“Roman, ye feckin’...!” West growled. The swordsman ignored him entirely though, and the Investigator ground his teeth instead. He wanted to grab the man by his shoulders and give him a proper telling-off, but knew his energy was better spent figuring out what mess Roman’s recklessness had forced them into.

The first thing he noticed were the twelve pools of clear liquids recessed into the floor. Each pool had sheer walls and a thick glass lining, the walls of which extended a handbreadth above the stone ground. The floor here wasn’t just stone either, but was interspersed with clear glassy tiles, with a faint, diffuse light under each. Even from where he stood, West noted a faint herbal fragrance, though he couldn’t be sure which pool (or pools) it came from.

The second thing he noticed was that the doorway on the other end was walled up. To one side of the doorway, a clear gem was set into the wall behind a grille, the metal cage dividing its surface into three horizontal bars. On the opposite side of the door, a long-handled metal ladle hung from a hook on the wall. Near it, a small fountain was set into the wall, running clear water through a stony dragon’s mouth.

While West puzzled over the strange layout, Roman moved forward, making as if to duck next to one of the pools. “Don’t!” Sunny stopped him with a shout. “Don’t touch it, don’t breathe near it, d-don’t– don’t.”

The swordsman stepped away. “What is it?”

“I d-don’t know. That’s the problem.” Agitated, Sunny took a breath, then another. Calmer, she said, “Go take a look– carefully. Don’t touch. Don’t get your face close.”

Cautioned, West approached one of the pools, keeping as far away as he could while peering into it. The basin went down nearly two meters, and at the bottom glowed a red glyph. The next tank was the same, and the next. Reaching the glyphs would require one to submerge themselves fully.

Sunny lectured them as they inspected the pools. “There are any n-number of things that could look like water, but not be. If– if– it f-follows the same pattern from before… t-three will be acids, three t-toxins, and three potions. Th-the others should be safe. Each pool has a glyph, and we need to t-touch three glyphs to open the d-door. With the r-right materials, I c-could tell them all apart, but we don’t h-have those. That’s why I s-said we shouldn’t go in here!”

“Easy, lass,” West said. Sunny glared. “Erm, I mean, Sunneh.” Her scorn lightened, but only marginally. “Lis’n, ye’ve every right to be upset. Comin’ in here was a damn fool move, and Roman, we’ll be havin’ some words about ye actin’ rash-like later. But,” West signaled at the sealed passage behind them with a thumb, “we’ve nae option but to make the best with what we’ve got. So let's not start fightin’, and get to thinkin’.”

“I’ve d-done that before!” Sunny vented, eyebrows furrowed. “Look, we c-can… we can eliminate a few possibilities with some tests. But w-we don’t have the sort of materials t-to identify all the dangers.”

“Then let's start figurin’ out which ones we can identify, and we’ll start sortin’ out the rest later,” West suggested. The Mani shook her head, anguished and nearly tearful. More firmly, the Investigator said, “I know it looks bad, but we’ll find a way and make it work. So help us figure it out. What can we do fer starters?”

Taking a slow breath, Sunny closed her eyes briefly, reoriented, and began. “Begin w-with water. That fountain… it’s water, or it has been before now.” She eyed it with trepidation, then exhaled softly, brushing her fingers over Lím’s fur. “It st-still should be. So… we get some of that. Then we need to c-color it, so….” Her fingers flexed, as though she were thinking of a way to infuse ether to the appropriate effect. West shot her a look of warning, and her fingers stilled. “Blood,” she decided instead. “D-dissolve blood in it. Then we’ll use the ladle to take a sample from each pool, put a drop on one of the glass tiles, and a drop of the colored water next to it. We’ll need t-to smear them together– carefully– so that they just touch each other, and th-then see what happens.”

West looked at Roman, and gestured to the pools with his chin. Disgruntled, Roman followed the Mani’s instructions. Using the metal ladle, he scooped a sample from each pool and dripped a drop on a tile. At Sunny’s insistence, he rinsed the ladle clean in the fountain between each sample. Then– making a small cut on one finger– fixed up a small sample of bloodied water in the ladle, and meted out a drop next to each sample. Finally, he used the ladle’s bottom to smear the drops, allowing them to just barely touch. The liquids flowed together, drawn in by their own surface tension to commingle.

As the first sample mixed, Sunny watched with keen golden eyes. “That one.” She pointed to a sample, and West saw small bubbles forming at its surface. “Th-that came from the pool there, c-correct? That’s an acid then, unsafe.” She motioned for Roman to rinse the ladle and continue with the rest of the samples. The swordsman was caught up staring at the acid pool’s surface a moment longer– imagining, West hoped, what would have happened to his fool self if he’d gone carelessly jumping in– then, stony-faced, returned to his task.

Twice more as they worked through each sample, Sunny paused the work, studied the emerging reactions, and declared their sources unsafe. Once the samples were all blending, Sunny studied them, letting minutes tick by. “This one,” she gestured. “S-see how the, the color mixes in d-differently from the rest? It doesn’t really blend, right? Whatever it is, it isn’t water based. Likely, i-it’s a toxin. So, w-we can assume it’s unsafe.” Still studying the results, Sunny muttered absently, “Th-that one too, it’s blending strangely, we’ll avoid it.”

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

That eliminated five possibilities, leaving them with seven options. “Most o’ rest would be potions, aye?” asked West, and the Mani confirmed with a nod.

“Aren’t Mani supposed to have some sort of magic sight?” Roman probed, giving Sunny a pointed look.

“Yes, b-but, they’re all magic,” she said, gesturing at the pools exasperatedly. “They m-must have put s-some kind of inert enchantment on them, s-so you couldn’t cheat. And it’s n-not as easy as looking at something and knowing what it is– it t-takes time to decode an enchantment on something as integrated as a potion. Hours. M-more than we can afford.”

“So,” West said, “this is the point where it becomes a game o’ luck, does it?”

“A-almost. There should be one m-more….” Taking the ladle, Sunny visited each of the ponds indicated by their unidentified samples in turn, scooping a spoonful and giving it a deep whiff. On the third she visited, she grimaced and set down the ladle. “This o-one, we avoid this one.”

“How do you know?” Roman questioned.

“I r-recognize one of its ingredients. It’s used for p-paralysis draughts.” Sunny stood. “The r-rest though… I don’t have a test for.”

Six options left, then. Half of which were harmful, if not deadly. “So about fifty-fifty odds,” West said, trying to be optimistic.

“No. Only the f-first one is a fifty-fifty chance,” Sunny corrected absently. “Assuming w-we get it right, it gets worse from there.”

Roman frowned, then shrugged. “All right, then. So let’s use the squirrel to test it out.”

“Use... what?” Sunny’s eyes widened, and she cradled Lím to her chest. “That’s n-not happening.”

“It’s a squirrel,” Roman said, wrinkling his nose. “You’d rather one of us test the proverbial waters? I understand you’re attached to it, but surely–”

“No,” the Mani hissed. “I am n-not merely attached to Lím. He is mine, he is a p-part of me, and I will not allow it.”

Roman's face darkened, and he took a step toward the pair. “You’re being absurd,” he said, putting a stern hand out. “Hand it over.”

West put a hand on Roman's shoulder. “Lad, that’ll nae do,” he said softly. “Put the thought right outta yer mind.”

Dismissively, Roman tried to shrug off his hand, but West held. Irate, the swordsman forcefully removed the hand. “What’s gotten into you, West? The choice is obvious here! If it’s between us and her pet–”

“Lím is n-not a PET–”

“Enough o’ this! Lad, it’s jes’ nae happenin’, and yer gonna have to accept that.”

“Fine, West, then you be the one to go jumping in, and see what happens!”

West felt his fraying patience snap at last. “What, after ye were the one comin’ rushin’ in here, now yer gonna turn coward and make someone else take all the risks?”

“N-nobody’s jumping in,” Sunny objected, “we’ll take small samples–”

“Forget that, give over the damned thing!” Roman stomped forward. Sunny flared her wings reflexively, looking to all eyes as though she’d defend Lím with her bare hands if needed. West didn’t know how he was going to keep the situation from escalating, but he stepped forward–

“Lad, wait. What in the hell is that?”

Roman glared over his shoulder, but followed his gaze. There, on the ceiling above Sunny, a small, dark creature clung.

At a glance, it seemed almost like a manticore; man-faced and thick-maned, four-legged, with a curling scorpion tail. But if it had any actual relation to one, it was the sickliest cousin he could imagine. Its two-fingered arms were thin as sticks, and its banded wings imitated a buzzing fly’s, not a flapping bat’s. The housecat-sized creature licked its lips as though nervous, shifting its slightly protruding eyes. There was the light of intelligent thought in those eyes, but every one must have been anxious, wired, and ready to pounce.

What was strangest was the substance of the thing. The edges of it fuzzed and fluctuated. It didn’t seem made of solid flesh, but some strange assembly of tiny, sand-like particles. It was all grays and blacks, as though the memory of color had been drained from it long ago. The overall sense was of a creature with only one foot in the living world; where the rest resided, West could only wonder.

Sunny looked above her and startled away, rushing to put space between her and the unwelcome presence. It repositioned to capture both her and Roman in the angle of its eyes, clinging effortlessly with its strange, bristled feet to the slick stone ceiling. After observing a moment, the thing dissolved, as though melting into its own shadow.

“That’s one of… of Whistler’s things,” Sunny muttered, unnerved. A small shadow still lingered of the thing, only slowly fading. “They’re… we’ve called them his Nightmares. It… it’s p-probably been following us this whole time. It watches us for it, I think.”

“So why is it showing itself now, then?” Roman shifted his feet restlessly, hand gripping the pommel of his sword.

“Probably because ye were threatenin’ Sunneh, lad,” West answered. “If I got my read right, Whistler’ll nae let us do ‘er harm.”

The swordsman chewed that thought over, then anger darkened his face. “He’s protecting her?” Sunny winced.

“From us? Aye, I expect so. This’s his game, after all.” West edged a step over, putting himself between Roman and Sunny. West softened his voice to sound calmly, deadly serious: “We may not understand his aims, but lettin’ Sunneh get killed doesnae seem to be part of it. Nae Lím either, by the looks o’ it. So best to let the notion go. We’ll either come up with somethin’ else, or we’ll have to take our chances. That’s the consequences of the choice ye made makin’ us go in here.”

“Choice? Should we talk about choices, Investigator? I’d like to know hers.” Roman jammed a finger out at the Mani. “It was one thing to ignore that she was somehow the sole survivor out of so many groups. What did she do that it would keep her here and play all this out, again and again, luring people here and killing them. And for what? A laugh?”

West glanced at Sunny; her chin dropped, mouth curving into a frown, but she offered no explanation.

Firming up his jaw, West said, “We can work to sort that out once we’re well clear of this place. Fer now, we need to find a way through, and knowin’s nae goin’ to help that.”

Roman scowled sourly, but yielded the point. “Well. How do we solve this blasted room, then?”