Chrysopoeia

Chapter 26 - Help Her

Cassia's blankets lay pleasantly snug over her knees as she sat in bed, a cushy pillow under her back and curtains pulled, encasing her in a little world of wintry light. The morning sun trickled through the frosty glass, dancing off the aerolite stone's metallic surface as she dragged the Stymphalian bird feather across it, cutting away the glossy crust. Beneath, it shone like Goblin silver and was dotted with olivine crystals that gleamed like windows to another world. She held it to the light, watching their gray-green reflections dazzle upon the curtains.

It was fantastic, she thought, how removing the shell, although beautiful itself, revealed something even more precious underneath. Bit by bit, the outer surface crumbled, giving way to new brilliance. She wrinkled her nose, trying to keep her hand steady when the stone slipped. As it dropped from her grasp, she fumbled the blade-like feather, and a searing pain sliced through her thumb. She gasped and spewed a string of curse words that would turn Nan's ears as red as the blood leaking over her skin.

"Everything alright?" Came a concerned voice.

Cassia threw open her curtains and half-jumped down the ladder from her bunk. Samantha stared wide-eyed from the vanity where she'd been pinning up her hair.

"Ooh, that looks bad," she said.

"It hurts like a devil!"

Cassia snatched a handful of tissues and squeezed them into the cut, then pushed through the clutter atop her dresser for Wiggenweld so frantically she nearly missed the folded parchment that fluttered to the floor.

Swapping a stained tissue for a fresh one, she picked it up, recognizing the wax seal that held it closed. After downing a healing potion—her last, she noticed—she sat on the floor to read:

Well done. Well done. You completed my last task better than I had expected. Your ability appears even more potent than I had first realized. I do wonder, though, if you genuinely wish to reject your potential. All that you saw in the water was no mere vision but a glimpse into possibility! Imagine, a world that's exactly as you'd like: no Dark wizards to cause harm, no villains with ill-intent, every selfish and hurtful thought eradicated. The things you could change, the lives you could save!

The lives you could bring back.

It's tempting, isn't it? No magic can raise the dead, they say. However, I say, "No magic can raise the dead... for now." We have yet to see what you're truly capable of. Perhaps the impossible will become possible. Such a thought brings warmth I haven't felt in so long.

Please don't disappoint me. Here's what I implore you to accomplish next:

East of San Bakar's tower is a lofty peak upon which I've built a structure of my own. Go there.

Approach the basin.

Keep approaching.

Draw out your true self—whatever that means at this time, hm?

Finish approaching.

Empty the phial and add the self.

Cassia folded the letter, her insides squirming. Eradicating selfishness and hurt, raising the dead. It had a pleasant notion, but she knew all too well how good intentions could go wrong. Lives saved could mean lives lost if altruism warped into obsession.

There was something about this letter, something that reminded her of Ranrok, the Keepers, and even Professor Herbert. All who had ideas for her ability and how it should be wielded, like she was nothing more than a vessel for power or destruction—something to be used up or hidden away.