“...It’s about time we cleaned up then. I’m pretty useless, so why don’t you rinse the place and we’ll head back to the Council, Vinny?”

She replied with a snore, suddenly woken up by an abrupt poke to the side. “I’m TICKLISH,” she screamed.

The man had already started jogging down the stairs, laughing to himself. Vinera stood up and dusted off her thighs angrily. Regaining her composure, she slowly took in a deep breath, pulled out the small compact from her pocket and closed her eyes. As she clicked the small button on the side to open the handheld device, violet tendrils of light erupted from the mirror like a cartoonish ivy growing out of control. The spindles of her power wiggled in between the wet cracks of the ground, linking themselves to the roots of the forest around them. A symphony all on her own, Vinera sang a slow hymn to which the trees of the forest around her started glowing a deep lavender colour. The fire seemed to die off in submission of the foreign, melodic words; the entire continent shone a luxurious purple before paling. Midas’s beautiful castle erected at the center of Azure Lake, now sat pitifully in dim defeat.

Burping quietly, Vinera opened her eyes to the same messy room, seeing the strange man leaning against the moldy wooden gate. “About time, Burpy!” he called back.

It was raining outside. Water drenched the man’s hair, which was shimmering against the bleak forest setting behind him. Vinera smiled to herself and lifted up her robes with one hand, tucking the fizzling shell back into her pocket and carefully ran down the steps towards him, reminiscing of her past king.

Emerald eyes eerily emerged from the shadow of the stony throne, gazing at the body pinned to the wall, “They’ve left Midas. Stop playing dead over there.”

Smiling, the lifeless man skewered into the wall lifted his arm as if being handled by a puppeteer and grasped the hilt of the sword, his skin hissing loudly. The gold fang resisted its removal, but did not last; plopping to the ground as it was drawn out from his torso, liquefying into an shimmering aureate pool. Comically sliding down the wall, Midas sat. “Mmm...that man definitely outdid himself. Going sofar as stabbing me with my own sword. So much for honor.”

Struggling to get to his feet, the emerald eyed silhouette stood before him with a hand outstretched. Seizing the hand, Midas pulled himself to his feet and slicked back his golden hair from his forehead. The melted pool of gold gathered itself and shot up into his left hand, lacing itself around his ring finger. Staring fiercely at the distant horizon with indigo eyes, Midas grinned with ambition.

“Grotto, let’s get to work.”