“I see.” He fluttered around the small room, eyes scanning the remaining contents.
“How old are you?” Erinna heard that people used to live on the island. A small population of scholars and their families, but they came and went before Iprix reached one hundred. It was a whispered tale that changed depending on how tired or drunk the storyteller was.
“Has Iprix become Chancellor?”
Erinna’s eyes widened, and that was all the answer Raye needed. “It may cause more distress to continue this line of questioning.” Erinna couldn’t agree more.
“I need help,” she started.
“As do I.”
There was a beat of awkward silence as they each waited for the other to continue.
“Do you know how to get around the traps in the tower?” she asked.
“In a way.”
Erinna pinched the bridge of her nose to ward against oncoming frustration. “Can I get into the tower and library safely?”
There was a beat of silence as Raye thought. Erinna fought the circling tendrils of despair the longer he went without speaking.
“I can guide you and your pirates through.”
She wondered how much he knew and how long he’d been trying to reach out, but steadied herself against spiraling thoughts.
“Please tell me how I can help you, Raye. And in return, would you consider guiding me through the place?”
“I need you to take a ribbon from that drawer and make sure it sees the light of day.” There was a sadness in his tone. A melancholy filled the space.
Erinna made her way to the desk. It wobbled on three good legs, and the papers had since been scattered. She tugged once again, but the compartment wouldn’t budge.
“I…don’t remember where I left the key,” said Raye before fluttering around the room in search.
Erinna patted the old, splintering wood. “Do you care for the desk, Raye?”
The ghost stopped his search, understanding her plan. “It was my father’s. But I didn’t care much for him.”
Erinna took a piece of lumber, near three feet in length and requiring two hands to wield. With a mighty swing, she pushed the entirety of her strength into a downward blow.
The wood caved beneath her weight, the legs only half standing at best. With brute force, the piece cracked and smashed onto the floor. The drawer popped open, free from the rusted metal lock that kept it shut.
Old paper, pens, and dried-up ink now sprawled across the floor. But Erinna’s attention fell on a dusty leather pouch, barely the size of her palm. “It’s in there,” Raye confirmed. She could hear the excitement in his voice and wondered how long he had been waiting for the moment.
As gently as possible, she opened the dried leather satchel and drew out a yellowed hair ribbon. The material was light as silk, yet sturdy enough to withstand the ages. Erinna wrapped the ribbon around her wrist to avoid losing it or forgetting.
She turned to Raye and bowed slightly. There was supposed to be a formality to these things, she thought, but didn’t know the practice. “I will make sure the light of the Mother Goddess graces that which contains your essence.”
“Not mine. My daughter’s. She asked me before passing, but neither of us were able to make it at the end of the day. We were the last ones left on the island.” There was finality in his tone, and Erinna wouldn’t push him for the story.
Raye gestured to the still-burning fire. “You must take this flame and keep it burning.”
“Is this how it always works?” Erinna couldn’t help but wonder and hoped to at least learn something about the Talent resting within her.
“No. You are just far too untrained to keep me here after you have provided the last blessing.” Erinna nodded. “We must borrow the knowledge from the witches before.”
“How much do you know about my Talent?”
“We call it Talent now?”
