The Wishing Well

At the very edge of the Mansion’s clutches, beyond the mansion, beyond the gardens, beyond all of the proud features of the month, it sits, and it waits.

It is a small well, completely devoid of water. This well is the only thing that remains free of the chaotic influence of magic that surrounds it. It is always timeless and unchanging though everything around it constantly morphs and twists. At times, it is surrounded by lush plant life, and others blanket it in snow. Still, it remains static, elegant in its simplicity.

When approaching the well, creatures and people alike will find themselves awash with an odd feeling. The feeling is not malicious, although it can be unnerving. Depending on the individual, this feeling can be anything from exceptionally peaceful to uncomfortably chaotic. No matter what the feeling, it has a pull to it, as though it begs one to get closer and investigate…

Though it appears incredibly old, the well seems to have kept up well with the years. Its base is crafted of simple drab grey stone that is not chipped or marred, though often overgrown with plant life. There is no water inside, but the mechanism that raises and lowers a small bucket attached to a long rope works perfectly fine, albeit with a light squeaking. A slanted roof made of wood sits over the top of the well, protecting its contents from rain and snow.

Inside the well appears to be perfectly normal. It is damp and dark inside, and the bottom cannot be seen even with a light source. Anything dropped inside, from objects to people, are never seen or heard from again. No matter how hard one tries, it is impossible to perceive the bottom. Nothing that goes in can ever manage to touch it or make an audible sound. It is unclear where things go once inside, and though one can find many rumors about it, nobody can know for sure.

Carved into the stone is but a simple phrase, crudely written in whatever language the reader speaks most fluently…