Page 130 of Magical Melee
We reached the cellar, and I swung the heavy wooden door open, ushering Frank down the steep steps.
His nails clicked against the stairs as he reluctantly descended. The air grew colder as we reached the bottom.
The familiar scent of earth and stone mingled with the faint strum of latent magic.
“Stay here,” I said firmly as we reached the small, dimly lit room. “No arguments.”
Frank barked sharply, as if to say,You’re making a mistake,and began circling around me in agitation. His stubby tail wagged nervously, and he gave the door one last mournful glance before sitting down with a heavy sigh.
I tried to ignore the pang of guilt in my chest. “It’s for your own good,” I muttered, crouching and scratching behind his ears. “You’re too valuable to risk out there.”
As I stood up, my gaze flicked toward the pedestal in the center of the room. Its mirror shimmered faintly, and a soft glow pulsed from within as if it were alive, waiting for me to return.
The pull was there, stronger than before, urging me to come closer.
To touch it.
To unlock whatever secrets it held.
But I tore my eyes away.
Now wasn’t the time.
“Not today,” I muttered under my breath.
Frank, however, had other plans. His ears perked up, and he suddenly darted toward the far wall, sniffing furiously at the base of the stones. He let out a low growl and scratched at a particular section of the wall with surprising urgency.
“Frank, what are you doing?”
He didn’t stop as his claws worked furiously at the rough stone.
Curious, I knelt down beside him, running my hands over the wall. The stones were cool and solid beneath my fingers, butas Frank scratched, one shifted slightly, revealing a faint outline of a hidden compartment.
My pulse quickened. “What have you found, boy?”
I tugged at the loose stone, pulling it free with a soft grating sound of stone against stone.
A small and dark cubby, barely large enough to fit my hand, opened behind. I hesitated for a moment, then reached inside, my fingers brushing against something long, smooth, and cool.
Carefully, I pulled the object out into the dim light.
It was a golden wand—sleek and dark.
Its surface was etched with faint, swirling patterns, leading to a carved butterfly that seemed to shift as I turned it in my hands. A faint strum of energy buzzed through the air, growing stronger the longer I held it.
The moment my fingers wrapped fully around the wand, a jolt of energy shot through me.
My entire body lit up.
Static skittered over my skin as the hairs on my arms stood on end. My fingers prickled as though tiny sparks were dancing across them.
“Frank,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “What’s happening?”
Frank barked once. His eyes widened with what I could only interpret as enthusiasm. He pawed at my leg, and his short tail wagged nervously.
The energy intensified, spreading through my arms and chest, filling me with a strange, almost electric warmth.
My eyesight flickered momentarily. The dim cellar grew brighter, and I felt a sudden clarity. The wand in my hand pulsed gently, the swirling patterns on its surface glowing brighter, mirroring the energy coursing through me.
