“We hope this room will be to your tastes,” Archibald was saying, “Unfortunately the inn is rather busy at the moment as we have The Feast of Light coming up in a few days, otherwise we would have placed you in a far better room… one worthy of the goblin who is going to solve this terrible problem for us.”

“You still ain’t told me what the terrible problem is,” Oozewart pointed out, as she walked further into the room. She felt like her guide was studying her, as if he knew she didn’t belong there. It was as if they both knew this place was far too refined for someone such as her. Oozewart squared her shoulders and turned back to face Archibald. She may not look like she belonged here, but she was going to make this place her own. Besides, she was here to do a job. “It’s the witch, right? Magic users are always a pain in the arse.”

“As I said, I’ll leave that to the Grand Custodian to discuss with you. It’s rather more nuanced than you might imagine. In the meantime, I hope you’ll be comfortable in here for tonight.”

Oozewart continued to look around. The room was posh as fuck. 

“I reckon I can survive,” she replied. Archibald nodded, said something about having a lovely night and then left. Oozewart couldn’t wait to lock the door behind him. 

Alone at last, she smiled.

There were trinkets everywhere. Little sparkly things were all over the place. It was like they wanted to get robbed or something. Oozewart couldn’t believe her luck. She made a mental note to clear the room of anything valuable before she left… and then stopped. There was no way she was leaving this place. Not only was it Night-Vision free, but there was also a chance she could obtain her own little trinket collection like this. Perhaps even legally. The thought was mindblowing. 

A hum devoid of any recognisable melody escaped her as she explored her new surroundings. Her fingers grazed gold statues, glass figurines, and jewel-encrusted treasures. Her hands ached to clasp around each one and shove it into her bag. The temptation was almost undeniable. 

Almost.

Somehow, she refrained. It took every ounce of willpower she had, but somehow, all those little goodies remained where the host had left them. 

Oozewart spotted her reflection in a mirror, and smiled once more. 

“I’m proud of ya,” she said to herself. “This is real personal growth.”

“I’m proud of ya, too,” her reflection replied.

Oozewart’s brain tripped over itself as it tried to process what had just happened. “Wait… what?” she asked, not sure if she was talking to the world at large, herself, or the reflection.

Whatever her intention, the reflection answered. “What’s the matter wiv ya? Pay attention! I said, I’m proud of ya!”

Wincing, she took a step back. It was weird to have her own voice (and her own face) berate her completely independently of her mind. Was she losing the plot? Was that why the Night-Visions were not showing up for her? Nah, that couldn’t be right. Those things loved a deranged mind. If her brain was falling apart, they’d want to be involved. They’d be all over it.

Her reflection stared at her expectantly. 

“Well?” It said.

“Er… thanks.” 

The reflection cleared its throat, mimicking how Oozewart would act before approaching an important subject, even going as far as to pull gently on its earlobe, a nervous habit Oozewart had never quite managed to quash. A tremor ran down her spine as it impersonated her perfectly. Oozewart swallowed down the panic that was starting to form in her throat. Whatever this was, she could handle it… she’d handled worse. 

“Don’t look so worried,” the reflection said. “I have information that will help us.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, you. Me and you. We are you. We are us.”

Great, that wasn’t confusing at all. 

“Go on then, what do we need to know?”

Her reflection grinned, and Oozewart got a taste of what others felt when they saw her smile. Fear. Dread. Terror. A bouquet of negative emotions. It was not something she wanted to be on the receiving end of too often. (Or at all, for that matter.)

“This room may be full of treasures, but there’s sumfin’ of even greater value hidden away. Check out the loose floorboard at the foot of the bed.”

Oozewart wasn’t sure if she should trust her mirror-self, but then she also couldn’t resist hidden treasure. Honestly, who could? Knowing full well that her curiosity could lead to something stupid or painful (or stupidly painful), Oozewart found the loose floorboard at the foot of the bed. 

While it was loose, it didn’t lift away easily, and Oozewart found she had to employ the goblin talent of growing her fingernail into a knife-like claw to be able to prise the hiding place open. This wasn’t surprising, though. Hidden treasures shouldn’t be too easy to reach, should it? 

Although… it kinda was. Once the floorboard had been discarded, the contents of the hidey hole became visible. Only one item awaited her: a candlestick in a plain candlestick holder. One that looked like every other candlestick in existence. As she picked it up and turned it around in her hands, she couldn’t find anything to suggest it was any different to any other candlestick. How disappointing. 

Deflated, she took the stick to the mirror and held it up. 

“Are ya shittin’ me?” she asked her reflection. 

The reflection held its hands up. “I know, I know! It don’t look like much, but I can assure ya it’s worth more than ya can imagine. That’s why it’s been hidden away. Ya just need to find the right buyer.”

“And I s’pose ya know who that is?”

“Of course I do!” the reflection answered. “Find the house closest to the gates. There’s a human there who will be very interested in this item. I reckon they’d pay more than a pretty penny for it… p’haps even enough for ya to set up home here. How’s that sound?”

‘Too good to be true,’ Oozewart thought, but instead just nodded. This looked like and smelt like a trap. But this was a town of humans, and she could fight off humans in her sleep. And there was always the chance that her reflection could be speaking the truth. It couldn’t hurt to try. 

The reflection smiled again and waved at her. It was then she noticed that her doppelganger had golden feet. Oozewart looked down at her own dirt-crusted toes and saw no signs of any gold. It was weird, but things in Oozewart’s life were always weird. She didn’t think she could steal the gold from her reflection’s feet, so she decided to ignore it for now. In the grand scheme of things, her reflection having golden feet felt far less weird and perhaps dangerous as having said reflection actually converse with her. Still, Mirror Oozewart had given her a ‘get rich quick scheme’, and she could never resist one of those… no matter how many times they failed. Or how much trouble they caused her. 

She dropped the candlestick into the bag she still had hung over her shoulder (right next to her trusty axe!) and quietly opened the door to her room. Outside, the inn was quiet. 

Oozewart turned on her invisibility and her night-vision. Still no Night-Visions appeared - this place was amazing! Tiptoeing, she tried to make as little noise as possible as she tackled the stairs. Every now and then one of the floorboards gave out a little groan, but no-one came to investigate. Luck appeared to be on her side for once. 

The night swallowed her as she stepped out of the inn. The town was dark and empty. No drunks wandered the streets, and as far as she could see, the Night Watch were nowhere near. No witches terrorised the townsfolk. This was perfect. Her little crime had no witnesses, not even a Night-Vision watched her as she made her way through the streets towards the gates. 

Obsidia was bigger than she remembered, and the journey seemed to take far longer than she expected. ‘Once I’ve moved in properly, I’ll get the hang of all the shortcuts,’ she thought, as she walked and fantasised about the life that was almost in reach. 

A bell rang out, loud and clear, all but stopping the heart in Oozewart’s chest and making her jump out of her green, scaled skin. 

“What the fuck was that?” she muttered, making sure she was still invisible and keeping to the shadows. Her eyes tried to watch everything at once, looking for movement. 

But there was nothing. 

She was still alone.

Oozewart breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief was to be short-lived. Smoke surrounded her. Something was burning. She looked down, following the trail of smoke.

The smoke was coming from her bag. 

“Shit!” she cried, forgetting the need for stealth. She reached in the bag and removed the candlestick, just as the bag and its contents disintegrated in a puff of pink smoke. 

“What the fuck?” she asked the night at large.

Why was the candle lit? What kind of twisted magic was this? She blew at the flame, trying to extinguish it, but was stubborn. If anything, it just grew stronger and brighter. Oozewart held the candle aloft and searched the night. Where was that good for nothing witch? 

The candle’s flame grew even brighter. ‘It’s like a beacon,’ she thought, not realising how true that was. 

Somewhere a new sound rung out. The gentle tinkle of bells… but Oozewart wasn’t naïve enough to believe that anything gentle was making that sound. 

Fairies were coming… and they were hungry. 

At least that explained the lack of Night-Visions: there was too much competition for prey. 

Oozewart picked a random direction and started running, the candle glowing brighter with every step.