Pink Lady of Geneva

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance!" She dips her head. "Come, you must join me for some tea while we discuss my research so far. It's 1900; we mustn't stand out in the street like barbarians." [[Follow Adelaide]] [[No thank you. ]]

"Superb. Will you accompany me back to my office? I am a professor at the Institut de Hautes Etudes Internationales. [[Follow Roland]] [[No thank you. ]]

You arrive at Adelaide's house after a short, pleasant walk. From your first glimpse of its exterior, you can tell the house is grand. Swooping arches and fine brickwork mark its entrance. You scurry through behind Adelaide, wondering how she manages to be so graceful on the slippery black and white-tiled entrance floor. Luckily, it shifts to a deep mahogany as you reach the parlor. A maid scurries in with a pot of tea and neatly arranges your chairs and place settings. After a few moments of settling in, Adelaide turns to you and lifts her chin. "The first time I saw her, I was in the park at Jordin Anglais. She was wearing the same tatty old gown and smelled of the same perfume, as I now know she always does." Adelaide lets out a high, tinny laugh. "Father thought me so vapid as to worry about the state of her, but I couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor thing. She must have been something in her day, not that you can quite see any of it now. And I wanted to know what sort of something she was." The girl pauses, her expression clouding. "My research cost me a few marriage proposals, I think. I know the ladies gossip behind my back, but I truly know there is something to all of this." You agree, moved by her passion for the project. You tell her you'll do whatever it takes to help. You're just as curious about the Lady as she is. Adelaide smiles at you, genuine happiness pinkening her cheeks. "Splendid! I have your first task ready now, if you wish." She snaps her fingers, and the maid reappears with an armful of documents as if she was waiting by the door. Adelaide pushes them towards you. "Read through these and meet me in the park tomorrow." [[Return to your Inn]]

You follow Roland to a large red building sitting atop a grassy hill. Its dark grey roof appears to brush the sky, but its simple exterior retains the school's refined aesthetic. Roland clomps up the stairs, his shiny black shoes in contrast to the light pine wood. He makes a sharp left, and you struggle to keep up with his purposeful walk. Finally, he ducks into an office on the second floor and ushers you in behind him. "The first time I saw her, my experience was much like yours. I was walking through a hallway I do not usually take after my first lecture of the day. Seeing her standing there was certainly a shock. I almost slipped on the flower petals she dropped, but the aroma was the most noticeable part. Myrrh, I think. Or possibly Frankincense. I swear, I’m a good Christian man. I suppose I am just not up to date on the specifications of baby Jesus’ great gifts to the point that I should be." You assure Roland that you believe him. He looks relieved. "Ah. Yes, so you are interested in assisting in my research?" You nod. "I have a file ready for you to look through, plus some papers that I have not yet sorted down in the archives. I have a class to teach in a few minutes, but I will walk you down so you can get started." [[Go to the archives]]

You settle onto the trundle bed in your room, wincing at its creaking frame. Next time, maybe you'll splurge on a better inn. In the meantime, you spread the documents out around you, carefully holding a candle as close to the papers as you dare. The text is mainly hand-written, and old. The yellowed, curling edges of the paper crinkle in your hands, even as you hold them as delicately as possible. Page by page, the Pink Lady's story begins to unfold in vivid verse: //Where did she come from, the old Lady of pink? Her pearlescent skirts tattered and dragging behind her, from days past her beauty still shimmers, I think. The petals she scatters leave a distinct whiff of myrrh. Her pearlescent skirts tattered and dragging behind her, gnarled hands twist her umbrella, feeling delicate blush lace. The petals she scatters leave a distinct whiff of myrrh as they waft to the ground from under the veil hiding her face. Gnarled hands twist her umbrella, feeling delicate blush lace and petals of pink fall like fragile tears down her cheeks as they waft to the ground from under the veil hiding her face, not a soul in Geneva quite knows what the Lady seeks. And petals of pink fall like fragile tears down her cheeks, from days past her beauty still shimmers, I think. Not a soul in Geneva quite knows what the Lady seeks. Where did she come from, the old Lady of Pink? Why is she here, the old Lady of Pink? The elders say they have seen her wander before. This healer from the East, her fate written in ink, she searches for her lover, taken prisoner of war. The elders say they have seen her wander before. After every great battle fought hard and lost, she searches for her lover, taken prisoner of war. Wherever she walks, she goes fingers crossed. After every great battle fought hard and lost, the old Lady of Pink is cursed to roam the docks. Wherever she walks, she goes fingers crossed with hope to find him and end the hex he unlocks. The old Lady of Pink is cursed to roam the docks until she succeeds and heals her unsightly scars, with hope to find him and end the hex he unlocks, she will triumph or forever roam this city of ours. Until she succeeds and heals her unsightly scars, this healer from the East, her fate written in ink, she will triumph or forever roam this city of ours. Why is she here, the old Lady of Pink? Where will she go, the old Lady of Pink? Her lover must be dead and gone, already at peace. She must go home to heal the heart that sinks when her searching, as it must, will cease. Her lover must be dead and gone, already at peace. Her mind still roils and tumbles and shrieks when her searching, as it must, will cease. Her lip will tremble under her shimmering veil, weak. Her mind still roils and tumbles and shrieks when he does not appear, as foretold, her lip will tremble under her shimmering veil, weak. Her despair flows down in great drops of rose gold. When he does not appear, as foretold, she must give in and make the great journey. Her despair flows down in great drops of rose gold dripping past the veil made of her lover’s byrnie. She must give in and make the great journey, she must go home to heal the heart that sinks, dripping past the veil made of her lover’s byrnie. She will finally go, the old Lady of Pink.// You feel your eyes drooping as you skim the last line. Carefully snuffing out your candle and gathering the documents, you prepare for sleep. [[Go to bed.]]

The next morning, you wake with the sun. In last night's stupor, you forgot to close the blinds. And good thing, too; you have to run if you want to make it to Jordin Anglais in time. Luckily, the park is not too far, but you arrive huffing and puffing. The young woman gives you a once-over, her disapproval at the state of you obvious. She doesn't waste the time to voice it. Patting her lilac dress as if to remove flecks of invisible dust, she begins. "I am so pleased you could make it. What have you learned?" You relay the information to her, making special note of the poem you found shuffled into the pile of papers. "Wonderful! Now we are on the same page, so to speak. We can begin the next step of research together." She gestures for you to follow her and ventures deeper into the park. The flower gardens begin to thin out, lofty Sycamore trees taking their place as you continue inland. Soon, the tufty branches block out the beating sun, leaving only cool, muffled light slatting through the leaves You ask Adelaide what you're doing in such a place. "This is our first mission. As you read last evening, it is said that the Pink Lady is bound by a curse." She purses her lips, looking worried for the first time. Her confidence seems to fade. "To the extent of my research, nobody knows what the curse is. That's why we're here." Adelaide straightens, taking a deep breath. "You're going to find it." You stare at her. Why did you need to be in the middle of the forest to do that? Adelaide settles against a sturdy trunk as if getting comfortable to tell a long tale. "From what I can tell, the Lady's appearances originate here. Her first sighting was in the year one-hundred twenty-five BCE, by a Roman soldier. It has been said that, on that first day, the Pink Lady dropped a scroll while running from the man." You consider this, remembering your own encounter, the vacancy in the Pink Lady's expression. You cannot imagine her running from anyone. Unless.... "It is cited as the first encounter with the spirit. If my musings are correct, it may instead be the final encounter with her whole person." Adelaide's seriousness grows. "The scroll was left in the wood as the soldier ran after her. When he returned later with a party of men to find it, they split in two. Half the party was never seen again, and neither was the scroll. I think it may still be here. Magic has its ways of preserving things, showing them to the right people. Those soldiers may not have been, but I believe--as our intentions are pure-hearted--that we may be." She rises, gesturing to two gaps in the trees behind you. "Will you take the path to the right, or to the left?" [[Go to the right]] [[Go to the left]]

Adelaide nods. "Good luck. I will see you back in the gardens." She turns and disappears between the trees to your left. She doesn't look back. You gulp. Without Adelaide's company, the trees seem closer together, their branches seemingly reaching down to try and stroke your hair. But you have no choice. Steeling yourself, you start your journey down the right path. The upper canopies begin to loosen as you venture deeper into the forest, letting bursts of light dapple your skin. You stare at your palms, mystified at the twinkling stars you seem to hold. You don't feel so alone anymore. You aren't. Something warm and heavy crashes into your back, sending you sprawling onto the forest floor with a yelp. You don't get a chance to see much more than the light rustle of trees as your attacker flees through the underbrush, leaving you to tumble down a shallow ravine. Your body comes to a stop at the bottom. It was not rocky, and you are okay other than a few scrapes and some sore spots that will likely bruise in the coming days. Breathing heavily, you sit up. Your eyes rise to the treeless sky above you, and the edge you fell off of. It is three times your height, with no feasible way to jump out, barring help. You notice some large roots dangling to your right, and ponder if they might support your weight, or if they are more likely to send you falling to the dirt once again. [[Rescue yourself]] [[Call for Adelaide]]

Adelaide nods. "Good luck. I will see you back in the gardens." She turns and disappears between the trees to your right. She doesn't look back. You gulp. Without Adelaide's company, the trees seem closer together, their branches seemingly reaching down to try and stroke your hair. But you have no choice. Steeling yourself, you start your journey down the left path. The upper canopies continue to tighten as you venture deeper into the forest. Your eyes strain to glimpse something, anything, that might be of use to your search. Soon, the underbrush grows too thick, and you're too busy swiping thorny bushes out of your face to think about finding the scroll. You must have chosen the wrong path. [[Return to the clearing]]

You stand, brushing yourself off, and decide to attempt pulling yourself out of the ravine with the roots. You tug on one, deciding it is sturdy enough to hold your weight. You begin to climb. About halfway up, the root dislodges from the soil surrounding it, and you plummet back down into the ravine in a pile of fresh dirt. Your right knee lands on something sharp and you curse, pulling back. Carefully, you smooth your hand over the loosened soil until you feel the object. Your fingers curl around it and you bring it to eye-level, turning it in your hands. [[Brush away the dirt]]

You call Adelaide's name until your voice becomes hoarse. Just before it all but gives out, a long, thick branch pokes over the edge above you, its end wiggling enticingly. You jump and try to reach it, but you can't. You shout Adelaide's name, and her button nose appears in your circle of sky. "Whoops, sorry!" She slowly lowers the branch to where you can reach it. With her help, you haul yourself out and collapse back on flat ground beside her. "Well, if there isn't anything interesting down there, then we may as well head back to the clearing and go get you cleaned up." [[Return to the clearing]]

Feeling defeated, you return to the clearing where you were supposed to meet your friend. There, sitting in the crevice formed by the fork of a tree's branches, is a scroll. Adelaide's unladylike whoop of joy as she sees it startles you, but you both run forward. Adelaide gets to the artifact first. You can see her hands shaking. She wipes one palm on her dress and takes a deep breath before turning to you. "We have to open it. This has to be it." You nod, and allow her to do the honors. Adelaide carefully unrolls the stained parchment and clears her throat. [[Read the scroll]]

Wrinkling your nose, you brush the dirt away. An ovular object appears beneath the grime, slowly revealing its details to you as your movements become more frantic. You rub the remaining dirt off on your clothing and stare at the results. The cameo stares back at you, a woman's face raised in off-white relief to the pink coral behind it. Its worn surface reveals no more than a vague image, but you would recognize her anywhere: The Pink Lady. Hands shaking, you turn over the charm. On its edge, you find a bump. It's not just a cameo; it's a locket, too. Using your fingernail, you edge the dirt out of the hinge and pry the necklace open. Inside, perfectly preserved, is a small painting of a man. Obviously a soldier, he stands tall and proud in his uniform, a wharf in the background. His olive skin and blue eyes are so detailed, you feel as if he is about to blink. You close the locket, spooked at its intricacy. More determined than ever, you choose another root and successfully pull yourself to the top. [[Return to the clearing.]]

//Murderess of the east, Healer of Red, Her heart full of blood, Her patients all dead. Her fate has been inked, Crimson-scrawled features now scarred: She will run through the wood And keep running still Until her blood turns to mist, Full Lady dissolved. Faded Lady of Pink She shall become To repay her sins, Murderess no more. She will roam the docks, Terrible beauty grown old Wishing for her love, Lost forever at war. Until his return Carting unjust sword, Her hope will not be abandoned, No matter how long. To set her free: True kindness shown, Return The Pink Lady’s Love Or proclaim she’s forever alone. .// Adelaide turns to look at you. "Do you realize what this means?" She doesn't wait for your reply. "All our answers start here." You notice tears forming in her eyes, redenning their bright blue. You offer your friend a handkerchief, which she daintily accepts. Sniffling, she pats her eyes with the white cloth. "Let's go home and get some rest. Tomorrow we can continue our research. You keep the scroll. Without you, we would not have it." [[Go back to your inn]]

That night, you fall asleep quickly, but your sleep is not peaceful. You dream of a time long ago, so long ago that you cannot even comprehend it. A great battle between silver and gold roars on mere feet in front of you, men bloody and screaming as they hack at each other with great, long swords. The coppery stench of blood surrounds you, its heady thickness clogging your throat. To your left, a woman, her long white dress stained with red, leans over a man in gold armour. A long red sash with a white cross on it marks her as a healer. As you watch, another man in gold runs up to the lady, sword in hand. In one smooth motion, he sinks it into his comrades chest. Blood burbles from beneath the man's breastplate and drips from his mouth. His eyes, wide with death, blink once before settling on the sky. The murderer sheaths his sword and leans towards the woman. He gives her a quick kiss before returning to the battlefield. The woman in red, smiling, continues to the next fallen soldier. You wake in a sweat, clutching the scroll. You remember the dream vividly. It could be important, but you feel yourself falling back asleep quickly. What will you do? [[Run to fetch Adelaide]] [[Wait until morning]]

You pull on your clothes and run to Adelaide's, tripping over yourself in the darkness. You arrive, out of breath, but begin pounding on the door and yelling. A maid rushes to open it, her eyes half-closed with sleep and a sour expression set to greet you. Quickly, you explain who you are and tell her you need to see Adelaide. Reluctantly, she complies. "What are you doing? You've woken everyone in the house!" Adelaide comes pounding down the stairs, the trail of her nightgown brushing behind her. As you explain your dream, her eyes widen. "Do you know what this means? Death! She is attracted to death!" She suddenly concludes. You might not have come up with the theory, but you agree. Death somehow has something to do with it, as does the mysterious soldier. You now know for sure that the Pink Lady isn't all that she first appeared. "We must go to the library. Come!" Adelaide starts out the door before realizing what she's wearing. "Oh. Give me one moment, then we have to hurry! There's much research to be done." [[Go to the library!]]

You return to sleep. The sun filters through your curtains. You stir gently. You remember having a dream having to do with the Pink Lady, but its contents are fuzzy in your memory. You get ready to meet Adelaide at the library anyway, hoping the dream will come back to you. [[Go to the library]]

Your research takes several days, but you haven't found any leads. Frustrated, you decide that there must have been something you missed. When Adelaide suggests going back to the woods to search for more clues, you're just happy that you get to leave the dusty library stacks for a bit. [[Search the woods for more clues]]

Feeling elated, you return to the clearing where you were supposed to meet your friend. There, sitting in the crevice formed by the fork of a tree's branches, is a scroll. Adelaide's unladylike whoop of joy as she sees it startles you, but you both run forward. Adelaide gets to the artifact first. You can see her hands shaking. She wipes one palm on her dress and takes a deep breath before turning to you. "We have to open it. This has to be it." You nod, and allow her to do the honors. Adelaide carefully unrolls the stained parchment and clears her throat. [[Read the scroll.]]

//Murderess of the east, Healer of Red, Her heart full of blood, Her patients all dead. Her fate has been inked, Crimson-scrawled features now scarred: She will run through the wood And keep running still Until her blood turns to mist, Full Lady dissolved. Faded Lady of Pink She shall become To repay her sins, Murderess no more. She will roam the docks, Terrible beauty grown old Wishing for her love, Lost forever at war. Until his return Carting unjust sword, Her hope will not be abandoned, No matter how long. To set her free: True kindness shown, Return The Pink Lady’s Love Or proclaim she’s forever alone. // Adelaide turns to look at you. "Do you realize what this means?" She doesn't wait for your reply. "All our answers start here." You notice tears forming in her eyes, redenning their bright blue. You offer your friend a handkerchief, which she daintily accepts. Sniffling, she pats her eyes with the white cloth. "Let's go home and get some rest. Tomorrow we can continue our research. You keep the scroll. Without you, we would not have it." [[Go back to your Inn.]]

That night, you fall asleep quickly, but your sleep is not peaceful. You dream of a time long ago, so long ago that you cannot even comprehend it. A great battle between silver and gold roars on mere feet in front of you, men bloody and screaming as they hack at each other with great, long swords. The coppery stench of blood surrounds you, its heady thickness clogging your throat. To your left, a woman, her long white dress stained with red, leans over a man in gold armour. A long red sash with a white cross on it marks her as a healer. As you watch, another man in gold--the man from the cameo--runs up to the lady, sword in hand. In one smooth motion, he sinks it into his comrades chest. Blood burbles from beneath the man's breastplate and drips from his mouth. His eyes, wide with death, blink once before settling on the sky. The murderer sheaths his sword and leans towards the woman. He gives her a quick kiss before returning to the battlefield. The woman in red, smiling, continues to the next fallen soldier. You wake in a sweat, clutching the scroll. You remember the dream vividly. It could be important, but you feel yourself falling back asleep quickly. What will you do? [[Run to fetch Adelaide.]] [[Wait until morning.]]

Your time at the library is productive, and you are able to use the cameo you found as the basis of your research. Thanks to the library's extensive historical collections, you are able to date the cameo. According to the books, it was created long before Geneva was even a thought, likely during a great war. The first war. Quickly, you find another book on the war. Carefully flipping its yellowed pages, you come upon a list of soldiers' names and pictures. There, labelled with the name Cassian Maldova, is a striking image of the man inside the cameo. He is hailed as a hero, but also a prisoner of war, taken far from Geneva's lands and held captive, presumed dead. Adelaide gasps. "This is it. This is our proof. The curse said we must either return her to her lover or tell her definitively that he isn't coming back. We have to go find her! Where do you think we should look first?" [[Visit the pier]] [[Visit the market]]

Your research takes a few hours. Finally, you find what you need in a book that appears to be the oldest in the library. Carefully flipping its yellowed pages, you come upon a list of soldiers' names and pictures from a great war, one of the first wars. There, labelled with the name Cassian Maldova, is a striking image of the manfrom your dream. He is hailed as a hero, but also a prisoner of war, taken far from Geneva's lands and held captive, presumed dead. Adelaide gasps. "This is it. This is our proof. The curse said we must either return her to her lover or tell her definitively that he isn't coming back." You let yourself become excited for a moment before you realize there's a problem. How are you supposed to get the Pink Lady to communicate with you? She had never shown an interest before. When you bring this up to Adelaide, she frowns. "You're right. We're missing something. Should we go to the woods to search for more clues?" [[Search the woods for more clues.]]

Adelaide stays by your side this time. You scour the woods, even the places you looked already, but you can't seem to find another clue. Just as you decide to give up, Adelaide sugguests returning to the clearing where you found the scroll, just in case. Despite your doubts, you agree. Lo and behold, sitting in the same place as the scroll is a small cameo. You pick it up and brush off spots of soil. The cameo stares back at you, a woman's face raised in off-white relief to the pink coral behind it. Its worn surface reveals no more than a vague image, but you would recognize her anywhere: The Pink Lady. Hands shaking, you turn over the charm. On its edge, you find a bump. It's not just a cameo; it's a locket, too. Using your fingernail, you edge the dirt out of the hinge and pry the necklace open. Inside, perfectly preserved, is a small painting of a man. Obviously a soldier, he stands tall and proud in his uniform, a wharf in the background. His olive skin and blue eyes are so detailed, you feel as if he is about to blink. You close the locket, spooked at its intricacy. "We need to go do more research!" Adelaide declares. Adelaide stays by your side this time. You scour the woods, even the places you looked already, but you can't seem to find another clue. Just as you decide to give up, Adelaide sugguests returning to the clearing where you found the scroll, just in case. Despite your doubts, you agree. Lo and behold, sitting in the same place as the scroll is a small cameo. You pick it up and brush off spots of soil. The cameo stares back at you, a woman's face raised in off-white relief to the pink coral behind it. Its worn surface reveals no more than a vague image, but you would recognize her anywhere: The Pink Lady. Hands shaking, you turn over the charm. On its edge, you find a bump. It's not just a cameo; it's a locket, too. Using your fingernail, you edge the dirt out of the hinge and pry the necklace open. Inside, perfectly preserved, is a small painting of a man. Obviously a soldier, he stands tall and proud in his uniform, a wharf in the background. His olive skin and blue eyes are so detailed, you feel as if he is about to blink. You close the locket, spooked at its intricacy. [[Go to the library.]]

You notice her presence as soon as you step foot on the pier. Her ghostly skirts flow around her body as if wind is rippling them. Her veil is pulled away from her face. You want to shudder at the mass of scars that tear at her cheeks. Instead, your body freezes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Adelaide seems to be the same. The scroll vibrates in your hand, and the Lady's eyes are locked with your own. You find yourself stepping forward until you can almost feel the winds twirling around your own legs. Adelaide turns to look at you, and you know what you must do. "Lady of Pink, I have found your scroll." Your voice comes out soft, but you can tell the Lady hears you. "I have your cameo." "We have a message for you." Adelaide pipes in, but the Lady ignores her, focused completely on you. Closing her mouth and stepping back reluctantly, Adelaide nods at you to continue. "Your time in Geneva has passed. I'm sorry, but your lover is dead, and you must go free. Be at peace, Pink Lady." [[Hold out the cameo]]

The market is bustling. Vendors hawk their goods from behind colorful booths, and you have to dodge eager shoppers and children with spinning pinwheels with every step. You and Adelaide scour every inch of the market, but the Pink Lady is nowhere to be found. "Well, I suppose she isn't here, then." Adelaide sighs, a feafeated expression crossing her features. She quickly wipes it away with a smile. "Would you like to get a treat before we move on?" You nod, and Adelaide leads you over to a canary yellow stand decked out with little cakes of all flavors. The young baker smiles brightly at Adelaide as you approach. "Hello, Adelaide. Your usual?" He offers her a pale purple-frosted cake with a heart on top. She accepts it, blushing as their hands brush. "And for your lovely friend?" You decide on a simple vanilla-frosted cake. It is lightly sweet and crumbly, the best cake you've had in a long time. Adelaide practically drags you away, cheeks on fire, and you wave to the baker in thanks. When you mention his obvious interest to Adelaide, the color in her face intensifies. "Yes, he's very nice." She admits. Based on the coyness of her answer, you can tell that her hunt for the Pink Lady truly hasn't hurt her prospectives for marriage too badly. "It's time to continue our search. Let's go to the pier." [[Visit the pier]]

Her hand feels like air as it brushes yours, but she draws back with the Cameo as if your palm is on fire. Her eyes trace its surface lovingly, and her fingers brush its side to spring it open. At the sight of the image inside, she lets out an audible breath as she sets eyes on her love once more. She stares for a moment, one hand to her mouth, as her eyes fill with tears. Finally, she looks up at you. Glancing from you to Adelaide, the Pink Lady finally smiles. Then she is gone. You would never have been able to even tell she was there if you had not known. You feel tears dripping down your cheeks. Adelaide is crying, too. You turn to her, and you both smile as well. You did it: The Pink Lady is free.

You follow Roland down three flights of stairs and through a creaking door. The smell of molding books and musty dust hits you, wrinkling your nose. Roland doesn't seem to notice. "Well, here is the sorted information." He drops a thick manila folder on a leaning table in the middle of the room. Dust plumes up from the force, making him cough. "I apologize for the condition of the room. Nobody really comes down here much. The library tends to be more useful for most things. The records there go up until last year, and the 1950 records will be coming in in the new year." Roland shuffles around the room, picking out book after book as he speaks. "There should be more information in these, if you have time to go through them. I have to make my class now, so it's all yours. Meet me in the dining hall on the first floor in an hour." Without any more of a goodbye, he clomps back up the stairs, leaving you in silence. The lack of sound sends shivers down your back. You know you are alone, but the goosebumps running down your arms disagree. You attempt to brush the feeling off, diving into the research Roland left you with. [[Open the folder]]

You decide to start with the first thing in the folder. The text is mainly hand-written, and old. The yellowed, curling edges of the paper crinkle in your hands, even as you hold them as delicately as possible. Page by page, the Pink Lady's story begins to unfold in vivid verse: //Where did she come from, the old Lady of pink? Her pearlescent skirts tattered and dragging behind her, from days past her beauty still shimmers, I think. The petals she scatters leave a distinct whiff of myrrh. Her pearlescent skirts tattered and dragging behind her, gnarled hands twist her umbrella, feeling delicate blush lace. The petals she scatters leave a distinct whiff of myrrh as they waft to the ground from under the veil hiding her face. Gnarled hands twist her umbrella, feeling delicate blush lace and petals of pink fall like fragile tears down her cheeks as they waft to the ground from under the veil hiding her face, not a soul in Geneva quite knows what the Lady seeks. And petals of pink fall like fragile tears down her cheeks, from days past her beauty still shimmers, I think. Not a soul in Geneva quite knows what the Lady seeks. Where did she come from, the old Lady of Pink? Why is she here, the old Lady of Pink? The elders say they have seen her wander before. This healer from the East, her fate written in ink, she searches for her lover, taken prisoner of war. The elders say they have seen her wander before. After every great battle fought hard and lost, she searches for her lover, taken prisoner of war. Wherever she walks, she goes fingers crossed. After every great battle fought hard and lost, the old Lady of Pink is cursed to roam the docks. Wherever she walks, she goes fingers crossed with hope to find him and end the hex he unlocks. The old Lady of Pink is cursed to roam the docks until she succeeds and heals her unsightly scars, with hope to find him and end the hex he unlocks, she will triumph or forever roam this city of ours. Until she succeeds and heals her unsightly scars, this healer from the East, her fate written in ink, she will triumph or forever roam this city of ours. Why is she here, the old Lady of Pink? Where will she go, the old Lady of Pink? Her lover must be dead and gone, already at peace. She must go home to heal the heart that sinks when her searching, as it must, will cease. Her lover must be dead and gone, already at peace. Her mind still roils and tumbles and shrieks when her searching, as it must, will cease. Her lip will tremble under her shimmering veil, weak. Her mind still roils and tumbles and shrieks when he does not appear, as foretold, her lip will tremble under her shimmering veil, weak. Her despair flows down in great drops of rose gold. When he does not appear, as foretold, she must give in and make the great journey. Her despair flows down in great drops of rose gold dripping past the veil made of her lover’s byrnie. She must give in and make the great journey, she must go home to heal the heart that sinks, dripping past the veil made of her lover’s byrnie. She will finally go, the old Lady of Pink.// You let the pages flutter down to the table, brushing the dust away with their crinkled edges. After reading that, you don't know how you'll get through the rest of the stack Roland gave you. You stand to stretch, yawning. It's only been about half an hour, but your eyes droop. Still, you don't want to disappoint Roland. You sigh, but drop back down to your seat and reach for one of the books he selected. [[Open the book]]

You open the book, careful to flip its yellowed pages gently. You begin reading about a war you've never heard of. Reading hungrily, you quickly come upon a list of soldiers' names and images. You feel as if you could read forever, but you realize it's been over an hour, and you have to stop to meet Roland. Still, you set the book beside the folder for later. You have a feeling it is important. You reluctantly return upstairs and venture nervously into the cafeteria. Graduate students mill around, smiling and laughing. You brush off the weird feelings that had settled onto you in the archives and sit down by an impatient Roland. "You're late." He states gruffly, tapping his watch. You apologize, but explain what you found in the book. It seems to appease him. "You did well to find that in only an hour. It looks like I chose the right assistant after all." Roland admits. Despite his brusque nature, you feel his pride in you. "Tomorrow, we'll go to the upstairs library and continue our work. Now, go home and get some rest. I have another class to teach. [[Continue your work]]

The next morning, you make sure to be fifteen minutes early for your meeting with Roland. He is already in the library when you get there, but doesn't comment. You get right to work. Before you know it, you have a stack of files and you're staring at two books on a back shelf. The first book is bound in a blood-red leather, its spine ridged like the back of a dragon. The second is a faded pink. A tattered cloth bookmark peeks out from the bottom of its pages, curled peacefully on the shelf around it. "We only have time for one book before I have to go to class. You can pick." Roland allows. Looking between the two, your stomach flutters. [[Choose the red book]] [[Choose the pink book]]

You reach for the red book. You pull on it, but it seems to be stuck. Roland's eyebrows scrunch, and he tries as well. The book won't budge. Curious, you try to pry a finger under the book. You hear an audible click, and the book begins to move as if part of a lever mechanism. [[pull the lever all the way]] [[put the book down]]

You reach for the pink book. It slips easily off the shelf and into your hands. It is much lighter than you thought. It almost feels as if you're not holding anything at all. You sit back down with the book and start flipping through its pages, Roland hovering over your shoulder. You cannot understand the language that the book is written in, but its flowery script is beautiful to look at. You reach for the next page, but it is not there. Instead, your curious gaze is met with a square gap cut right out of the pages. Inside, undisturbed, rests a cameo. You can't resist the urge, and despite Roland's indignant mumbles about gloves, you pick it up. The cameo stares back at you, a woman's face raised in off-white relief to the pink coral behind it. Its worn surface reveals no more than a vague image, but you would recognize her anywhere: The Pink Lady. Hands shaking, you turn over the charm. On its edge, you find a bump. It's not just a cameo; it's a locket, too. You edge your fingernail under the hinge and pry the necklace open. Inside, perfectly preserved, is a small painting of a man. Obviously a soldier, he stands tall and proud in his uniform, a wharf in the background. His olive skin and blue eyes are so detailed, you feel as if he is about to blink. You close the locket, spooked at its intricacy. "Very interesting." Roland muses. The light in his eyes tells you that he's more excited than he's letting on. "This is a start, then. But I am already late for class. We will conitnue this little adventure after my lesson. In the meantime, keep that cameo safe, but feel free to explore." [[Explore!]]

Putting all your weight behind it, you pull on the book until it pops out. With a creak, the shelf swings into itself, leaving a gaping hole just big enough for a person to slide through. Dust flutters in the air, stirred up by the motion. Roland peers over your shoulder and down into the gap below. You strain your eyes and see mossy steps leading down into further darkness. "Well, this just got a lot more interesting." Roland gently pushes you to the side and starts down the stairs. Gulping, you join him. The passage is much longer than you expected, and dark. You have to feel for every slippery foothold, and one of your hands rests on Roland's shoulder as he moves slowly in front of you. Finally, he stops, and you feel his shoulder move as he pushes against something. A door flies open in front of you, and Roland stumbles through. You follow, blinking at the return of light. When your eyes clear, you realize you've been here before. "The archives?" There is as much confusion in Roland's voice as you feel. He begins to pace, running his hands over the shelved books and files. "Why would a book in the library send us all the way down here? Where did this passage come from?" He seems almost indignant, like the building betrayed him in some way. You open your mouth to speak but instead, you let out a startled yelp as something brushes your hand. Roland whips around, and his eyes grow wide at the object in your shaking hand. "A scroll!" He whispers. [[Unravel the scroll]]

Frightened, you pull away. "We don't have time for this." Roland mutters. "Just grab the other one, then." Reluctantly, you turn back to the books and make your second selection. [[Choose the pink book]]

You read the scroll's contents out loud. //Murderess of the east, Healer of Red, Her heart full of blood, Her patients all dead. Her fate has been inked, Crimson-scrawled features now scarred: She will run through the wood And keep running still Until her blood turns to mist, Full Lady dissolved. Faded Lady of Pink She shall become To repay her sins, Murderess no more. She will roam the docks, Terrible beauty grown old Wishing for her love, Lost forever at war. Until his return Carting unjust sword, Her hope will not be abandoned, No matter how long. To set her free: True kindness shown, Return The Pink Lady’s Love Or proclaim she’s forever alone.// Roland frowns. "This is a start, then. But I am already late for class. We will conitnue this little adventure after my lesson. In the meantime, keep that scroll safe, but feel free to explore." [[Go explore]]

You wander through the halls of the university, gazing up at the ancient artwork on the walls. Your eye is caught by one in particular, its depiction of a battle scene a bit odd in its familarity. You begin to step closer, but a sound further down the hall draws your attention. There, gliding down the hall, is the Pink Lady. Her dress billows around her with mock wind, giving her a ghostly look as she moves towards you. You watch as her hands tense and relax around her umbrella, over and over, as if stuck in an eternal loop. As she gets close enough, you clear your throat and speak the first line of the curse. Her steps don't even pause, and she steps right past you and through an open door, down a stairwell. Frustrated but re-inspired, you turn towards Roland's classroom with a huff. There has to be something more. You have the curse, but what else could you need? Roland is just finishing his lecture when you get there. He packs up his things quickly when you explain what happened. "We must be missing something from that other book. Let's go back to the library and do more research." [[Return to the library]]

You wander through the halls of the university, gazing up at the ancient artwork on the walls. A few small statues and lamps line the ground, but your focus is mainly on the paintings, which draw your eyes the most. At the end of the hall, the final statue gives you pause. Unlike the other figures of ancient dieties or fluid, shapeless sculptures, this statue pulses with life, with //anger//. Shaped to appear as a soldier in odd gold armor, his face twisted in agony and bloodlust, it is almost a head taller than you. And it looks //exactly// like the man inside the cameo. Trying to suppress your shudders at the fierceness of the soldier's molded eyes, you kneel to see his golden plaque, nailed to the base at his feet. //Cassian Maldova War Hero// Now you not only know the Pink Lady's lover's face, but his name and rank. Immediately, your mind goes back to the bright red book in the library. Like the aura of this statue, it had reminded you of blood, of anger. But is it important? [[Go read the red book]] [[Wait for Roland]]

You decide to start where you left off. Since you know what the red book gave, you reach for the pink book beside it. It slips easily off the shelf and into your hands. It is much lighter than you thought. It almost feels as if you're not holding anything at all. You sit back down with the book and start flipping through its pages, Roland hovering over your shoulder. You cannot understand the language that the book is written in, but its flowery script is beautiful to look at. You reach for the next page, but it is not there. Instead, your curious gaze is met with a square gap cut right out of the pages. Inside, undisturbed, rests a cameo. You can't resist the urge, and despite Roland's indignant mumbles about gloves, you pick it up. The cameo stares back at you, a woman's face raised in off-white relief to the pink coral behind it. Its worn surface reveals no more than a vague image, but you would recognize her anywhere: The Pink Lady. Hands shaking, you turn over the charm. On its edge, you find a bump. It's not just a cameo; it's a locket, too. You edge your fingernail under the hinge and pry the necklace open. Inside, perfectly preserved, is a small painting of a man. Obviously a soldier, he stands tall and proud in his uniform, a wharf in the background. His olive skin and blue eyes are so detailed, you feel as if he is about to blink. You close the locket, spooked at its intricacy. "Very interesting." Roland muses. The light in his eyes tells you that he's more excited than he's letting on. "I think this may have been what we were missing. Should we try to talk to the Lady again?" [[Find the Lady]]

You search the hall where you first found the Lady, but she's nowhere to be found. Roland's eyes spark. "The archives. She must use the passageway to the archives." You both break into a run, eager to see if his hypothesis was correct. You notice her presence as soon as you step foot in the musty room, which now reeks of myrrh. Her ghostly skirts flow around her body as if wind is rippling them. Her veil is pulled away from her face. You want to shudder at the mass of scars that tear at her cheeks. Instead, your body freezes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Roland seems to be the same. The scroll vibrates in your hand, and the Lady's eyes are locked with your own. You find yourself stepping forward until you can almost feel the winds twirling around your own legs. Roland turns to look at you, and you know what you must do. "Lady of Pink, we have found your scroll." Your voice comes out soft, but you can tell the Lady hears you. "We have your cameo." Much to Roland's disappointment, the Lady ignores him as he steps forward with the trinket. He hands it to you, finally allowing a soft smile. "I suppose this is your job. Tell her what she needs to know." You nod and take a deep breath, remembering what the curse said. "Your time in Geneva has passed. I'm sorry, but your lover is dead, and you must go free. Be at peace, Pink Lady." [[Hand her the cameo]]

Her hand feels like air as it brushes yours, but she draws back with the Cameo as if your palm is on fire. Her eyes trace its surface lovingly, and her fingers brush its side to spring it open. At the sight of the image inside, she lets out an audible breath as she sets eyes on her love once more. She stares for a moment, one hand to her mouth, as her eyes fill with tears. Finally, she looks up at you. Glancing from you to Roland with clear eyes, the Pink Lady finally smiles. Then she is gone. You would never have been able to even tell she was there if you had not known. You feel tears dripping down your cheeks. Roland is crying, too. You turn to him, and you both smile as well. You did it: The Pink Lady is free.

You hurry to the library on your own, anxious to get to the book as quickly as possible. Just before you get to the library's wide double doors, Roland comes running up, huffing. "I saw you practically run past my classroom and I knew something must be happening. What did you discover?" You explain your findings to Roland. For once, his excitement is clearly visible. "Well, what are we waiting for? Let's go get that book before someone overhears us. Many around here do not like people messing with magic, so we must be careful." You make your way through the library's oldest stacks to find the correct section. There, the red books beckons you from a shelf of dull brown. You reach for the red book. You pull on it, but it seems to be stuck. Roland's eyebrows scrunch, and he tries as well. The book won't budge. Curious, you try to pry a finger under the book. You hear an audible click, and the book begins to move as if part of a lever mechanism. [[pull harder!]]

You wait outside Roland's classroom anxiously for his class to end. When the first student files out, you duck inside and tell him everything. "Here is not the place to be saying such things," he warns, looking around nervously, "not all at this school are as welcoming to beings of her nature." He gathers his things quickly. "Come, we must find what we can in the book." [[go to the library]]

As soon as you get to the row of books, you know something bad has happened. Pages are scattered all over the floor, an entire section of the bookshelf empty. All that remains of the red book is a few blood-red scraps of leather, and a singular page fluttering in the breeze. Inked over it in blocky letters is a word: ''You lose.'' You have failed, and cannot help the Pink Lady.

You read the scroll's contents out loud. //Murderess of the east, Healer of Red, Her heart full of blood, Her patients all dead. Her fate has been inked, Crimson-scrawled features now scarred: She will run through the wood And keep running still Until her blood turns to mist, Full Lady dissolved. Faded Lady of Pink She shall become To repay her sins, Murderess no more. She will roam the docks, Terrible beauty grown old Wishing for her love, Lost forever at war. Until his return Carting unjust sword, Her hope will not be abandoned, No matter how long. To set her free: True kindness shown, Return The Pink Lady’s Love Or proclaim she’s forever alone.// Roland's eyes grow wide. "This is the final piece of the puzzle! Do you understand what we must do?" At your nod, he continues, practically shaking with excitement. "We must go find her! Where shall we look?" [[check the hall]] [[check the archives]]

Other than a few late students meandering to class, the hall is empty. You find yourself moseying along as well, caught up in the beauty of the arkwork once more. Your eye is drawn by one painting in particular, its depiction of a battle scene a bit odd in its familarity. Roland sighs, stealing your attention away. "This is where I first met her, but she must appear elsewhere. Let's continue our search." [[check the archives]]

You notice her presence as soon as you step foot in the musty room, which now reeks of myrrh. Her ghostly skirts flow around her body as if wind is rippling them. Her veil is pulled away from her face. You want to shudder at the mass of scars that tear at her cheeks. Instead, your body freezes. Out of the corner of your eye, you see that Roland seems to be the same. The scroll vibrates in your hand, and the Lady's eyes are locked with your own. You find yourself stepping forward until you can almost feel the winds twirling around your own legs. Roland turns to look at you, and you know what you must do. "Lady of Pink, we have found your scroll." Your voice comes out soft, but you can tell the Lady hears you. "We have your cameo." Much to Roland's disappointment, the Lady ignores him as he steps forward with the trinket. He hands it to you, finally allowing a soft smile. "I suppose this is your job. Tell her what she needs to know." You nod and take a deep breath, remembering what the curse said. "Your time in Geneva has passed. I'm sorry, but your lover is dead, and you must go free. Be at peace, Pink Lady." [[Hand her the cameo]]