kettle sing, nor can they turned their ancestors into a chandelier.

It was only when her stomach grumbled that Edgar stopped telling her about the tales of the commoners.

Mia went to the kitchen and hold the knife in her hand. The knife wouldn’t cut the potatoes on its own. She never cut potatoes with her hand. Before, it was Edgar who always cooked. When she learned to cook, all she did was tell the knife to cut and the spatula to stir. Everything was done by waving the wand.

She cut herself and burned the food. By the time Edgar came for dinner, all he saw was a burnt stew. His face twitched when he tasted the stew, but to her surprise, he didn’t complain at all.

“Edgar, I don’t understand. I thought Celeste was dead, but she appeared at our cottage,” Said Mia. She pushed away the bowl of stew. She couldn’t eat it at all.

“Indeed, everyone thought she was dead. Elena, Thompson, and I went to her cottage the next day after we learned about her death. Her cottage was burned down. There was blood everywhere. The gnome came and told us they saw her crying and screaming. The Vistior Army came that night. They thought she was killed. Everyone thought she was killed. There was a disfigured body that belonged to an old woman. Her head, however, was nowhere to be seen. Her body was severely burned. Unrecognizable.” Said Edgar.

“Someone else was killed there?” Mia asked. She cut a piece of cheese and eat with the bread.

“We guessed so. We didn’t know who it was. Then we received an urgent plea for help from Gregor. Thompson and I teleport all the way to the north. Took us a few stops to get all the way there.”

“That far! That’s all the way across the kingdom!”

“It is. When we got there, Gregor had been caught by the Vistior Army. Thompson and I fight against them. It wasn’t easy. They were strong. We could handle ten or twenty at most, but they were expecting us. There were almost one hundred of them. We had to wait for the others to assist.”

“Did everyone make it out alive?”

“Gregor was gravely injured, Elena was hurt,” Edgar smiled sourly. “Thompson almost died too.”

“They’re among the strongest of the friends we had,” Mia frowned. “Any news about Celeste?”

“Apparently, she strikes a deal with the Vistior Army. I don’t know what it was about. The night the cottage was burned, I was supposed to come back. I was already halfway back with Thompson and Elena. Thompson’s injury was getting worse, we had to stop traveling. The Vistior Army had guessed that I rushed home that day. Celeste led them to our little island. I’ve been looking for you for the past three days when I arrived at what used to be our cottage.”

“You couldn’t trust anyone these days,” Mia sighed. “Not even your kind.”

Mia couldn’t sleep all night. She lay on the bed and listened to the werewolves howling. She had the urge to howl, too, out of frustration.