Revelation

The notice on the board was short and polite. Need a delivery recovered. Witch in the southern cave has the Glimmer Antidote. Reward negotiable. No violence if possible.

Kael folded the paper and grinned. “Glimmer Antidote. Sounds like money.”

Mira read the line twice. “Glimmer blight makes things shimmer and attract pests. Mrs Halvorsen’s bakery lost three apprentices. Her wedding cake turned into a ruin. She will pay.”

Lian shrugged. “An antidote for moth madness. Charming.”

They left before dawn. Kael entertained them on the way with ridiculous theories about the witch. Lian liked the pastry chef idea. Mira pretended not to laugh, but she did.

The cave mouth was a dark hole in the mountain. Cold air flowed out like breath. The path down into the rock smelled of damp stone and old leaves.

Inside, the witches traps began almost immediately.

The first trap was a line of crystals across the floor. Kael stepped on one first. The crystals chimed like tiny bells. Bats answered with a shrill flurry. Kael screeched and rolled. The bats flew off annoyed, not hungry.

“Graceful,” Mira said dryly.

“Graceful is my middle name,” Kael lied.

Next came a patch of fungus that made your head spin for a moment. Lian’s vision filled with silly hats and dancing fish. Kael laughed so hard she coughed. Mira knelt, scraped a sample, and tasted just a drop. She frowned.

“Hallucinogenic fungus,” she said. “That explains the hats.”

They kept moving. Lian watched the floor and the walls for patterns. He noticed tiny scratches in spirals. He flagged them to Kael. She listened and avoided the singing stones. For once she did not rush in blindly.

Past the traps the cave opened into a low chamber. The witch sat on a slab, surrounded by strange potted plants. Steam rose from a kettle and smelled of jasmine. Her hair had small bells braided through it. She looked more like a librarian than a monster.

She smiled without surprise. “You came for the glimmer, or for a laugh, or because someone made you owe a baker. Tell me which.”

Kael stepped forward, Boomer at her hip. “Mrs Halvorsen needs the antidote. She will pay.”

The witch tilted her head. Her plants leaned in like they were listening. “Payment is small. I want something more. I want entertainment and effort. Bring me three things, and I will trade a vial.”

She listed the tasks. Fetch a shard of moonstone from a pool behind a curtain of roots. Braid a ring from a living moss that will not wither. And for one hour, entertain her. No sleeping, no violence. Be interesting.

Kael’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Three tasks? Perfect.”

Mira was quiet and steady. She nodded. Lian shrugged and accepted. The tasks sounded silly. But the witch had the antidote.

They split up.

Kael went for the pool. She pushed through the root curtain and found water so still it was like glass. The moonstone sat at the pool bottom, pale and clear. The moment her fingers touched it, the water chimed and tiny translucent fish wrapped around her wrist. Kael yelped and stumbled back, laughing and spluttering. She clutched the stone and ran.

Mira collected the moss. She sat very still and hummed low, a sound like someone tying knots with patience. Her hands moved gently. The moss answered her touch. She braided it until it formed a perfect ring. She held it up. It stayed green and lively even in the dry air.

Lian stayed with the witch.

“You have to entertain her?” Kael asked later, puffing as she returned.

“Yes,” the witch said. “Keep her amused. You are the one who can spin a human tale.”

Lian did what he could. He told small stories from the city. He told a ridiculous tale about a man who tried to fix a roof and instead fell into the bakery. He made weird faces. He described lying in a bed that squeaked in sympathy. The witch listened and laughed. Kael peeked through a curtain and grinned. Mira watched, eyes half closed, smiling when a line hit true.

When Lian finished, the witch clapped slowly. She set the moonstone, the moss ring, and Lian’s strange little performance on the slab. Then she poured a tiny vial of opalescent liquid and handed it to them. The Glimmer Antidote glowed faintly, colors shifting like oil on water.

The witch’s eyes fixed on Lian.

“You are not Gifted,” she said. “Not in the obvious way. But you carry something quiet and heavy. A watchful eye. An ember sleeping under your ribs.”

Lian stiffened. He had never told anyone about his focus. He had kept it close, a private trick that helped him see the truth in people. How could the witch know?

She reached out and tapped the vial with a fingernail. “You look like someone who forgot they could start a fire. Don’t be surprised if it wakes.”

Her words felt like a hand on his chest. The witch had no malice in her voice. Only curiosity.

“Use the antidote carefully,” she warned. “Some cures are picky. Treat them like pies. Overbake and the magic is gone. Undercook and you live with regret.”

Kael wiped her hands on her trousers and tried to hide a smile. “Did she say pies? She compared things to pastry. I demand a more heroic metaphor.”

Mira nudged Kael and then looked back at Lian. “She saw you.”

Lian tried to speak but could not. He felt small and noisy inside. He held the vial like it might shake something loose.

They left the cave more light-hearted than they had entered. Kael teased Lian the whole way for being dramatic. Mira kept the moss ring safe like it was a talisman.

When they reached the open air, Lian felt a shift. The witch had named something he felt but had not told anyone. The ember under his ribs seemed to pull at its thread.

He did not know if it was good or bad that the witch had seen it. He only knew it was real.

They walked home with the antidote, joking and careful. The witch’s last words stayed with Lian all evening: do not be surprised when it wakes.