525 days after a wizard cursed the REALM…
Current Version:
Within the new Wordler Public Library, a cozy book-nook holds a ring of benches. The benches surround a ring of tables. The tables surround a glowing orange geyser.
Gloriander stands on the table, on a stack of her research, peering at a book that’s been propped upright against the rail. It’s a small book, only about twice her height, enabling her to turn the pages with only a little difficulty.
The Pooka trots over. “I didn’t bring you here to read.”
Glory shrugs. “It’s a library. You brought me to a library. What else am I supposed to do?”
“There wasn’t a library the last time I was here. Just a geyser. That’s the important thing.”
Glory grabs a page from the right side of the book and walks it over to the left side. The new page is illustrated with a painting of an Apocalypse Beast. Especially prominent are the teeth, the claws, and the glowing red eyes. “The one by the Enduring Portal didn’t look like this.”
“They come in different shapes,” says the Pooka. “She could be a distant relative of mine.”
Glory blinks. “Why? Pookas don’t come in other shapes. They’re all teeny-tiny horses.”
The Pooka scoffs. “Shows what you know.”
Glory turns another page. This one is a two-page spread of a map. It’s not the REALM though, nor any other land that Glory is familiar with. “I like books. I like how they open up and tell you things. I like how, in that way, they’re not at all like Pookas.”
The Pooka narrows his eyes. “My secrets are all I have left, and now you want those as well?”
“What is your problem?” Glory explodes. “I haven’t put a saddle on you even once since you came back to me. Do you really want to be free? You’re free! There, I said it. You’re free, Pooka. Go out into the world to live your best life, and leave me to research the way to save my friend.”
“My withers are itchy.”
Glory is almost too embarrassed to ask. “Your what?”
“My withers. At the base of the neck, where my mane meets my back. It’s been itching me since yesterday. Could you scratch it?”
Glory steps closer. She puts a hand on the Pooka’s neck. She’s done this many times while riding, usually while trying not to fall off, but this time feels different. The Pooka’s fur is warm and soft.
“That’s the spot. Really dig in there with your nails.”
Glory scratches. The library is silent except for the burbling sound of the orange geyser. This close to it, Glory can see the glowing glyphs within the water. “You actually drank from this?”
“They say that knowledge is power,” says the Pooka. “That’s a geyser of knowledge, so yeah. I drank from it, thinking it would restore the power that the Elves had taken from me. But as it turns out, knowledge isn’t power in itself. Knowledge can light the path, but it can’t make us put one hoof in front of another. Knowledge can unlock doors for us, but not every door. With some doors, all knowledge can do is light up their unbreakable locks.”
“I have no time for puzzles,” Glory complains. “You and your gorilla brought me here against my will. Isn’t that a power you have? The power to kidnap, threaten, and restrain?”
The Pooka laughs. “We really did get off on the wrong hoof! There’s only one thing I need you to do, and no power in the world that can compel you to do it.”
Glory watches the geyser, mesmerized by its light. “You brought me here to drink. From that.”
“You can lead an Elf to water,” the Pooka states. “But the spring of knowledge only works for those who choose it.”
“And as you say, it’s tangerine flavored?”
“I mean, it was, but who’s to say what knowledge tastes like on any given day. When I drank, it was tangerine, but today it could be blackberry.”
Glory steps closer to the rail. She can feel the spray from the geyser on her face. “Lime,” she says.
The Pooka follows.
“Usually, I drink to forget, to suppress, to blot out the days. There are things, Pooka, that I don’t care to think about. I’m afraid of this geyser and everything it represents. Once my eyes are opened, will I ever be able to close them again?”
“Maybe. If you want to.”
She shudders. “But what if I don’t?”
Glory looks into the Pooka’s little black eyes. The creature has secrets that no Elf was ever meant to know, and maybe also a few that every Elf has forced themselves to forget.
She leans over the rail and reaches out with cupped hands until they fill with orange liquid.
She’s captured a glyph with the water. Peering closer, she can make out several smaller glyphs floating around it., and then a multitude of sparkling orange specks that would require the world’s strongest reading glasses to decipher. “It’s all glyphs. There’s no water here at all.”
The Pooka watches in anticipation as Glory brings her hands to her lips. The glyphs are cool against her tongue. They taste like a gin and tonic. Glory can feel the coolness travel down her throat and then back up into her brain. Her mind’s eye lights up with sparks as the pathways are rewritten.
A light falls on the path.
A door is unlocked.
A story tumbles out from Glory’s childhood, about the conquest and binding of the Pookas. The Elf King himself was the one who cast the spell, calling on the full force of royal elven blood. The bond was unbreakable. It would remain in force until the final Elf perished from the world.
Tears stream down Glory’s face. “Oh, Pooka. I didn’t know. I didn’t remember. Oh, Pooka, I am so sorry.”
Web3 Draft:
- Listed on OpenSea
- Listed on Rarible
Revision Notes:
To be added.
