She swept her hair from her eyes and squinted at the paper in her hands. Aaron stood and watched her, knowing not to say a word.

Finally, she looked up, her brown eyes piercing. “Ok, tell me what it is,” she said.

“It’s a map,” he replied nonchalantly, looking away and staring at the rows and rows of books behind her. It was so like her, to find her in the library.

Rosie rolled her eyes and pushed the paper back at him. When he didn’t take it she dropped it and let it flutter to the ground. Without saying another word, she leaned forward and began studying the book spines.

Aaron sighed and picked up the map. “You don’t want to know where it leads?” he asked, following her down the row as she trailed a finger along the books.

She stopped. “Last time I helped you with a project,” she began, emphasizing ‘project’ with finger quotes, “we ended up in the rain outside the sushi place looking at a dead cat.” She raised a brow and folded her arms, as if she’d won the argument.

Aaron stared blankly at her, pretended to recall that day. Really he was just staring at her. She shifted on her feet and abruptly turned back to the books.

“There was no way for me to know that cat was going to be dead,” he muttered.

Rosie was very good at ignoring him.

“I’ll be at the park at eleven tomorrow morning. With the map.”

Still, she said nothing and instead swiftly picked up a book and flipped to the front summary.

“Rosie,” he said, stepping closer and taking the book from her hands, “You should come and have a real adventure.”

She pushed her hair out of her eyes again, which had narrowed significantly at him. He always thought it was silly that she didn’t tie her hair back. It was always in her face.

“Shut up and give me the book back.”

“I’m checking it out,” Aaron said, glancing at the cover. The Deadly Princess. Yikes. “I’ll bring it to the park. Eleven. Sharp.”

She swiped at him for the book, but he easily raised the book higher into the air than she could reach. Her face was very close and very irritated.

Aaron smiled at her and left. But not before checking out the book.

Read part II: https://theprose.com/post/244351/map-part-ii

The park was a sort of landmark in the small town of Linestead. It was a surprisingly big portion of the town, and the majority of it remained untouched by humans. This resulted in a “forest preserve” which Aaron was convinced meant “excuse to not cut back any plants”. Nonetheless, Aaron quite enjoyed the area’s overgrown state, and liked to sit in the unfound nooks and crannies away from the main pathways.

Today, however, he was sitting on a bench in the middle of the park, waiting. It was still before eleven, he assumed, so Rosie wasn’t late, but he did regret that he never brought a watch anywhere.

With him he had The Deadly Princess, which had his map tucked away between the pages. He resisted the urge to look at the map again. He really didn’t need to see it; he’d looked at it so much it was a wonder it hadn’t disintegrated under his gaze.

Instead, he stared at the trees, which had just begun to change colors. It made fall break actually feel like fall.

x x x

Many minutes passed before he heard footsteps.

Aaron remained on the bench, where he had laid down in an attempt to get more comfortable. (Unfortunately, it had only resulted in cramped legs; the bench was much too short for him.) He turned his head to watch her sideways figure walk towards him.

Rosie was wearing what Rosie normally wore: ripped jeans and an oversize black hoodie. Nothing fancy, nothing even particularly badass, just plain Rosie clothes. The kids at school couldn’t even call her goth. She wasn’t a nerd, she wasn’t a cheerleader, she had no category. She was just Rosie.

She stopped in front of the bench, arms folded. She tucked her dark hair behind her ear to better glare at him.

“You know why I’m here,” she said.

“For the book?” he asked, pulling it out from beneath his head. (Update: books make awful pillows.) He held it up, using it to shield the sun as he looked at her.

“Shut up and move over.”

Groaning, Aaron sat up, and she sat down.

“I feel like I’m being used,” she sighed, throwing her head back and closing her eyes. She reminded him of a sunflower facing itself towards the sun.

He shifted, unwilling to talk about her personal life. She never really talked about it, not anymore. He opened his mouth to say something remarkable and empathetic...

She looked over at him. “By you.”

Aaron shut his stupidly gaping, grasping-for-words mouth and squinted at her.

She rolled her head back towards the sky. “You know I have nowhere to be.”

“That’s not why I wanted you here,” he said. He thought about her father, but let the thought flit by.

“Just tell me what your stupid adventure is. Your stupid map.”

He was both angry at her for calling the map stupid and convinced that he was stupid for asking her here. He decided to focus on the anger ignore the stupidness.

“The map is not stupid, thank you. Listen to this...” and he launched into The Story of the Map in his most overdramatic voice, wanting to see her smile.

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Read part III: https://theprose.com/post/244551/map-part-iii

The Story of the Map

(As told by Aaron Torres)

“This map once belonged to the great Fernando Buchante, a world-renowned explorer. He sailed the seas, collected treasure, and enchanted women. On one of his quests, he discovered a treasure too great and too powerful for anyone to possess. Believing he had no other options, he hid the treasure in a place no one would be ever able to find it.

“No one except the owner of this map, which he painstakingly drew the night before he sailed back Spain. The map details the location of the treasure, but even that isn’t enough, for Fernando had set up trials and puzzles along the trail. Only the true of heart can pass and reach the treasure.

“Still, Fernando was afraid that the treasure would fall into the wrong hands, and so he carefully protected the map until he knew who to pass it on to. Years and years went by, and Fernando became old and obsessive. He told anyone who came within earshot about the treasure, claiming he needed them to find it, needed them to get it for him, for he had become too frail to retrieve it for himself.

“At that point, no one believed him, and everyone wrote off his ramblings as the musings of a madman. But his youngest grandson, still enticed with the ideas of adventure and treasure, accepted the map from his frenzied Abuelo. Since that day, the boy’s family has been handing down the map, generation after generation, knowing that one day a young descendant of the Buchante line will finally stand up to the challenge and accept the treasure.”

After much enthusiastic gesticulating, Aaron finally put his hands down, looking to Rosie for her response.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Let me guess. The young, handsome fellow that will finally find the lost treasure is you?”

He laughed, even though she stared at him blank-faced. “I didn’t say handsome,” he said.

“Well you should have, because every part of that story was romanticized.” She leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Did you say ‘only the true of heart can pass?’”

Her hair had fallen in front of her face, so she didn’t see him make a face at her in annoyance. “It’s true,” he said defensively. “I mean, no one thinks it’s real, but I think it’s worth a shot. What have you got to lose?”

Rosie shifted and looked at him with her dark brown eyes. “Nothing, I guess.”

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous:https://theprose.com/post/244351/map-part-ii

Next: https://theprose.com/post/245602/map-part-iv

Rosie had the map in her hand, and seemed to be wandering aimlessly through the park. Now that Aaron had gotten her on board with this treasure-finding, it seemed she wanted to be the leader.

He didn’t mind.

“Find anything yet?” he called out. She was a good ways ahead of him, staring at the trees in a determined sort of way. He liked the way the midday light danced across the tree branches and the discarded leaves and her. It was almost like they had walked into some mystical forest. He imagined that she would be some sort of angry elf.

“Not yet!” she yelled back. “Where are you? Keep up, will you?” She didn’t even turn around.

He smiled and kept walking at the same pace.

x x x

Some time later, Rosie stomped her boots to a stop, crinkling the leaves underneath her. “I knew I knew this symbol.” She stabbed a finger at the map, and Aaron finally did catch up with her so he could look.

There were three symbols on the map: a crescent, a circle with an X through it, and the one Rosie was pointing at: a half circle above a horizontal line.

Aaron looked around in confusion. “So that spot on the map is... here?”

Rosie stepped forward into a close circle of trees. “In here,” she said, turning back and looking at him.

He followed, and saw what she meant. The circle of trees were surrounding a small bench, one he had never seen before. And on it, the symbol was carved.

“I’ve never... how did you know this was here?”

Rosie tucked her neck to her chest, as if she was cold. But it was too nice of a day for that. She sat down and ran a hand over the engraving. “I used to drink out here,” she said, her voice hard. Her brown eyes were harder, almost glaring at him through her hair.

What did she think, that he would judge her for that? After what she’d been through? Aaron sat next to her, right on top of the symbol that led them to this place. He tried to think of words that wouldn’t offend her, would bridge the chasm between them, not widen it. He had just gained her companionship again, and he didn't want to lose it.

He waited too long; Rosie spoke again. “I don’t anymore. I can’t stand it anymore.” She looked away from him, watching the wind blow leaves across the ground. “Anyway we found the symbol, so... what now?” She stood, making all kinds of loud noises, kicking leaves.

Aaron sighed and stood up as well, then looked down at the symbol. “I don’t know,” he admitted.

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous: https://theprose.com/post/244551/map-part-iii

Next: https://theprose.com/post/246011/map-part-v

Aaron studied the map, spinning it around and around, not sure which way was up. “If this is this symbol, then where are the other ones? How far away is...” his voice trailed off as he squinted at the paper in his hands.

Rosie seemed to have abandoned interest, and she walked in circles around Aaron and the bench, weaving within the trees.

Aaron scuffed his foot against the ground in sudden frustration. “Is this the clue? Or is there something else to find here? Do you think we’re supposed to find something else before we find this one?”

Still, Rosie said nothing. Only the birds cawing in the distance had anything to say.

“Wha--”

“Shut up,” she told him, stopping her dizzying walk. “Aren’t I the doubting one?” she quipped. Her heart wasn’t really in it, though, and she pulled near the bench, squatting down. “This... Oh.”

In a second, Aaron was kneeling next to her. A handle. A trapdoor handle was hidden underneath the bench.

“It’s real! It’s--There’s a real--!” Triumphant, Aaron grinned ear to ear at Rosie, who shook her head and tried to hide her smile behind her hair.

“There better be a real treasure to go with your real map,” she said, reaching for the handle. “I can’t believe I never saw this before.”

After a lot of regret that neither of them had stronger forearms and a little bit of swearing, they finally dislodged the trapdoor from the forest floor. The top was grassy, but wooden underneath, hinged into another hidden piece of wood.

Once opened, a dark cavern lay before them. Decades of mysteries are hidden in this hole, Aaron thought.

He dug into his jacket pocket, feeling around that stupid library book for what he knew he had. “Ta-da!” he said, pulling out a flashlight. And before Rosie even had time to look at him, he took a step forward and jumped in the hole.

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous: https://theprose.com/post/245602/map-part-iv

Next: https://theprose.com/post/246420/map-part-vi

Aaron tumbled downwards, hands flung out, scraping the dirt, then stone, at his sides. He tried desperately to slow his descent, but, unfortunately, he landed rather awkwardly on his legs/back.

“I hope you’re not dead because I am not explaining how you got down there.” Rosie’s voice echoed down to him.

“I’m fine!” he yelled back, looking up at her face peering over the hole. It wasn’t that far of a drop, maybe seven feet.

He stood and brushed himself off. The hole led to a tunnel with rocky walls and a hard, uneven ground. He flexed his hands, which were scraped and dirty. He noticed that his left hand was cut and bleeding slightly, but he didn’t really mind. The treasure was real!

“What’s down there?” called Rosie.

Aaron looked around, but all he could see was rock and shadows. Then he spotted his flashlight, which he had quickly freed from his grip during his fall. He picked it up and turned it on, spinning to shine it down the dark tunnel. “It’s just dirt and stone,” he said.

“Well. Tell me if you find anything.”

“You’ve gotta come down!” he protested, squinting upwards. The sunlight was bright from down here.

“Throw the book to me. I need something to do while I wait,” she said back. He could see that she had sat down at the edge of the hole. Settling in.

“You’re kidding. You’re really not coming down?” He couldn’t believe it. They used to do all kinds of stupid stuff when they were kids, and those were for made-up adventures.

“I told you, Torres, I’m done with your games. And now you’re stuck in a hole!” It was the first time today that she seemed genuinely amused, and the first time Aaron was genuinely annoyed.

“This isn’t a game!” he yelled back, and shined the flashlight up into her eyes. “You just wait!” He huffed and started down the tunnel without a second glance, clutching his left hand in a fist, and not just because it was bleeding.

Why would she bother coming with him if she was just going to mock him? Why did he even ask her to help at all? He made the very poor decision to kick the stone wall, and hoped his grunt of pain didn’t echo back to her.

He continued until he reached the end of the tunnel. The walkway was small, wide enough for only one person to comfortably walk, and maybe forty feet long. It ended in a sort of stone throne room that was eerily dark and stony.

Aaron stepped silently into the room, as if noise would awaken the evil spirits that slept here. Who knew? Maybe there was something guarding the treasure.

The wall in front of him was flat, but curved where he had walked in. A half circle. In the center, a stone throne rose from the ground, hastily chiseled and dangerously jagged.

Along the curved wall, strange shapes were fashioned out of the stone. They all seemed to resemble things, but the proportions were off and the craftsmanship was poor.

Aaron stepped closer to one. It looked like a hand, protruding from the ground like it was growing, and clutching a sword. There were far too many fingers, and they melded together in unnatural ways. He felt the hairs on his neck stand up, and he backed away, trying to ignore the chill in the room.

Carefully, he approached the back wall, upon which six letters were carved:

B E W A R E

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous: https://theprose.com/post/246011/map-part-v

Next: https://theprose.com/post/246570/map-part-vii

Aaron stepped backwards and spun in a circle, flashlight flitting over the room. He was still alone.

Afterwards, he felt a little foolish that he was so easily spooked, and even chuckled to himself. But it was forced, and his heart was still hammering.

Gingerly, he approached the back wall again, shining his light over the letters. There was more text that he hadn't noticed engraved under the ominous ‘BEWARE’.

‘Brave explorer: Your next task is behind a door in this room. Find the door and you will have proven yourself humble.’

Aaron looked around. He just had to find a door? He could do that.

He felt along the wall, working clockwise. He passed by all of the stone sculptures: a pedestal with a crown, a knight, the hand with sword, what looked vaguely like a horse, and a coat of arms. No doors, and, as far as he could tell, no clues.

After some more searching, he finally found something: a panel not of stone, but metal, on one side of the throne. He knelt down and pressed it. It didn’t move, but he heard rocks tumbling. Jumping up, Aaron looked around. There was a crack in the wall behind the crown pedestal.

Heart pounding, Aaron squatted and pressed into the panel again, peering around the throne and at the wall. It did nothing. He set down his flashlight, gathered his strength, and leaned into the panel as hard as he could. He kicked it. He pushed it again. He attempted to pull it.

He ran to the wall. He tried to pull the crack open. His fingers slipped against the cold stone, his cut hand left a smear of blood on the wall. Turning, he rushed to the other side of the throne, and saw it: another panel. But even after a lot of pushing and swearing, the ‘door’ did not budge open any more.

Aaron paced the room, wondering if he should get Rosie. What if she was gone? he realized. No matter, she had made her decision. He could do the rest alone.

With renewed vigor, he lapped the room, looking for more panels. When he found nothing, he returned to the throne, trying once more to brutally force them into opening the door. When nothing happened, he finally gave in.

“Rosie?” He could barely see in the midday light after being in the dark for so long. Actually, he had no idea how long he had been in the throne room.

“Rosie!” he called again, his heart sinking. She was gone.

“What! What?” She was just a shadow in the circle of light above him, but she was the most wonderful shadow ever.

Aaron practically sighed in relief. “I need your help,” he told her. “I found the next clue.”

He couldn’t see her expression, but he could hear her blow out a breath. “But then we’d both be trapped down there,” she said.

Aaron reached a hand up towards her, beckoning. “Oh stop it. You want to have some fun, don’t you? I know you’ve been bored out of your mind up there.”

She barely contemplated her answer. “Get out of the way so I don’t fall on you.” So she hadn’t lost all of her childhood playfulness.

He was grinning and stepping backwards as she slid down the hole. Much like he had, Rosie slowed her fall with her hands and arms, but still landed in a rather ungraceful heap.

“Come on,” Aaron said, reaching out his uncut hand to help her up.

She pushed hair out of her face and looked up at him. For the first time, she, too, was smiling. It was laughter, he realized. She knew she was crazy to follow him. Still, she took his hand and stood, then continued down the dark passage behind him.

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous: https://theprose.com/post/246420/map-part-vi

Next: https://theprose.com/post/247246/map-part-viii

Rosie and Aaron walked down the tunnel in silence until they reached the throne room. Aaron realized the second time around that the passage sloped downwards, meaning the throne room must be fairly deep underground. Thinking about that made him picture the ceiling, or rather, the dirt from above, collapsing onto them. He shivered and pushed away the thought.

“We need to find a door,” Aaron explained when they reached the room. He showed Rosie the message on the back wall and the panels on the sides of the throne, then explained how one of them caused the crack in the wall to appear.

He could barely see her in the darkness. “Give me the flashlight,” she finally said. He stood silently as she made her way around the room, inspecting everything. “This really isn’t an elaborate prank?” she asked, circling around the horse sculpture.

He laughed a little. “Don’t flatter yourself; it’s not like I have the time to dig out a giant stone room for you.”

“Well, this is amazing if it’s real.” Rosie came back towards him, her footsteps echoing.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you,” Aaron said back. “Maybe try pressing the panel on that side of the throne,” he said, pointing, “and I’ll press the other one at the same time.”

He pressed his palm firmly into his panel, and he couldn’t see what Rosie was doing, but he heard the sound of shifting stone.

“What was that?” Rosie asked quietly. The light flashed around the room; she was frantically searching for what had changed. Aaron stood helpless without the flashlight.

“Lemme see the light,” he said, but she had already settled the yellow beam on the wall. Another panel.

The stone on the wall behind the knight had been lifted, and behind it was a metal panel. On the opposite side of the room, by the horse, they found another one.

“Humble,” muttered Aaron.

“What? Should we press these?”

Aaron plucked the flashlight from her hand and pointed it at the back wall. “Yeah, we need two people, that’s why it’s a test of humbleness. To make sure you’re not alone.”

“Ok,” Rosie said, as if she was bored. Only Rosie could be bored at a time like this. “I’ve got this one.” She pressed her hand flat against the metal.

With the help of the flashlight, Aaron maneuvered across the room and to the other panel. His heart was pounding. He touched the panel--

And the world crashed down around them.

Rocks tumbled from above, and the whole room felt like it was shaking. Aaron fell to the ground and threw his arms over his head. When the world fell silent again, he sat up. His side of the room was a little crumbly--the knight seemed to have lost his left arm--but most everything else was the same.

He ran over to the other side of the room, but could barely make it past the throne.

“Rosie!”

Her half of the room had been blocked off. Stone bricks must’ve come down from above or up from below. Either way, there was now another wall, one that went all the way from floor to ceiling.

“Rosie!” he shouted again, digging at the stone, trying desperately to move them. They didn’t budge. What if she was crushed underneath?

He clawed at the stone and he couldn’t even feel the cut on his hand, but it was bleeding again. “Rosie,” he said again, voice thick.

“I’m here.” Her voice was muffled, and Aaron nearly choked on his relief.

“Are you ok?” He struggled to hear her voice.

“Yeah, it’s just... dark. What happened? Where are you?” He could hear fear in her voice.

Aaron looked around the room. “I think we triggered something. You’re walled in; I can’t get to you.” He sighed, eyes on the opposite wall. The crack was no longer so small. It had opened into a doorway. So this was the puzzle. “I think... I think I have to do the next step.”

“Don’t leave me here!” Rosie’s voice became uncharacteristically shrill.

“The next part, I think it will undo this.” Aaron tried to sound sure, but he had no idea. He didn’t know what this was anymore. He had been right; it wasn’t a game. It was dangerous.

“It’s too dark, I can’t see!”

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut. “I have to go look. I’ll be back in a second, ok? I promise I’ll get you out.”

He could hear her breathing. Ragged. “Aaron, please. Please get me out of here.”

A chill seeped into Aaron’s bones as he crossed the room. With a final glance back, he stepped through the doorway.

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous: https://theprose.com/post/246570/map-part-vii

Next: https://theprose.com/post/247856/map-part-ix

Aaron stepped through the doorway and was met with a dark, descending stairwell. He flew down the steps, anxious to find the next puzzle and break Rosie out of her stone prison.

After a dizzying amount of twists and turns and a leg-numbing number of stairs, Aaron reached a landing. He couldn’t see much, even with his flashlight, just a vast amount of rock.

But then Aaron did a double take... a light switch? Tentatively, he flipped it, not even bothering to think about how it could be here.

Much to his disbelief and excitement, the space around him lit up.

Yellow bulbs flickered to life, casting a welcome but eerie light on the giant room Aaron stood in. It was cavernous, stretching on for what seemed like forever after being in the small stairwell.

The light sconces emerged boldly from the stone walls around him, and there must’ve been at least twenty of them around the perimeter of the room. The massive open space was broken up with columns which were carved into knights at the base then stretched up and up until they reached the ceiling.

Aaron switched his flashlight off and took a few steps forward in awe. In the center of the room there was a giant carving: a circle with an X through it.

He unfurled the map from his pocket, making sure it was the same symbol. It was. He had reached the second stage.

A pedestal rose from the floor just next to the symbol. Just like in the last room, a message was etched into the stone for Aaron, the explorer, to read.

“You have only one decision to make. Follow what you know; you may not undo your choice.”

Aaron cocked his head and stepped forward. On the pedestal was a strange contraption not unlike a wire animal cage. There were two compartments, the doors open, one with a wooden bird and one with a wooden telescope. Was this the choice he couldn’t undo?

After consulting the map and making sure there wasn’t anything else helpful in the room, Aaron felt he had to make a choice; Rosie was waiting for him.

Slowly, he picked up the bird, pulling it out of the cage. The cage doors slid down and locked with a click. Both compartments were closed. Aaron looked around, realizing that he had triggered something. A quiet groaning seemed to come from every side of the room.

His heart raced, and he wondered if he had made the right decision. If he could change it. But, strangely, all those fears were overshadowed by wonder. He still couldn’t believe this was real.

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous: https://theprose.com/post/247246/map-part-viii

Next: https://theprose.com/post/248783/map-part-x

Immediately, Aaron saw what he had triggered. Directly in front of him two doorways, previously covered in a stone façade, had been uncovered. In the doorways stood two locked doors--he checked. The one on his left had the line and half circle symbol that had been on the bench; the one on the right had the crescent symbol, like on the map.

The right door must be the last one. The one that led to the treasure. Aaron couldn’t help but smile.

Around the doorframes, both doors had curious holes in strange shapes. Aaron hefted the wooden bird in his hand, realizing what the holes were for. He slid the bird easily into one of the slots on the right door. Below that slot was a hole the shape of the telescope, and beneath that, a shape he didn’t recognize.

The left door had similar slots, but in a different order. The telescope first, the bird second, and a strange bulbous shape last.

Another pedestal had also appeared; it had emerged from the ground behind him. He took a look at the top, which had another set of cages. There were still two compartments for him to pick from, but each had two wooden figures.

In one, a telescope and an acorn carving. In the other, a bird and a diamond.

And underneath it all, on the base of the pedestal, Aaron found another message. He squinted in the faint light.

“To continue or backtrack? From either decision you may not turn back.”

As he slowly realized what his choice was, Aaron’s heart felt as if it was being squeezed, restricted. The right door, the one with the crescent moon symbol, needed the diamond, and would take him to the treasure. But the left door needed the acorn, and led back to Rosie.

“Rosie,” his voice came out as just a whisper. There was only one decision he could make.

He had to go back.

Heavy-hearted, Aaron reached into the cage and pulled out the telescope and the acorn. Just as before, the metal of the cage door slid down and locked into place.

He wouldn’t ever see the treasure, wouldn’t ever know what it was, but at least he would have Rosie.

Gripping one wooden figure in each hand, Aaron crossed the quiet, cold chamber and stopped in front of the left door. He fitted the first two figures into their respective holes, then retrieved the third from where he had left it in the right door. Luckily, it slid right out.

Aaron put the bird into the last empty hole. The symbol on the door glowed.

In wonder, Aaron stepped backwards as an unnatural purple light shone brighter and brighter, and he heard the whirring of gears, the grinding of stone. The door was opening.

He held up his hands to shield his eyes, and when the light finally faded, Aaron blinked.

The figure in front of him looked an awful lot like Rosie.

“It’s about time,” she said.

Read part I: https://theprose.com/post/243841/map

Previous: https://theprose.com/post/247856/map-part-ix

Next: https://theprose.com/post/249049/map-part-xi