Amelia was distracted for a moment, just a second really, and then she was in Perfidelia’s cottage.
The warm wood seemed familiar and inviting after all these passages. The tables, floor, and workbench were clear like never before. The books that had littered the room in every conceivable place, opened to various chapters and left for the reader to resume where they left off at a moments notice, were all jammed back into the shelves, sometimes lying sideways on top of other books to make them fit.
Ellie, now looking the slightest bit older and more mature, stood by the main table where she had sat many a day and night studying under her mentor and grandmother’s watchful eye. In her hand was an old sheet a paper, and from her expression whatever was writ upon it was hard to get through. As Amelia scanned the rest of the room for differences her eyes finally alighted on the full wine bottle left on the table that was just out of Ellie’s reach.
“A note paired with a wine bottle. That’s probably not a good sign.” Amelia muttered.
Almost as if she were spurred into motion and activity by Amelia’s words, Ellie let out a large sniffle, tears streaming down her cheeks. She put the letter down to her hip with one hand and covered her face with a helpless look with the other.
“Oh no.”
Ellie pulled her hand away from her face and choked back a sob, her eyes blazing for a moment as she fought back tears. Fight them she did, however, and Ellie threw her head back and took a long and wracking breath before raising the letter once more. Moving her head side to side in the long and time honored tradition of neck cracking, Ellie slowly let her eyes fall on the letter once more.
Through the magical phenomenon of the Chronicler, Perfidela’s voice sounded out.
My sweetest Ellie,
My love. Knowing you, upon finding this old place cleaned up you must be terrified. I assure you, all the books fit in the shelves. Though you’ve never seen it clean, this is what everything looks like when I’ve tidied a bit. We haven’t been robbed.
The obelisk has opened, as I’m sure you have heard. I can already imagine that you are grimly getting your affairs in order, speaking with friends, gathering council from your confidant, the unfortunately named Peter Ennis -- as an aside you’d be E. Ennis, something to consider -- and waiting for the committee prestige to send some pompous fool to give you the invitation to enter. What a glorious honor.
And right they would be to select you. Surely the most powerful Order of the Black in a century. Stronger than me, and your mother, and your father. The power I can understand, you were born into it, inheriting it from our ancestors. The kindness in your soul, far eclipsing that power you got from us, is something which I cannot claim to have given you, nor do I know from where it came.
To business. Once I asked a little girl if she would journey into the obelisk and she said she would think on it. That was all I asked of her, and I agreed to teach her, which I would have regardless. This is the part that will be hard for you to read.
Stolen story; please report.
That kindness and nobility of spirit is not something you got from me. It never mattered if the little girl said she would go into the obelisk at the end of her journey. It didn’t matter, my love, because it was always going to be me going into it. Every breath from the moment I said I would teach you, to this day, was the best gift this old woman ever received.
The beast and I are old enemies. The demon that waits for me will be of narrow eye and cautious giddy glee, and we shall greet each other as friends. I carry with me sharp knowledge and total resolve, formidable weapons in the places I will walk.
In the time we have spent together I have put together stories of power from all the jobs and classes I could. Stories and expert opinions, tutorials, history, and thoughts from the greatest minds that I have available to me. I have many friends, friends who like me see the evil behind the curtain, and it has been our project for years to be the instrument that dispatches it. Many of them will enter with me. So we will drop this knowledge like breadcrumbs, because the beast doesn’t perceive us as dangerous individually. I will scatter them as I walk, planting the seeds that will someday slay the demon.
You will not get the invitation to the obelisk because I volunteered the day you came to me, and I am very persuasive. Do not look for me to return. Even if I should pass testing I will not leave, instead resubmitting, but never surrendering. Do not come look for me when next it opens. Everything I told you is true. You will not find me there, even should you go looking.
To my personal affairs.
My home is your home, to do with as you wish. My heart is your heart, and wherever it comes to rest you will be held within. The chair sits in the light as dawn touches it, and you shan’t move it! Have babies, barring that adopt children, and if that is not to your liking be kind like I know you can be. That is all you need to make a difference in our world. Pass on what you’ve learned, but guard certain dangerous secrets. Our people can be a petty foolish lot sometimes.
Loving Regard,
Mimi… Order of the Black, etc, etc etc.
PS - Respectfully asking you to take over the college of the Order of the Black as soon as possible, as you are twice the measure of any who reside there.
[Authors Note:
It Sneaks Around Because It’s Afraid of Gods.
To Those Who Read These And Come After, Fight Like Hell]
The voice finished but the scene had faded to black before the postscript. Amelia felt like a heavy weight had started crushing her at some point. She stared blankly stared at the cell as a mixture of emotions began to war within her.
The easiest to understand was sadness. Of course, if someone picked up an item in this place, chances were that it came from someone who had dropped it. Amelia had tried to prepare herself for the reality that at the end of this story she would find that it had been dropped by Perfidelia, Ellie -- or both.
That didn’t make it any easier to accept.
What did make it a little easier was knowing that Perfidelia had walked into this place on her own dime, with a smile and a plan. That there were countless entries, objects, and probably even waymarkers that she and her friends had purposefully set on the path they walked.
The final emotion was one she hadn’t felt in game in a long time.
She looked around cooly at the cell around her and felt it simmering just beneath the surface. The system seemed like it had been doing it’s very best to give her an impression of danger toward this place. Years of playing and traveling with the others had certainly dulled her to feeling any sort of danger, that was certain.
The system had failed. When Amelia looked around she didn’t feel danger, she felt loathing. This wasn’t a good place to have fun or be with friends. It was a tomb in a place that shouldn’t have them.
“I’m going to burn this place to the ground,” she decided. “And I’m not going to stop even if they surrender.”
But she would need help, and she couldn’t do anything from here. Time to logout.