Abbernathy and Magick's End

(3) - The Hunted and the Haunted -

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DARK. Save for the torch burning miserably on the wall, far out of reach, and nearing its end. Stale air caught in her throat and lungs, smelling of mold and rot. The walls were smooth stone and moss-covered, making them near impossible to climb. Up high, a single window, barely wide enough for a bird to squeeze through, was barred from the outside.

All the trappings of a typical holding cell.

Margo sighed.

Some people went their entire lives without seeing the inside of a cell, but not Margo. As a former spy of Her Radiance, the Dawn Queen, this had been her third time, locked away inside one, not that it was something she typically bragged about.

But still, her experience had its place, and after being held captive so often, she'd mastered the art of the escape.

It's lock would be an easy one to break. After inspecting it in her palm, she realized it was third generation and of copper make. Shoddy work made by factory labor.

A two barrel mechanism, housed inside the casing, would need to be jiggled just right for the lock to release.

Margo slipped a piece of cheese from her pocket into her mouth. She savored it, as its sour flavor burst across her tongue. Then, came the cooler sensation of something thin and hard. Grinning, she spat the lockpick into the dirt and plucked it up.

Magick hadn't been her only skill set.

By their very nature, Cloudians lived in a world of cramped places – having moved from the circular, tunnel-esque homes of the Cloude, into the cavernous hollows hidden beneath the Black Sands- and they knew their fair share about getting into, and out of, tiny spaces.

After The Cloude had been destroyed, magick, in all its forms, had been banned. The practice of it, forbidden. The books written about it, locked up in dirty, rotting crypts where the Cloudian Elders were hopeful they'd disappear, as so much often did once fed to the sands.

Margo had overheard talk of a cache of Wizard Kellog books, not far from her family home. She visited the place extensively, using every excuse she could think of to go – surveying the unique rock formations of the area, meeting Magda, running errands – but really, she just wanted to snag a few minutes to investigate the site.

Her visits led to her learning that the place was under-staffed; only one lone guard patrolled that area and he was often too preoccupied with the pretty Cloudian girl manning the fig cart to pay attention to much anything else.

Margo took that time to get close, to really study the lock - scrutinize the mechanism and analyze its metallic makeup. Then, one night, when the guard was passed out and heavily snoring on the steps of the Sand temple, she tried her hand at breaking and entering.

She failed, the lockpick snapping off inside the lock. She tried again, and again, broken bits of picks littering the ground around her knees like splinters.

Finally, she managed to jimmy the lock correctly. It popped open, and the gate swung back, the cache of magickal books hers to devour. She had read until the strands of dawn lights lit up the caverns.

That had been her introduction to the Wizard Kellog and the limitless possiblities of magick. When she'd returned home, and snuck under the covers of the bed she shared with Magda, she made a promise - to be a great wizardess, the likes of which the worlds had never seen.

So, for the greatest wizardess on this side of the Eridan, what was one rotting lock blocking her escape?

Certainly, it wasn't an obstacle of any real weight; just an annoyance a little patience and the right amount of turning would make disappear.