Alkimiya - A Fantasy Mystery Series

THIRTY - A Chest Full of Truth

Zenetra kept Mimi close as they twirled across the expansive cave. Her grip tightened on the leather jacket as they approached the far wall. Much of their momentum had been lost, so they bumped into the rock with gentle force.

Diagonally below, the strange metal chest rested in an alcove. Using her free hand and the tips of her boots, Zenetra scuttled along the rock face to the niche, dragging Mimi's body along.

The chest fit snugly in place. Whoever positioned it there did not want it to bob around the cave. With a length the size of a park bench and a width wide enough to sit cross-legged on, the chest appeared sturdy if not out of place. Its composition was of multifarious metals. A thick, decorative latch kept the lid closed.

Zenetra eyed the latch with apprehension. Too many legends of Renavolena and her alchemic island existed to guess what could be inside. For all she knew, there was something far more dangerous than the scepter in there. Opening the chest would be a gamble.

The metal gleamed.

Try as she might, Zenetra could not hold on to Mimi's body, stay close to the wall, and open the chest simultaneously.

Many traditions ended with the fall of Guild Nation. Some of the more questionable ones carried on with the most devoted of families but a few, like remembrance gatherings, weddings, the use of genderless nouns for job titles, and the freedom of love—as Tilde once expressed with relief—were so embedded in the nation that they became the building blocks of the United Democratic Federation.

Abandoning a fallen comrade was most prevalent in the time of the Guild. They did not mourn the body back home, only the soul. Platitude was for those in the Stone Republic, elaborate funerals for the Marzhanians, but the UDF's cultural expectation was to recognize that Mimi's body was merely a shell and to cast it aside without hesitation.

For Zenetra, that had been easy enough to do with Tilde. The transmutation spread too quickly for Zenetra to do anything other than run. Fleeing and leaving Tilde's body­ behind had been their only option.

It was different with Mimi. The plucky, green-haired constable had been the life and energy of the team, the confidant, the constant giver of praise and affection.

The metal flickered with the orange flames of firestones.

Zenetra spared one longing look at Mimi before pushing the lifeless body aside, letting go of the leather jacket with a heartfelt, "I'm so sorry."

Mimi's body hovered in place beside the wall. Ever so slowly, she inched out of reach.

Hot metal glimmered in the alcove. Hoping her gloves hadn't fallen out of her pocket on the way down, Zenetra mentally thanked all that was good and mighty in the world when her hand closed around fine leather. When she slipped them on, her hands immediately began to bake.

With urgency, she grabbed the latch and flipped it up. Heart rate increasing and hoping that a sharp tool lay within so that she could use it to climb back up the shaft, she peered inside. A vast collection of gold scrolls drifted toward her face.

Zenetra closed her eyes, tossed her head back, and groaned. The chain of her necklace rose around her neck. Slipping free from the confines of her sweater, the jewel rolled under her chin until it hovered in front of her nose.

She cracked her eyes open and stared at her father's gift. The necklace had no value save for sentimentality but even that had deteriorated over the journey. There were no tools or sharp objects for her to use to escape the mineshaft. She was going to bake to death. All she had to comfort her in her final hours was a gemstone that taunted her with yearnings for her father, an abundance of kukoos and firestones, and a chest full of gold.