The Price of Knowledge

As they stood at the edge of the clearing, the tower flickered in and out of existence, like a mirage dissolving into mist. Then, with a final shimmer, it was gone.

Silence settled over them, thick and heavy.

Ophelia turned to Tig, her brow creased in concern. "You do not look well."

Tig forced a smile, but it faltered. "I am fine."

"No," Ciaran said, stepping closer. "You are not." He gestured toward her, and only then did the others notice—

"She is fading," Alex murmured her skin, usually the color of ripe peaches, had turned a sickly shade of grey. Her eyes, usually bright with mischief, were now glazed over, staring vacantly at the floor. She looked as if the life was draining from her, fading away like a candle flame flickering in a dying wind. Alex gripping the hilt of his sword, says "We cannot stay here." 

They turned their eyes toward the village below, nestled between rolling hills and golden fields. Smoke curled from chimneys, and the distant hum of life reached them on the wind. It was a stark contrast to the desolation they had left behind. 

"We go to the village," Ophelia decided. "Someone there may know how to help her."

Their descent was slow, Tig leaning heavily on Alex's arm. With every step, she seemed to grow weaker, as though something unseen was draining the last of her strength.

When they reached the outskirts of the village, an older woman spotted them and hurried over. She took one look at Tig and shook her head. "This child has been touched by too much magic." she glanced at Ophelia " She is too weak and drained to go on."

"Can you help her?" Ophelia pleaded.

"No, she is to ill for my abilities," the woman admitted. "But our keeper might. She lives at the end of the village, beyond the last row of houses."

Alex stiffened. "We were told the keeper lived in the tower."

The woman's expression darkened. "No, child. That is no keeper—that is a witch. A twisted thing, poisoned by jealousy and hate. She answers to those that are not of this realm." The woman looked at them cautiously. 

" She sold her soul, her very being to the Shadow King." The woman clicked her tounge.

"Why did she do that?" Ophelia asked, as tears began to gather like storm clouds in her eyes." Something heartbreaking must have happened."

The woman looked at Ophelia sharply.

"How did you know?" She questioned. "Her two children died from a sickness. Afterward she became twisted, and her heart dried up and turned as black as an endless night with no stars nor moon touching its surface." The woman sighed

"She broke down when they died. Soon after, she made a deal with the Shadow King. She wanted to feel no love or loss. So he took the positive feelings away and left all negative emotions behind.A total absence of any kindness or love to temper the darkness", she explained.

"The Shadow King?" Ophelia asked "We have heard reference to him but know not what he is." 

"No one knows for sure who or what he is. All that is know is that he is driven by darkness and betrayal." The woman stated

A chill ran through them.

"Come," the woman said. "Let me take you to the true keeper."

They followed her through the winding village streets, past houses with shuttered windows and wary eyes peeking through cracks in doors. Finally, they arrived at a small cottage, its garden wild with herbs and ivy creeping up its stone walls.

The keeper, an old woman with hair like silver threads and eyes sharp as a hawk's, greeted them with a knowing gaze. "You have come a long way," she said, her voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind. "And the price has been great."

She led Tig inside, settling her onto a bed layered with thick blankets. "Magic has taken its toll," the keeper muttered, pressing a cool hand to Tig's forehead. "She has spent too much without knowing how to replenish it. But it is more than that—something else has sapped her strength."

She glanced at the others. "And not just her. All of you."

The children exchanged uncertain glances.

The keeper sighed and gestured toward the bathing chamber. "You are weary, and the road has been long. Cleanse yourselves, and then we will talk."

Grateful for the respite, they took turns washing away the grime of travel. When Ophelia finished, she asked for a comb to untangle her damp hair.

"There is one on the dresser," the keeper said. "And a mirror as well." pointing towards a small chamber.

Ophelia stepped into the room and reached for the comb—but the moment she caught her reflection, she froze.

The girl staring back at her was not twelve years old.

Her face was longer, her limbs stretched, her eyes filled with the weight of something beyond her years. Her breath hitched. Whipping around, she looked at Alex—and for the first time, she saw the truth.

None of them were children anymore.

"Alex," she whispered, voice trembling.

Alex frowned. "What is it?"

"Look."

One by one, they approached the mirror, horror dawning on their faces.

"How did we not see?" Alex asked, voice hollow.

"It must have been a spell," Ciaran said grimly. "A veil over our minds."

The keeper watched them from the doorway. "The cost," she murmured.

Ophelia turned to her. "What do you mean?"

"Magic always has a price," the keeper said, stepping forward. "Let me ask you, have you spent time with the Fae? Did you lose something? Did you enact magic while in the Fae relm?" The keeper asked ernstly.

At Ophelias nod the keeper heaved a great sigh. "The Fae like to play games, you were in their realm far longer then you could imagine. As for what you lost there, it is still there just shaded from view."

The weight of her words settled on them like stones.

"Then… can we undo it?" ophelia asked.

The keeper shook her head. "Time does not move backward."

Silence filled the room.

Then, the keeper sat before them, her gaze piercing. "Listen well," she said. "For I have a piece of the prophecy to share."

Her voice shifted, taking on a rhythmic cadence, and the words wove together like an incantation.

"The road ahead is dark and long,

But through the storm, you must be strong.

The lost one waits where dreamers dwell,

Bound by shadow, caught in spell.

To wake the queen, the price is steep,

The oath once made, a vow to keep.

One heart in sorrow, one in pain,

One lost in love, and one in chain."

She fell silent.

Ophelia's throat tightened. "What does it mean?"

The keeper's eyes gleamed. "It means all may not be lost. But you must continue north. You must find the one who is lost."

"But how?" Alex asked.

The keeper's gaze softened. "Perhaps… you must dream."

A shiver ran down Ophelia's spine.

They had no map. No guide.

Only a prophecy and the ever-growing weight of the cost.

And somewhere, out in the vast unknown, Pip and Freya were lost and waiting