Marceline left the Library again and re-entered the room where the Curator lay defeated. She only glanced at the figure on the ground, but she could have sworn it was just a bunched clump of empty clothes. Shaking her head, she quickly moved past the desk and opened the door on the far side.
There was a long hallway in front of her, seemingly as vacant as the previous room. There was water dripping from numerous spots along the ceiling.
The interior of the hallway was illuminated by moonlight that was shining in from the windows that flanked the walls. She could barely make out the door at the other end. Peering through one of the windows, she could see it had started raining.
Cautiously, she began walking towards the other end of the hallway. She scanned from ceiling to floor as she went, looking for any sort of traps.
Reaching the door, she turned around to look back at the hallway again.
Standing up straight, she said, “I guess they forgot to protect this place.”
She turned the brass knob on the door and it creaked open.
On the other side was another spiral staircase, however this one was made of stone. She was standing at the base of it. There was only one direction to go: up. It was impossible to tell how far it went from the bottom.
She rotated her leg a few times. It was sore, but the searing pain had subsided.
The stone steps were covered in a burgundy carpet. Pressing her foot into the first step, a vision flashed in her mind. She was standing on the rug that sprawled in front of her hearth. The warmth of the fire gently caressing her worn face as her dog Gargoyle lay sleeping in the corner. She was at home. Not here, in this forsaken place.
The vision disappeared and her mind returned to the sound of dripping water on stone walls.
She began to ascend the steps. The stairwell was not much wider than she was. There were only a few inches between her shoulders and the walls.
It was impossible to tell how far up the next level was. This castle’s varying floor heights didn’t make it any easier to guess, either. After about five minutes of climbing Marceline’s leg began throbbing again. She stopped briefly to rub it. She began to feel a light wind coming from above her. It was cold but gentle.
She continued on for another few minutes, the noise of air escaping through a small hole became louder the further up she went.
Finally, she reached the top. There was a closed wooden door. It was uneven in the frame of the wall. The noise was coming from between the cracks. There was flickering light coming from the other side. She pushed the door open slowly, but a wind caught it and slammed it against the wall inside the room. Marceline jumped and habitually grabbed the hilt of her sword.
Peering inside, she could see various alchemical devices scattered atop tables around the room. There were glass jars and bottles with different colored liquids. Some of them were slowly dripping into different receptacles. One of the bottles was dripping a liquid that was burning a hole in the floor. Marceline made a mental note to avoid that area.
The room was about the same size as the Library, but there were far fewer pieces of furniture. Along the walls were the tables. The center of the room was empty, save for a large gray and white rug. It looked like it could have once been a direwolf.
She quickly scanned the room and muttered to herself, “If I were a glowing key…where would I be hiding.”
She grabbed the book out of her satchel and flipped to the page with the key on it. The map ended in this room. The portion of the map that showed this room was just a simple rectangle with scratch marks on it. There was no indication on the map where the key was.
She began looking through the desks that had drawers. It took a bit of effort to open each drawer. The years of settling had caused the wood to warp. They no longer fit the way they were originally made.
After searching every drawer and finding nothing. She settled on the direwolf rug in the center of the room.
“Fuck.” She muttered.
“What do you think?” she asked the rug.
The rug did not answer.
The rug was headless, so she was looking at the area that looked like it used to have one. She put her hands down, feeling the soft fur between her fingers. This rug seemed out of place in this room. Everything was so industrial…yet here was this creature of nature, sprawled out. Laid bare for all of science to balk at.
“Oh shit!” She exclaimed, suddenly.
She stood up quickly and looked down. She grabbed one edge of it and yanked, hard. Underneath, on the floor was a hatch with an inset handle. It was so perfectly flush that she never would have felt it through the wolf pelt.
She grabbed the handle and pulled. It pivoted on its hinge easily. Inside for a small crevice with only a single item: a golden glowing key.
Holding it up to her face, she grinned.
