Chapter V

The Guardian of The Kettle

A surprisingly chilly morning had settled over the tea house, catching both Emha and the house unprepared. The sudden cold swept through the walls, and the house, alive as ever, began to shiver gently. Its efforts to stay warm caused faint tremors that rippled through the floorboards, rattling a few objects on the shelves and waking Emha with a jolt.

The mountain range of Obscuritea was famous for its rich soil, mild temperatures, and the abundance of level I shadow spirits that allowed the Obscuritea plants to thrive and become possessed. Sudden cold snaps like this were rare, practically unheard of.

"Why is it so cold?!" Emha exclaimed, sitting upright and wrapping her blanket tighter around herself. She could feel the house's discomfort beneath her feet. The slight, rhythmic shivering took her by surprise. Extending her hand to touch the trembling floorboards, she muttered, "The house is shivering. I wonder if it's because it's cold?"

Her words were followed by the fall of a small dragon figurine, which, unfortunately, didn't survive—it now lay shattered on the floor. This made Emha reconsider a few things.

"Could it be that all these broken items I found in the house when I moved in were caused by this? But why now?"

She frowned. "Ahh, this is no good. One answer just leads to more questions."

The house stilled slightly, as though it was trying to contain its tremors and protect the delicate objects resting on its shelves. Emha shook her head, worried. Maybe I should ask Coalby to help secure all the teapots, she thought to herself. She slipped out of bed, the icy air nipping at her feet as she reached for her apron. There was so much to do: tending to the house, dealing with the mysterious rider's key, and preparing for whatever consequences might follow the previous night's events.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an exaggerated yawn.

The key hanging from her neck stirred, unfurling its tiny dragon-like wings as it stretched lazily. "Morning already?" it grumbled groggily. In its sleepy state, it failed to notice the mute key it had been holding. With a careless flick of its wings, the second key slipped from its grasp and clattered onto the floor.

The flags that adorn the house

"Nooooooo!" Emha's key wailed dramatically, flapping its wings in distress.

Emha sighed. "Already forgot about your beloved?" She wasn't surprised.

Her long, slender dragon-like tail—her most visible trait as a dragon manifester—uncoiled from under her skirt. With a deft flick, it picked up the mute key and placed it back into her hand. She crouched down and handed the mute key back to her squeaky, overly dramatic companion.

"Here, take your friend and hold him properly this time," she said, her voice laced with a mix of sternness and amusement. "I'll figure out a way to secure you two together later—or better yet, maybe I'll just return it to the rider." She muttered the last part under her breath, unsure if she even wanted to keep the second key around any longer than necessary.

The key grinned sheepishly. "Okay," it squeaked in a childish tone, clutching the mute key as if it were the most precious treasure in the world.

Before leaving her room, Emha turned to the small cage by her bedside, where Shunji was curled into a fluffy little ball. His fur puffed up like a miniature cloud, a natural defense against the chill.

"You'll come with me," she murmured softly, scooping him out of the cage and cradling him in her hands before tucking him gently into the front pocket of her apron. "It's a bit dusty in there, but it'll keep you warm."

The tiny bat let out a squeaky noise, curling up snugly in the pocket as she grabbed her cloak and hurried outside. Her breath fogged up in the crisp morning air as she stepped into the garden.

Before heading to the woodpile, Emha paused to glance at the tea house's facade. Various colorful flags fluttered in the breeze—some she had found buried within the house's clutter, and others she had made herself. They gave the house an oddly whimsical charm despite its somewhat disheveled state.

"You're looking cute today!" she called out to the house with a fond smile. "Hold on, I'll get the fire started soon!" Most haunted houses could control their temperature on command, but it seemed this old spirit wasn't doing great. Not surprising—for the price she'd paid, she hadn't expected much.

Coalby and the tea pot that Emha had handmade for him.

She made her way to the small woodpile at the back of the tea house, her heavy boots crunching against the frosty ground. Unusually cold for this time of year, she thought as she gathered several logs and a couple of old, useless books that had been piling up inside the house as part of her ongoing effort to declutter. "What if the house could read?" she mused to herself, chuckling softly at the absurdity of the thought. It was a fun little idea that distracted her, for a moment, from her worries.

Returning to the main hall, she was greeted by the gentle warmth radiating from a bed of glowing coals. A large iron kettle rested above them, the water was bubbling quietly.

Coiled around the base of the kettle was a small, fluffy, snake-like creature. Its sleek black fur glimmered faintly in the glow of the coals. It shifted slightly, using its tail to rearrange the embers and ensure the heat was perfectly balanced.

"Emha!" it exclaimed in an exasperated tone, looking up at her with its round, expressive eyes. "I was starting to think you'd left me to die!"

✦

Emha put down the wood and wrapped her hands in protective heat bands before picking up Coalby.

"Noodle!" she teased, gently booping him on the tip of his nose.

Coalby blinked up at her. "I'm not a noodle," he grumbled, but the corner of his mouth curled in amusement.

"I've got a task for you today," Emha said, pointing toward the shelf lined with an assortment of unique teapots. Each one, though different in shape and design, bore two round, otherworldly eyes on its surface, made of stone and clay. "I need you to secure those teapots as soon as you can. We already have enough broken pieces as it is."

The tea house had been cluttered with countless shattered objects when she'd first arrived—fragments of cups, plates, and teapots. Some of the pieces she found intriguing enough to display neatly in a box on one of the shelves, but she didn't need any more to add to the collection.

The tea pot and Shunji. A alongside the box where Emha kept the broken pieces.

"Noted!" Coalby nodded, and with the tip of his tail, he picked up a brush and jotted something down on a sheet of paper, brushing off some dried tea leaves scattered across it. He couldn't really write, but he drew vague shapes that would help him remember.

Before he could finish his masterpiece, his gaze shifted to Shunji, who had somehow managed to wiggle free from the front pocket of Emha's apron. The tiny bat, wobbling unsteadily on his wings, made a beeline for the shelf of teapots, clearly trying to escape the growing brightness of the fire Emha had started.

"Shunji!" Emha called after him, but the little bat ignored her, fluttering clumsily toward the farthest teapot and hooking his tiny claws onto its metal handle. He hung there, swaying gently, his fluff puffed out from the effort of flying.

Before Emha could reach him, the teapot suddenly opened one of its eyes. A soft, resonant sound came from within.

"It's tea time!" the teapot proclaimed, its voice high and cheerful, yet slightly haunting.

The room fell silent for a moment, save for the gentle crackle of the fire. Then, unexpectedly, the mute key—which had been held tightly by Emha's chatty key—suddenly shouted, "Tea!"

"You spoke!" her key exclaimed in its usual squeaky voice, holding the mute key aloft as if it were a trophy.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The teapots in The Haunted Tea House were inspired by dogū figurines, which I completely fell in love with while exploring Japan. These lil alien dudes are so fascinating, otherworldly. Even though no one really knows for sure what they were made for, what really got me, though, was learning that many of them were made to be broken. It stuck with me, and it became part of the story’s core.