Page 96 of Down from the Tower

Many believe the famed Golden Hand lives in this area as well. As the story goes, the God Dionysus granted a wish to a beggar boy. He lost his hand struggling through the wilds, and when he drank the wine of the God, he was granted a single wish.

The boy asked for anything he touched to turn to gold, so he would never again know famine or hunger or struggle. The severed hand was replaced with one of mighty gold.

It is said the Fountain of Youth still hides in the forest, presenting only to those pure of heart. Eternal life is a gift, not a promise, and the powerful often believe they can live forever.

The boy with the golden hand passed on from the fountain. With a golden touch, he could do anything. And if Dionysus granted the gift, he is long gone from this world and would never see the outcome.

Many believe the fountain is still there, bleeding into the waters in the southern lands and gifting those who drink it with eternal life. But magic comes at a price. If ever the water were tampered with, the fountains properties could change.

Investigating again to see if the power of the fountain remains in the lands would be imperative. The golden boy could change fate if given the chance, and with a touch of gold he could have the power to do it.

This is why magic should be reserved. Only the shadows should choose when the stories end, and when we play God, we chance changing Fate’s design.

I will return in one year to see if the fountain is still intact, and the boy is still the same. I saw him rushing off. My brother even gave him an apple he gobbled down.

His name was Midas. He may forever change the way things run in Mystica.

Grimm

I stare hard, trying to read the name before Grimm but it’s too blurred by water damage. Another smudge below was once likely a date. It’s all distorted now, and there’s no way I’ll be able to make sense of it.

Looking at Legs, I shake my head. “Grimm.”

She nods, eyes wide. “Yes. One of a few.”

“Legs, do you mean the Brothers Grimm? Those travelers who told wondrous stories some years ago? The ones that disappeared?”

She shrugs. “All storytellers have a time to speak. The Grimm did their part while they traveled in Mystica.”

“I made a joke to Rapunzel about not being a Grimm when she found out I was a Reaper,” I grumble.

She cracks a smile, patting my hand. “I haven’t thought of this in a long time. Many of the pages are unreadable, even with the attempts I made to salvage it. Perhaps that’s why Tremaine came to the gardens to begin with. Had she thrown the book into the right stream, it would’ve been eaten by the ravenous fish here and turned to nothing, fading into oblivion when the fish died, disappearing without a trace.”

I vaguely know what she’s talking about. Everything in Wonderland comes with a twist. The stream is no exception. The fish in there fade in and out of existence, and even as a Reaper there’s no way for me to control them.

Fire leaves traces, and I can see the previous damage left behind on some of the pages. If Tremaine brought and threw the book away, she left behind a clue. “Why would she take your book in exchange for this?”

Legs shrugs. “The book I read dealt with the looking glass in Wonderland. She came from Tressa, so perhaps she felt she didn’t need a book about her home.”

All the better for me. I stare at the text another moment, wondering what the chances were that I would ever read something like this. “Can I take this?”

She gives me a sad nod. “Yes. You may need it. If the fountain once lay in the land of Tressa, and Midas gained his golden touch from a God, he could touch water. A few specks might not damage the taste or turn the water to a pure river of gold. The water in Tressa must come from someplace besides the sea.”

And if the water is at all manipulated by Midas, that could be how he controls the dead.

Shoving the thick book into my bag, I nod to her. I can puzzle out the mysteries of this another time. “Thank you. Now, show me this magical flower that can teleport me to the other side of Mystica.”

Legs grins, gesturing to my shirt as she chuckles at the skepticism in my voice. It all sounds unbelievable. “Come along, grab that. We need to move quickly in case the castle panics and tries to hack up the plant in the courtyard. We have no way of knowing if someone saw Rapunzel’s arrival.”

I jump up, tossing on the shirt and grasping my cloak. Traveling this way sounds like a joke, and the dirt smear on my chest smells weird. I trust Legs, but some of her practices are beyond me.

She points to a plant when we reach it, and I think she’s nuts if she believes that thing can hold me. But she’s insistent, so I step in and hold up my hands.

There’s no chant or rhyme, and I’m almost disappointed how streamline the solution is. One moment I’m staring at the two butterflies, debating my next move and where Rapunzel would run to first. Next, I’m falling out of a flower in the garden, and I half expect to step into the middle of a war. But nothing that interesting is happening on the other side of the flowers. When I step through, I find several swords pointed in my direction.

Whether they sensed me coming, or were paranoid enough that they were watching for something to happen, I have no idea. But their eyes widen at the sight of me, and I almost wish I’d hidden in the shadows.

But where’s the fun in that?

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