The Book of Trials || ONC 2019

Chapter Three

My mouth went dry. "Magic... Ma'am?"

The shadows in the room seemed to loom around us and I wrapped my arms over my chest. Emrita's sister had been killed by magic?... Emrita had a sister?...

Her eyes went dark. "I hope, for your sake, that you aren't wanting me to participate in your mistake."

"Miss Emrita..." My finger found the edge of the book in my knapsack. The dread pooling in my stomach told me to choose my next words very carefully. "I need to know how to get rid of this book, and I can't do it alone... please...."

Even in the dark I could see her eyes narrow, her mouth puckering. "And why should I help you?"

I thought about it for a moment. My mouth opened to say something, then it closed. Why should she help me? I'd essentially just shown up and accused her of witchcraft, then I expected her to summon the will to help me? My own ignorance left me speechless. I dug my heels in frustration.

Emrita stood there a moment, her sharp gaze penetrating my thin veil of authority, and I lowered my head. It came out as a small, sharp noise. "I don't know."

She huffed and turned away. "That's what I thought." A moment passed with no movement and she cast me a backward glance, a smirk etching her features. "However, you're lucky for two reasons: one, I know an awful lot about magic; two, I happen to be fond of having people indebted to me."

My eyes widened and I stumbled over my words. Apparently, living alone for too long made for a disturbing bluntness. I took a mental note and released a tight breath.

"How have you already attempted destroying this book of yours?" She fiddled with her nails and cast me a disapproving look when I didn't respond. "We have to start somewhere, birdbrain. Can't destroy a magic item like you can a normal one."

I looked back at the floorboards and chewed my lip. "I, um... I haven't actually attempted to destroy it yet."

Her disappointment was apparent on her face. She shook her head and motioned for me to follow her, and what a long day it would make out to be.

Emrita led me to her backyard, which, unsurprisingly, was no more cared for than the front. There, she had me set up a small fire and told me to throw the book right in the flame. It didn't take much effort to follow Emrita's instruction, but it took much more effort to run when the book started its firework explosions again, red sparks flying everywhere.

Emrita didn't seem the least bit surprised at this development, only letting out another huff and starting on her next plan.

This time, a pot of boiling water. Using a pair of metal tongs, I dropped the book in and didn't wait to run after the previous results. Not a second later, the pot began emitting cloud upon puffing cloud of hot steam until it ran out of water and the sparks died out. Each time, the book came out completely and entirely unharmed. Out from the water, the book came dry and crisp; from the fire, not so much as a single singe.

Emrita's ideas only continued after this, stretching late into the afternoon. By this point, I was panting and furious at the cursed object, which had been dipped in burning oil, stabbed with a dagger, thrown into a river at noon (Emrita said not to question it), and stomped on multiple times. Every time the book sensed it would come to harm, Emrita observed, it shielded itself. The barrier it used emitted fire and sparks at contact. I found this development positively maddening.

I also noticed that through all of this, really the only effort Emrita had expended toward the whole ordeal was her knowledge of magic. All of the physical preparation and execution was achieved through her hounding me from her chair on the porch until I was sprinting for firewood or a pail of water. This also meant I was at the receiving end of every failed attempt at the book's destruction. I got the brunt of every cursed explosion.