Trepidation and ominous fear descended down upon Peadar. His shoulders trembled as he clenched his fist, he felt his toes curling, stretching the tightly bound leather boots. The inky trail slowly crept its way to him, splitting into to tiny rivers and then converging together once more. The glistening black liquid frightened Peadar, he couldn’t yet identity why exactly. 

The old hag must’ve got into my mind. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Peadar wet his dry lips and swallowed the hot air. His eyes refocusing back onto Fang, who was completely ignorant of his quivering form. He watched the ormofolk scratch the back of the necklace with a sharp looking scalpel. Gently dropping the glittering shavings into a clear tube.

‘I should identify the mineral,’ she muttered to herself, kneeling down, her talons scraping the floor slightly, her one eye still magnified by the monocle. ‘Hydra acid should isolate any impurities found, from there - ’ she paused, grabbing something small to her left, ’I can ascertain the type of gold and cross examine my books for spells and curses.’ 

Fang held the tiny pipette filled with luminescent pink fluid and squirted three drops into the tube. 

The shaved gold fizzled and bubbled, crackling akin to dancing fire. Both watched in fascination as the liquid change from pink to violet and then to blue.

Once the foam subsided, a strange soapy smell perfumed the air. Fang took off her monocle and placed it on the table, throwing the tube onto the floor she proceeded to bury her face into her hands. 

‘By all the imps, why did it not work,’ she moaned into her hands. 

Peadar got slowly, momentarily forgetting the spilt ink, he walked over, placing a comforting hand on the woman’s feathered shoulder. ‘I imagine it wasn’t meant to do that.’ 

The avian humanoid gave him a look, her brow scrunched up and eyes alight with anger. ‘No, it was not. Blue means there are no impurities, which is impossible for gold as durable as that to not have impurities.’ 

As if speared by a demon, she jumped back, eyes wide with amazement, ‘By devil’s tail, what if it isn’t gold.’ 

Swiftly turning to face her working table once more, she grabbed the locket and pushed everything off the table, ignoring the yelp from Peadar when a giant tome landed on his left foot. He massaged his injured toes, glaring indignantly at his friend who scrambled through the open draws, clearly looking for something. 

‘If not gold what could it be?’ asked Peadar, confusion settling upon his weary shoulders. By the imps, he didn’t realise how tired he really was. 

The woman continued her harried movements, opening another draw roughly, tossing out items Peadar could not name, her cyanic eyes already onto the next draw before she could fling the last item out. 

‘I do not know,’ she answered honestly, ‘but wouldn’t be exciting to find out.’ 

Her tone seemed distant and her hooded eyes seemed lost to Peadar and his confusion. He sometimes wondering if Fang was sane in moments such as this, for she loved discovery far more than anything else in the world. Perhaps, even their friendship would be little value to her, if he was not an asar. Sighing for the thousands time this day, Peadar found space to place himself, allowing the frantic ormofolk to bounce from corner to corner, tripping over her hoardings and books, muttering scientific words he was not familiar with. 

Hours past and Fang still continued to experiment on the locket, allowing the blonde asar to nod off a couple of times, awaking only to breaking of the glass or curses bellowed by the feathered woman. Shaking himself awake, Peadar took stock of the dishevelled room and its mistress, who seemed to not have progressed much in her findings.

‘No luck so far?’ he questioned. 

‘Shut up.’ Fang hissed, her cyan eyes glaring daggers into his own awakened ones. 

Chuckling under his breath, the asar watched her slave away behind her table, more books and scrolls pilled than before. The blackened ink seemed to have dyed the underneath of her avian feet. Large, black footprints, like the reptilian birds found in the Echelons, were transferred on to the limestone floor. The chaotic energy was perhaps to much for the man. He stood up, yawing and stretching his burly muscles. Unsure of what to do or his role in such a situation. 

Forgetting his previous fear or the current locket debacle, Peadar motioned to Fang, letting her know he will be stepping outside. He was in great need of some fresh sulphurous air. 

Carefully manoeuvring across the scattered boxes, opened books and broken glass, the asar pushed aside the strings of pearls, their oddly cold sphere cooling the back of his hands for a moment. Before him, the eternal red, orange and yellow sky glimmered and shone radiantly. Basking him in a fine fiery glow he was desperate for. 

The bustling market still suing the melody go commerce, with half nude women dancing and singing to heavily clad men yelling out prices and haggling with merchants. Children giggled and hollered as any other day. All was peaceful and normal. 

‘Peadar!’ A voice rung out behind him. 

His heart clenched in an ironed fist, the asar drew his weapon and rushed inside, breaking the strung pearls in his panicked stride. Atop the table, the gleaming locket glowered in a disgusting sludge of a colour, blanketing the room with the smell of manure and rot. Peadar’s eyes sought out Fang, the woman to his immense relief was pressed against the wall, far away from the golden necklace. 

A gurgling sound rumbled deeply. Black and green ooze begun to drip from the jewellery, slowly forming into a serpentine and murine in feature. 

‘What happened?’ Peadar demanded. 

‘I - I do not know!’ Fang cried, her arms wrapped protectively around herself. 

Growling, Peadar cracked his neck and squared his shoulders and walked towards the mud like monster, his weapons agleam with anticipation and much needed sharpening.