Sort of Dead

66 - Kryptonite And Warnings

We learn a lot of things. For instance, the Grahi Witch is Superman in her own right.

Her kryptonite: the bronze shuriken Rasthrum made himself after years of failed attempts.

‘If you kill her, all other members of the Coven are done for automatically,’ Rasthrum informs us. ‘So keep your eyes on the Grahi Witch.'

Well, that won’t be hard for Aar, at least. He can’t stop pestering me about her prettiness. I tell him she has no sense of fashion whatsoever, but he barely seems to care.

‘Do not let them play games with your mind,' Rasthrum warns. ‘They cannot hurt you unless you let them. They will try to get inside your head. Whatever you do, resist as best as you can. If they get in there - ' he slices his finger over his throat, making his point perfectly clear.

I remember my dream/vision. I swallow my building spit.

‘They will challenge you,' says Rasthrum. ‘They will coax you into situations you do not want to get into. Promise you things that are beyond even their control. So whatever happens, do not get manipulated.

‘Mar, they will offer bringing your parents back to life. Don’t listen to that. They’re simply trying to get you to do their bidding.’

‘But that’s what I’m here for - '

'Kid, don’t argue with me. I know what you’re here for. Trust me, the only way to get what you seek is to get rid of them.’

This time I have to swallow my doubts instead of my spit.

Apparently, my expression betrays me. Rasthrum raises a burnt brow. ‘Understood?’

I nod. It’s tough.

‘Now, the witches,' my foe's son says, 'they are the absolute masters of their craft, and their craft is primarily illusion.’

He takes a conspicuous pause, then concludes we don’t quite get what he’s trying to convey. 'That does not mean what you see is not real. It simply implies it doesn’t actually exist.’

'You're contradicting yourself,' Bee spouts. ‘According to Marxist theory, contradiction - '

'I know what I’m talking about, gurrrl. If you don’t want your body ripped into two uneven halves, you better listen to what I have to say.’

Bee stays shush. I can see it’s as hard for her as it was for me to nod earlier.

'I will not be accompanying you,' says Rasthrum. ‘You’re on your - '

The carriage stops all of a sudden, briskly, making us stumble over our feet. See wakes up, squealing as if he’s a pig and not a dog. Es levitates out of the roof of the vehicle, checking on the outside. Rasthrum moves out to take a peek as well. His muscles are tense, rigid.

My heart beats like a faulty carburetor. I look at my side, at Bee, at Aar, at Mr. Om, only to confirm I’m not the only one scared witless.

A moment later, Rasthrum returns along with Es, announcing in a tone as panicked as I feel: 'We're here. Move out.’

We gape at him.

'Quick! And remember: beware the Goof.’

I think I'll have wrapped things up by the century. I mean, a 100 or so chapters and this story will probably be done. I'm nervous. I'm hoping to deliver a heartfelt send-off.