KNOCK, KNOCK.

Dunce opened the door. He smiled happily at his two new visitors, but then his wrinkled face seemed to frown at his helper’s side. Ashwa stood there, trying to hide away. She was still shaken by what happened in the maze, and being alive was great at that time, but now…Well now she felt like sinking into a whirlpool and never see the sun again. Because Dunce was starring at her as if she was some villain. Nerveless he welcomed them in, and to their great joy, Asco sat on a chair, smiling broadly at them.

“Thought I’d never make it? Well, I did!” he gave them a high-five then looked at Dunce’s worried face. When Dunce saw this, he quickly turned and looked away awkwardly.

“Ashwa, I want to talk to you,” he said, then he went to the fireplace and waited for the trembling girl.

She trembled, feeling a dark abyss of wrong in her. Like she had been the one doing something wrong. Hoping it would go away, she settled down. The old sorcerer began talking.

“You felt it, didn’t you? The dark feeling. I won’t talk now, but do read this text,” Dunce took an old dusty book from the shelf. Turning to the last page, he handled it to her.

Taking the heavy book, she read it quietly.

 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒉𝒆𝒄𝒚 𝑶𝒇 𝑫𝒐𝒐𝒎

  𝑰𝒏 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓,  𝑾𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒓,

𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝑳𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒓. 

𝑰𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒄𝒖𝒓𝒆, 𝒃𝒊𝒈 𝒆𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒕𝒐 𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆,

 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆, 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒏𝒆𝒘 𝒆𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆. 

𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐 𝒊𝒓𝒆, 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆,

𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚 𝒍𝒚𝒓𝒆, 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒓𝒆. 

𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒊𝒏 𝒅𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒓, 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒓,

𝑨𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒚 𝒄𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒃 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒆𝒓, 𝒕𝒐 𝒕g𝒉𝒆 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒔𝒊𝒓𝒆.

 𝑻𝒆𝒍𝒍𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒂𝒓𝒕, 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒗𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕.

𝑻𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒍𝒅, 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒅,

𝑭𝒐𝒓 𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒇𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒍𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒂𝒔 𝒘𝒆 𝒉𝒂𝒗𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒐𝒍𝒅,

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒄𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒐𝒓𝒏.

Her breathing became laboured, as she read it. Sorceress of fire. Was that her? No, it couldn’t be. She refused to believe it.

“Believe it, youngster, a great task ahead of you,” Dunce said, then waved his hand, instantly shrinking Ashwa down into a heap, dreaming.

And here the adventure starts, and here the beginning ends.