Author's Notes: in a spectacular turn of events, I managed to release this chapter in a few months after my last one. Incredible. When I showed my pessimism on the date to release the next chapter everything was still normal and fine; classes are hectic and their homework even more, and the looming menace that is my thesis paper and community service come ever closer to burden my schedules. But lo and behold, a plague comes to humanity that disrupts the plans of man. And out of all the horrible pain and suffering, it brought it also sent me back home from my university town to my hometown, where I have a lot of time to myself and thus time to write.
I hope this little chapter will help lift your spirits and stave off the boredom that this quarantine thing's been giving to a lot of people.
"Hear this, mister", Rahjeash the gnome driver begins. "The caller did tell me where I should drop you off".
The wizard soon notices he's in a familiar route. "We're going to the Ley Line terminal? The Tor?"
The gnome shrugs. "She said I should drop you off there".
"Miss Finnelan insisted on that?"
"I don't know. I can't tell who she was, but it definitely didn't sound like her".
The wizard pauses. He lets go of the front seat and slumps back to his own.
Could it be...
After a moment of pondering, he nods.
"Well, take me there".
The taxi rolls to a stop on a road spanning the edge of a forest. Street lamps are scarce, and the one the taxi stops under has cracked glass. A pair of moths cast shadows as they clamour to the light. Close to their stop is a hill, and at the top sits the Tor.
The cold forest wind hits him the moment he opens the passenger door. He steps out of the vehicle, distracted, eyes drawn to the solitary figure standing not far from the Tor. The figure has its back turned towards him, but the long flowing emerald green hair gave its identity away.
Gnome and boy exchange glances. Rahjaesh the gnome driver gestures at him to go on. Gathering his wits, the Luna Novan leaves the cab for the stranger.
The air is crisp and clean tonight. The moonlight is strong and secure; not a cloud in sight to block out its light. In spite of how deserted this place seems, it's barely quiet; the sound of crickets and other forest creatures surround Jericho as he begins his climb. Like curious spectators hidden behind a veil of shadows, they watch his every movement.
He's quiet in his approach, and the woman has yet to turn at all, but she seems to have noticed his arrival.
With a calm voice that carries with it wisdom and maturity beyond belief, the woman speaks, "It's incredible how different the world is in so little time".
Her fabulous hair faintly glimmers under the moonlight and flows with the calm night wind. Her ethereal glow seems absent, making her blend much better with her surrounding.
"Join me", she says.
He duly follows. He climbs until he stands beside her, and right then he realizes what the hill hid from him. Spread before the hill is the city, Blytonbury, spread out like a carpet of lamps and stones. He watches the scenery just as she instructed. It's charming, but he finds nothing overly spectacular of the view, yet the ghost seems fixated as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.
"How does your first day fare you?" she suddenly asks. He turns to her, surprised.
The question was what a mother would ask a child after his first day of school, but the way she tones it makes hers sound like a stiff formality.
"…I'm surprised you don't know how it went", he remarks, but thinks to himself or maybe you want to sound like you're interested?
The ghost does not respond, nor does she meet his eyes.
"Fine", he answers. "I handled my first day just fine".
"Fine? Has Luna Nova's grading system degraded so much that you consider the events of today as 'fine'?"
Jericho winces at her remark. "So it was the latter", he mutters to himself.
He scratches the back of his head. "It got out of hand, but I think I got some boons out of it. They'll have to take me back in the next few days after my healing is done. I can use that time".
"Hm, yes". She places a finger to her chin in thought. "Unconventional, but you achieved your goals in a convoluted way. That's one way to… what is the sentence you use on this? Make lemons…"
"Lemonade. Make lemonades".
"Yes, make lemonade out of lemons. Do forgive; you have no idea how many sayings evolve as languages evolve. I'm afraid I've lost track of them the first thousand times they evolved".
"Apology…. accepted?" Jericho replies, surprised.
After everything that happened, I think correcting a timeless ghost's analogy might be my most surprising feat in life thus far.
He says, "If you're in the mood to apologize you should use the energy for apologizing about something else".
"Are you perhaps bitter about not being properly warned before arriving here?"
"I'm bitter that you didn't properly explain what I was going to get myself into. If I remembered right I barely managed to ask a word before you cast your spell".
"You remembered right".
"That spell you used on me, using that bloodstone… it did something. You did something. This isn't me dreaming a vision of the past. This isn't my doing".
Slowly, she spreads her arms. "You are correct. It was my doing. That night in the abyss, I struck you with a powerful spell, sending your mind and body careening through the rifts of time until you land here".
"But this is different from my dreams", the boy argues, taking a confident step forth. "In it, I couldn't feel nor can I be seen. Here it's different. This is your work too, isn't it?"
"I've already answered this question. Pay attention to my words: your mind and body landed here".
Slowly, she moves her finger so it now points to her forearm, as if she knew that if she goes any quicker the boy would fail to follow.
"Do you not feel the pain on your hand", then she moves her finger to her forehead. "Or on your head? You're not under a sophisticated illusion, nor are you in a vision of the past that one of your dreams brought you. Your mind and body are now in the past. You're in the past, in this blessed year of 2005".
His face turns to a grimace.
Then I guessed right. Time travel it is.
Well,things just become 100-times scarier now.
"You seem surprised… and distressed. Did you not expect this already? And I thought your dreams would prepare you for a relatively similar experience".
"No it didn't", he answers tersely. "You really think I'm not going to freak out at some point?"
"Allow me to help, then. That's the reason we're having this conversation right now".
"How about actually telling me who's this champion I'm looking for?"
Her answer is instant. "This I won't answer".
"I thought you said you're here to help. Wouldn't this help make my work quicker?"
"It will, but quicker doesn't mean better".
Knowing her, Jericho knows that if he were to be obedient and remain quiet, the ghost will end it at that. So when she asks him for his next question, he doggedly pursuits his last.
"Why?" was his question. "What's so important about keeping her identity a secret from me? I thought all I need to learn from the champion is how she unlocks the Words? In fact, why don't you just put me in front of her so I can ask her about the 6th Word right away?"
The ghost goes silent. For a moment, he thought she'd decide not to answer, but she was merely collecting her thoughts.
"You seem to be entertaining the idea that the 6th word is already unlocked by her. You seem to think that the champion is already a champion. Allow me to say that none of that is true: the 6th word, even the 1st, has not been unlocked yet, and the champion of Claiomh Solais has yet to receive that title".
That shocks the boy. "I'm that early in time? Why?"
"The reason? The same reason why you're here instead of dreaming of this place: anything gained without the journey is worth nothing. Only by working to earn that which you seek will you truly gain something. That's why, in order for you to learn what the 6th Word is and how to unlock it, you need to understand everything. That means from the 1st word to the last".
Jericho feels mixed to this. I guess I see the wisdom of not rushing into things… but this also means difficult and long work…
But, occupied with her lecture, the ghost misses Jericho's hesitations. She adds without pause, "Now, it makes sense for me to do this with the Words—they're sequential after all from 1 all the way to 7. But then why, I hear you ask, am I doing the same thing about the champion's identity; why hide her identity from you and on top of that put you this far back in time even before the champion was selected to be a champion. And it follows the same logic. Just as you need to learn the 1st Word to understand the 2nd and so forth, you need to understand why the champion was chosen to be a champion of the Claiomh Solais before you can understand the 1st Word. And like my previous answer, you have to be on that journey, you have to see in your own eyes why the champion deserves the Claiomh Solais..." The ghost pauses, a sombre look crosses her face for a second. "...And why others don't".
Jericho didn't fail to catch that sudden foreboding change. It catches him off guard completely. But the ghost continues before he can respond to that.
"After the first champion's failure to unlock the 7th Word, I realize it's just as important to understand the reason a champion is chosen to be one as is understanding the meaning of the Words".
Then, the ghost smiles reassuringly. "But fret not, for you're in a straight path. You're much closer than you think you are. Everything will fall into place naturally, as you'll see".
Jericho duly nods but says nothing.
There's a low stone fence trailing from hill to hill. He'd seen it early even during the ride here. He absently walks towards the closest one and rests his good hand there. The young wizard's mind is overrun with everything the ghost just says. It takes him some time to juggle all the pieces of information in his head.
This far back in time, huh, even before the champion is the champion of the Solais. Daunting. That means I really will stay here for long.
"Something troubling you?" the ghost asks.
He stares at the ghost with thoughtful eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he's about to let his heart out. But in the end, he sighs and looks away. "Do you really need me to explain? It's daunting. Let's just leave it at that. The things I'm about to do are some herculean task".
The wizard is telling half the truth. It is not that he's lying, or that he's not telling her everything, it's that he himself hasn't yet fully understands what makes him worry so much for him to be able to explain it.
It's this entire situation. It's only starting to dawn on him that this herculean task ahead of him will take months to finish, in which his perseverance will be tested.
He'll have to spend months in this world. This strange, grey world.
Far away from everything he knew and loved.
His friends, family, belongings… all of the things that make a home.
In which no one here he knows.
No one here he could talk to truthfully.
And the only one he could talk to truthfully with is the most unrelatable being in the universe.
This is what plagues Jericho's heart, even though he hasn't realized it yet. Drowning on his own emotions he himself doesn't understand, Jericho withdraws into silence. He's done talking, and if silence is too much to ask, then just being a listener would be enough right now.
His eyes are cast on the town below him, but he barely pays attention.
While he'd want silence more than anything right now, he didn't expect to actually get it.
What's this? The boy thinks in surprise. No remarks? No clever replies or wise and convoluted advice?
When the silence is broken, it was not by words as he'd expected. It was by the sound of the ghost's approach—graceful footsteps across the soft hillside grass. Jericho finds her joining beside him, resting her delicate hands on the low stone fence. Silently, she looks at the town as well. He can see the city lights reflecting on her emerald eyes. Unlike him, the town seems to truly capture her attention.
For a moment the distant sound of the town that spreads below them, the whispering wind lifting the scent of clean forest air, and the chirping of insects were all that filled their ears.
Then, suddenly, she shows the slightest hint of a smile.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she says.
That makes him put more attention at what's spread out before him.
I suppose? Jericho thinks, confused.
"From up here, nothing seems to have changed. But a look closer and you'll see how different that town and the people in it really are. And what a beautiful town this is".
"I don't… What are you trying to say, here? Is this some smart metaphor I'm too slow to follow?"
"There is no deeper meaning", she says. "It only is"
"Beautiful?"
The ghost nods.
The boy pauses, staring at her.
"I thought you're still talking about the main subject".
"I'm not. You said you've said enough of it. I believe the same, for now. I believe you need a rest from that. It's not easy to cope with what I've said so far".
'Small talk', he realizes, amused and surprised. This is her attempt for small talk. That's… considerate of her?
"But contemplating the passage of time isn't really people's idea for small talk".
"You have to forgive. It's been many moons since I last talked to anyone, let alone converse with them".
That surprises him.
"Forgiven..."
As silence envelops the two again, he thought the ghost was finished with her attempt. But she was merely biding her time.
Still determined to continue her 'small talk', the ghost continues. "But I still think contemplating the passage of time is a lighter subject than… well…" the ghost seems lost for a second.
"Time travel?" The boy says.
"Time travel, yes". The ghost pauses, nodding lightly. She strokes her chin with a finger. "Time travel…" She seems amused by that word. "Indeed, that's the term many of your kind uses to explain this phenomenon, though had different more ancient established names for it".
The ghost notices his disinterest, too preoccupied with his thoughts to think about anything else.
Months in this place.
A long journey.
No easy way out.
His troubles must show in his face. The ghost watches him attentively from the side and prepares a response. She considers her choice of words thoughtfully, until a smile spreads her lips. "Strive for your ideal place".
Jericho looks up. "What?"
"It's a small advice. A gift. From me to you". Sensing his confusion, her smile deepens, and she adds, "You'll face hardships. There will come dark times, times when you fail and all seems lost. But as long as you have a dream—an ideal place you seek—you will never be lost, no matter how difficult and winding the journey is. Don't let the flame in your chest go out. Burn that flame bright and strive for your ideal place".
That registered deeply in the young boy's head and is surprised he didn't see its wisdom sooner. This is because he's heard something similar before.
"I heard something like that once. Read about it, actually. And I agree". He momentarily pauses as he recalls his memories. "'When you desire only the result, you start getting impatient so you try to take shortcuts… and when you start taking shortcuts you might lose sight of the truth. Eventually, you lose your motivation, too. The will to seek out the truth—that ideal place you referred to—that is what's important, to keep you from taking the easy way out".
Suddenly, her decision to put me this far back in time doesn't sound as crazy as before.
As long as I have an ideal place—that 6th word, my family, my friends, my own time—then this isn't impossible.
This is wise. I have to admit.
The ghost looks pleasantly surprised. And impressed. "You're a quick learner. You seem to understand this already I'm glad. And they must be wise, whoever said that".
Jericho seems surprised at her reaction. "Thank you. And y-yeah… he pretty much was..." It's from a manga I read. And I don't want her to ask what manga is. Some things are better left unsaid.
The two soon retire. The ghost turns and walks away, following the fence, which he now realizes follows the road that leads up to the Ley Line terminal. He makes sure to put that useful info into a mental map, in case he ever gets lost around here in the future.
Realizing the quietness, the boy thinks of starting a conversation. Though that's a herculean task for him, her attempt at small talk convinced him it's better if he takes the wheels. If the ghost is the only person he can talk to honestly about his circumstances, he should try to make their future conversations more enjoyable.
To that end, he wants to ask something again.
About what? He's a good idea.
"Okay, I have one last question. I can't keep calling you 'ghost'".
This makes her pause her steps for some reason. He follows, slowing down as well looking at the ghost curiously.
A wind blows, lifting leaves and the scent of grass. Her fair green hair flows along with it, and she runs a finger through them to keep it from obstructing her face. With a gentle smile, she answers, "Then please, call me by my name: Woodward".
He could swear he saw her glow for a moment. That same faint ethereal green light she always had in her original form.
The wind dies down. It was like a spell, the way it blew conveniently, something she did.
"That's… that's a beautiful name", he finally remarks. "Named after that Olde Witch?"
The ghost remains silent for a while, blinking. She looks surprised.
What's that? Did I say something wrong? No, Woodward is definitely the Olde Witch's name… is she surprised that I know that? Everyone should, even someone like me.
"Yes... After her", she answers finally after a lengthy pause.
Good. Now I know her name and she knows mine. Those are important baby steps.
But her silence persists.
Why do I feel this is going awkward?
In an attempt to salvage the situation, the wizard forces himself to be active one more time in the conversation.
"Good sense, whoever chose that name for you", he says, scratching his head. "She's perhaps the most well-known of all 9. Cool figure".
"Yes, yes…" the ghost seems more and more amused. "Actually what do you think of her? Compared to the other Olde Witches?"
He looks at her funnily. "What?"
"What?" She replies back.
"Why ask?"
This is the first time I think she asks me something and not the way back. This feels wrong.
"This I won't answer".
He rolls his eyes. Whatever maybe she's a fan of her. "It's not like they're football teams, Woodward. How am I supposed to answer?"
Finally arriving at the terminal, Woodward rounds it with him following close by. There's a small and decrepit wooden shack sitting just behind the Tor. No doubt a place to keep maintenance items for the fairies, it's invisible to those who'd only approached the building from its front. Even regular users of the Tor wouldn't know its existence unless they take the time to round the terminal, let alone the wizard who rarely uses the Tor due to his doubt in his aerial skills (which recent events only serve to increase that). The ghost stops in front of the small shack, a flimsy and mouldy wooden door marks its entrance.
As if sensing something, Woodward briefly glances at Jericho. He promptly smiles politely. He takes off that smile the moment she turns back to the door again.
Woodward sensed right because internally the wizard is not liking what he's seeing.
I can barely fit in there… The wizard thought in chagrin as he studies the shack. And that door… all my money in my pocket it'll creak like hell when she opens it.
That wouldn't be a lot since he isn't really rich or anything.
Regardless, Jericho remains silent for politeness-sake.
Woodward takes out a thick brass key from her pocket which immediately catches his eyes. It looks intricately decorated. Even under the moonlight, it manages to gleam in strength. Comparing that to the old and mouldy door she's going to use it on is like comparing heaven and earth, him and her.
She puts the key in and turns. The lock mechanism clicks in an unnatural way; it sounds much louder and heavier than the door's thin wooden frame would lead him to expect. It sounds like she's opening a heavy metal door instead.
At the final click indicating the full unlock, light shines from behind the door in an instant, slipping through the narrow seams like a ray of sunlight. It came unexpectedly as if the key somehow switched on the lights inside the shack.
He peeks from over Woodward's shoulders, trying to see if his eyes and ears were tricking him. She opens the door, and what's revealed shocks him.
Instead of the narrow and dimly lit wooden interior he'd initially expected, he's introduced to a spacious and well-lit interior, surrounded by smooth painted stone walls. Wooden pieces of furniture adorn the room. It's a rather bland room, with all the pieces of furniture lacking anything to decorate them or books to fill the shelves, but it's still a massive upgrade than what he imagined. And besides, the blandness can be fixed in no time. There are three doorways leading away from the room, one of them the one he uses to enter.
Woodward was already inside while the wizard remains still by the doorway, gawking at the sight.
"Welcome to the Horologium chamber". She gestures him in, welcoming him with the usual calm exterior that contrasts his speechless state. "Your accommodation".
With hesitant steps, Jericho set his foot into the room. From the moment the sole of his shoes meet the floor, he knew this is something different. It's not an illusion that covers the hill's grassy surface or a flimsy wooden floor with a seemingly flat floor of stone. No, it is even and well-kept, clean. This is real. The enclosed room's air itself is noticeably different from the fresh air outside. The further he enters, the more his hesitance fades and his stride quickens.
He's entirely preoccupied with this room. Eyes ever upwards or sideways-constantly studying the well-decorated room-Jericho nearly runs into one of the many pieces of furniture decorating the room. A wooden coffee table. Atop it is an empty copper goblet.
He picks it up and takes a seat to a sofa next to the table. "This spell… I like this", he says, feeling the realness of the object on his hands.
Intrigued, the ghost says, "Try to guess".
Definitely not an illusion…
Jericho begins to think, eyes gazing at the goblet. He rubs the goblet's smooth surface with his thumb.
…Nor is it some grand transmutation. That suspiciously intricate-looking key could've been a transmutation catalyst, but I don't believe anyone can transmute nothing into this grand room in an instant. The different ingredients and materials it would take… the amount of magic and time it would take...
Jericho's eyes turn to the doorway, still open, showing the night outside.
He smirks. He's a victim of such a spell once after all.
"Portkey", he mumbles it at first, then repeats it, louder, once he's sure. "It's some teleportation spell like a portal. A Portkey, isn't it?"
The ghost smiles. "That's one term to describe it, yes".
"I'm guessing the… the key, was the key". No pun intended. "As in it's the catalyst, like a wand. It made the door…" he gestures towards it, then to the room around him. "Do this".
"Correct".
At that, Jericho smiles back.
Well, that felt good. A nice change of pace from her.
"Knew it. It's a bit disorienting, to be honest, but it's worth it". His hand instinctively plays with the goblet again. "I like this".
"You'll find many who share your admiration. The magic key is one of the best spells ever invented", Woodward explains. "It's a rare and powerful item and any one of them are valuable. You can find comfort anywhere, all you need is find a door-any door-and use the magic key on them".
"That's bloody damn convenient", the wizard remarks. "Forgive my language but it is. If it can make me happy, imagine how happy someone who's been… stranded in a wild forest would when they find something like this".
Jericho strokes his chin. Is it even possible to link something more mundane like Luna Nova's kitchen to the key? That would really be convenient to have beside my room.
He smiles at that thought and smiles even more at the thought that he and Woodward are probably imagining different things about the key.
"Yes… you can do very convenient things with this". He keeps going on and on, excited. That seems to be infectious, as Woodward too shows a little bit of smile.
"You can even save a lot of lives with this!" he says at one point of his excitement. "Imagine you're being chased, even better by people who's no idea of magic and this kind of spells, and just vanishing with just the opening and closing of a door".
"You're right. People did use it for reasons like that in the past. And it worked. Saved them from…"
She stops abruptly.
The smile didn't last. Slowly, it fades.
"From… from people".
At this point, the wizard notices what's going on and turns to Woodward, noticing the sudden solemn expression she wears, a contrast to his excitement. Briefly, she closes her eyes and bows her head slightly, as if whispering a quiet prayer.
His excitement is drained from him with just one look at her. Such a sad face, such a wrong face, to be worn by a being as strong and beautiful as her.
At that point, a cold chill runs up Jericho's spine.
Something's wrong. And instincts tell him it's something he did.
And it comes in an even more chilling realization.
Oh my God…
Witch Hunt. She's talking about the Witch Hunt!
Oh God, what should I say? What should I say? They're super uncomfortable about this, right?
"Woodward, I'm-"
"Don't be", Woodward immediately interrupts. That solemn look hasn't left her eyes, but her voice is entirely even. She's calm. "I think it's inevitable, one way or another, that we'd arrive in this topic, considering I know so much of the things that happened in those dark times".
He pauses.
"You're there?" he asks, disbelief written in his eyes. "In those... dark times?"
She returns that look with unwavering eyes.
Jericho had watched countless times how stiff and unwavering Woodward could be, but this feat surpasses his expectations; to find that wise calmness returning to her so quickly, while just seconds ago he thought she's finally showing some vulnerability, shocks him to the core. It will never not-surprise him how strong this woman is.
With a calm and gentle voice, she says, "before, during, and after".
That makes him cold.
"I'm...
What am I supposed to say here? 'I'm sorry?' Is that really the right thing to say? Again? Would that mean anything to someone like her coming from me?
But he couldn't just say nothing.
For what it's worth, Jericho shares the only expression he can think of. It's the only thing he can think that could help her feel better.
Gently, he says, "I'm sorry. I can't imagine what it would be like".
Woodward smiles. It's a sad yet beautiful smile. "Thank you, but please, don't be—be sorry for the people who fell then and the people blinded by hatred and ignorance—don't feel sorry for me. I don't find any worth for such gesture for I deserved to witness everything that happened, not only the good. Everything comes at a price. And that was one of the many prices to pay for my timelessness. I had every right to be there to see it".
Slowly, Woodward approaches him. She speaks gently and carefully. "Which is why I warned you when you came to the Abyss. You can gain so much with the power you found, but you will lose as much, sometimes even more. Everything comes at a cost. Fixed or bargained, paid in time or delayed, they all come in the end all the same. I merely wanted to protect you from ever needing to pay that cost, ever".
Indeed. Woodward might have an extreme approach in her attempt to protect him, but it doesn't need much thinking to know she's merely doing what she did—all those awful things she showed him—to stop him from experiencing much worse. It was her attempt to give a sample of the horrors he will face if he chose that path.
Like a mother punishing her child when they did something bad, it was hardly an act of hatred. Rather, it was love.
"I… I see", Jericho says, after a lengthy grave silence. "All the more reason to seek the 6th Word, and this curse thing won't endanger me no more"
He notes a short-lived but definitely noticeable pause from Woodward. Briefly, she did glance away too.
"That is true", she answers.
But she follows up quickly.
"But that won't be the end of your journey, young one. The visions will be less intense, but they'll come all the same even after the 6h Word. You'll have to learn to control them yourself when the time comes".
So many things he doesn't know, so many questions arise from what she just said and didn't say, but Woodward holds up her hand, holding the key to his face to silence him.
"But that's far to come. And we shouldn't dwell in it for too long when we have our own sets of problems in the present".
The atmosphere turned gloom with the recent conversation. Unlike last time, where she fixes that by relaxing and even going out her way to have small talk with him, this time she seems much stiffer as she goes back into track as if nothing happened. This distinction didn't go unnoticed by Jericho who's starting to think she really was shaken earlier.
Jericho's concluded early in his wizarding days to not talk about the Hunt to witches out of sensitivity's sake, considering his lack of understanding of and disconnect to the event. But now he makes sure to re-ingrain that rule again in his head to avoid what happened.
He hesitantly takes the key, feeling its finely polished surface and ample weight. A moment ago he'd be excited for this moment, but now the moment feels too dour to find any excitement.
Despite his reluctant heart, he finds wisdom in what she said. She's right. No matter how much I crave it, if I ask questions now the answers will just burden me, and I already have enough burdening me even now.
Maybe if I listen to her people will stop calling me worrywart and an over-thinker.
Reluctantly, he brings his head back into the game.
"The key will be yours to possess. Use it in any door and it will lead you here. To the Horologium chamber which I'll permit be yours temporarily".
"Yes…" He looks at the key quietly. At first, he's still stuck in his head, but a thought occurs that makes him too curious to think about anything else. "But where is this Holo… Hobgoblin chamber in, exactly?"
"The Horologium chamber…" Woodward says as she skirts around the sofa, hand tracing its cushion, "is a hidden room beneath Luna Nova".
Shocked, he interrupts her. "Now hold on a moment. I have a key that leads me directly under my school?"
"Under the Luna Nova library, to be exact. Just a flight of stairs and a secret door and you're in the library, to be more exact".
Jericho's at a loss of words. Her frankness is not helping.
"And I went to all that trouble to gain access to said school?"
Realizing what he means, she says, "oh, I wouldn't recommend you use this key to get into the school. Use it only to go to this room if you wish to rest, but do not venture above to the library and into the school proper". She points to a door that he guesses leads to the library. "You have a room under the school, but it's better to not talk about it to anyone, nor should you use it to visit the school lest you'll look suspicious, always appearing in this school at convenient times and from mysterious locations".
"Good, I understand".
He sighs in relief. So all that work wasn't wasted. All I need to do now is act like I stay somewhere in town. That shouldn't be too hard.
With the last problem of the night concluded, he walks up to the sofa and slumps onto it. It's soft and rich.
This sofa must cost a fortune.
The conversation wasn't the most relaxing, but he's trying to follow Woodward's advice.
Indeed, if he's only judging the situation by what happened today, then it's a good day. As far as he's concerned, right now, he's in calm waters. He'd spent the day productively and now he's enjoying his rightful spoils.
"You know, I had my worries". The boy takes out the key and holds it above his face, playing around with it. "I thought I'd have to sleep under a bridge. This is beyond my expectations".
"Yes", Woodward replies. "Now you're set to live in the past".
Jericho spots her walking for the door. His mind scrambles to think if he still needs anything.
He stirs on the sofa until he lays prone on it, with his hands on the armrest to support his chin. "Hey, Woodward?" he calls out, even before the question forms on his head.
"Yes?"
He pauses, thoughtful.
"What do you think I should call myself?"
Woodward nods. "Ah, that is a problem for you indeed, since many people in this time know of you in the present".
"I wouldn't say many… only two so far, or two and a half if we're counting Rahjaesh, but that doesn't make me change my mind. I need something new! Better safe than sorry".
He quickly sits up on the sofa.
"I skirted around the question on my name when I got asked. It's a wise choice if I say so myself, but I can't repeat that over and over again".
"This is a good question but... why do you ask me this?"
"Woodward, if you allow me to choose my own name I'd go for pop-culture references".
Woodward pauses, thoughtful. She rests one hand on a piece of furniture, gently tapping repeatedly with one finger. "You're right. I fear you'd just name yourself with inappropriate or badly thought-of names".
"Exactly".
To his surprise, the ghost smiles. It looks almost like a playful smile of a child being invited to play a game.
"I have a few ideas", she says.
Woodward goes on to sit in one of the chairs, similarly as bland-looking as the sofa, and the rest of the room for that matter. She stays in quiet thinking for a while, and the wizard finds himself without a talking companion to keep him from thinking.
"Oh, while we're at it, should I think of changing my appearance?" Jericho then asks.
"There's no need to", Woodward says without looking at him, too deep in thought.
She's seriously into this naming thing, huh?
"After all, you already look different enough".
This surprises him. There's a hand mirror lying on the table, so Jericho quickly reaches for it. He needs only a glance to know something is very different about him
The wizard runs a hand through his thick hair which just so happens to be no longer jet black but a healthy teal-ish green. Peculiarly, the colour is quite the exact same as Woodward's hair. Similarly coloured is his eyes, again similar to Woodward's, but a shade darker and deeper and livelier, though he suspected the last is due to the ghost being emotionally-inept and rarely showing her emotions through her eyes, or any features on her face in that regard.
"Oh, this must be the effect of your blood in me?!" he says, surprised to find himself excited instead of shocked. He always wondered how he'll look in different colours.
And this is not a bad colour. I look much 'friendlier' in these colours.
Jericho finds himself using the mirror excessively to look at all angles of his head. The narcissistic wizard only pauses when he notices Woodward not sharing the same enthusiasm with him.
It's not due to disinterest. She's simply preoccupied. He realizes she's still deep in thought. In fact, she has a book on her hand now-wherever she got it from-and starts to flip through the pages.
She's totally into finding a second name for me, he thought, partially flattered and worried at the same time.
Author's Notes:
Was that a JoJo reference? Yes, it was. I can't pass it up, not when I realized how similar that second Word is to Abbachio's partner's words.
The next chapter is on the way. I can't give promises in such unpredictable times, but rest assured I'm putting writing as part of my schedule as of late, with all this time at home in my hands.
I didn't expect this chapter to be this long. Fret not, the next chapter the wizard will plunge back into Chariot's world once again. And after that, if everything is going smoothly, he'll run into the second major character of this arc. Wonder who that is… :)
If you're bored waiting for your dose of male-only OC action in LWA, I recommend, again, reading RomanViking's work, Little Wizard Academia. It's not the most popularly loved work, but it had a lot of great moments.
And if that's not to your taste, I want to inform you on a new fanfic I stumble upon that charmed me. Another male OC fanfic in LWA called Wizard of Fate, by EdgeColumbus. You can see what I thought of its first (and so far only) chapter, and I hope it sells you enough to try a taste of his work.
I can't see anything bad happening from giving recommendations. Who knows, with more numbers on their followers, favourites, and reviews, these writers would be more inspired to continue their works. If you do end up liking their works, tell them I said hi :D
Lastly, shoutout to the boys and gals who take the time to review my fanfic! All of them really help me improve and it hypes me up to write more reading your responses! Especially the paragraph-long kind of reviews that takes up the whole screen like what Muset wrote. Some people are apparently hesitant about writing reviews, whether they're too long and could bore the writer or too offensive or preachy that it would offend them. I should clarify I don't mind them at all and long reviews like Muset's actually really helps me understand better and of course,I really welcome criticisms. And do remember that if you want to make a review that I can reply to, make an account to post that review because guest accounts' reviews are un-reply-able.
That's all for me folks. Stay healthy and stay safe. PEACE.