Activity

The Warning and Message rumbled over the landscape, swaying as the mountain rocked through their ribcage.

The stone rumbled and thundered louder than the sky.  Rain blistered the seam between beast and burden.

Precious burden.

They glared across the landscape, at the looming, throbbing red light.

Castle Oaken Door.

They roared, thousands of throats rasping.

Several hundred eyes spied a merchant camp.  About fifty people heading to the castle.  They were running, screaming, chaos.

There was always chaos when they were spotted.

But deep, deep, deep, deep, deep in the mountain, Grimme – what was left of her at the moment – knew no chaos.  She knew only the sensation of the calm blue light around her hovering body.  A deep, soothing sleep.  A dark, disturbing but calm dream.

Perhaps a memory distorted beyond recognition.

She was chasing a clear red light – and suddenly it was fire and a beloved voice – and suddenly it was condemning her and she deserved it – and suddenly there was water and the fire was gone – and then she cried.

Perhaps it seemed chaos when laid out, step by step, but it flowed smoothly, logically when she was experiencing it.

And then… there was something else…

A checkerboard pattern, ripping violently through her safe-space.

The Warning and Message shuddered, thundering to thousands of knees.  Roaring with hundreds of mouths.

Something is wrong.

Grimme and Warning and Grimme and Message and Grimme and monsters and Grimme and and

and

and she opens her eyes to see the Castle Oaken Door.

and she gracefully lowered to the floor, landing gently on her knees.

There is … she is …

Broken.

Her connection is broken.

She runs her hands along the back of her neck desperately, kneading into the tender skin.  The device is supposed to be hidden not absent.

There is a void.

It burns.

She needs it.

She needs it.

She needs it.

She hears screaming and realizes that she is the one screaming.

“Welcome.”

She freezes, the mechanical voice suddenly grounding.

“Welcome everyone to the Choosing.  It is a very special honor to participate in this exercise.”

“Inner core!” Grimme hisses, digging her nails into the thin cornrows on her scalp.

“I’m sure you – Grimme – are very alarmed.”  There is a faint laugh.  “Please relax.”

Grimme gave her very frank opinion in a series of blistering words her father had, unintentionally, taught her.

Grinding her teeth, she staggered to her feet.

She pulled out her battle-ax, searching the room.  It was blank: walls, ceiling, nothing else.  Not even a crack to exploit.

The floor was checker-board black-and-white marble.  The walls appropriately lined up black-and-white stripes.

“At the end of each puzzle is a prize,  but only one can win each round.”

“We already did this.” snapped Grimme.

“No.  Actually, you skipped this.” The voice smirks.  “You stuck-up telepathic monstrosity of alchemy and industry.”

“Ah, and there. You. Are.”  Grimme relaxed, arm loose, fingers tight, one foot slightly in front of the other.  “You aren’t an iota better than me.”

“Really.” the voice sneered.

Grimme waved her hands, encompassing herself and the room.

“That… no. nononono. No.”

“How.” Grimme paced, five tiles forward, turn, ten tiles forward, turn…

“You already know.”

“Not. The. Choosing.” Grimme ripped at the hair on the back of her neck.  “My link.  HOW?”

“Well, you couldn’t be tempted by Wy…”

“You don’t get to speak his name.” Grimme smiled serenely.  “You. DON’T. even get to think about him.  You have no right.”

“I found the one reason you would stay… or rather, the one reason you couldn’t.”

“Are you willing to risk reversing the curse onto yourself … over the Choosing?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I would think the answer is obvious!” The voice didn’t scream, the whisper was far more vicious and loud.

“Fine.  I’ll play your game.” Grimme peered at the symbol dancing over her hand: battle-ax surmounting an anvil.  “I’ll mislead your tools, I’ll ‘make nice’, I’ll entertain you.”  She grinned sharply, crushing the badge to her chest.  “After all, that’s what friends are for.”