“Tell me,” Citrus said. “Have you ever wondered why your life became this way? Why do we put such faith in you, the hero of prophecy? Be honest.”

William nodded.

“Rejoice, you are about to meet the reason.” Despite the Elf’s matter-of-fact demeanor, there was nothing and nobody around them. They stood on a plane of ice, the tumultuous snowfall nothing more than a distant memory.

William loosened his scarf and took some deep breaths, slowing his rapid heart rate. ‘Was this all some kind of joke,’ he thought. ‘I’m beginning to think the Mumbling Prophet doesn’t even exist.’

Citrus, however, cautioned the young hero back. “We should give Ignus some space.”

William looked from Citrus to Ignus, hesitant. Ignus pulled back his hood for the second time. William had only heard stories of the tribes that lived in Chaflo; how horns echoed throughout the jungles whenever the warmongering orcs would hunt. A clouded breath floated up from Ignus’s tusks and around his gnarled ears. He unhooked his Warhammer, closed his beady eyes, and slid into a stance.

Citrus pulled William into a run, heading away from Ignus. “I said get away, now.” Dogma trailed after them with a series of metallic thuds. The air shifted around them, serene calmness morphing into a sinister silence.

Golden life essence flooded out of Ignus’s chest as he took his Warhammer in both hands, staring at the ground. With every breath, his life essence grew larger and burned brighter.

Citrus reached into his pocket and fumbled a pair of shrunken roots into William’s palm. “Put these in your ears!” He urged before shoving a second pair of roots into his own ears. William grimaced but did as he was asked.

As soon as the roots made contact with his ears they expanded. He gritted his teeth as the uncomfortable sensation spread throughout both his eardrums. Even Citrus winced. Dogma put in his own pair but he didn’t even flinch. William wondered if that was because the mask prevented emotion from showing or something more tragic.

The roots finished their job. He was deaf. Everything was gone, even the sound of his own heartbeat, though he could still feel it. He yawned as if that would relieve the pressure. It didn’t work. He snapped his fingers and heard nothing. A golden flash reminded him that he had other things to worry about.

With one last huff, Ignus reeled his hammer back. He slammed it down with a bright flash, opening a wide crater in the plane of ice. A dense cloud engulfed him.

William narrowed his eyes in response to the sudden flash, and then the shockwave punched through his chest. He winced back, coughing. The wind was knocked out of his lungs. Just as he gulped down a lungful of air, Ignus struck a second time.

The second hit dispersed the cloud that had risen up around Ignus, and William could see the shockwave expand outwards before it struck him. He felt a strain within his body, and blood trickled down his nose.

Then, Ignus reeled back for a third hit, and a white, flaming aura rose up from his chest.

Will’s jaw dropped. ‘That’s… that’s my ability,’ he thought. ‘How is he able to use it?’ He was so engulfed in trying to watch that he barely felt Citrus pulling him away.

The third strike was the biggest by far, and the last. Frigid water rose gushed upwards. Ignus would have fallen in if not for the enormous stone hidden under the ice. The water carried the cubic stone upwards as it flooded into the crater. With the little life essence Ignus had left, he leapt to solid ice and fell to his knees while leaning on his Warhammer.

Citrus patted William on the shoulder and pointed to his ears. William pulled the roots out of his ears with surprising ease. He stared as the roots withered away in his palm; a single use item. ‘Who the hell are these people,’ he thought. So many questions floated around in his head. He was told not to ask questions but it was hard to keep his mouth shut after seeing the impossible. ‘Can they all do that?’ He reached in his shirt, wrapped his numbed fingers around his necklace, and took a few breaths to calm himself.

Citrus watched the motion with interest but he didn’t say anything. The group walked over to Ignus, who pushed himself to his feet.

  Now that William was closer, he saw that the stone was more like a room. It bobbed up and down on the water’s surface. A thick, metal door was embedded in one of its sides. Staring in the water were two metal chains continuing into the darkness below; one connecting to the bottom of the cubic rock and the other connecting to a smaller stone behind it. ‘All this, just to go see one person,’ he thought.

Citrus placed his longbow and arrows in Dogma’s hands. “Hand all your magic items, enchanted gear, and other arcane items over to Dogma.”

William opened his mouth but frowned. He couldn’t ask them anything, no matter how increasingly infuriating it was. His spatial ring, his sword, his shield, his gloves, and his armor went into Dogma’s hands without a word. He let out a long sigh. ‘I hope we get back soon.’ He took a step towards the room and felt a tug on his sleeve. It was Dogma.

“Everything magical,” Citrus insisted.

William turned his pockets inside out and shrugged.

Citrus shook his head. “The necklace too.” He reached towards William’s neck.

William stepped away, holding the necklace tight to his chest. “It’s not magical,” he wanted to say. Instead, he just shook his head.

Citrus’s placid expression darkened. “Everything magical must be removed from you.”

Again, William shook his head and stepped back. “I-it’s not magical,” he stammered, his voice coming out hoarse. He covered his mouth but it was too late.

The words hung in the air.

Ignus looked to Citrus, who stole a glance at Dogma. It seemed as though the two were waiting for a response but Dogma didn’t move.

“Does the necklace mean a lot to you?” Citrus asked, his hand extended towards William but his eyes pointed towards Dogma.

William reached behind his neck and untied a length of dirty wool. He held up the end of the necklace; half of a hollow acorn. “This is all I have left of my home,” he explained. “It isn’t magical in any way.”

Citrus let out a long sigh. “I see. I understand, but you should still hand it over to Dogma.”

William gestured to all his equipment. “You can have all that stuff. The monastery gave it all to me. This necklace is mine.”

Citrus bit his lip. “Listen to me boy. The Mumbling Prophet is…he gets what he wants. I ask you to hand it over to keep it safe from him.”

Ignus stepped forward. “Citrus, do you really think the Mumbling Prophet would deprive the boy of his possessions?”

Citrus nodded: “It has been fifteen years since we have seen him, and he was not…stable last time. He has been declining.”

William opened his mouth again. “Is something off about him-“

Citrus grabbed him by the shoulders and stared intently into his eyes. “Silence boy. Do you not value your life? Hand the necklace over if you wish to keep it safe. It will be returned to you after.”

William frowned, stepped around Citrus, and placed the necklace atop the rest of the equipment. Everything vanished into Dogma’s spatial ring which, to William’s horror, he swallowed. Citrus and Ignus released the tension in their shoulders. Dogma gave a thumbs up, and William returned the gesture with gritted teeth.

‘Does everything have to be so strange with these people,’ William thought.

“Alright,” Citrus said as he strode over to the stone and opened its door. Inside the hollow rock was a barren, lightless room. “Everyone get in.”

William could only laugh at this point. ‘Of course,’ he thought as he stepped inside the room with Ignus and Citrus. Dogma, however, remained outside. Just before Citrus shut the door, Dogma grabbed the bobber and began pulling it up.

Water and light poured through the narrow slit in the door as they began to sink. Citrus blew the dust off several locks and turned them all shut, locking them all in absolute darkness. They sank deeper and the rattling of chains became fainter.

The floor toyed with his balance. He could hear himself fumbling over his own two feet but the others didn’t. He still had so many questions floating around in his head about the strange group and their abilities, but at that moment he didn’t care. He never cared about being a hero in the first place.. ‘Finally, answers,’ he thought, rubbing the spot on his neck where his necklace usually irritated him.