The Way the World Works

The bronze tea kettle is so heavy that petite Darby must use both hands to pour the fragrant beverage into the dainty cups. She painstakingly performs each step in the ceremony. The trio of hooded figures around the table sing the melodic Tea Prayer.

One by one each drank of the holy tea and Darby held her breath until the blessing took hold bestowing each with a soft glow for but a moment. They smiled, their applause echoed warmly in the stone chamber.

"Welcome," they whispered, "to the Order of the Divine Ruler."

At last, she was a Cleric of Panasea.

Then Darby moved all her worldly possessions in a single backpack, carried down from the children’s dorm she had known since infancy to the bustling Adventurer’s Guild. Clad in new brown robes crested with silver runes, she met the team assigned to guide her transition into adulthood.

Pherson Allen wears plate mail, worn but polished and a tabard of Lady Panasea. He is the paladin leader, much older than all the others with lines around his tired eyes. He greeted her with a handshake.

Augusto Leon followed, wrapped in blue satin robes that glittered with silver stars. He leaned on an oak staff, assessing Darby with an intense, scholarly stare before offering a nod. He was younger than Pherson, but far older than Darby.

Mervin was all mystery in black leather, dark complexion and an effortless smile. She felt an instant liking of him.

She met Daltine. They were the first elf Darby had ever seen, possessed of breathtaking, androgynous beauty. Daltine wore flowy, ambiguous robes that only added to their ethereal allure.

Their training began immediately. A blur of running drills, fighting conjured illusions, and learning the language of teamwork. Darby gushed gratitude in her evening prayers to our Lady Panasea. Finally she felt like she knew what she was supposed to do with her life. She had friends!

“This is a beginner dungeon, one that magically manifests monsters.” Pherson said, “Nothing you can’t handle! It's actually maintained by the church, in the basement.”

Darby felt nostalgic as she approached the White Tower. She was left here as a baby and raised by the Divine Order.

But they didn't climb the massive front stairs. Instead, Pherson led them down a narrow alley to a heavy, salt-stained cellar door. Guards stepped aside, and the party descended a ladder into a damp, suffocating darkness.

Daltine cast a spell with magic words and the world snapped into a greyscale clarity. Darby almost wished for the dark again when she saw the man-sized scorpions guarding a cluster of leathery eggs.

For hours, they moved through a nightmare. They fought through rooms choked full of spider webs. They smashed grotesque mushroom creatures with wooden stakes. Then the dire bats the size of dogs attacked and Darby’s pulse raced. She saw Augusto fall after a venomous bat bite, but managed to heal him, saving his life just as the poison reached his heart.

By the time they looped back to the entrance, they were covered in grime, sweat and blood but rich with salvaged coins and gems.

“Break time,” Pherson ordered.

The team collapsed. Darby pulled out her canteen, but as she took a sip which made her cough. She dropped the flask. The water hit the dusty floor, but instead of pooling, it began to crawl. Though the stone looked level, the water rolled away from the exit and toward a blank section of the far wall.

Mervin followed the trail. With a practiced eye, he found the seam. A click of hidden hinges echoed, and a secret stone door swung inward. A stone incline upwards, light of a fire flickering illumination.

“I’ve been here a score of times,” Pherson muttered, his hand dropping to his sword hilt. “I’ve never seen this.”

“Dungeon Mutation,” Augusto whispered, a manic glint in his eyes. “Leyline exposure. My theory is being proven in real-time!”

And then they heard a scream, agonized and human.

Her teammates charged. Darby followed, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. The smell hit her first, iron, excrement, and rot. They burst into a vaulted stone chamber that the Lady’s light had never touched.

Humans, chained to the walls and wearing nothing but the filth of their nakedness. They were all shackled facing the wall. Their backs transformed into a red tapestry of flayed skin and weeping sores. The floor was a carpet of torture implements and discarded bandages.

Darby was aghast with horror.

“What devilry is this?” she gasped and rushed toward the nearest captive.

“Oh no, young Cleric! This area is not for you.” She was stopped by a man in a hooded black robe. He dripped with fresh crimson. His gaze was ice, freezing her in place.

Pherson stepped between them. She watched her leader talk to the man in black. He pulled a medallion from beneath his bloodied apron, the same emblem Darby wore on her chest. He and Pherson exchanged a look of grim understanding.

The captives began to wail, begging for mercy, but Pherson was already turning the party around.

“Divine Inquisitor?” Mervin whispered as they retreated into the hall. Pherson grimly nodded.

Minutes later, they emerged into the crisp evening air. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the beautiful White Tower. Darby looked at her mentor with tears brimming, her voice trembling. “Why... why would our Lady… permit such suffering?”

Pherson placed a heavy, gauntleted hand on Darby’s shoulder. The others walked away. “This is the way the world works.”

“Why?” she sobbed, tears running rivers down her dirty cheeks.

“The Lady requires it, Darby. Do you think mercy heals your wounds? Do you think tea is sweet because of sugar?”

He pointed at the statue of Panasea in the middle of a large fountain, water pouring from the

tea kettle in her right hand. “Pray you never fall from her Grace.”

This was a short story I wrote for a Writing Battle challenge but I wasn't content with it so I didn't use it, but I still wanted to share it.