Ten || Mel

Afternoon burned on and gradually faded toward evening, and still Klaus had not come out of his work room.

Mint and Rue had set up a bit of a vigil in the Adler's guest room – enforced by Mira, who had re-supplied her aid kit while they were gone and put together a small meal to make up for the damage to the food she had sent them with – but after a couple of hours and a dose of a mild painkiller Mint was feeling restless.

"It's just a box," Mint grumbled. "It's got all of six sides. How hard can it be to open it?"

Although she already knew that the answer was 'pretty hard'. The way the magic was all tangled up inside, dampened and sealed by the actual structure of the box, it was clear it was not meant to be opened freely. Granted, she'd never really seen anything quite like it before – the magic dampening devices she was accustomed to were for penal purposes, cuffs or collars or, once, a specially constructed cell – but she could hazard a guess as to the theory behind it.

That didn't help her current impatience, though. She might have been a little more willing to wait if she had not been expressly told that a there might be a Relic sitting under a rock not two miles outside of town.

Rue was sitting at the small desk in the room, chair turned partially so he could face Mint but still lean on the top of the desk. He had been watching her pace for a few minutes, but lost interest and instead taken to staring at some point of space between himself and her, plainly lost in thought. When she spoke up, though – under the assumption that he was too zoned out to pay any attention – his gaze re-focused and he looked up to her.

"You don't really want me to answer that," he said.

"T'ch, no, I know." She stopped moving. "You can't tell me you aren't itching to know what's inside that thing, right? You want the Relic, too."

He thought about that for a few seconds. "No," he said. "Guess I can't. But you're familiar with magician artifacts, right? They almost always have some bizarre trick to them."

Mint sighed. "Right, right," she grumbled. She yanked a nearby chair over to her and flopped into it, arms crossed over her chest, frowning. She let herself sit in silence for several seconds before she couldn't stand it anymore. "So what're your plans for the Relic?"

He jolted slightly, blinked, stared at her. "Sorry?"

"The Relic. The thing that we're looking for? The thing you told me wanted first dibs on?" She readjusted herself in the chair, leaning forward. "All that power and you only want to use it once? I don't buy it."

"Why not?"

"Seems like a waste," she said. "Go through all this trouble for such a powerful artifact and you just use it once and toss it aside? Doesn't make any sense to me."

"What about you?" he asked. "What do you want out of this?"

She grinned. "The only thing you should do with something that powerful." She shifted in her seat again, nonchalant slouch this time, playing up the effect. She rested her head on her hand, drummed her free fingers against the arm of the chair. "I'm gonna rule the world."

She had seen a lot of reactions to that; mocking laughter, smirks, incredulity, moral demands– those were the worst. What gives you the right?, You think you could do better?, No man should have that power, so on.

Rue did none of those things. He looked at her, his expression unreadable, then kind of tilted his head to the side. He regarded her in silence for a few seconds, and some of her bravado began to siphon away. She couldn't tell what he was thinking, and that left her confused and frustrated; she didn't know whether to play up her confidence to an impressed audience or focus her indignation or explain to him the injustices that had been committed against her. She was on the verge of demanding a response when he spoke up and gave her one.

"Why would you want to do that?"

She blinked. "Why would I what?"

"Take over the world," he said.

"Wh– why wouldn't you?" she asked. "You could do anything! Get anything. Cast your enemies before you and watch them suffer. Make them pay for their injustices. Shape the world in your image! Why–"

Mint was cut off by a knock on the edge of the door. She and Rue looked up to see Mira standing there, a covered plate in her hand.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, although she looked visibly amused. "But my husband seems to be on one of his little kicks and I doubt he'll be coming up for dinner." She held up the plate. "Could I ask you to take this down to him? It'll give you an excuse to see how he's doing."

"Oh, yes, of course," Rue said. He stood up from the chair and accepted the dinner plate from Mira. Mint rose from where she was sitting and made to follow him as he headed toward the basement. Before she had gone too far, however, Mira touched her shoulder to make her stop.

"Is that what you're aiming for?" she asked, a bit too mildly. "World domination? That's quite an ambition."

"That a problem?"

"Could be," Mira said, "but what ruler isn't a gamble? It might be interesting, at any rate. Most power is determined by birth and royal favor; bloodlines are fated to rule nations, and the only way to change that is to end the line. Not to say the kings and queens haven't been up to the task, of course, but things might be a little different if they had to earn the right to be in charge, if they had to prove their worth to everybody. Don't you think?"

She pulled her hand away from Mint.

"Best check on my husband," she said, and walked out the room.

Mint felt a little shiver run through her. That talk had seemed strangely pointed.

Check on the box, she told herself, and she hurried downstairs to do so.

Rue was already there, setting the plate down on an empty spot on Klaus' desk, although it was clear he'd had a hard time finding one. Papers were fanned all the way across the desk, notes scribbled on separate sheets, sometimes connected by lines or crossed out entirely. The cube, utterly immaculate, stood just about center of the desk. She had a perfect view of all this from where she stood on the stairs, as Klaus was actually standing a few feet away, chin against his hand, biting his lip, his posture rigid.

"What's up?" Mint asked.

"I don't know," Klaus said. "I've skimmed all the notes, I've looked for diagrams. It's been mentioned once or twice, but Elroy left no indications of how to open it and I haven't found anything on the box to help." He had plainly been sitting in that chair for too long; when he moved back toward the box, he did so with a visible limp, and moved deliberately and stiffly. He picked up the box and held it up to the light. "It's just a cube," he said. "I thought maybe it was a puzzle-box, sometimes magicians like to tuck things away in those, but there aren't any latches or sliding bits or depressions."

"I think you should eat, doctor," Rue said quietly. "You've been down here a while."

He exhaled. "Yes, of course. I don't think I'm making much headway with this."

Mint slammed her fist against the stair railing. "No way!" she said. "There's gotta be something to it."

"I'm sure there is," Klaus said, "but I might not be equipped to find it." He tossed the cube in the air, allowing it to spin a few times before it returned to him. "Elroy was a very powerful magician. He might have woven a seal around the box. If that's the case, there's little more that I can do."

"I didn't sense any seals," Mint said.

"Not through the dampeners," Rue added. He held out his hand, and Klaus handed him the cube. He turned it a few times in the light, not quite focusing on it. "They might be masking it. Or else Elroy did some very subtle spell-weaving." He placed it back on the desk. "I can't feel anything like that, though."

"Well," Klaus muttered. "That's frustrating."

Mint leaned over the railing, arms dangling down the side, and looked at him plaintively. "That's not it," she said.

"If that's the case," Klaus said, "then I'm afraid that is it. I don't know the first thing about spellwork, and if you can't detect anything then I imagine you wouldn't find a way to undo it."

"I could just punch it," she offered brightly. Then she actually thought about the possibility and winced. "Wait, no, I'd probably break my hand."

"Isn't there anybody in town who knows spellcraft?" Rue asked. "Of any kind? Any opinion we could get..."

"A few," Klaus said, "but very rudimentary." He slid back into his chair and went back to staring at the cube. Rue shoved his dinner plate over to Klaus, and after a few seconds Klaus finally reached over and accepted it. "Thank you."

Then he froze, turning somewhat pale, and exhaled through his teeth.

"Actually," he began slowly. "There... there might possibly be somebody who may be able to tell us something."

"Wow," Mint said. "That wasn't frustratingly vague at all."

"I'm sorry," Klaus said. "It's just... I'd rather not have to deal with her if I can avoid it."

"Her?" Rue asked. "Who is she?"

"Queen bitch?" Mint inquired.

"No, it's not like that, she's a perfectly nice person, just..." Klaus rubbed his forehead. "It's hard to explain. She's... eccentric."

"Who?" Rue repeated, and Mint took a little satisfaction to hear a strained edge in his voice.

Klaus picked up a pen and pointed to the map of the island on his wall. He traced a thin line from the entrance of town down a ways, to a point somewhere in the middle of the forest. It was already circled. "She's a witch," Klaus explained. "Very proficient, quite powerful. She never really comes to town herself– not misanthropic, I should say, she's very popular with the children. But she's..."

He stalled, searching for the word, but eventually gave up.

"She's really weird."

Mint perked up, brow furrowed. "Weird?" she asked. "You do all this... this circumlocution and all you have to say is weird?"

Klaus gave her a look. "Compared to circumlocution, I guess it is rather crass. But it's true."

Rue reached over and rested his hand on the cube, pulling it closer to himself again. "Please, Doctor Adler," he said calmly. "If you really think she can help..."

Klaus sighed. "All right," he said finally. "I can't be certain about this, but it might be worth getting her opinion." He pointed to a section of the map. "The path through the forest breaks off here," he explained. "There's a little footpath off to the right. It'll curve you down this way and eventually merge into a proper path to her atelier. If you happen to get lost on the way... her atelier is very hard to miss."

"She's got her own atelier?" Mint asked. "That's promising."

"Promising," Klaus repeated. "That is... that is certainly a word."

. .

Mel's atelier was not far from town, and there were still a few hours of daylight left, so Mint and Rue set out almost immediately, with Mint claiming rights to carry the cube. She hadn't had much of an opportunity to look at it herself, and figured that maybe if she had another go she could find something of interest, something Klaus had missed, something woven into the magic. Unfortunately, for all the time they were walking, she was just as stumped as he had been; the cube was identical on all sides, possessed no apparent latches or significant indents, and as far as she could tell there was no other spell twining into the magic.

Frustrating.

When she aired her grievances, Rue simply said, "Look, we're almost there. We'll be able to get another opinion.'

"That's not the point," Mint growled.

"The point is that we figure out if whatever's in the box is supposed to help us get to a Relic," Rue said. "So yes, that is the point."

"It's not my point."

Around that point, he gave up.

They had already found the dingy, insufficient footpath leading off the trail, and up ahead the forest broadened out again and the trail became clearer. The ground solidified into densely packed dirt, leading the way up a hill.

"We must be getting closer," Rue said.

"Thanks for that," Mint said. "Any other stunning revelations you'd like to share?"

"You're snippier than usual."

She held up the cube. "I have been intellectually conquered," she said, "by a tiny box. I'm not real happy."

"Fair."

"I hope this Mel knows what's up," Mint added. Then, after a few seconds; "I'm gonna kill something if it turns out this thing is actually empty."

Rue made a noise that implied he was ready to speak, but stopped before it actually turned into words, clenched his fist, and gave up. Mint felt a strange sense of satisfaction in that, although she wasn't sure what the response had meant. Out of things to say to her? Not relishing the thought, himself? Maybe she had hit a nerve and he actually was having the exact same, terrible contemplations.

Before she could feel particularly good about it, though, she realized something.

"Hey," she said. "The grass is–"

"What?" He looked down and almost tripped. He caught himself before he did and came to a stop, staring at the ground. "Woah, what?"

The grass that edged the footpath was green. Bright green. Impossibly bright, saturated, candy green, and further ahead, up the hill, it seemed to fade out, turning pale, frosty pink.

Not just the grass, either. The pathway beneath them was starting to lighten up, and the brown dirt was becoming dusted with a sugary, pale blue. The trees were suffering the same fate as the grass; their greens turned almost aggressively vibrant before leeching out to pink, their trunks softening, smoothing, and fading to pastel purple.

"You're seeing this, right?" Mint asked.

"The color," Rue said. He blinked, shook it off, and tried again. "You mean the– the changing color?"

"That'd be this," Mint said.

The two exchanged a glance. They, at least, still looked drab as ever.

"It's some kind of... enchantment?" Mint guessed. "Everything's so..."

Rue suddenly broke away, dashing to the top of the hill and coming to a stop. Mint followed close behind, sliding into place next to him. Both of them stared down ahead as the hill sloped again, leveling off after a shallow decline. The ground stretched out before them, all pale pastels. There was still evidence of the pink grass and blue dirt and pink-and-purple trees sprouting here and there, but now they were seeing much less natural constructions: golden, blocky star-shapes dug into the dirt, mint-green hearts, geometric shapes of all bright and happy colors strewn whimsically across the ground between massive and vibrantly colored toadstools.

"Klaus did say the atelier was... hard to miss," Rue mumbled.

Mint's reaction was a little more blunt. "What the hell."

In the middle of the field – if it could be called that – stood a circular house, its colors just a little darker than those around it, although they faded to pallor the further up the structure they went. Green walls, pink roof, twin blue mushrooms twining off the top.

Looking at the whole tableau was making Mint's eyes hurt.

"No, seriously," she repeated. "What the hell am I looking at?"

"That has to be it," Rue said. "We should... ah... we should go see if anybody's home, or..."

"Well," Mint said, "this certainly explains why Klaus didn't want anything to do with this."

"I... yes." He steeled himself and stepped forward. "C'mon."

Brave man, Mint thought wryly. She gave him a few seconds head start while she continued to scan the environment from the crest of the hill. Not that it gave her a particularly impressive vantage point, but it all seemed too... cloying. There had to be something more to this, a trap of some kind, an illusion, or...

...or maybe Mel just had terrible design aesthetics.

She exhaled and followed.

The nearer they came to the house, the more an assault on the senses it proved to be. There were birds there, or creatures that resembled birds– pudgy pink things with insufficient, tiny wings and over-sized beaks and large, simpering eyes that trilled out music instead of birdsong. Some of the mushrooms were alive, and popped up on stubby little legs to run out of their path. Imp-like creatures were hiding up in the boughs of the candyfloss trees – well, she assumed they were imp-like, it was hard to make much sense of them with their purple bodies managed to blend flawlessly into the shadows of trees. There was a scent in the air, too, perfumes and sugars and fruits, like somebody was baking an expensive woman's washroom.

"You know," Mint began, "I've done a lot of traveling."

"I imagine so," Rue said.

"And I've seen a lot of things."

"I think I know where you're going with this."

Before Mint could finish her point, something darkened the pathway. It was not the same light, fluffy colors of everything else, and it took her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the color and actually make sense of the shape. Eventually it coalesced; standing before her was a short, humanoid creature; the top of its head came maybe halfway up her thigh. It was all in earth-tones, its clothes made of leather and cloth, its hair vibrant but dirty red. And, because the scene was clearly not surreal enough, it clasped in its hand a wooden staff that was topped, adorably enough, with a small and slightly misshapen skull.

It looked at them. They stared right back. Mint was starting to find the combination of events progressively more difficult to deal with, and caught herself almost glad Rue; he seemed to be willing to bear the brunt of this nonsense.

"E-excuse me," he started, taking a half-step toward the creature. He knelt down so he was almost eye level with it. "We're, ah, we're here to see Mel."

The creature looking him up and down a few times before speaking up. "Look for Mel?" he repeated. His voice was a lower pitch than Mint had been expecting – still small-sounding, but given the general environment they were in it was a bit of a shock – and it was clear by listening to him that the English words were foreign to his tongue. "What business?"

Rue looked over to Mint and motioned for her. She was perplexed for a few moments, but then realized what he was asking for, and quickly brought the golden cube to bear. She held it out on display for the creature to study.

"We wanted to talk to her about this box," Rue explained. "We think she might be able to help us open it."

The creature's eyes narrowed. "Why need Mel to open box?"

"It's a magic box," Rue continued. "We've been told Mel is a very powerful witch."

"That true," it said, smiling proudly. "Mel very powerful. But maybe not want help."

"What?" Mint interjected. "What d'you mean, not want help?"

"Not. Want. Help," he repeated, stoicly, solidly, almost patronizingly. "Mel good, powerful, but not know you. Also not know box."

Mint's grip tightened. The edges of the cube dug into her skin.

"Listen, you–"

"But Mel can't know us if we don't talk to her," Rue said, quickly cutting Mint off. "Could we meet her? Then she'll know who we are and she can tell us if she'll help with the box."

It looked at him, at the box, at Mint, then back at Rue, and finally nodded. "Fortney tell Mel," it said. "New people, want meet. Follow soon."

He turned and scampered down the path, heading toward the house. Rue and Mint let him go, watching him until he was about halfway there. Slowly, Rue stood back up again, and Mint finally processed what the creature had said.

"His name was Fortney?"

Rue raised his hands helplessly. "I guess."

"I don't– you know what?" She shook her head. "Never mind. Let's get this over with."

She took the lead this time. At least she knew Mel was in that house, and knowing that she also knew that the faster they got there the faster they could get out.

The creature – Fortney, apparently – had already disappeared into the house well ahead of them. Mint approached the door, tossed the cube into her left hand, and knocked. Or did something approaching knocking; the door, despite bearing the pale, lacy colors of fine candy, was solid wood, and should have made a solid knocking noise under her knuckles. Instead, it responded by chiming.

She immediately yanked her hand back, staring at the door.

We're almost out, she reminded. herself. We'll be in and we'll talk to Mel and then we'll be gone and I'm not coming back I don't even care what happens.

When there was no response, she tried again, almost tentatively, and sure enough the door answered with another bright, bell-like chime.

Rue approached from behind, staring at the door. She waited for him to make a comment, but he simply shook his head.

Then, from the other side, a voice, almost sing-song: "Come in!"

Mint steeled herself, swallowed, and opened the door.

The interior of the house matched the whimsy of the exterior, although the lighting, thankfully, was not as stark; an overhead lantern provided the main light source in the room, augmented by a few other surprisingly tasteful candles, bathing the room in a warm orange glow that helped cut the intensity of the eye-searing pastels. The house was no less bizarre, though; the furniture was molded from bright bases and puffy cushions, all pale pastel colors. Wildly patterned curtains hung over the large, circular windows, and a yellow-gold rug pointed them directly ahead, through the door and into the next room.

"Don't be shy," the voice said again. "I'm here at the dining table. You've caught me at tea time."

The dining table was stationed directly ahead of them, in what seemed to be the middle of the house. It resembled a fanciful mushroom; a stem for the table leg, attached to the ground, while the table top was green and pocked with broad, yellow spots. Four chairs surrounded the table – all of them similarly mushroom-themed – and sitting in the rightmost chair, just hidden behind the wall when they came in, was an individual who could only be Mel.

She was not quite so candy-colored as her trappings, but she was distressingly close, dressed in a dream white undershirt over was draped a knee-length pink dress. Her heard was vibrantly orange, clearly long but aggressively curled so it bounced and frisked around her head whenever she moved. The whole look was tied together by surprisingly upscale pink heels, and a matching bonnet that bore (of all things) floppy bunny ears. In one hand she held a little tea cup, pale rose and detailed in green; in the other hand, the saucer.

Mint gaped.

The woman watched her for a moment, brow furrowed, and slowly set down her tea set. "Something wrong?" she asked. "Is there something on my face?"

"I– you–" Mint cut herself off and quickly massaged her temples. A whole new headache was forming somewhere in the front of her skull. "I wasn't expecting this."

The woman leaned back in her chair and regarded them both with a little half-smile. "I suppose nobody told you about me, did they?" she asked, her voice strangely slick for all the saccharine trappings around them. "That's fine. People find me... unusual."

"You're Mel?"

Rue had to be commended for keeping his voice so neutral. She slid out around Mint and took a few steps forward, giving them both breathing room. When he did, Mel's attention immediately snapped away from Mint to him. She followed his movement, turning her head until it became uncomfortable, then turning herself entirely to lean on the table and face him completely. "Fancy Mel, as some say," she said, and finally broke into a full smile. "That'd be me."

"Fancy," Mint mumbled. "That is... certainly a word."

Mel laughed. "Yes it is," she said. "It's a nice way of saying weird." She shrugged. "I don't much mind. It's true." She broke her gaze, looking from Rue and back to Mint. "Recent arrivals? I haven't seen you around before."

"Mostly passing through," Mint said. "We're looking in to something?"

Mel's attention turned from Mint's face to her hand. "And I take it Elroy's box has something to do with it?"

"You recognize this?" Rue asked.

"Sure do." She looked between them again. "I didn't catch your names...?"

"Ah, sorry," Rue said. "Rue Artema. And–"

"Mint." She paused, then added, "Just Mint."

"Hmm." Mel looked between them again, then settled on Mint; rather, the object Mint was holding. She took another sip from her cup and held out her hand. "If I could see that?"

Mint approached – slowly, warily – and when she was just within range held out the cube. Mel plucked it from her hand and brought it to her own face, twisting it around a few times. After she had satisfied whatever she was looking for, she gently placed her cup on the table.

"All right. Rue, Mint– what did you want to know about this?"

"How to use it," Mint said. "We can't make sense of it. Klaus couldn't, either."

"I imagine not," she said. "Elroy was a very tricksy man. He only ever intended for himself to be able to use the cube– I'm not even sure his apprentices were ever in on it."

Rue's stance sagged. "Does that mean you can't open it?"

"Hmm? Oh, no. He was tricky, but also predictable." She spun it between her fingers. "I can take a decent guess about what to do with it right now."

"You can?" Mint cried. "Well, do it!"

Mel looked at her for a moment, then back at the cube, and whistled. Mint assumed it was part of some esoteric ritual, but to her surprise two small creatures flew into the room, bright yellow and bat-like. One of them set down on the table; the other, on the edge of Mel's cup. They were tiny things, fuzzy, with wide eyes and small beaks and webbed wings and little talons, and from a certain perspective Mint had to admit they were almost cute.

Mel placed the cube on the table. "Take this and hide it," she said, and the fluffy little bat-birds leapt up, clasped the cube in their claws, and took off for the back of the house, disappearing almost immediately. Mint watched, curious, until it suddenly hit her what Mel had actually said.

"Wait, what?" she yelped, snapping around to face Mel. "Where are they going with that!"

Mel took a sip from her teat. "To stow it," she said mildly. "It seems clear Elroy did a poor job of it."

"Stow–" Then it clicked, and Mint snapped her teeth together. "You just stole our cube!"

"Elroy's cube," Mel corrected. "You stole it from his atelier, after all."

"That doesn't mean you can just steal it back! That guy's been dead for hundreds of years, he isn't gonna miss it!"

But Mel was already ignoring Mint's tirade. Still sitting at her table, placidly drinking tea, she had settled a neutral, half-lidded gaze on Rue. He was leaning around the opposite door, looking in the direction the little bat-creatures had gone, not entirely paying attention to the conversation. He must have heard enough, though; he turned around, giving Mel a plaintive look, and quietly asked, "Why?"

"I know what that cube is for," Mel said. "And so do you two, if you brought it here. Right?"

"There's a Relic under a lake," Mint said. "That thing's supposed to help us get to it."

"Not perfectly right, but close enough."

Mint almost asked why it was only 'close enough', but she settled on the other implication instead. "So– Elroy was right? There is a Relic there?"

"Yes."

Mint's face lit up for a moment, but then immediately her expression soured. "And you just... you just stole our way to get it."

"Also yes."

Rue turned fully to face Mel properly. "Why would you..."

"Listen," Mel said, and her voice had suddenly lost its bounce. "You're familiar with the Aeons, right? You're hunting a Relic, you must be."

"Who isn't?" Mint asked. "Stupid powerful wizards that all died out ages ago. They left behind a bunch of artifacts with all sorts of stupid powerful magic in them."

"Crude, but correct," Mel said. "Then I assume you're also familiar with Valen."

She was met with blank silence. Mint frowned and furrowed her brow, wracking her head for the name, but she had never heard of it before. "Not here."

Likewise, Rue was also thought in thought, staring off somewhere to the corner of the room, muttering the name under his breath. Eventually, he exhaled heavily. "No," he said finally. "Not that I recall."

Mint tilted her head. "Really?" she asked, genuinely surprised. "Maybe I shouldn't be so shocked. They – the rest of the Aeons, that is – struck his name from every document they could. I shouldn't really expect you two to have come across it."

Mint jumped slightly. "They did what? How much of an asshole was he?"

"From my understanding, he was not a pleasant man," Mel said. "But I don't believe most of the Aeons were. Having that much power at your disposal can give one a bit of a superiority complex. Although that's the reason they tried to eliminate him from history."

"A superiority complex?"

"Raw power."

Mint was suddenly very attentive.

Mel shoved the saucer and cup away from herself. "He was, without question, the most powerful Aeon to have ever existed," she said. "By his will alone, he could move mountains and change the orbit of the stars."

"No way," Rue breathed.

Mel shrugged. "Who knows if it's true?" she asked. "What I am certain of is that he was powerful– and very smart. Are you familiar with the method of making a Relic?" When neither of them responded, she carried on. "The basic concept is that the Aeon would taken an object – usually something important to them, a book or a signet ring or some kind of emblem – and tie it to a nexus of magic. Some of them have withered since then, but the most powerful Relics were tied to effectively infinite well-springs. Valen was the one who thought that up. He created the first Relics."

"Relics? Plural?" Mint asked. "Far as I know each Aeon only made one."

"I'm certain there were exceptions, they've just long since been lost. Anyway, Valen was experimenting. He left behind several things that could be considered Relics, but it was all in pursuit of his grand design. He was searching for a way to work back through the binds of magic and find an origin point, somewhere that all magical energy flowed out of. If he could bind a Relic through the magic core, needless to say, the power he could have siphoned would have been limitless– enough to change the fabric of reality."

"That's what's in the lake?"

"A prototype, more likely," Mel said. "Valen died rather young. His aspirations earned the ire of quite a few people. Trying to re-write the universe will do that, I imagine. Either way, the lake altar is his, and whatever it seals is monstrously powerful."

She gave them several seconds to process what had been said. The implications of it – that they were standing within spitting distance of a device that could literally change the world – was a lot to take in.

Then Rue spoke up. "How do you know that? I mean, if they destroyed all evidence of his existence..."

"Not all evidence," Mel said. "But certainly most of it. You've seen the lake altar, I imagine? The ruins on the lake? Old Carona was where Valen was born, and where he returned to conduct most of his research. He ruled these islands a thousand years ago. The Aeons could scrub a lot of their own records, but they couldn't destroy every journal and letter from Carona. Some slipped through."

"This is too cool," Mint said. "The most powerful Relic made by the most powerful Aeon and we're sitting on top of it right now?" She grinned, manic energy flooding through her. "Imagine what you could do!"

"Exactly," Mel said. "Which is why I'm not giving you the box."

Immediately, Mint deflated. "Oh. Right. That."

"But–" Rue objected, but Mel held up her hand.

"I'm not conducting story-time for my own good," she said. "I need you to understand. Whatever is sealed by that altar can't be allowed back into the world. No man should be allowed to wield that kind of power." She stood up from her chair. "I'm sorry. I can't help you."

"But..." Rue's voice trailed off. He sighed and looked away. "No, you're right. That would be... selfish."

"I'm glad you understand," she said. "Although..." Then Mel went quiet, her voice fading to nothing, and she looked between the two of them again, mouth half-open. She seemed prepared to say something, but after a moment she gave up, snapped her jaw shut, looked away. "I'm sorry." She looked out of the room, through one of the windows; the sky had turned rose and gold. "It's getting late. You'd better get moving if you want to be back in town before dark." She paused. "Although if you wanted to stay here, I can–"

"No that's fine," Mint said quickly. "You're right, we should go. C'mon, Artema."

Rue gave one last look at Mel, his whole body rigid, clearly trying to find the words he needed to express. Mint shot him a glance.

"I'm going with or without you," she said. "You can stay here if you like, but I'm getting out of here before I go blind."

"It's not that bad," Mel sniffed.

"Y-yeah, you're right, sorry." With no small amount of reluctant, he turned away from Mel and followed Mint out the door. Mel's gaze continued to bore into them even as they left, and Mint did not feel it leave until the door was shut and they were partway down the path.

"Well," she said brightly. "At least we know what we're dealing with. Although she didn't have to hide the cube. Not like we know what to do with it or anything."

"Mm."

"We're gonna need to get that back."

He made a sound that was almost a laugh, albeit dry and humorless. "After all that, you're still going after the Relic?"

"Hah! Was she trying to dissuade me? She just sealed the deal. We need to get into that altar." She gave him a sidelong glance. "Don't tell me you're just walking away from that. Limitless potential, and you're not gonna touch it because the crazy lady told you so?"

"Not at all."

"That's what I like to hear."