The burly soldier-for-hire furrowed his brow. "A key?... What's it open?"

"pfft.. never needed a key before, not looking for one now. Pass." The fair-skinned elf excused herself from the table. She didn't go far; leaning against a nearby post, scanning the tavern's crowd for a loose pocket or two. But not quite far enough to be unable to listen in on the negotiations. Clearly a well practiced thief.

"Plenty of keys out there," a cleric of some unpronounceable deity stated flatly. "What makes this one special enough to hire anyone to find it?"

The fourth member of the group, a wizened old crone, listened intently. I sensed she already deduced what I was looking for. The feeling of a mental scrying spell worked its way over my scalp. Lying now would be a poor decision.

"It isn't a key in the traditional sense. It's not designed to lock anything away; it's meant to open possibilities."

The scrying spell receded. The crone leaned forward, a small smile appearing in the corners of her mouth. "I believe I know the object you seek." Her voice was strong and deep, certainly not what you may expect from her external appearance. "What do you know if it, young scribe?"

"Not enough." Breathing deeply, I began my tale. "I had been foolish. I hadn't realized what it was... the Wishmaker's Key."

The cleric and soldier looked at each other with confused looks. The thief slightly - almost imperceptibly - cocked her head to better hear the next part of the story. The crone's smile remained. "Please... tell us."

"I was with a group similar to yours; but very different circumstances. They had hired me to record their ... for lack of a better term... exploits. Low-stakes adventuring, work-for-hire guard duty, so on, so forth. But they got a job from a local baron to pilfer a local monastery."

A disapproving glare stabbed into me from across the table. It seemed the soldier had a negative opinion of raiders. And had an even lower opinion of those that would compare them to his adventuring group.

"The monks put up no resistance; almost welcoming, in fact. The raiders grabbed the loot as instructed, I wrote... some nonsense that would paint them as the aggrieved party or some such rubbish. Don't worry, I burned it later."

The cleric yawned deeply. "Clearly not a temple of the Faded One. You would not have walked out alive. Kindly, get to the point."

"As we were leaving, one of the monks pressed an oiled leather pouch into my hand. 'Take this,' he said. 'May it show you another path.' I hid the pouch from the others, and parted ways with them soon after. Once I had returned to the local inn, I retreated to my room and emptied the pouch onto window shelf. A single key clattered out. No larger than a standard key, no distinct adornments. Simple tooth pattern, seeming made of brass. But something unexplainable. The air around it seemed to... warp, almost. I knew immediately there was something magical about it. I decided to visit the academy to research it further."

"I looked through every book about legendary treasure; every book about less legendary treasures. Even the back pages of those adventuring guides for beginners. Nothing about this non-descript key."

"And that's when I made my mistake."

"I had been absorbed in reading these storied tomes about magical artifacts; the florid stories about their creation and the results of their use. I took the key out of my pocket, looked at it from all angles. And, in a moment of exhaustion, I said - out loud -"

"I wish I could write a story about a magical artifact and have it carry down through history."

The thief had returned to the table; I hadn't even noticed. "What happened then?"

"Nothing, really. I sat their a bit longer, thinking about my next steps. It occurred to me to try and revisit the monk who gave me the key in the first place. I put the key back in my pocket, and gathered up the tomes to return them back to the stacks. I ordered my notes, packed up my bag, then got ready to leave. I instinctively moved my hand to my pocket to confirm the key was still there..."

"And it was gone."

"I panicked. Searched the desk I was working at, emptied my bag, scoured the floors and ransacked the stacks where I had been earlier. No trace. Dejected, I eventually found my way back to the monastery. I spoke to the monk that gave me the key, stating what had happened. He simply smiled and said 'I am glad it has given you what you needed.' I stood there in profound confusion. He then handed me a tattered scroll. It was in an ancient language, which took weeks to translate. It described the key perfectly. Even the way it had disappeared was part of the legend. And gave it a name: the Wishmaker's Key. The scroll described as having vast power, but applied it in an impossibly subtle way. You had to work for it... but the key can grant wishes."

I let that last word hang in the air. Wishes... every adventurer knew the unfathomable power of a wish.

The cleric broke the silence. "When do we start?" The thief grinned broadly, and looked to the soldier. Already he could see twos 'ayes' to take the job; no point fighting the tide.

"Alright, we accept. Be ready to ride at first light."

The others eventually drifted off to drinks or delights, but the crone remained. "So... what drives you to find the key again? More wishes?"

It was my turn to smile. "No, I just want to write about the journey to find it. I can't think of a better way to grant my own wish."

"This would be faster if you used the whiteboard, you know..." These arguments always take half a day on the Ouija board. But, some people (or ... you know... former people in this case) insist on the 'traditional method'. But it just winds up being more passive/aggressive than Post-It notes on the fridge.

The planchette did start to move with greater speed and purpose. 'Message received, at least...' I sighed and waited for my supernatural roommate to finish his reply.

"H...A...V...E...F...R...I-"

"You'll have it on Friday?! It was due LAST Friday! I can't keep fronting you! You still owe me for the electric bill!" We had a deal; all the bills are in my name, since I'm the alive one in this relationship. We split cost on everything except gas, water and trash. He doesn't need the heat, doesn't wash or shower, and really doesn't produce enough waste to make it worth arguing over.

But he just LOVES watching Netflix, day and night.

I sighed. The only reason he's still haunting this place is his 'unfinished business'. And really, that should have been a giant, neon-glowing red flag for me to translate that into 'unpaid debts'. But I was out of time, out of money, and out of options. So sharing an apartment with an apparition for 6 months would let me get myself in order and into my own place.

... it's been 2 years.

I'm cutting it fine this month on my own expenses, but I can make to Friday. I rubbed my temples to try and abate the tension building behind my eyes. "... Fine. But rent AND electric by Friday. Alright?"

"A...G...R...E-"

"Agreed, got it." I paused. I knew he was doing some side gig. His 'day job' was late-night security, but he admitted early on that it wasn't sufficient to cover his debts. "What's your side hustle now? I know that Uber banned you after they found out you were pretending to be a self-driving car."

"C...R...Y...P...T...O-"

"Oh for fuck's sake!!"