The Chapel's Quarters

In front of him stood the beautiful bell tower of the chapel, just barely poking its head above the water.

He was somewhere entirely new. Not quite in the town anymore. Not even really in the lake at this point.

All he could do was drift inward, then slowly descend the stairs.

Each step took him deeper and deeper underwater. How this chapel wasn't completely flooded was a mystery. There were cracks everywhere and missing bricks wherever you looked, yet the water didn't seem like it had permission to seep in.

Only one thing was on Verne's mind.

How could he replicate this spell for when it rained?

That would come in extremely handy.

Eventually, he made it to the bottom of the stairs and entered what seemed to be a bell-rope room. It was extremely dusty, and an eerie fog made the entire place feel ominous.

Naturally, Verne tried to ring the bell.

The rope would not budge an inch.

The harder he pulled, the more the rope hardened. The instant he let go, it loosened back into a normal rope.

There were so many ways to go from this little room. Three walls held doors.

The fourth held a wall.

It seemed to Verne that this would not be an easy choice.

Or would it?

Because it just so happened that Verne had the perfect thing for a situation like this.

He reached into his infinite pockets with his glove hands and pulled out the most beautiful, the most powerful...

Quarter.

It was a quarter.

Verne's eyes filled with glee as he tossed it into the air.

"Heads this way, tails that way, and I don't even want to think about that way."

The coin landed perfectly on its side.

"...Well, looks like I am going to consider that way."

Which way, you might ask?

Well, your guess is as good as mine.

It felt completely random.

Verne slowly pushed the already slightly opened door the rest of the way.

Inside lay an organized mess of a corridor. The floor was littered with old chairs, candle crates, broken decorations, hymnals, and discarded supplies. Cobwebs filled the empty air, although there didn't seem to be any spiders in sight.

This place gave him the creeps.

Like, serious creeps.

Not even giant mechanical magic bee is gonna kill me creeps.

An ominous breeze moved steadily down the hall, even though there was nowhere for the wind to be coming from.

This was one of the few times where Verne being small had actually helped him.

He flitted through.

Broken chair legs and dusty footprints littered the floor as well. There was no telling how old the marks could possibly be.

At least, Verne thought there wasn't.

It wasn't like anyone was around to track in more dust and cover them back up.

At the end of the corridor was another door.

A really creepy door.

It, too, was half open.

Verne had a very bad gut feeling about this.

He REALLY did not want to go through that door.

So he pulled out his trusty quarter.

"Heads, I don't go. Tails, I do."

It landed on tails.

He flipped it again.

Tails.

Again.

Tails.

Eight times in a row.

Then he switched the options around.

"Heads, I go. Tails, I don't."

Heads.

Verne no longer liked quarters.

He slowly opened the door and was amazed.

It was probably the best thing you could ever see inside a creepy abandoned chapel.

Shelves upon shelves of books.

Now this was where Verne would be.

Eh, not really.

He could never read in public.

But taking the books?

That was another thing entirely.

Now this was something worth inspecting. Many of the books were written in Latin and Hebrew.

Very fascinating.

Then he heard it.

A slight creak from behind him.

His entire body jolted.

He whipped around, glove hands raised.

Think later. Blast with bees now.

Unfortunately, his aim was a bit off.

He hit nothing.

Then he looked down.

Standing below him was a very awestruck child staring up at him.

"What are you doing here!?"

The boy's eyes widened.

"Are you that wizard everyone has been talking about?"

Verne was a little flattered.

His name had spread this far already?

They were probably referring to him as cunning, quick-witted, extremely handsome, and most importantly—

"You're that Bumble Sorcerer!"

This child was not surviving the night.

Or whatever period of time this was.

Not exactly easy to tell.

What was easy to tell was that this child was not surviving it.

"I am NOT a Bumble Sorcerer."

"You just summoned bees."

"Just because I use my limitless, awesome magic that flows through me on some bees does NOT make me a BUMBLE SORCERER!"

"Whatever you say, Bee Man. You think you could help me?"

"Okay. Hold up. First, you need to answer my questions. Who are you? What are you doing in this extremely dangerous chapel? And who told you about a 'Bumble Sorcerer'?"

"My name is Thomas. I live in the orphanage in the village. I came down here looking for my brother. And I came up with that last part myself."

If Verne left him down here, no one would know.

It would be so easy, too.

Curse morals!

Thomas looked up at him.

"Will you help me find my brother?"

Verne looked down at the boy.

This very vulnerable little kid had to be only fourteen years old or so. It would be extremely dangerous to bring him along.

Verne reached into his pocket.

"I want you to hold this."

He handed Thomas a small object.

It was a quarter.

Thomas looked up at him.

"What do you want me to do with it?"

Verne turned away.

"Flip it."

Then, quieter:

"I can't look."

Thomas flipped the coin.

"Heads."

Verne muttered something under his breath before turning back around.

"All right. Let's go find your brother."