Grandmother Astrid sat back in her chair. Tiny specks of steam rose from her teacup as she got a hold of it, sipping in silence. The Elder had not ushered a singular word, not even a single sound apart of the screeching of her bones clattering within her fragile body. She looked extraordinarily. And not in a positive way. The old woman wrapped her other hand's bony, long fingers around the cup, holding it above her lap; legs crossed. "Tell me," she began, motioning her lone servant over for another refill. "Who told you to seek me out?"

The young maid, dressed in black and white, poured a liquid out of the bronze kettle, filling up the Elder's cup with a clattering noise and the spreading odour of jasmine tea.

"My Mo-" I attempted to answer her query.

She cut me off with a flick of the wrist. Grandmother Astrid never had the intention of letting me speak, no. It was no more than a basic form of courtesy; to allow her guests to speak, albeit for only half a moment. Her dry lips were curled and raised in preparation to speak, I noticed a missing tooth, perhaps two; the remaining being putrid yellow. "Girl, are you going to answer before or after I roll 'round in me grave?" She stumbled back into her chair, stirring her spoon through the hot tea, gently blowing into the cup.

There was something about her that withheld me from responding with a touch of sass to my words. It was far from respect, frankly said, she had not earned it. Nor was it as strong a feeling like fear. It was her wit. The Elder was old- appeared ancient, even- yet she had firmly cemented that her forked tongue was far from dull. Instead, it was sharp as a razor. If not more. "Mother told me to-"

Grandmother Astrid wavered her hand amid the air, gazing out the thorns-covered window- not bothered in the slightest. "Trivial facts, darling." She squinted, forcing the last remaining ripples of light to flood out of her eyes, "My, my," muttered her dusty voice. She shot out of her chair, catching me off guard as she leaned awkwardly close to my face. My heart had skipped a beat over the sudden, brisk movements. "You must be one of Lord Adams' offspring. Why, of course, you are. I can see a similar, passionate determination to do right burning in your-" Grandmother halted her words, carefully considering their impact, "You've got the same eyes as that wench."

I felt offended. How dared that old hag insult Mother is such crude fashion. I wasn't going to have it. Not a chance. "Excuse me-"

Before I could even continue, Grandmother was already muttering a response, eyes closed, "Very well, you shall be excused. Now leave."

This was most definitely going to be a tough conversation. The Elder was unlike others her age, her mind, contrary to most, had not withered down over the last few decades. Then again, there were only a few in the island's long history to have surpassed the age of a hundred and ten years.

I swallowed the insult.

Suddenly, as if a mental lever within my head had been switched on, I couldn't resist asking precisely what she was hinting at. "What do you mean, 'one of'?" I asked, partially hoping it would be the necessary ice-breaker, but sadly, it was to no avail.

"Ah, youthful naivety." The old hag sighed in annoyance. "What do you think I mean, you damsel? Loyalty is more instilled into the minds of beasts, and a far cry from a trait men hold dear to heart."

I dismissed her comment. She was sassy, and had seemingly sharpened her mind far beyond a natural level of mastery; her skills in the Common Tongue had been refined to such high calibre, I downright had nothing on her.

We awkwardly watched each other's every move; from the subtle raising of the chest to breath- down to the more noticeable averting of our eyes with each sound originating from the kitchen. The moment felt unnerving and tense. Yet the lingering heavy gravity forged an idea in mind. Opening the side pocket of my jacket, I retrieved the golden coin Mother had bestowed upon me. I placed it atop the table, within a circular grain in the wood, and sat back into my seat.

Grandmother Astrid smirked, "This supposed to mean something?"

"Well, yes," I answered with a - not so truthful but still - polite smile, grabbing onto the coin and extending my arm out to her. I was about to continue before she again crudely cut me off. Grandmother Astrid had started to get the blood in my veins boiling. She was sassy, quick-thinking, and a pain to convince- just like me. Never thought I'd find a face-off between wits so irritating.

She shook her head, irrationally. "Well, no." She sneered, "It does not." The Island Elder stood up from her chair and moved over to the stairs, disappearing to the upper level of the cottage before I could manage to grasp the reality of the situation.

The maid walked over to me, bags below her eyes. "Please don't mind the lady, she has had a straining day of prayers." She bowed her head as to apologise. I noticed a slight tremble in her movements, as well as a handful of bruises along her wrists.

"Helen, shut your trap!" A scream ripped through the stale air. "I heard that, you filthy peasant!" I quickly identified it as Mother Astrid's voice. Even disregarding the knowledge the cottage was too small in size to shelter a third resident individual. Simply said, the woman's voice had this snarky, pestering touch that stood out. A prolonged intermission began momentarily before she broke the curtain of silence again; "Finish the Phoenix-forsaken soup before I chop you up for the main course. At least, then Helen, you've got some bloody purpose."

The young woman in maiden attire did not even bat an eye. Instead, she promptly scurried back into the kitchen to prepare the dishes. Her face was colourless, really, it appeared drained of all vigour. Yet her posture came off as if she was no stranger to violent threats.

I rose my seat, my hand lacing the edge of the table. Picking up the coin, I held it on my palm. The engravings looked peculiar. The object itself was thin, and only a few centimetres in diameter. I tossed it up, flipping it in the middle of the air; only for the amulet to begin to soar before my eyes.

I was not entirely sure whether it was surprising at this point, or merely to be expected, especially after the past twenty-four hours. Just to make sure myself my eyes were telling the truth, I blinked a couple of times.

Nothing had changed.

My mouth had unwillingly started to hang open.

The maiden walked over, droopy eyes as cold as stone. "Odd currency you've got there. But a wise choice to bring it." Helen whispered, the wind blew via a crack in the roof through her hairs, pushing a few strands aside to reveal a spot of leathery flesh and nasty gashes in the early stages of healing. "The Mother has long ago sworn fealty to a sacred oath, she cannot turn your cry for aid down-- long as blood fails to taint the coin's core."

Helen's voice overlapped with the squeaking of the stairs. Instantaneously, the floating coin dropped back into my cupped hands.

"Nobody asked your ugly mug for my life story. Besides, she's far more fun to play mind games with. Little what's-her-name thankfully is not as dense as you, Helen." The Elder walked down the steps, eyes furiously fixated on Helen; speechlessly ordering the girl to resume her current tasks.

I rolled my eyes. It really wasn't anything surprising that the Elder was unaware of my name. After all, I had come unannounced- albeit that didn't cause any problems, aside for extra cooking work for Helen. I stood up straight, "The name's Cynthia. You were supposedly present during my Breathing Day back nineteen years ago. But I'm considerably doubtful as to whether you remember or not-"

Mother Astrid's head whipped up immediately. "Oh, goodness, I recall so vividly." She smiled gently. It was unsettling, especially with her appearance of a broken person, in a literal fashion. "You were one hell of an ugly babe." She was chuckling for the first time, genuinely, that is. Her expression soon turned sour, "Yet you still puked on me shoulder. Can't blame ya really. I, too, would fall remarkably ill of those courtly mannerisms of those parents of you."

I tilted my head, both visibly ticked off and embarrassed; I felt a brush of red run over my cheeks. "I didn't mind, at the very least, I was raised to set forth Mother's work after she retired from the Council."

"I'll have to admit, you have grown quite beautifully. However, nobody can replace Miss Terror-Tongue Maristela on the Council. I have witnessed her verbally slaughter esteemed men and well-educated women akin. And with that lacklustre excuse you consider 'wits', you shan't escape that wench's long shadow," scoffed the old hag, turning towards Helen, who had been idly doing her imposed task of preparing the food. Grandmother Astrid leaned over to her ear, muttering words that ensued into the sudden reign of a horrified expression with a touch of despair on the maid's face.

I remained seated, stationary to the extend of a solid statue; for the first time, noticing an abnormal pattern in the dinner table.

Rumbling noises emerged from the kitchen, followed by the shrill unnerving clang of multiple metal objects colliding with their ilk. "Put away the bloody knife, you bumbling buffoon."

Glancing over, I laid eyes on the bickering women.

Helen held tightly onto a small blade, about the size of half a dagger. Her facial features had altered ever so slightly to display a sense of distress. Her arms were trembling in what I could assume was fear. The knife was flickering in place within the unsteady grasp of her shaking hands.

She closed her brown eyes, which contrasted well with her light tan. As she blinked a few times, tears had begun to well up, strangely, only in the left side of her right eye.

I had no clue what I precisely was spectating. One moment, I thought it was a cowardly attempt to stab the Elder in the back, and mere seconds later, Helen appeared like a sobfest.

Grandmother Astrid swiftly yanked the kitchen tool out of Helen's reach.

A thud blazed through the air. Grandmother Astrid's arm briskly travelled from left to right, her hand had run across Helen's cheeks. A stroke of red and pinkness adorned the maiden's face, though, it was barely noticeable for it blended with the darkened patch of burnt flesh.

"Be careful with me silverware." She shifted in place, her head turning towards me, then returned to its original stance. Grandmother Astrid added a sharp remark, whilst her voice took it a notch up in volume, "Don't wanna stain it any further with the blood of idiocy."

I approached the two. There was a small cut on Helen's finger, but it differed from a customary thin slice. She did not bleed, yet the flesh was sundered; black and grey hues seeping beneath the surface of her skin.

Helen stared at the torn skin, biting down on her lip as she excused herself, "My formal apologies, my ladies. I must make for the Shed, with all haste." The maid bowed her head immediately afterwards, dismissing herself mere seconds later.

As she paced away, Grandmother Astrid let out a brief sigh of annoyance, then regained her composure herself. Calling after Helen, Astrid's voice gave out in the midst, continuing still, but only just audible. "Godspeed, child." She muttered, with what seemed like a smile etched onto her features.

She felt a far cry different from earlier, I thought. But my thoughts failed to remain in that domain. Instead, they travelled off to a realm of imagination; an answer to what precisely this Shed was, for I had not seen one beforehand. I opened my mouth, the door slamming shut, "The Shed?" I questioned.

She wandered off to the front door, dismissively avoiding eye contact, "Said something?"

I knew she was a difficult partner to have a proper conversation with, that, I had learned first hand. I only dared to assume it was best to refrain responding to the lines meant to discourage me from continuing. "What's the shed? I didn't see one when I rode here on horseback."

Grandmother stopped dead in her tracks, the lights around the house seemingly dimmed down while the bones in her neck screeched. She slowly turned towards me, a grin like none other plastered on her face. It was far from a sane one. "It's where we keep the monsters," rang her answer.

I couldn't rightfully deny I wasn't curious. Though, I was unsure whether my intrigue had been piqued by Elder's oddly vague words or the fact I had not encountered any other building in the cottage's near vicinity; save the lighthouse atop the rocky shores. But truthfully, that couldn't be a shed, could it?

Grandmother Astrid must have noticed the curiosity sparkling in my hazel-touched blue eyes. "If you so desire to know, hand me the coin and I shall enlighten you. Helen's words preach truth; the coin ensures the execution of a single wish-- so pick your poison carefully, for you have nought but one chance." She grew silent, "Turn that thing in, and I'll assure you, you shall break whatever wheel of regularities keeps your world sane, or, accept the absence of knowledge and witness Adelaide's Trial of Condemnation."

An idea rose to mind, a play of words and a twist of intellect, "In that case, you will do both, for that is my singular wish."

"Yeah," said she, dragging her word out before curling her lips and adding, "No." She firmly shook her mug, right to left and back. "I shall only allow either choice, for they both cling onto such magnitude of change. And besides, a certain individual at beyond the Sacred Mountains may you show you the S.H.E.D." She put a heavy emphasis on her final word.

While it was a great bargain on her end, I could not deny the offer.

Breaking a nod, I accepted. "Very well, you don't happen to have a horse around, do you?" I inquired, remembering the lack of proper housing for horses, nor a nearby field.

She chuckled, "Silly girl. You have witnessed Magick in the unrefined form that is Adelaide, as well as the overpowering destruction of Theos' flick of the wrist. You've seen nought but the devastating capabilities of the grand art." Grandmother Astrid opened the front door and exited.

I followed suit, watching as she wandered over to the patches of grass near a moss-coated boulder. She raised her right arm overhead, the first two fingers glued to each other, and she began spinning. Her body looked frail, yet her movements remained fluent, each swirl transitioning effortlessly into the next.

Tiny specks of clouds started to form near the tips of her fingers. And a moment later, they had taken the shape of some distorted version of a beast of myth. Its frame looked similar to Rosemary's, albeit broader and taller. Thinner lines, manes of sorts, cascaded down to the soil.

Mother Astrid flicked her fingers, immediately halting a non-vocal incantation, or anything akin. The grey-washed steed shed its colouration; favouring an array of dark green and black; eyes sporting a mystical blue only seen within the rarest of Arkyria gems.

My eyes were wide open as the Elder returned, "Those with great, innate affinity to the High Element of water need no mounts, for the very vapour in the air provides all. It's the element of wisdom and creativity; its sole limitation, naturally, being the extent of one's mind."

I was clueless to her words direct meaning, considering it more of a crazy person's rant.

She stepped towards me, the distance in betwixt smouldering down into half a metre. "Your index finger and the coin. Now," said she, locking her eyes with mine.

I searched my pocket, grabbing the coin and holding it in my right palm while she took hold of my left hand. Within a matter of a split second, a small orb of water floated above her hand. It transformed, the sphere was morphing into a spinning razor. "I'm going to need a wee bit of blood, to set our agreement in bloodied stone." She cracked a pun, perhaps to make it seem as though it wouldn't hurt.

But it damn well did. The blade had kissed my skin, leaving a surgically precise cut. At first, it didn't appear as though the wound was deep enough to inflict bleeding. But a faint trace of red emerged.

She herself then cut her finger open.

Shaking her head, she turned the coin, "Stain this side, and our deal shall proceed without any disruptions."

I placed my blood-coated index finger atop the coin, a bubble of blood seeping onto the golden currency. As Mother Astrid picked the item up and placed painted the other side with her own blood, several glowing markings appeared around our wrists. Each engravement a bright white with an orange-reddish core. It was a burning sensation, which, thankfully was short-lived.

"Very well, let us take off to the west," said the Island Elder, effortlessly mounting her steed.

I nodded, as we strode off towards the Maple Grove; the skies turned a starless black-- With the howling of whatever monstrosities prowled the night. And among the darkness, a flock of three alternatively birds soared along with the breezing wind; one with long, shimmering feathers- most definitely not native to the island. Another, a raven, so dark, it flew trailed by a sensation of the most profound dread, and last, the third; a blend of the two, losing a feather as it passed by.