Ignacio's Escape Room

Standing under the stalactite crusted ceiling had not been an unusual feeling. She was used to the caves and darkness, the chilled air ruffling through her feathers. What she had not been used to was facing Ignacio head on. He was a statue, yes, but Sakura could have sworn his eyes bore holes through her. She had excitedly agreed to take part in the escape room, had even graciously taken a glass of wine from one of the Aodhians locked in here with her, but the latter was only after the god’s voice first reverberated around the room. Her first sip had been while staring at the ignited torch. An even longer sip as the murmuring from the bodies around her began to grow louder.

Within moments (or maybe it had been hours? time was so odd in the marbled room), they had all agreed on the orb. It was hesitantly placed inside the door’s hollowed slot. “Wrong i—,” Sakura begins to grumble, disappointed in herself for supporting the orb, before the amazingly bright light pours into the cavern. The hair on her shoulders prickles in surprise when the door swings open. It hits the marbled wall with a loud slam. Already, bodies push into the next room, and Sakura follows. It is much larger than the previous. Her glass is now empty, and the pegasus instantly regrets ever touching the wine in the first place. The door whined as it shut behind them. Again, the kirin god’s voice booms, disembodied, around them. Almost as if he is the air itself. She shivers at the thought and his words. Just how treacherous was this little game?

Her teke gently places the empty glass on one of the marble tables as dainty hooves carry her to the next clue. Two doors, both beautiful. A brief idea of installing similar in her home crosses her mind. She stands at a little distance, behind most of the crowd, ears perked at the conversation. Choose carefully. The words echo in her mind. On one, vertical lines. They remind her of the haze over a fire, of the smoke rising above a blacksmith’s forge, the steam from a boiling pot of tea. Heat. On the other door, the lines resemble the water in her garden ponds. The gentle bobbing of small waves. Had she been to the surface before, they might have reminded her of the rolling fields above. Instead, it was only thoughts of Cascade and water. The choice was obvious, wasn’t it?

“I say the left,” Sakura says.