Mystery Of Merrie Part 3

“You don’t get to tell me to leave! A moment like this is exactly when I become someone from the Golden Cloud again.” May’s fury was raw, unguarded.

“Cool your head.” Piccaron’s voice had an edge now, something close to real anger. “Right now you’re a Timurr soldier. Your job is conquering this city. You are not a holy woman of the Golden Cloud — not here, not today. Unmasking the Guardians of Merrie is one step in a conquest. Remember that. If you want to play saint, go break the curse yourself and set this city free.”

“This is the only reason I’m here!” May’s voice cracked with the force of it.

“Without your Timurr rank, you have no standing in this. No one will accept you. So be a good girl and go back to your unit. I’ll tell you what happens next when there’s something to tell.”

“You mean to face them alone? Your protection’s already spent!”

“Bringing Timurr soldiers would be pointless. One spell of madness and the Guardians turn our own men into weapons, then just let the rest of us finish each other off. That’s their whole scheme — that’s why the old mayor handed everything over so easily. They want the army to charge in and die stupid. In the end, the conquest fails, and everyone loses. Do you understand?”

“You think you have something that can beat them?!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Piccaron’s grin was sharp, unhurried. “This is exactly why I was sent for this job. Once I’ve finished off the Guardians of Merrie, the rest is yours to take. Golden Cloud or Timurr soldier — pick whichever role suits you best.”

The old book in Piccaron’s hands smelled like karma given paper and binding. A few pages in, he understood: this whole arrangement was a punishment turned inside out. The people of this city — their greed, their arrogance — even after the curse fell, they’d chosen a ritual that sacrificed their own children rather than change. They valued survival above everything else. Not so different from Piccaron himself, if he was honest. The difference was he wasn’t stupid enough to pay that price.

But that wasn’t the information he was after.

His eyes caught on something else — a fragment. A piece of the actual incantation the great sorcerer had used to curse this city in the first place. He pulled a folded page from inside his contract case and smiled, thin and bitter.

“So you’re interested too, are you.” He studied the page a moment longer. “Well. That settles the last of my preparations.”

Thin pine forest ringed the hillside, sparse enough to let grey light through in patches. The Guardians of Merrie stood waiting outside the mouth of their hidden cave. Piccaron hadn’t arrived yet.

He stopped short along the path, catching sight of ritual devices laid out at intervals leading to their hideaway — magical instruments he recognized.

“So that’s it.” His voice was quiet, almost to himself. “That’s why it had to be children.”

He moved toward the hideout without a trace of hesitation.

They received him calmly — no reckless opening strike, no ambush. As if they’d been expecting exactly this.

“Hello, Guardians.” Piccaron’s tone was almost pleasant. “I’m your conqueror. The mayor told me I’d be coming.”

“You smell like a southerner.” The woman at the head of the group studied him.

“I’ve read the book. Gaia, isn’t it. Leader of Merrie’s Guardians.”

“What business does a little runt from Baum have here?” Gaia asked.

“Exposing you. Took exactly seven days, apparently. Genuinely disappointing.”

“And what did you find, little runt?”

“Lies.” Piccaron’s voice stayed light, almost bored. “You know, I always heard this city was fascinating. My colleagues talked about it like it was something special. But I’m disappointed — no, let me be precise. I’m disappointed in you. Everything else about this place is interesting. You’re the only dull thing in it.”

“Oh?” Gaia’s expression didn’t change.

“That book. A good lie, mostly — except the fragment of the great sorcerer’s incantation. You couldn’t get the whole thing, could you?”

“You aren’t Merrie’s Guardians. You’re the same as me. An outsider. Using this city for a purpose of your own — which is…”

May made it back to her Timurr unit. The lingering effects of the earlier curse had finally worn off. Captain Pine, still stewing, had decided this was his moment — he meant to force the mayor’s claim through, consequences be damned, especially now that the mages were busy elsewhere with Piccaron.

“That little bastard just handed me an opening.” Pine’s grin was thin.

“May.” Serena’s eyes stayed on the forest treeline. “Do you understand their magic?”

“They’re drawing on the great sorcerer’s curse directly. If they can channel it, that means the curse is finally weakening.” May’s mind was already racing ahead of her words. “The sorcerer’s technique is powerful — layers of illusion, emotion manipulation, more. But the child sacrifices—“ She stopped herself. “That part never made sense. It shouldn’t be necessary at all. Unless—“

“Serena. What do you know about spirits?”

“Generally? It takes a human soul thousands of years to become a wandering spirit after death. And retaining memory, personality — a soul keeping its full self intact as a ghost — that’s near impossible.”

“You’re right, it’s nearly impossible.” May’s voice had gone tight. “But what if you added the aura and pressure of ancient magic — and the souls of children — into the equation?”

“You mean—“ Serena’s face went pale.