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.

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

King Dermott paused, then lowered his voice slightly, addressing Paddy more seriously.

King: "Listen closely. A powerful mage, the key to your way home, is locked in the Demon King’s dungeon. No one has ever come back from there. Fetch them, or get comfortable in that coat."

Advisor: "No one has returned from that place, sire. It’s a death sentence, or worse."

Paddy: "Great. Exactly what I needed.

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

Advisor: "Sire, his posture alone screams liability."

Paddy: "Bastard."

Advisor: "What was that!?"

Paddy: "Nothing!"

A girl in a frayed blue cloak sneezed. Frost spread up on a nearby guard’s spear.

???: "Expectations can bend like ice under pressure... and sometimes, what breaks can still hold its shape."

Everyone turned.

???: "Also, your throne room is too warm."

King: "Oh yeah, we sent the word that the summoned hero needs a party… Three showed up. This one was the only one who knew where the door was."

Paddy opened his mouth. Closed it.

King: "Now, take yourself, and go do something heroic. Or at least something far away from my carpet. Guards, if he lingers, push him."

He was given the kind of escort that felt less like an honour guard and more like being gently thrown out of a party.

Outside, the sky was a cheerful blue.

Paddy: "Well, that went grand."

The girl tilted her head up to the sun. She said nothing. Her cloak was now dusted with pollen from the castle garden.

He 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!"

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

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

Garrick: "Ignore him. We are joining your party!"

Paddy: "…Right. Not taking two blind people, sorry."

Garrick: "Perfect! Then I shall join your party. No argument."

The girl finally spoke, holding up a hand 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. My soul was resting earlier. Now I’m alert."

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..."

She trailed off, eyes hazy.

...