The smell and the sound of the water had attracted each of them equally, though no one could say why, or how they could have missed such an insistent bubbling for so long. It simply hadn't reached them until after they'd perfected their looks, and after that they could no longer recall a time when it hadn't been in the vast corridors with them.

The rhythmic and steady bubbling pulled them as the Sirens even as it soothed their hearts more deeply than the sweetest lullaby. The smell of it was heavenly, so clean and soothing that it could have been a gift from Lady Hera herself, and tinged with the luscious aroma of heavy metals that meant life in all of its wonder and glory. Heavenly: enough to make a girl drool. What could they do but follow?

The walk was short, a minute at most, and yet more torturous than all the long miles they'd needed to get here in the first place since their ship had first mysteriously run aground. Yearning and certainty built up in their joints like rust, and every step became harder and more necessary than the one that came before it. Always the sound and the smell, but never the sight. Until at last they came around the final corner, and Understood. 

The fountain itself was simpler than the water had made it seem. No grand edifice in gold, platinum, and marble here. Just a simple flat basin of gentle ceramics, and above that a smaller plinth with a brick working in the middle, leading down through the center into the earth below. It is... small. Cliché. Cheap looking, even. And yet...

The sheer presence of it almost drops the sisters to their knees. Claws itch on fingertips and pheromones waft through the air before anyone can stop and think about what they're doing. Violet eyes flash dangerously, and three tongues go dry with want all at once. The air itself is heavier than lead. It is at once hot and cold, pleasant and horrifying, tempting and repulsive. 

Its name is Desire. Desire. Desire. Desire. Speak the name and succumb, mortals.

"It's... a wishing well, I think."

Mosaic and Gemini turn their heads toward Vesper and blink as though shaken out of slumber.

"A wishing what?"

"A well. I mean there's water in there too but you can smell the coins, can't you? People must have been throwing them down there for aeons."

"That's stupid of them. What good's it do anyone to give up your toll before you've even crossed?" Gemini scoffs. 

"To wish. I mean, that much is obvious."

"Wait so, if I had two coins already I could have a wish? Anything at all?"

"That's what they believed, at least. Who knows if it'd really give up whatever you wanted for so little."

"More likely it's a trap, yes. But this is our answer."

"What do you mean?"

"Vastly more coins at the bottom of that thing than we could possibly need, right? Takes two to pay the ferryman."

"Yeah but, like, how would we even get them [i]out?[/i] Just looking at this thing I feel like it's gonna eat my hand if I stick it anywhere near there."

Silence. Vesper alternates between chewing on her thumb and trying very hard not to do that, instead. She pulls a pipe from one of her many new pockets and sucks on it, though it is neither lit nor filled. Her face creases with worry lines as she slowly works her way backwards from destroying the edge of the galaxy. The problem with geniuses is that they always have to begin the problem at Zero. 

Mosaic raises a hand as if in class, and clears her throat.

"Hey. What if we just do the whole thing backwards?"

"Reverse the transaction?"

"Yeah. Does a wishing well only work one way?"

"That's an interesting thought. There's not much literature on the topic, but then these things died out as a concept centuries before any of us were born. The rules could be different for each one of these they built. We simply don't know."

"It's such a creepy thought, honestly. It's like a... Unwish. You had something in your heart and you just, like, let it flutter out into the wild? I wonder what it feels like. I can't even think of anything I'd... hey, Mosaic?"

"Hm?"

"It was your idea, right? You should get us started then. What would you Unwish for? I mean even if this doesn't work that's a fun question, right? This is like our first slumber party together!"

"Except that we're all awake."

"Well [i]obviously[/i]."

Mosaic snorts, and looks down at her hands. Desire, desire. Her fingers curl toward her palms, and the claw tips press against her skin there. Not enough to draw blood, but enough to feel how easy it would be to manage that. Her tongue slides across the fangs inside her mouth, sliding pleasantly across their smooth surface but even still needing to fold so carefully to avoid being punctured. There is a memory teasing at the tips of all her sharp edges. Or, not so much a memory but a question.

Why does a maid need to know how to fight?

"There was a... house, I think. I used to live there. With my Beloved and her mother and... another person. Someone very, very important. I want. No. I [i]wanted[/i] to stay there forever. I felt safe, and happier than I can remember ever being. I cried when I left. I must have, right? Every night until my eyes hurt too much to keep doing it. Every step I took away from it made me miss it more. If I looked at a field full of the brightest wildflowers I would only have been able to tell you all the ways they failed to live up to the little garden inside that house. 

I worked there, too. Can't remember for who but I'm sure I did it. And I've wanted to do a good job for them since always. I still want -- wanted -- to go back and be safe and happy, and get told what a good girl I am for finding my way back again. It's my... mhph. My oldest dream. But."

She doesn't finish the thought out loud. Instead she straightens her back and lets her body uncurl to its full, majestic height. If she's honest, all her memories of that house are dark. Very dark, and very stale. Like the air inside of it hadn't moved for longer than anyone had been alive to feel it. The thoughts feel covered in dust. Disgusting. If she had her coins already she'd toss them in the well right now and scream for a duster and permission to go and fix it. 

But she is broke. And she is not a maid. There's nothing waiting for her back there at all. All the people she would have longed for must surely have left such a poor, dilapidated place by now no matter how safe and cozy it melt have felt to a child. She searches for the picture of it in her heart. It snaps closed inside of her like a locket, and slips from her fingers into the dark.

She snatches at the air as if to catch it, and marvels at the sudden weight inside her hand. Slowly, hesitantly, her fist uncurls. 

In her palm rests a pair of coins.