Chapter 4: The Waters of Menehune

Admiral scratches his ear thoughtfully as he considers the mirror. "...Aye, that’s not a bad idea, I suppose – bringing it back to the Whisker with us, I mean." With a grunt of effort, he picks up the mirror to carry back to the skiff. "Let’s gather up the rest of this stuff and go see what everyone else has been up to for the last couple of hours."

"Agreed." With that, Regan will collect the treasures they've uncovered and follows Admiral back to the others.

As Admiral and Regan weave their way back through the cavern network away from the hag's tunnels, the sound of raucous laughter, cheerful applause, and the lively strains of a violin grows louder with each step.

The sounds lead them to a breathtaking cavern space, housing a garden of glowing vines and berry bushes that blanket the walls and floor. A sparkling pool sits at one end of the large cave, its crystal-clear waters shimmering under stalactites above. Fey children splash and play in the water, their laughter punctuated by a cascade of droplets as one leaps from a mossy rock into the pool below.

In the heart of the cavern, Admiral and Regan witness a spectacle unfolding that is comical and bordering on absurdity. Cordey, the hulking half-sea-elf, sits uncomfortably on a "throne" of moss, flowers, and vines, his broad shoulders making the delicate seat look even more precarious. A woven crown of seaweed and shells perches on his head, slightly askew, as fey children flutter around him with offerings of glowing berries and tiny enchanted trinkets. The more Cordey attempts to politely decline their gifts, the more they cheer and chant titles like "Cordey the Brave!" and "Savior of the Brook!" with infectious glee, drowning out his protests entirely.

The fossergrim, standing nearby with an elegant violin in hand, plays a spirited tune that only encourages their antics further.

Tasya, unable to contain her laughter at the sight of Cordey being fawned over like a hero-king, joins in the celebration with a grin. She grabs Jin by the wrist and pulls him into a growing circle of fey children who have taken to dancing, their steps quick and whimsical as they twirl in time with the fossergrim’s melody. Jin, though initially reluctant, finds himself laughing alongside her as the two move among the tiny fey children.

Mischa and Caspian observe the scene from the edge of the garden, leaning casually against the cavern walls. Mischa wears a faint smile, the faintest glimmer of amusement in her usually composed demeanor, while Caspian watches the festivities with calm interest, his arms folded as if weighing the absurdity of the scene against its charm.

Taresh sits cross-legged on a mossy rock near the sparkling pool, his calm meditation a stark contrast to the lively splashing and dancing of the fey children around him. A bold fey child darts up to him and drapes a glowing garland of vines around his shoulders, prompting a faint smile as he quietly accepts the playful gesture, though he remains still.

...

As Admiral and Regan step into the cavern, the fey children turn their attention to them with all the energy of a mischievous swarm. A sudden hail of soft berries greets the newcomers, forcing them to dodge and weave as the tiny projectiles pelt them with harmless enthusiasm. A few braver children rush forward, their forms bouncing with excitement, and attempt to pet Admiral’s fur, their tiny fingers fascinated by its texture. Others circle Regan, tugging playfully at his armor and offering him fistfuls of berries as though trying to draft him into their game. The sheer chaos of the welcome is enough to overwhelm even the most hardened adventurer, though there is an undeniable charm to their exuberance.

Meanwhile, a group of curious fey notices the large mirror Admiral carries. Some fey gather around it, their wide, curious eyes reflecting its surface. One daring fey reaches out to touch its edge, and the dark mirror surface shimmers faintly in response, drawing soft gasps and whispers of awe from the group. Their attention shifts back and forth between the artifact and Admiral, their questions unspoken but clear in their gazes.

"Hey now... you kids leave this mirror alone. It was the hags, and it's certainly magical. It may not be safe -- that's why we're getting rid of it -- and we don't need any of you activating it or... making it do whatever it does... accidentally! Ok?" Regan interjects the moment the kids touch it. His voice is firm, but it isn't a yell. Still... only the most oblivious person alive would miss the seriousness in his tone. It leaves no question -- if they continue to mess with the mirror, there will be consequences.

Regans eyes dart to the Fossergrim, furthering the "I am not messing around" message. This mirror was potentially very serious.

Admiral laughs at the sight of Cordey perched upon his throne of flowers, but the smirk falls off his face as he and Regan are immediately swarmed by the fey children as well, tiny hands pulling at his fur and prodding at the mirror. "Oi! Paws off, you little scallywags!" he growls, lifting the mirror up out of their reach. "Regan’s right. This mirror’s not a toy. It’s very dangerous. If you're not careful you could end up stuck inside it."

The moment Admiral finishes reinforcing Regan's warning, one of the fey children—a small, wide-eyed boy with seafoam-colored hair—glimpses up at the mirror as Admiral holds it high, out of reach of the curious swarm.

A pulse of dark energy ripples outward from the frame, and in the blink of an eye, the fey boy is gone. No cry, no struggle—just a soft whoosh of air as the mirror hungrily swallows him whole.

A hush falls over the cavern. The fey children freeze, their joyful play forgotten as gasps and panicked whispers spread. The fossergrim’s bow slips slightly on his violin, his song faltering into silence.

A frantic wail breaks the quiet. One of the fey, a tiny girl with tear-filled eyes, tugs at Admiral’s coat, sobbing. "Bring him back!" she pleads, her tiny fingers shaking. "Please! The mirror took him!"

Beside her, another fey—her face pale with guilt—stares at something in her trembling hands. A small strip of leather dangles from her fingers, its edges scorched as if torn from something older. With a horrified gasp, she lets it fall. The charred scrap flutters to the ground at Admiral’s feet, revealing two distinct words burned into its surface:

"Rydyiwy"
"Madv"

The fey girl who dropped the leather clutches her hands to her chest, looking devastated, as the other child continues to sob. "I...I just whispered the word..." she chokes as tears well in her eyes.

The dark surface shudders again, as if in response. Waiting.

"Happy now? This is exactly why I told you kids not to touch it!" Regan is quite obviously holding back because... these are kids. Stupid, immature, simple kids. Somewhere, in the back of his memories, he recalls being their age -- although it feels like it was three lifetimes ago at this point. Was he this dumb? He'd like to think not, but... he can't quite remember... a lot has happened since then. Still... if these were adults, he probably would beat the offender till they couldn't walk and then let them heal naturally so they had plenty of time to think about what they had done. But these weren't adults. They were kids. Stupid, immature, simple kids.

Shaking his head, he takes the leather scrap from the floor in front of the girl.

He points to her. "Do NOT say that again. Now... the kid that was taken. We need a name. A real name, not a nickname or anything. So, what was it?"

Admiral curses colourfully and nearly drops the mirror in surprise as the fey child vanishes into it. He isn’t too worried yet, as he’s pretty sure there are a number of ways to get the poor kid back out, but he’s exasperated by how quickly these children seem to get themselves into trouble. Still, he’s pretty sure he was just as bad when he was a kid, if not worse – always sticking his nose in things and getting underfoot. There were more than a few occasions where he’d put himself in danger trying to join in a battle before he knew how to handle a sword. It’s a wonder Ebzer put up with him…

He sighs. "Lucky for all of you, I think we can get him back out, but you all better take a few steps back and give us some space to rescue your friend, I reckon."

The fey children briefly hesitate at Regan and Admiral's commands, their tiny webbed fingers gripping each other in fear and uncertainty. But after a moment, they obey, taking small, reluctant steps away. A few cast wistful glances toward the mirror, as if hoping their friend might somehow jump right out of it, grinning as if this had all been a trick. But the mirror remains dark.

"Nai Nai…"

A small voice breaks the silence.

One of the fey children, a little girl with blue wave-like hair woven with strands of kelp, clutches her hands to her chest. She was the one who pleaded for them to help her friend. Tears well in her large, fish-like eyes, but instead of falling, they hover on her cheeks like tiny pearls.

"His name is Naiyo, but everybody calls him Nai Nai," she says, her voice small, trembling but insistent. "His nickname comes from his grandma—she’s a naiad. She gave it to him because she said his laugh sounds like the frogs by the lake."

Her explanation tumbles out in that peculiar, fey-child way, where logic bends in strange, looping circles.

"Nai Nai is quick like silver minnows! He sings with the brook, but only when the sun is sleepy. He makes the best water crowns, but only if you bring him the right leaves," she says confidently and joyfully before her somber demeanor returns. "Nai Nai is not gone, I know it—I know it—but he's just not here here anymore!" She stamps a tiny webbed foot in frustration. "You have to fix it! Bring him back!"

Her voice rises in distress, and some of the other children murmur in agreement, shifting uncertainly as they stare at Admiral and Regan.

Admiral props the mirror against the cavern wall and crouches down to look the little fey girl in the eye. "Of course we’ll get him back. Do you remember which of the magic words you spoke? We need to use the other one to get your mate out of the mirror. Don’t say it out loud again – just point to the word you said on the piece of leather."

A sharp intake of breath comes from the Fossergrim as he moves closer and peers at the the strip of old burnt and cracked leather on the cavern floor. His expression darkens as he stares at the writing upon it, his fingers tightening around his bow that no longer plays music.

"These words…" His voice is thick with dismay. "These words are no words of fey magic and should never be spoken here."

The fey children flinch at his tone, unused to hearing such a solemn, commanding voice from the one who usually fills their lives with song.

The fey girl, responding to Admiral and shaken by the fossergrim's stern tone, points at the word "Rydyiwy" while she squints tightly and looks away.

Taking the scrap of leather, Admiral summons up an air of false confidence as he approaches the mirror, hoping to reassure the anxious fey by pretending he knows what he’s doing. "Show us Naiyo," he commands the mirror.

Admiral’s voice rings out…

For a moment, nothing happens. The mirror’s surface remains dark and still. They hold their breath, their tiny webbed fingers clutching each other tightly. The Fossergrim watches tensely, his grip tightening on his bow.

Then—a ripple.

Like a stone tossed into water, the mirror’s surface shimmers, its darkness unfurling like ink dispersing in a stream.

And then—he is there.

A small, silvery figure appears within the shifting glass, his image forming as if rising from the depths of a still pond. Naiyo’s body looks untouched, unchanged, his blue-green hair still woven with bits of kelp, his eyes wide and blinking, as though waking from a dream.

A single drop of mirrored light clings to his reflection before dissolving into the surface. He is not standing among them—he is inside the mirror.

A beat of silence.

Then—a cry of joy!

"Nai Nai!" the little fey girl screams, her voice bursting with pure relief.

The other fey children erupt in delighted shouts, their tiny hands reaching for him—only to stop just short of touching the glass. Their laughter falters as they realize what has happened. Naiyo is there, but he is not here.

A small fey boy presses his hands against the mirror, his voice rising in confusion. "You’re in the mirror! Nai Nai, you’re stuck!"

Naiyo tilts his head, looking at them from the other side, his eyes bright and curious. He lifts his webbed hands and presses them against his side of the glass, mirroring the boy’s gesture.

Then, he grins.

"That was fun!" he announces, his voice clear and bright, like the bubbling of a brook over smooth stones.

But the sound does not come from his lips—it echoes from the mirror itself, as though spoken through layers of water and glass.

The fey children gasp, stepping back, their joy quickly turning to confusion, staring at their friend who is so close, yet impossibly far away.

"Alright, alright, clear some space," Admiral grumbles, shooing the children away from the mirror again. Once all of the children are a safe distance away, he furrows his brow at the scrap of leather and reads aloud: "Madv."

Regan stands to the side, watching the kids more than the mirror. He locks eyes with the Fossergrim briefly, his expression conveying his seriousness. This whole situation was bad.

When the trapped child says it was fun, the older man's expression turns to one of exasperation... although to his credit, he doesn't say anything that crosses his mind.

After Admiral speaks the word, Naiyo's figure emerges from the shifting glass, feet first, as if stepping out from behind a waterfall.

The other fey children erupt in delighted shouts, their tiny hands reaching for him as they rush forward. They surround him instantly, chattering, laughing, touching his arms and shoulders, as if making sure he is truly there. One small fey boy grabs Naiyo’s hand and tugs on it repeatedly, his voice shrill with excitement. "Nai-Nai, you were in the mirror! You were gone-gone but now you’re back-back!"

Naiyo glances around the cavern, then at Admiral and Regan, then down at his own hands. He grins.

"Can I do that again!?" he asks with a bright laugh—that does indeed sound like tree frogs by a lake.

The fey children explode into shrieks and giggles, hugging him, shaking his shoulders, half-scolding him for scaring them, half-celebrating his return. Naiyo doesn’t seem to notice their concerns—only their joy.


The fossergrim turns to Regan and Admiral, his former melodic tone now heavy with a deep, wary concern. "This infernal script must not stay here in these chambers with the little ones. It is not safe."

"What else did the hag meddle in?" His piercing eyes sweep between the two adventurers, hoping they know. "Did she only twist the minds of the Sahuagin and ensnare me? Or was she up to something far worse than a being a greedy crone? Nothing of the hag's should be left here for the children to find."


As the Fossergrim questions Regan and Admiral, Mischa steps forward, her eyes narrowing as she studies the leather in Admiral’s hand. She hesitates, then reaches out, fingertips grazing the cracked surface as if feeling for something unseen.

"This… this isn’t just old leather," she murmurs, a strange tension in her voice. "This is a contract. A binding. Someone bargained with it—maybe the hag, maybe someone before her. But this wasn’t just a spell. It was an exchange."

Her expression darkens as she lifts her gaze to the others. "The book Jin brought to the skiff—the one from the hag’s laboratory—it hints that the hag wasn’t only dabbling in charming magic, but that she was obsessed with tainting objects, corrupting them with infernal blight."

Seeing the children’s excitement and apparent lack of concern over what just happened, Admiral puts on his ‘captain’ voice. "Listen up, you mangy pack of braindead bilge rats! Any one of you rotten little seaslugs gets stuck in there again, I’m not getting you back out, so no funny business, aye? I see any of you within fifty feet of that mirror and you’ll be swabbing the deck— er, floors— ‘til sunrise tomorrow!"

"I’ll take the mirror out to the skiff for now," Admiral tells the Fossergrim, instantly switching back to his normal speaking voice. "We’ll take it with us when we go, along with all the other stuff we found."

The fey children jump at Admiral’s sudden command, their wide, fish-like eyes blinking rapidly in shock. A few of them let out startled squeaks, instinctively scuttling behind berry bushes and rocks, their webbed fingers clutching the edges like guilty stowaways caught sneaking extra rations.

For a few moments, all is still—just the occasional nervous twitch. Then, the brave one with red-tinted hair slowly peeks out from behind a crate, voice hushed and full of wonder. "But if someone else is inside there having fun…will you tell us?"

The Fossergrim on the other hand, nods to Admiral in agreement about removing the mirror and the hag's item from the caverns.

Mischa’s gaze locks onto the mirror, her usual demeanor of quiet control becomes edged with old fear. She steps forward, placing herself squarely between Tasya and the glass.

"I believe that thing is demon cursed," she says, her voice low and certain. "It may be an important tool to us somehow—but we must be very careful with it. And it stays away from Tasya"

Her dark eyes flick to Admiral, hard and unyielding. "If we haul that thing onto the skiff, Fine. But if we do, don’t expect me to sleep near it. And don’t be surprised if it starts whispering to us in the dark."