silence

On a shrub-covered hill bathed in the bright morning light, Trollin waited. There are few things in life more futile than an imp attempting to play hide-and-seek in the full light of day. Nevertheless, Trollin did his best to blend in with the shrubbery, and to the untrained half-blind eye, he might indeed appear invisible.

"Here he comes now," hissed a green snake from a nearby tree. "Oh, wow, he looks bad," the snake continued. "Like, maybe we've gone too far bad."

"Show me what you see," Trollin whispered.

Ignoring the request, the snake continued, "It's his cheeks. Look how sunken in they are."

"By the sight of the serpent, show me!" Trollin the imp wiggled his fingers and did a little shake.

Compelled to obey, the snake's eyes twinkled, and in a flash, Trollin was looking down on Wizard #3412 as he shuffled from his home and down the street.

"See what I mean with the cheeks," the snake's voice was calm inside Trollin's mind.

"Oh, he looks perfectly fine. It's just the trend these days to look poor and unfed. Where you see a broken man in his last moments, I see a fashionable academic deftly navigating the youth's cultural minefield," replied Trollin.

"Well, you're not wrong. It is hard getting old while surrounded by so much youth. I suppose you relate," the snake questioned. And, almost on cue, Liu stumbled, nearly dropping the bell.

"Fit as a fiddle, that one," the snake continued, its tone a savory blend of sarcasm and exasperation as it watched Trollin stumble his way through the undergrowth. With a resigned sigh, the snake gracefully descended from the tree, slithered its way up Trollin's leg, around his torso, and finally draped itself across his neck like a living, breathing, and deeply unimpressed scarf.

"Yes, well, this multi-year charade is almost at the end, and we'll finally get paid." Trollin beamed.

"So far, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. Yet your unwavering belief this trickster will pay us is probably why I stick around. Bumbling optimism fuels my existence," the snake said.

From a fair distance, the imp known as Trollin and his green asp familiar perched outside the building Wizard #3412 had entered. Once again, they waited. They waited longer, and still, they waited even more until the hum came.

"Do you hear that?" Trollin asked his companion. This was a silly question because if anything could not hear the hum, that anything would certainly no longer be alive.

But, asking silly questions is Trollin's thing, and giving sarcastic answers is the snake's thing, and in times of uncertainty, it's best to stick with what one knows. However, there was no sarcastic reply.

Trollin's hand reached up to his neck, seeking the reassuring touch of his scaly companion. His fingers brushed against the snake's cool, smooth scales, a gesture that spoke volumes in the eerie sound that enveloped them. Though no words could be exchanged, the touch conveyed a simple message: 'We've got this, partner. Together, like always.'

The snake, in turn, tightened its coils around Trollin's neck ever so slightly, a reciprocal gesture that skirted the line between comforting and choking. It was a response that needed no translation, a silent 'I know, you buffoon. Let's get moving before whatever is about to happen kills us.'

As Trollin stood, the hum stopped abruptly. In the next instant, the building before them burst apart, showering the area with chunks of masonry and debris. Strangely, the whole spectacle unfolded in complete silence, as if someone had hit the mute button on reality. There were no deafening booms, no screams of surprise, not even a 'Would ya look at that' comment within earshot. All Trollin could do was run.

As he sprinted through the soundless apocalypse, Trollin's mind, usually preoccupied with thoughts of riches and the whereabouts of his favorite pair of socks, stumbled upon a rare moment of clarity. Dodging a falling gargoyle that bore an uncanny resemblance to his least favorite aunt Gerty, the green imp realized with a sinking feeling that their chances of getting paid for this particular misadventure had just plummeted faster than that life-sized Gerty statue. His everlasting optimism faded, and all that was left was silence.

Entered by: 0xAFF3…fAb3 and preserved on chain (see transaction)