C-TWT-012
Barista: Julia Morningstar
Date: Feb-4-2020
Receipt: C-TWT-012
Subject: Witches
We met her in the heart of the Tree, the way a dream meets its dreamer. ████. She was waiting for us.
██████ is certainly here. Worse, he's moving through the Isles like rot under bark, twisting ancient pacts and courting old enemies like the █████████. ████ says Tír Glas is the last isle largely untouched by his greed.
For now.
We’ve been tasked with crossing the Silver Sea to Tír Bán to find █████ and gain use of his ████████. It’s the only way we’ll be able to cross freely between Isles… and it might be the only way back to the ████████. To do that, we’ll need to first head south, to ████████████, and find an "███████ ship." She gave us a ████████████ to barter with… I hope that’ll be enough.
[The Sacred Tree opened not with a creaking or a rumble, but with a breath. The bark parted like silk sliced by a blade. Inside, the world glowed a golden-green. At the heart of the Tree was a throne shaped of woven root and ivy and on it sat ████. Radiant, ancient, and waiting.]
Jean-Marc: ████. Goddess of Tir Glas. You must already know why we're here. ██████. ████████████ of Greed. If he has already started corrupting the Isles, we need to know where to begin to root him out.
████: Begin? You are already inside the story, Jean-Marc. The quill is firmly pressed to the page.
Jean-Marc: Then let us write wisely. Please, tell us what we can do to change the ending.
████: …It is true. ██████ has slithered his way into Avalon. ███████ had—
Jean-Marc: ███████?
████: …███████ had warned that he would be on his way. His corruption grows from his own seat of power and has stretched across to the other ██████. We had been protected by the ███████████’s light… until it seemed to vanish. Now his gold lines the halls of forgotten kings. He has courted the █████████, corrupted the Knights of ███████, and should he have his way—he may even ally with the ██████.
Jericho: █████████? Bloody hell... then the old war really is stirring again.
████: The ████████████████ have kept our watch. We reached out to the other Isles. Tír Bánbhui, Tír Corcairdhearg, Tír Dubh. Few have answered. I fear most are already lost.
Kyle: Then where do we go that isn’t lost?
████: Here. Tír Glas. The last Isle still free. And yet... not entirely untouched. ██████’s greed casts long shadows, does it not?
Julia: We need to stop him. Tell us how. No more riddles. No more games. …Please—
[████ cracked a slight smile.]
████: Just like your mother. Across the Silver Sea lies Tír Bán. Speak with their king, █████, Lord of █████████. Convince him to grant you use of his ████████. With it, you may cross between the Isles with ease, and even return to your waking world, should you desire it so. You could root out the corruption where it lies… if it is not too late.
Jean-Marc: And to reach Tír Bán?
████: You must first go south. To Dún na Síthe. There, you will find an ███████ ship. It will carry you across the Silver Sea.
Jenny: Wait. Let’s back this up. What is the Otherworld? Where are we? ██████████████ speaking.
████: It is not a where. It is a… when. A dream remembered by the bones of the cosmos. A story told before language, before creation. A tale told, time and time again to the restless and youthful—
Jenny: That doesn't help us. Like… where is the when. In █████████. █████████ is below the ████████ and surrounded by the ███████. Beyond the ███████ is the ██████████—█████. I haven’t been able to use my ████████████ since we got here. Not once. Jennifer can still see the █████████ with hers. Why can't I?
████: Sight is not equal. And this land does not favor all eyes.
Jenny: I earned my sight.
Jackie: Jenny—
Jenny: No. I earned it. I bled for it. I almost died for it. And now it’s just, what, gone? Like that? Not worthy?
████: Perhaps this place asks you to see differently. Or perhaps it is asking you to listen before you look.
[There was a long silence.]
Max: Jenny…
[Max reached out to Jenny but she moved aside.]
Jericho: What of the █████████? Are they here too?
████: They rule Ireland in the ████████, do they not? That was their pact. We still rule Tír Glas. My brothers and sisters of the ████████████████ remain, scattered but bound here in the Otherworld.
Jericho: I see… I think. How long you reckon the Otherworld has been here then? To us, it seems so… new. I mean, fuck’s sake—
[Joy thrust her elbow squarely into Jericho’s ribs, giving him a look that screamed, "you’re talking to a Goddess."]
Jericho: Eugh—sorry, I mean to say… we’ve all been to hell and back. The █████████. The Princes ██████. Jenny, she was talking about even outside of that—███████. ██████. █████… We know so much about the nature of the Universe, yeah? Why did we never see the Otherworld before?
████: It is not a where. It is a when. As I said. Jericho—yes? You already know so much of our histories of our pasts. How would you have known them if we were not already there to be known?
Jericho: Right… but…
████: Go. While you still walk free from the weight of Greed. And take this—
[████ produced a small ████████████ from her hand and placed it within a stone fire basket. The flame danced and swirled but never died and never jumped out of its stone casing.]
████: A fair trade for your vessel, once you reach Dún na Síthe.
[Jerciho held the ████████████ in his hand watching it squirm in its stone casing.]
████: May your vessel carry you true.
Decaffeinate Receipt
"Foe of Glas."
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