Room3a
The room is a perfect square and every surface is made of a smooth, dark blue stone. Flecks of reflective quartz pepper the stone making the ceiling sparkle like the sky at dusk as the stars begin to emerge.
“Oooo, pretty,” Safir says.
“Yeah, isn’t it?” Jora gives her a smile.
“What’s up with you two?” Conrad whispers in Jora’s ear.
“What?”
Conrad grabs the taller boy by the arm and drags him away from the girls to continue his intense whispering.
“I heard you and saw you. You’re flirting with Safir; talking about kissing. Don’t you love Lamia anymore?”
“Lamia?” Jora’s voice booms out in surprise.
“Quiet,” Conrad whispers but it’s too late.
“What about me?”
“Of course I love Lamia,” Jora continues at full volume. “Wait, do you think we’re together? What gave you that idea?”
“What are you talking about? Everyone knows it. You two are always together, thicker than thieves even. Everyone sees you holding hands and hugging, it’s clear that you’re courting.”
Jora snorts, and then a tiny chuckle escapes. The chuckles grow until he is laughing loudly. Somewhere along the way, Lamia joins in his merriment. The friends laugh until they are falling into each other with tears rolling down their faces.
“I love,” Jora wheezes as he tries to rein in his laughter. “Love her like a sister. Good Gods, does everyone think we’re courting?”
Conrad and Safir both nod.
Jora erupts with fresh gales of laughter.
“We’re just friends,” Lamia manages to say. “It would be like being courted by my brother.”
She visibly shudders at the thought.
“So you’re not together,” Safir says while nodding; it’s a statement not a question.
Lamia nods and punches Jora in the ribs to stifle his laughter.
“Well, that’s great then,” Conrad says.
He glances at Lamia with a strange expression. “So, you’re free to be courted by anyone you want then?”
He waggles his eyebrows and after a second Lamia’s eyes go wide at his implication.
“Not even if we’re trapped in this hellhole for eternity. Never.”
“You can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“If the pressing matter of our love lives is settled,” Jora says, wheezing. “Can we please continue trying to get out of here?”
Jora pointedly turns away and surveys the room. In the center of each wall is a door.
One door is red, the second is black, and the final door is green. The white door has disappeared, leaving a smooth stone wall behind.
In the center of the room is a stone table, also of blue stone.
Flanking the table is a pair of magic mirrors.
The black mirror to the left of the table shows Lamia striking a flint above a dry brown scroll lying on the table.
In the white mirror to the right, Lamia carefully unrolls the scroll and begins to read.
The scenes fade before giving a clue as to the outcomes.
“The last scroll we read wasn’t exactly a joyful document,” Conrad says.
“Maybe we should just give this one a miss,” Safir suggests.
What choice should the adventurers make?