Oracle (Book I)

The Locked Door

"Caprice doesn't want me around," Bossa mumbled. As she walked beside Nezzle across the Main Hall, she wiggled her foot to shake Fritter loose for the fifth time. The feline kept attaching perself to her from calf to ankle and grinning up at her. "She only reads books now. It's all your fault."

"That is not true and you know it," Nezzle replied with feigned exasperation.

"She's annoyed with me. I'm staying away until she's done studying."

"No you're not not."

"Probably right," Bossa sighed.

"Don't be a brat, Bohs. She's focused, is all."

The corridor on the right of the Grand Hall doors was the only way to reach The Traveler's chamber. The open arch here was even larger than the doors of the Grand Hall. Beyond the arch, the earthy, bark-like walls of the chamber and the trunk of a humongous tree were full of many doors. It was said that The Traveler was a living being, an ancient tree of the world. For the inhabitants of Oracle, it granted passage to countless destinations, namely to the homes of the students. The doors lined mossy, paths of packed soil ramping around the tree's trunk; the paths zigzagged and ramped up and up on until The Traveler's branches opened to the sky. At least Bossa had always assumed they were inside of the tree's body or standing between its branching trunk; it was so large and deeply embedded in Oracle, no one had seen the whole thing or the outside of it.

Indeed, the doors led to many places. But there was only one place Bossa wanted to go, even if she knew it didn't exist anymore. That was the problem. It was the one place she couldn't go. The only locked door in this whole cursed hall.

"Come on, Bohs," Nezzle said. "You've been dragging your feet the whole way here. Are you truly going to keep pouting because Caprice is paying a little more attention to her studies than you do?"

Bossa grunted her resentment and only trudged her booted feet a little faster.

"I need to get a few things and I'm going to ask my parents if Caprice can stay with us on the island. Fresh air will do her some good. I'm foreseeing certain bloody murder should the Whitehares decide to stay here for break and Caprice is forced to see them during the holidays.

At the memory of the All-Hallows Eve feast, Bossa chuckled. The laugh wasn't all humor. Caprice should have done damage to the Whitehare girl for her trespass, in her opinion.

"Yea. For a second there I didn't know what would become of that Whitehare girl after Caprice blew out the windows. White witch sure is lucky Earithean stepped in. But I think Caprice does need some time alone away from here. With all that's happened, well, it's enough to make anyone crazy." Bossa would know better than most.

"Agreed. You coming too? The island, I mean."

"Nah, I might stay here," she hedged with a light shrug. There was very little that the sorcerer missed but she avoided Nezzle's watchful eye nevertheless. "Caprice has never been. You two can have fun."

That knowing look was painted all over Nezzle's face as Bossa expected it would be.

"I insist. And I'll insist again when I return."

"Of course." Bossa looked around and saw only two kinds of people: People who got to home and herself. No. Her home was gone forever. The white witches had made sure of that.

The Traveler's chamber was a place of coming and going. Yet Bossa could neither come nor go. She was the only one stuck here.

No two of The Traveler's doors was the same. Just as no two led to the same place though all of them led back to Oracle. Bossa felt her throat tighten up as they climbed a few paths and stopped in front of a familiar door smoothly hewn of pale sea-washed wood. An oval of white sand circled the door. On either side of the door, the tree bark disappeared and, as if through crystal clear panes of glass, looked out into brilliant tropical skies and whipped clouds. The unseen ocean washed and roared beyond, beckoning as it always did.

"I'm going home now."

"Do you always have to get the last word in," Bossa sang-muttered, gaze on the ground as she shuffled the toe of a boot in the sand. She didn't even pretend to be annoyed. Nezzle and all her other friends leaving was always hard even if they did return.

"Yes. I'll be back."

"Right. See you later."

"You will." Nezzle grabbed her and pulled her in for a hug. A warm, solid, tortuously long hug that made Bossa miss her even more though she wasn't even gone yet. It was meant to reassure her, and it did. But it also stirred up the feelings choking her even more. Feelings of intense, heavy longing, loss, and pain that filled her head, chest, and gut like weights. Part of her wanted nothing more than to push Nezzle away and leave this useless place as quickly possible. Fritter purred noisily and pawed at Nezzle's robes and light cloak.

"I shall return. Caprice will come around. Wait for it. So don't be a brat and bother her too much." She leaned down and stroked and Fritter's head. "See you soon, too, furling."

Bossa shrugged and walked a few quick steps back the way they'd come. She looked back as soon as Nezzle turned away and reached for the handle of the pale wood door. Bossa watched her leave. Watched Fritter paw at the door she had left through.

Bossa retraced her steps back to the main floor. For the hundredth time, she returned to the old arched wooden door. It was carved of something like mahogany, its varnish long faded. Dark auburn and amber calico wheat, aurean wheat, and gold pampas grass crowded the door, sprouting high from the plot of rich earth. Once beautiful and proud, the faded plant life now hung its head sadly as it lost its shine and began to wither over the years. As for the door itself, patches of rust slowly ate the black ironwork of the hinges. The rust was heaviest at the broad ornate flower-shaped latch, holding it tightly closed. Locked forever.

No spell cast on the damn thing will spring it open. Not in the years since she came to Oracle.

Sighing deeply, Bossa sat down on ground in front of the door. Fritter paced around her. After a moment of silence in this quiet spot of The Traveler's Hall, Bossa regarded per.

The cat's pupils grew large and its mouth turned down in a sad frown.

"I'm not sure if you're comforting me or mocking me," Bossa said, a resigned expression on her face.

The friegle brushed her with its body and whiffed its tail around in her face. Then, as if sensing her mood, Fritter sat in her lap. The rhythmic purring inside their body loosened some of the tight pain in Bossa's chest. She folded her arms around Fritter and tucked its furry head under her chin with her lips between their ears. Luckily, the feline did not protest to suddenly being made a cuddle partner and comfort object.

Bossa stroked Fritter under the chin, much to pers pleasure, as per raised their head and their eyes closed.

"Yeah. It'd be nice to go home," she murmured, tears falling down her cheeks.