Episode 8

“Death, is there a chance that I can learn how to perform magic?” I said the moment she had placed the things she had bought on the countertop.

“I haven’t heard of a human performing magic before, kid.” Death said.

“But it’s possible, right? Eth said that there could be an alteration in the DNA if a living thing is transported from one dimension to another. Maybe the alteration could cause me to perform magic?” I suggested.

“I’m not sure. I’m new to this thing, I’m a death witch! But I guess it doesn’t hurt to try. You’ll know more if you were transported up there and not down here. The resources here are scarce.” She said, Asphalt scratched on my leg and asked to be carried. I picked him up and I sat on the couch so he could rest on my lap.

“Do you want to learn about creatures instead, Aico?” Asphalt said. “Or I could tell you about the things in the forests.”

“Oh, that would be very useful, thank you,” I said, and his tail starts wagging. “If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you, Asphalt?”

“I’m 51 and Death is 93, what about you? If you’re not comfortable saying it, it’s fine. You snapped when Eth brought it up earlier.”

“Do… ages work differently here? I’m 12.” I spoke.

“I suppose so. 12-year-old witches appear much smaller, as though they have just recently learned to walk and cast a few magic spells. With your build, you would have to be at least 36.” Death said.

"You appear 30 to me, death." So maybe the age here is three times that of my place. Then you must have been 33, while Asphalt is... 17?" He's a lot older than me. But he's too cute, maybe because of his current form. “So, what about the forest?”

“Sonow Rock is made up of at least six forests. Two of them are down here, while four are up there. As you are aware, the forest we just passed through is the Gwyn Forest. It contains everything a witch will require to survive. Gwyn is mostly harmless because it only has little creatures like the hashmins, lauraea*, and miniaur*. Hashmins resemble me in looks but do not speak. Creatures are unable to converse, but shapeshifters can. Always keep that in mind.

“Lauraea are slithering creatures, they glide with grace, their serpentine bodies flowing in a stunning dance. Their gleaming scales display a diversity of appealing colors, ranging from vivid greens to deep purples. Their slithering is accompanied by a symphony of hisses, a language all their own. It's a chorus that echoes through the air, catching other lauraeas' attention and luring them in with its tempting song. The sound is both disturbing and enticing, like a siren's call in the middle of the wilderness. Their open necks show patterns and textures that decorate their bodies, like tiny petals unfurling. Each scale, a work of art in its own right, interlocks with the next to form a protective armor that shimmers with brilliance. If one dared to touch their skin, it would reveal a smoothness akin to satin, cool to the touch but alive with an energy that pulses beneath the surface. Their actions demonstrate their deception and flexibility. They have an extraordinary ability to blend in with their surroundings, their motions hidden by the rustle of leaves. They crawl with purpose, silently exploring the landscape, their eyes ever attentive, seeking prey or potential threats. A dance of domination develops in the presence of other lauraeas, a display of power and prowess. They coil and interweave, their bodies linked in an embrace, their hisses becoming more intense and louder. It's a captivating display, a primitive rite that establishes hierarchy and secures their place within the lauraea community. With their exposed necks and haunting hisses, these slithering animals evoke both beauty and anguish.

“Baby mammals are referred to as miniaurs. These things have a charming innocence that undermines their true nature. At first glance, these tiny creatures with appealing appearances may appear harmless. Their silky and delicate fur comes in a variety of colors, ranging from pristine white to deep ebony. However, don't be fooled by their cute exterior; miniaurs are not to be trifled with. When provoked, they change into a fearsome force, attacking to an unrelenting extent. Their precision-executed coordinated strikes resemble a furious symphony as they converge on their target with unrelenting purpose. Their unshakeable allegiance to one another is what makes them such deadly rivals. They form a formidable army when they work together, their combined strength boosting their strengths. Their attacks are unwavering and relentless, as they pursue their prey with tenacity. Miniaurs are remarkably resilient in the face of danger. Their primal need to protect their own pulls them ahead, unafraid of hurdles or tragedy. Once silky and inviting, their fur now bristles with electric intensity, standing on end as a tangible symbol of their ferocity. It serves as a warning to those who dare to cross their path, as well as a visual tribute to their willingness to defend themselves and those closest to them. Even shapeshifters, masters of disguise, are unable to avoid the miniaurs' anger. Even the most expert shapeshifter is rendered powerless in the presence of these smart creatures, who have an extraordinary capacity to detect the smallest scent of their victim. The miniaurs' persistent effort and sensitive sense of smell allow them to track their target with unerring accuracy no matter what form they take. We shapeshifters can change our appearance, but our scent stays, mingled with the original odor of the creature we imitated. Whatever happens, try not to disrespect them.

“The other forest is called Discedite*. Because you are defenseless, you must avoid this area as much as possible. There are two black markets hidden beneath the streets. In the shadows near a weathered rock, a clandestine cluster of criminal activity lies, its presence is known only to those who have traveled there before. The second market, similarly intriguing, is located near the water's edge, its secrets whispered among the waves crashing against the coast. As you travel beyond the bounds of these underground markets, a community emerges. The cobblestone streets are lined with tall buildings adorned with elaborate carvings and vivid tapestries. The aroma of exotic spices aIt possesses an immense force at its end that acts as a gatekeeper, dividing a vulnerable community from Discedite. The barrier shimmers and crackles with untamed energy, its existence a continual reminder of the invisible barrier that separates the two realms. Whispers of unknown treasures and forbidden knowledge resonate through the wind beyond this barrier, luring the curious and daring to investigate what lies on the other side.

“The Discedite, a land steeped in mystery and enchantment, conceals mysteries that few have seen and even fewer have dared to reveal. Only erraticon witches could both activate and deactivate that barrier. Erraticon witches are the type of witches who may wreak havoc. They could make anything go mad and even launch a war. Their eyes glow, and their whispers can reach the intended ears regardless of how far away they are from the sorcerer that they fancy.” Asphalt began.

“Why are they avoiding this forest? They are not as powerless as I am.” I asked. The Latin word for "stay away" is Discedite. To be named that way, it must have been such a threat that even witches built a barrier to protect themselves from it.

“The monsters in this area are exceedingly lethal. The creatures you see in Gwyn are only infants. They continue to expand in size. A single triaonaur, a fully grown miniaur, displays breathtaking power, capable of annihilating an entire small village with a single thunderous step. Their gigantic presence hovers over the landscape, a destructive force capable of razing buildings and scattering the ruins like confetti in the wind. Hashmins in their infancy emit an obvious appeal, enchanting everyone who sees their small shape. Their harmless appearance betrays their change into merciless predators. Their formerly lovely features have given place to a face of raw savagery, their eyes sparkling with an uncontrollable desire to kill. The sharpened teeth of a mature hashmin attest to their predatory power. They are pointed and stretched out, gleaming with a wicked shine, and are capable of ripping flesh and breaking bone with a single strike. Nothing can stop these fearsome predators, whose jaws clamp down with a force capable of tearing through even the most sturdy of materials. Lauraeas, famed for their clamoring appetite, have the terrifying potential to devour witches whole, their massive jaws easily breaking bone and muscle. Once lively and alive, a witch is reduced to nothing more than a portion of food for these terrifying monsters, their fate imprisoned within the walls of a cruel digestive system. And they need not to chew them. Such massive beasts call this place their homeland. The upper city is separated from the Discedite by a portion of the massive rock that separates the upper and lower cities, thus they are not threatened by these monsters. I heard they electrocuted the rock just to be sure, but I'm not certain if this is correct. Nobody has ever gone passed that area.”

“I apologize for interrupting you again Asphalt but if Discedite is so life-threatening that any kind of witch would be afraid to enter there, how did an upper-class witch end up in the lower?” I asked.

“That confuses me too, kid. That warlock couldn’t have been too powerful to take the path of climbing the rock instead since most of the rock is sealed. We tried climbing it, but we couldn't get past half. Something is blocking the way up and around. To deactivate that, the warlock should have five times the power of the erraticons who can create and break down a barrier. That warlock thing must have been a hoax, don’t think about it too much, kid.” Death said.

“Okay. Asphalt, you said there are six forests, what are the forests in the upper?” I asked.

“This information may be different from what it is right now. Do you still want to find out?” Asphalt asked.

“Yes, please,” I answered. Outdated information is a part of history. To know history is to understand the present.