Cold Reason

Their endless journey kept stretching, its length challenging the confidence that drove it in the first place. But Himawari, Shouta and Yuusuke did not complain. Their trust backed Seishiro’s confidence, and the latter granted them will to walk.

As epic as the journey of four children in a foul smelly forest may sound, there was not much to say about it. The four walked in silence as the bugs, smell, fog and mud drained their will. But eventually, they arrived.

There was a hut in the middle of a wide clearing surrounded from all sides by a sea of trees and thorns. There, not only did the black liquid reach halfway through their shin, but the feeling of bugs crawling on their legs was also gone—confirming Seishiro’s theory. Around the hut were many large dark roots which seemed like nothing any of them had ever seen. They concluded the roots were pumping the liquid into the soil.

In hesitation, they stood still before Yuusuke bolted towards the hut indifferently. “You said that your friend is there, no time to waste,” the others followed as he slowly opened the door calling Inori’s name. And there she was laying in the furthest corner across the mossy room, her hands tied to a table, but thankfully, her eyes still open. Yuusuke called the rest of the group in. Firstly, Himawari helped Inori drink and wash her face to further boost her consciousness. It was then Yuusuke who took the camp knife and tried cutting her hands loose as Seishiro tried speaking to her in hopes of any sort of response.

Throughout the whole journey, Seishiro’s mind had raced, his thoughts had accelerated in search for Inori. But of the many things that had kept his wit busy, was naturally the worry about her, the words with which he would face her… “Are you hurt?”, “how are you feeling?”, even “we missed you.”

“Inori, do you know where the mage who took you is,” he said plainly, even the bystanding rest of the group recognised he needed to say something else.

Her tearing eyes met his, and hers was a look of something he could recognise as close to disgust, disappointment or anything in between. She did not speak, instead indicated the location of a basement. He checked the trapdoor which indeed led to a tunnel underground.

Seishiro looked back at Inori who this time did not reciprocate the look. She looked very exhausted and weak, but the thing which made him worry even more was how little she spoke. “The three of you, take her to the camp.” He ordered.

“And you?” asked Yuusuke.

“I’ll check the tunnel.”

“No chance, you’re not going alone.”

Seishiro closed the trapdoor and walked up to Yuusuke who was a few centimetres taller than him and whispered, “if me and you go there and get trapped the rest are as good as dead. Sensei told you to watch over them, didn’t he? Do as you must, Yuusuke.”

Inori—still crying—screamed from behind, “Just let him go already.

“Just you keep heading downhill, you’ll find the camp eventually.”

And thus, they parted ways, each to their own catabasis.

Seishiro crawled for seconds before that tunnel led him somewhere: a small claustral and even mossier room than the rest of the chapel which contained it. In its centre was a well that flooded with the same liquid filling the forest.

The very efficient Seishiro wasted no time as he began to examine the room right away. He checked every inch he could lay a finger on, if not a finger an eyesight, an ear… Carefully and methodically making sure nothing missed his vision. To his dismay, there was not much for him to examine anyway. The walls were made out of roots, and the only light source was a lamp near the well which let out a dim green light—nothing from which the boy could deduce anything.

“Did he tell you?” asked the voice of a woman from… behind the wall? Seishiro immediately tried to look back, but his legs and every other mobile part of his body froze. Vines found their way from under the ground to his legs holding his even tighter into his position. Surrounded, immobile, and helpless, he knew that he needed to talk his way out of that situation.

“Hello… Madam? Who are you talking about exactly?”

He could move his body neither to see her face nor to run for his life, but he saw her hand as she slowly caressed his cheek. One thing that stood out were the vibrant green nails, matching the ambiance of the entire place.

“Why, your master, of course.” She chuckled, “who else would it be, you silly?”

“Sensei told us many things.”

“But not everything. Am I right?”

“You are, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Poor children, you follow him with such loyalty and yet…” Seishiro could swear he heard her sob for a second. “North of this mountain, there’s a hidden village. Come alone if you wish to know what you’re being dragged into.”

And she disappeared into the walls the same way she first appeared. Leaving to face to recognise, no trace to follow and no answers to satisfy a curious soul. If anything, only questions to torment it.

Seishiro left the basement as soon as he took control of his body. He headed back to the campsite to see Akihiko checking Inori for any injuries, her calmness a proof that she was not fully recovered yet. When he noticed the boy’s presence, Akihiko walked up to him, and without a single word slapped him. The sixteen-year-old felt humiliation, guilt and responsibility, but not anger as one might expect. The matter was serious, and if that was his teacher’s judgement, then he was to accept it no matter how harsh—this much he very well understood.

“How did you find the hut, Seishiro?” Akihiko asked.

“Something about the way magic was being cast in your stories made me think that it takes some sort of cognitive effort to be done… I assumed it’s hard for the magician to cast the same spell at every point of the surface of the forest, or at least It’d be much easier to just have it all be pumped from one centre.”

Akihiko nodded, “Well thought.”

“What now?” asked Yuusuke.

To which Akihiko answered, “Now, we get moving, this liquid will have us all drowning by noon unless we find the magician.”

“I- I know where she is.”

“And where would that be?”

“I’m sorry, sensei, she said I must come alone.” When no one answered he continued, “I’ll find a way to call you if I get into trouble.”

Seishiro took one step back, then another, and another. The way no one spoke to him, the disappointment, the feeling of exile… it was first Inori and now Akihiko. He turned his back to group and headed north. Looking back, he saw that no one followed him, which brough him both relief and inexplicable sadness.

The Liquid was at knee height making his movement difficult. Seishiro had lost track of the time and redirected his focus entirely to marching.

Eventually—after what could have been either several minutes or more than a couple hours—Seishiro’s eyes fell on a dozen old houses arranged village-wise. He did not allow himself to be lost in that moment, instead continuing on hid path. His moment of loss did not stretch any longer. The witch from earlier finally made an appearance; she had short dark hair, wore a black robe on her bare skin—a robe similar to the one worn by the previously encountered Guards, perhaps it was something of a uniform to them.

“You came, and alone, as we agreed.” A vile grin drew on her pretty face, “I must reward you with the answers you seek.”