I'm starting to regret being a decent, thoughtful person and not taking Atlas. We run a little longer before finally reaching the main road where we feel comfortable enough to just walk it out.

The signs on the side of the road are a good indicator, leading us in the right direction for Frethind.

There is not a single sliver of me that's not in shambles right now. I'm literally the definition of frazzled, and the ball of nervous energy beside me called Elle isn't helping matters either. I can't stop thinking about everything, from the orb, to Clifford and the other, to Xalale, it's all like maddening hurricane bringing me over to the edge of insanity.

With each step, we get closer to our destination, but I feel completely unprepared with what we're about to face. Whatever happened to the others must have been something unpredictable, enough to overtake four individuals, one who even had a sword and another with a dagger. Then, because my mind believes I don't have enough tragic endings for this, I wonder if we acted too soon and the others just got caught on a snag but are already heading back to the temple. It's a tiring battle trying to conquer your own mind and persistent thoughts. I can tell Elle's in an even worse place than me with this; I'm half afraid she'll worry herself to death.

While that maelstrom of anxiety is building up in me, I'm also deep in the grips of guilt. Though I keep trying to justify my words, I can't stop feeling the gnawing remorse chew away at me from what I said to Xalale.

"It was just pretend, I didn't mean it," I reason with myself.

As I think back on it, I realize angry me at the beginning of this journey would have loved to rain that scathing philippic on him, but I've lost that edge of anger now. Being angry, though it energized me to some degree, wore me out and so somewhere along this journey I decided to toss that emotion aside; it's still boiling in there, ready to come out, but it's not my primary response anymore.

For me to try to berate him like that kind of hurt something in me, it triggered an emotion I didn't think it would: guilt. I feel like a hypocrite in a way. Me, of all people, should never even think about tearing someone down with such vicious words when I've been the first one on the burner with that.

However great the guilt, though, I have to push it aside in the accumulating pile of deal-with-it-later and focus on whatever we're about to walk into.

Once we arrive in Frethind, our first course of action is to ask around about the key maker. I feel like if we're going to find the others we need to trace their every step. We stop into a fairly packed tavern to ask questions. You'd think with the amount of people in the place we'd have no trouble getting answers, but there's definitely a little sour taste of Cauldron mindset in this place.

We try starting conversations with groups of people, stragglers sitting by themselves, the people working the place, nothing. We either are blatantly ignored or they act like we're speaking another language. We're both flustered by this strange behavior, but for me who's used to these types of towns, I'm not intimidated.

Finally, after trying to get a response out of a group of young men I snap, knocking almost all their drinks to the floor then slamming my fist so hard on the table across from them the furniture rattles. The place becomes still with people narrowing their eyes at me.

"The hell is wrong with you people!" I bellow, my voice reaching that level of frustration and anger that starts scaring people. "I'm asking one simple question and none of you have the decency to answer me. My friends are in danger and I don't have time for this crap, I have a ton of crap to deal with already! Now, I'm looking for a woman who is known as a key maker, all I ask is where she lives. One of you, just one of you, needs to give me a straight answer."

Elle, who's seen me mad but never this heated, stares wide-eyed at me then around at the quiet crowd.

Now, these people, I don't give a damn in the world if my words offended these people; no guilt on my conscious here.

At first, all people do in return is give me hostile stares or shift in their seats not saying a word until a quiet voice in the back speaks up tentatively.

"We can't tell you where she lives."

"Why not?" I say, starting to approach him so I can hear him better.

Another, more robust, voice speaks out then.

"Because she's given us more grief than what it's worth."

Whirling around, I look at the woman with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"Your friends already pried the answer out of us," A younger man says. "It'd be ashamed for us and for you if we sent you her way as well. She's not very patient woman."

I'm completely baffled now. What are they going on about? So the others already knew where she lived but they haven't come back? Things were not looking good.

Elle, fear assaulting her more fervently, hoarsely speaks up now.

"Isn't this woman supposed to help people with her keys?"

"She's supposed to, it does not mean she does," The young man answers grimly.

Elle's beginning to tremble now, going further than she really wants to with answers.

"What does she do with people she doesn't want to help?"

A boy with freckles pipes up softly. "Nobody knows and nobody asks."

So far from what I'm gathering is this woman isn't a friendly one and these people know what happens when travelers try to find her so they were keeping silent as a sort of protection and deterrent to keep us from looking her out. Now I know the others are in serious danger, how severe I don't quite know yet.

My voice takes on a gentler, pleading approaching as I address them again.

"Please, I know you don't want us or yourselves to get in trouble but we need to know where this woman lives." Her key will help save your world. "Whatever threat she might pose, we can handle it."

"That's what your friends said but they have yet to return," An older man chimes in.

Elle looks like she's on the verge of chucking up everything in her stomach and fainting at the same time. I hold onto her to steady her, just in case.

Surveying the room, determination flares in my eyes and voice.

"Please, my friends are in danger and we're the only ones that can help them. If you help us, this will help you. Please."

Soon they're all talking in hushed murmurs, growing louder by the second. There's a split in the group about if they should tell us or not. Finally, a feeble voice cuts through the disagreement and the boy who answered me the first time steps forward with his head hung a bit.

"I'll take you there."

Elle and I exchange a brief look before I respond.

"Thank you."

With that, the crowd parts way for the boy, who looks to be no more than fourteen. He pauses for us to catch up to him by the door before slipping out, leaving the silent tavern behind.

He keeps a good ten feet between us at all times as if we're contagious with something. It's a silent walk that has my stomach starting to twist in knots. This woman sounds like a fairytale witch who's done something wicked to our friends, we need to be on guard.

We walk up a slight hill on a densely forested trail but the boy stops once we come into a small clearing with an equally small, shallow pond.

"That's as far as I'm going," He whispers, already turning sharply on his heels to retreat. "Keep going until you arrive at a house."

He's already out of earshot before I can thank him. I look at Elle, wanting to give a little pep talk of encouragement but she simply takes my hand and looks onward.

Hand-in-hand, we continue up the path into the dense tangle of gnarly trees. I feel like I've just stepped into a stereotypical Dark Forest fairytale with an evil, old witch who lives in a creepy old house (and I thought the forest in my backyard was bad!).

Finally, we come into view of a weather-worn cottage that isn't as quaint as Eniorad's. Suddenly, Elle seizes up beside me, causing my attention to be drawn where hers was.

In front of the house is a tree that resembles a weeping willow, but the teardrops seem to be keys of all shapes, sizes, and other various features. If this was any other time under any other circumstances, I would be in awe of it, but right now it cast a creepy vibe, the keys blowing in a phantom breeze.

"Just one more confirmation that we're waltzing into a witch's den."

The only thing driving me forward at this point is the determination to find Clifford and the others- that's it. If that wasn't my main reason, I'd be running for the hills.

Somehow, after my feet have begun to drag like lead, we make it to the haggard door that looks like it might give you a splinter just by knocking on it. Giving one more glance, filled with weak encouragement and clear unease, at Elle, I give three quick rasps on the door then hold my breath.

Several seconds pass before the door cracks open only an inch, barely showing the person who speaks out to us in a foreboding, disembodied voice.

"What is your business here?"

"Um," I need to fix my voice, put more certainty in it, so I do. "Sorry to disturb you, but are you the key maker?"

The voice lets out an aggravated sigh that resembles a cat being mauled to death.

"Did those doltish, churlish knaves without backbones send more unwelcomed grievances my way?"

Leaving the rhetorical question how it should be, I continue. "I think our friends have been passed here recently. There were four of them, a young boy was with them, two boys and a girl with pink hair. Have you seen them?"

The door groans as it opens a little more yet continues to hide the face of the person talking.

"I'm charitable enough to give you one warning. Turn your tails off my property or you will face the same judgment as them."

Elle starts squeezing my hand like a boa constrictor, I can sense her overwhelming panic so I place aside my civil voice and start using my serious one.

"What have you done with them?"

She scoffs in disgust at me, already closing the door some. "Same thing I'll do to you if you wrenches don't leave now."

My hand stops the door from closing any further, getting her full attention now.

"And I'll only ask you once. What have you done with them?"

Suddenly, she swings open the door, nearly causing me to fall face first into the place but I catch myself as the voice now reveals a body with it.

In some regards, she's exactly what I would imagine a witch to look like, but overall she's not. She has an older, worn woman's face with a mole above her right eyebrow and a wart below her severe lip. Her body is like a bird, so sticky and bony-like but without feathers; it's like her beady, charcoal eyes have no end to them as she stares down at us. I take a cautionary step back, my hand on the hilt of my sword.

"You're just as much as a bother as the others."

"What have you done with them?" Elle trembles. "Please tell me, I need to-"

"Mal?"

I perk up at the sound of my name being called from inside the cottage. I know that voice.

"Clifford?" I call back, trying to see past the bird lady's imposing body. "Clifford it's us, we're coming to get you."

The woman looks back into the house, giving me ample time to push past her and rush inside to get to Clifford.

Scrambling to find him, he makes himself visible, standing in the entryway of another room with what looks to be some kind of treat in his hand. I'm surprised he's not tied up or even the least bit frightened at his dilemma but I'm mostly overjoyed that he appears unharmed.

"Oh my gosh, Clifford," I take him into my arms. "Are you okay?"

He doesn't really hug me back, instead he looks up at me with a goofy grin.

"I thought I heard your voice. You should try these, they're really good."

Peering around me, he waves at Elle who's just stumbled in.

"Elle! You should try these, they're really good, I promise."

Bird lady isn't too pleased we've just busted in. She slams the door behind her, cutting off any response from either of us as her dark eyes glisten like obsidian daggers. I immediately push Clifford behind me but don't have time to reach Elle before she's yanked back by the woman. Elle let's out a fearful yelp and squirms against her captor but the woman proves more sturdy than she looks.

"How dare you impose in my house," She spits. "Your chance of redemption has passed."

I draw out my sword now, pointing it in her direction.

"Let her go."

Faster than I can comprehend, a dagger flies up to Elle's neck making her writhing stop momentarily and uncensored fear flash in her eyes.

"Drop your weapon and any others you have on you," She orders.

"Damn it." I don't have a card to play to get me out of this one.

I move slowly, trying to see if I can call her bluff, but when she presses the blade deeper into Elle's neck I know she's serious so I disarm quickly.

With the dagger still pushing into Elle's neck, she moves over to a rug on the floor that she kicks aside then unlatches, flinging open a small trapdoor in the floor. She points to it with a bony finger.

"Go on, without cutback now."

I look back at Clifford who wipes crumbs off his face then look back over at Elle's pale, trembling body and sigh.

"Look, we just need your help. I'm not looking for-"

"I know what you're looking for and you already lost that opportunity," She snaps. "Now in you go. I don't want to spill blood in front of the boy but I will if need be."

"Double damn it." I have absolutely no way out of this.

Defeated, I start to make my way over to the trapdoor, surprised when just as I'm about to step down into the chilly cellar I spot a familiar face.

"Sephora?"

The fuchsia-haired girl looks up at me in surprise.

"Mallory!? I thought that was you! What are-"

"Go!" The woman bellows behind me.

Stepping down a bit further, I can see the faint outline of two more individuals.

"Olivos? Coxen?"

Both turn their heads to me, causing a flood of relief to fill me. But as I look closer, I can tell Coxen has been bound and gagged. The woman is growing impatient with my slow descent.

"I'm telling you, you louse, I'm giving you one more chance."

Looking back, I'm about to speak up but I hear Clifford's voice first.

"Can't she stay up here with me? I like Mal and Elle, they're really nice, I promise they are."

"Go sit back down," She commands him.

"But can't they stay up here?" He begs. "Mal's really funny and Elle's nice to everyone, they-"

"Sit back down," She snarls.

I start to come up again.

"Let me stay with him, please, I need to know he's alright."

Fed up with our act, she shoves Elle down into the cellar along with me before going to secure the trapdoor again, but I'm already trying to hop out and Clifford is tugging pleadingly on her skirt.

"Can you make a deal?" I blurt out.

She pauses, craning her long neck to look down at me with a hard, contemptible look.

"What could you possibly offer me?"

"Whatever you want."

Seeming to consider it, she scoffs then narrows her eyes.

"I'll give you one deal and that's it. If you don't like it you can waste away in the dark down there, but if you accept you have to follow through."

Glancing back briefly at the others who peer up at me terrified, I know I have no choice but to accept.

"I'll take it."

She scowls, gesturing for me to come up then slamming the trapdoor closed again and placing the rug back over where my friends sit in the dark. She stomps on the spot then yells-

"I better not hear a single breath from any of you."

Roughly grabbing my forearm, she leads me to the other room where Clifford stood when I first came in. She makes me sit at a small table, Clifford happily plopping down in the seat next to me.

"I'm not a woman of many chances," She begins, arms folded staring me down. "But I am an honorable woman of my word. Let it be known that if you fulfill your part of our deal then you and your friends may walk away, but if you fail to fulfill your part then you will join them down below. Understood?"

I sit defiantly, showing her in my body language that she doesn't intimidate me.

"What's your deal?"

Leveling her gaze, she speaks. "You must tell me a story that will ease a troubled mind yet bring a soul joy."

"The heck kind of deal is that!?"

I'm somewhat baffled as she continues smoothly.

"It cannot be a story your young companion has already told me. If it is, I will not hesitate to terminate our deal."

Glancing over at Clifford, I become unsure. This kid was chalked full of stories, endless tales (that's probably what kept him on the top level rather than down with the others). This kid, in the time spent, could have told her countless stories, how could I be sure I wasn't telling her a washed up one? I would need to look at my own personal anecdotes to choose from, but that also left the risk of her not being amused by it.

With this stress on my mind, it hinders me from pulling up a memory that would suffice. I blank and when I blank I begin to panic.

Her patience is waning rapidly, a sharp, crossed look forming on her face.

"Something, anything! Give me something, brain!"

"In the middle of a forest, there lived a great willow which stood next to a constant, healing river."

"This, out of every fairytale I know, is the story I think of!?"

As much as the choice shocked me, there could be no hesitation now, my time had begun.

"No one could drown in the river for its purpose was only to heal. The willow itself could protect any who stood under its shade, giving them life for as long as they remained underneath it. The place where the tree and river sat was called Rvite: the peaceful meadow."

Though I'm mentally slapping myself, I notice the tightness on her face has begun to relax and she listens with an attentive ear. I have to run with it.

I, of course, don't remember every line word for word but I do the story justice, especially playing it up with my storytelling voice. Clifford, who has never heard this story before, is enticed. The person who I need to worry about looks just as enraptured with this tale as the wide-eyed little boy sitting next to me.

By the end of my story, it's a complete change from the harsh, bird-like woman I began with. Her features have softened to a more maternal older woman with interested eyes that gleam brighter with each curve in the story. Her body posture reads of someone sucked into a well-crafted tale.

"The kingdom celebrated the return of the lost prince and they lived in happiness and prosperity for many years thereafter."

I almost want to put "the end" after it to close the deal but I refrain myself from doing so and wait for her judgment. She seemed like she was into it, but I could be completely off-kilter with my observations.

"Where did you hear that story?" She asks, her voice not filled with as much hostility as before.

"Someone told me it when I couldn't get to sleep one night."

Making an approving sound, she slowly pulls out another chair to join us at the table.

"My grandmother used to tell me that story when I was a young, naive girl without a thought in my mind," She mused with bittersweet nostalgia. "I hadn't heard it in ages. I never heard it told outside of my home province. Thank you for that."

It was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde with this woman. One minute she was threatening me with an existence down in a damp cellar and now she's giving me a faint, favorable smile like I was a nun or something.

"This whole universe suffers from bipolar disorder. It must be an epidemic here."

She offers me a plate with the same treat I saw Clifford eating when I came in.

"It's a family recipe, quite sacred."

I shake my head, though Clifford has no qualms about stuffing another one in his mouth.

"What I actually want," I begin, wanting to get this show back on the road. "Is your help. I need a key for a very special book."

Studying me a moment, she then nods.

"I am a woman of honor, I will uphold my bargain."

Getting up, I follow her as she returns to the main room to remove the rug and free the others waving them out- she's still a bit cold towards them but it's just her nature it seems.

I race down to help them, untying Coxen in the process and walking up with them, relieved that everything's going to work out.

"Do you have the book?" I ask Sephora.

The woman speaks up, "I have it, I'll go fetch it."

As she goes off to retrieve it, I herd the others into the other room where Clifford still sits merrily munching down on treats.

"I'm sorry you had to come get us," Coxen says slightly sheepish.

"Don't worry about it."

"How did you slip past the king unnoticed?" Olivos asks.

Biting my lip for a second, I shrug. "It wasn't easy or clean, I'll tell you that much."

Before I'm forced to elaborate, the woman comes back in with the book that would hold the answers to our problems. She sets it down on the table then hurries about to search for something else.

"I see the other end of my mistake is still lodged in there," I mutter grimly, trying to pull it out.

It takes some effort but we finally get the piece out just as she returns to the table with a thin, rusty key that looks like it was crafted by a five year old out of a paper clip- I'm skeptical to say the least.

I'm not the only dubious one, Coxen has no problem stating his disbelief.

"That's going to open the book?"

She gives a brusque nod as she shoves it into the much bigger keyhole.

As cynical as I am of the pathetic looking key, I'm crossing my fingers it actually works because if it unlocks the book that's one step closer to getting answers and getting answers means getting rid of the stone which eliminates the threat of the orb being completed and that signifies the end of the madness here- we need this key to work.

Thankfully, my doubts were for nothing, the key works. My heart leaps for joy at the crisp click of the lock being cracked and access granted. She shoves the key into my hand, clearly not too interested in seeing what we've been trying so hard to get into.

"Take good care of that little one. I crafted him with love."

As she walks away, everyone crowds around me to get a better look at the solution to our migraine. This is the ultimate resource, the book that would help us restore certainty to our worlds. Cautiously, I open the ancient book, my eyes hungry for answers.

On the first page in the center of the blank white page is a small, finely written sentence composed of ten words in dark ink.

Place your palm on a page, speak your heart's troubles.

Sephora reads it aloud over my shoulder, a frown in her voice. I'm a bit confused as well but I'm game for anything at this point so I go ahead and turn to the next page, placing my hand flat upon the blank surface. I feel like I should close my eyes but resist the urge in case I just look stupid.

Then, in a clear, strong voice, I ask it. "How do I sever the stone's connection?"

"Kill the master."

"Whoa!"

I jolt back in my seat like someone shocked me with live wires.

In turn, the others jump back as well, catching their breaths.

"What's wrong, Mal?" Elle asks. "What frightened you."

The voice continues to hauntingly echo in my ears but each echo comes out like a different, wispy voice, like ten different people whispering in a hushed voice in my ear, fading like apparitions. As I look around bewildered, they still whisper from afar though sounding as though spoken right in my ear.

Once the eerie echo has died, I look around at them wide-eyed. "You didn't hear that?"

They each give me a troubled look, even Clifford cocks his head to the side.

"Hear what?" He asks.

"I can't be the only one that heard that?" I say astonished.

Sephora tentatively speaks up.

"Maybe because you're using it, you're the only one that can-"

"Look!"

Our attention immediately snaps back to the book where my hand still lies on the page. From the tips of my fingers, dark ink floats through the paper, forming letters then words. Once it finishes forming, I lift up my hand and see the question I asked with the answer below it.

Giving a speechless exchange, we stare in shock at the book.

This was definitely going to be a useful tool.

"Cool," Clifford breathes. "Ask it something interesting, like how long someone can hold their breath underwater?"

Ignoring him, I turn to a fresh, blank page, ready to rephrase my previous question to receive a hopefully better answer. This time, I do close my eyes (it just adds to the mystical mood).

"How do I sever the stone's connection without killing its current master?"

"The fire of Puran."

Like a mourning toll bell, the voices echo in my ears until they die out at last.

Opening my eyes, I remove my hand to reveal the answer to the others.

"The fire of Puran?" Sephora reads in question. "Where is that?"

"What is it?" Coxen adds.

"Hold up," I flip to a new page, placing my hand on it and ask what the fire of Puran is and where to find it.

"It severs all ties. It is in Kleora Forest."

"Kleora Forest?" Sephora ponders. "I don't believe I've ever-"

"Is it in Vigodia?" Olivos cuts in.

"Uh, let me ask."

If I had books like this one back at home I would have loved reading.

"Is the fire of Puran in Vigodia."

"Yes."

"Yes, it's there," Elle reads.

"Then I know how to find it," He says in excitement.

"Great, but how long of a journey is it from here?"

His eager smile dimmers, "About three or four days."

I bite my lip knowing we don't have that kind of time. Turning to the book for answers, I ask it another question.

"Is there a shortcut from Frethind to the fire of Puran?"

"Wicurin Woods."

"Wicurin Woods? I'm very unfamiliar with these parts," Sephora admits.

"Same goes for us," Coxen replies.

Just as I'm about to lay my hand down on another page, the woman, who has apparently been listening in to our conversation, steps in again.

"Wicurin Woods is not a bright track to follow," She says. "Avoid the trouble and take the main route."

"How long would it take to get to where we're going if we go through Wicurin Woods?" I ask, earning me a scolding look from her.

She answers, though. "About two days at most."

"Then it's decided." At least in my mind.

"We have to take that risk, guys," I reason, already closing the book. "We don't have three to four days. Think about it, once we sever the connection we still have to destroy the stone."

The others aren't fully abroad yet but the lady isn't helping my case.

"I don't know why they haven't burned those woods to the ground yet. Going through Wicurin Woods is a daft man's ambition. They say those woods cause all who go in to lose their sanity, the things in there are so terrible."

I shut the book, pocketing the key and giving a nonchalant look.

"And they claimed if you steered your ship off the face of the earth you were dead."

They don't fully understand what I'm talking about- Clifford possibly caught it- but I give them a serious look.

"Guys, we'll be fine. It's hearsay, folklore. Don't let nonsense make you walk two extra days when we don't have time."

They give me worried looks so I go even harder.

"You guys trust me, right?"

They've always stated that they've trust me so I'm cashing that in today. After several silent seconds, they release a sort of defeated sigh then Elle looks up at me with uneasiness still whispering in her eyes.

"We trust you."

Something about their response makes me pause for a second before brushing it off with a reassuring smile.

"We'll be fine. I'll even hold your hand when we're walking through."

My jocular response doesn't receive much response. So while Clifford hoards as many treats as he can for the road, the woman shakes her head disapprovingly, stating we're making a mistake, and as we're walking out of the tired cottage, I feel, with a fleeting sense of security, my friends' slipping faith in me.