Choose Your Own Adventure [Part 18]

So, I've already outlined the new arcanist series, and I'm happy to say that things from this choose your own adventure will be in it. Fun times, lol

[Part 18]

“The Arcanist Festival,” you say. “Do you want to go?”

Twain twitches his ears and pats his paw on his lips. “I say we get close, and you use your new mimic magic for the first time, all right?”

From what you remember, a mimic arcanist can force his eldrin to transform, but you’re not sure how that’s accomplished. The confusion must be on your face because Twain snorts and half-laughs.

“Don’t worry.” He urges you forward by tugging on your sleeve. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Now get to that festival!”

Together the two of you leave the rocky landscape and head for the eastern beach. The crisp evening air is made colder by the ocean. You shiver back the chill as you find a small road and head to your hometown of West Jin. Twain remains on your shoulder, and occasionally you catch him purring. Whenever you glance over, however, he stops and looks away.

Although you haven’t used any of your magic, there’s something different about you. Each step you take is easier, like you’ve gained a whole new reserve of energy.

West Jin was built more tall than wide. The buildings are two stories—a couple three stories—and the trees stretch so high you swear they touch the clouds at some points. Monkeys are seen on the branches, some hiding in the fern-like leaves of the palms. They’re mischief makers, all of them. The locals know to avoid them, but tourists always get their lunches stolen.

The city is deserted.

Obviously.

Everyone is at the Arcanist Festival.

But right as you step onto the main street that splits the whole city in half, Twain tenses and arches his back.

With a growl in his voice, he says, “Something is nearby…”

Someone stumbles out onto the street. He’s scrawny, and his dark hair has grown so long it touches his shoulders. You recognize him—it’s Wyre. Another fifteen-year-old from West Jin.

You don’t really knowWyre, though. He moved here a year ago, and rumors follow him like a second shadow. He’s an orphan.

He’s also wearing a long cloak and a black tricorn cap. Most caps don’t cover a person’s forehead completely, but Wyre has gone out of his way to wrap his forehead with a bandana.

Wyre seems to be alone.

When he spots you, he holds his breath, his dark eyes wide.

“What’re you doing here?” Wyre asks, almost angry.

What do you do?

A) “Oh, wait. This isn’t where I parked my boat.” Leave.

B) “I could ask you the same question.”

C) “Are you okay?”

D) “I’m just heading to the beach to show off my mimic.” Motion to Twain.

E) “I’m an arcanist now. I’ll do what I want.”

F) Say nothing.