Roxi's Mountain

Answering, is a twenty something year old. O’Malley starts to say who they are but is silenced as she puts a finger to her lips. After making sure the two of them understand that it is quiet time, the young lady beckons them inside before quietly closing the door. Led down a hallway made out of planks of sawed timber, O’Malley recalls the last time he went camping. Every day it rained. And when weather permitted, he went out and gathered feathers that were eventually tied to white pine whittled into arrows. Wishing he had that full quill and bow, his headset starts acting up. Run systems check. New device found. Uninstall hardware. Unable to access. Goodbye. S**t. Taking the headset off, hands it to Lewis who gives him a stunned look before handing the headset back. They told him he was the first to undergo this kind of integration. And when he woke up, he and his new thought talked about things. Said it was part of him now, and that it would never go away. Until now. Keeping his eyes on the twenty something year old, clear to see is that she is heading straight towards a massive door encased in river stone. On her approach to, the massive door arcs open on heavy hinges. Following after, once over the threshold, there are hundreds, if not thousands of rose bushes. The path is covered in fallen rose petals and looking to, the twenty something year old is waiting patiently for them. Walking her way, the massive door thuds to a close. Loud enough to have a look, the two keep after her when coming into view is a gazebo. Eight steps up to the deck, the twenty something year old walks over to the waist high guard rail. Walking up to either side of her, the twenty something year old says, “Within this space, he cannot hear us. A gift from Mother.” What said carries a heaviness that has Lewis asking, “Who’s he, and who are you?”  “He is a bad wizard who wants Mother’s hand in marriage. And I am her child who will never call him Father. When he brought me here, he told me I had a thousand centuries to break the spell. And if I fail to do so, forever will father wander in the mist as mother will have no choice but to take his hand.” A moment passes. ‘Come, let us sit.”

In the middle of the room is a firepit surrounded by a three piece concrete bench. “Please,” she says. Once seated around the firepit, the twenty something year old pulls from a pocket a small coin purse and after the clasp is undone, a powdery substance is poured on top of a bed of lava stone. Rising up from this is a tendril of smoke twisting its way skyward to where the unraveling haze spreads out in taking shape to what seen is row after row of men on horseback. A horn is being blown as four dismount. Daggers and swords within reach, and with heavy shields upon their backs, each walk into a spinning vortex. To ash, the twenty something year old says quietly, “Those four men were my guardians.” After hearing this, O’Malley glances over to Lewis as he wonders what that voice in his head has got them into this time.