Chapter 3:

Chapter 3 - Eyes That Never Open

N Lamp

Patrick Doherty never expected to stand in a royal court, especially not one where the chandeliers floated, the guards shimmered, and the carpet probably cost more than his entire neighbourhood. He stood like a man waiting for sentencing, not ceremony.

In front of him sat King Dermott IV, perched on a throne carved from marble, gold, and probably at least two endangered animals. His long silver beard framed a face that looked like it had seen everything and found most of it mildly disappointing.

Patrick scratched at his arm. His coat, a gift from the castle after his unexpected and very nude arrival, was far too warm for the climate. A mysterious girl beside him didn’t seem to notice the temperature. Or anything, really. Her eyes were half-closed, and she swayed ever so slightly on her feet like she was listening to a song no one else could hear.

King Dermott: "Another one? Good gods. We really need to fix that summoning circle. At least this time they are alive."

Paddy: "Yeah, bit of an accident, from what I gather."

King Dermott: "You are not our intended hero."

The court whispered. A few snorted behind sleeves. A man in an ornate robe jotted something down in a scroll with visible disdain.

An advisor leaned in close to the King.

Advisor: "His soul signature is irregular. Small. Possibly… dented."

Paddy: "Still got ears, y’know! Bastard."

Advisor: "What was that!?"

Paddy: "Nothing!"

The girl blinked very slowly.

???: "His soul’s not broken. Just... bendy. Like a spoon left in tea too long."

Everyone turned to look at her.

She promptly tipped forward and collapsed face-first onto the polished floor.

There was a long pause.

Paddy knelt down and gave her a gentle nudge.

Paddy: "You alright?"

She gave a thumbs-up without lifting her face.

They were given a scroll of passage, a handful of silver coins, and the kind of escort that felt less like an honour guard and more like being gently thrown out of a party.

Paddy: "Well, that went grand."

The girl beside him stood, blinking up at the sky. She wore a tattered blue cloak now dusted with pollen from the castle garden, and had an odd symbol stitched near the collar: a small, melting snowflake.

They’d barely made it halfway down the palace steps when a shout rang out:

???: "You there! Summoned one!"

Paddy turned to see a man approaching with ridiculous confidence. He was tall, blindfolded, and grinning like a man who’d never second-guessed anything in his life. Two swords crossed his back in an X, and he walked like he was absolutely sure the world would move out of his way if needed.

Garrick: "I am Garrick, the Unblinking! Master of Spirit-Sight! You must be the summoned hero!"

Paddy: "I mean, technically-"

Garrick: "Excellent. I shall join your party at once-"

Before Paddy could ask why, another voice chimed in. A woman in a thousand bangles glided forward beside Garrick.

Iris: "I am Iris of the Dust-Eye Clan! I am also blind. But I can see truth through fog and deceit. I see through illusion, deceit, and destiny!"

Paddy raised a brow at the whole situation.

Paddy: "Oh, come on. Is there a sale on blind people or something?"

Iris: "We require no vision. Only insight."

Paddy: "Right. I’m forming a support group for people with too many swords and not enough spatial awareness."

The girl in the cloak finally spoke up again, waving lazily.

???: "Don’t worry. I’m not blind."

She said all this proudly, then immediately toppled sideways into a flowerbed and began snoring.

They regrouped later in a crooked tavern called The Wobbly Pig. The establishment leaned in every direction, as if the building itself had once tried to escape reality and only half-succeeded.

Paddy nursed a drink of something vaguely apple-flavoured and listened to Garrick demonstrate his sword stances beside the fireplace.

While Iris had already pulled a small deck of cards from a pouch and was offering fortune readings to passing drunkards, Paddy sat at a splintered table with the sleepy girl across from him. She was blowing cold mist over her mug for no apparent reason.

Paddy: "So. You alright, yeah?"

???: "Mm. I get like this when I haven’t eaten."

Paddy: "You mean tired?"

She nodded.

Paddy: "You fainted into flowers."

???: "They cushioned me."

...

Paddy: "Why’s your drink foggy? That normal where you’re from?"

???: "I just like it cold."

Paddy: "That... a spell?"

She nodded again.

???: "Hereditary. My father used to..."