《Vale of Tears》


 Chapter One

    ¡°Boats are bullshit,¡± Kaz bitterly murmurs as she steps from the gangplank, her boots impacting the thankfully stationary, solid wood of the dock. Unlike most ports she¡¯s been through, this one is surprisingly quiet: There are no sounds of gulls or other waterfowl, no sounds of rowdy sailors and shouting merchants, no thrum of waves upon the shore. The water around the dock is eerily still, like that of a lake instead of the sea, and it seems few animals are willing to approach the shore, even at the prospect of free scavenging off the ships and the detritus from the docks.


    Birds must know something that everyone else doesn¡¯t, Kaz thinks.


    The port town of Tarn¡¯s Rest stretches out in front of her eyes, blanketed in a layer of snow on this frigid evening. The Spring Festival is just around the corner, but the winter refuses to release its grip upon the land just yet. The bleak conditions do little to buoy the spirits of those out in it, but Kaz feels that even on a pleasantly warm, sunny day, there would be a dour chill hanging over the town and everyone within.


    ¡°Is it really the boat that upset you?¡± Wren asks with a hint of humor in their voice.


    Kaz glances over¨Cand down¨Cat her Dwarven companion, a slight frown creasing around the small tusks protruding from her lower jaw. Said tusks along with her green-tinged skin, and tall, muscular stature are clear indications of her Orcish heritage; her spotless gambeson and scarf, along with her short cut and well-kept hair, speak of a military background. The shining triangular pendant hanging from her neck, showing a stylized sovereign¡¯s crown, tells others of her faith.


    Wren, in contrast, is short and stout, the nature of their Dwarven blood. Rusty red hair braided and held by tanned leather strips and the sturdy, fur-adorned leather cloak, clearly hand-made, speak of a life spent in the northern regions. They have a smug look on their face presently, with a twinkle in their emerald eyes.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s why I said it,¡± Kaz snips back.


    It¡¯s the same at every port. And every day aboard a ship. And occasionally when on dry land. Kaz¡¯s distaste of the water certainly doesn¡¯t stop her from traveling, but by the Nine above it also doesn¡¯t stop her from bitching about having to interact with it.


    Wren gives her hell for it whenever it¡¯s reasonable to do so. Which, for Wren, is often. It makes the unending complaints more tolerable.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to hate boats just because you hate the ocean,¡± they say wryly, careful not to show their amusement.


    ¡°I actually do, because¨C¡± Kaz begins.


    ¡°And the sea, too,¡± Wren adds.


    ¡°¨Cdesigned specifically to exist¨C¡±


    ¡°And lakes.¡±


    ¡°¨Crock back and forth like some kind of¨C¡±


    ¡°Rivers, as well.¡±


    ¡°¨CI mean who even knows what¡¯s down there¨C¡±


    ¡°Streams.¡±


    ¡°¨Cno good comes from¨C¡±


    ¡°...Puddles?¡±


    ¡°Can I help you ladies?¡± interrupts an elderly man, bundled up against the cold, as he steps from the much more comfortable interior of a nearby shack.


    Kaz and Wren stop bickering, their attention turning to the old Human. But not before one last exchange:


    ¡°You don¡¯t know how deep a puddle is gonna be,¡± Kaz warns under her breath.


    ¡°It¡¯s a wonder you don¡¯t hate baths,¡± Wren mutters back quickly.


    ¡°Because I know how much water is in a damn bath¨CGood afternoon! My companion and I are here looking for work,¡± Kaz says, straightening her posture a bit.


    ¡°Oh, companion,¡± the old man mutters as he straightens his glasses, getting a better look at Wren. ¡°My mistake.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the dockmaster?¡± Wren asks.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Name¡¯s Walter,¡± the old man says with a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t mean to harass you, uh, two none. Just trying to keep tabs on who comes and goes and you folk are definitely new.¡±


    Wren offers their hand, adding, ¡°Wren Eklund. We heard there¡¯s a lot of work, er, protecting people here.¡±


    ¡°Ah!¡± Walter lets out, taking Wren¡¯s hand and shaking it. They note that his grip is a lot stronger than his frail appearance would imply¨Csomeone who has seen some action in their time. He adds, ¡°Sellswords, eh?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Kaz says with a grunt. She offers her hand as well. ¡°Captain Kazimiera Gw¨®zdek. We¡¯re just looking for a place to apply ourselves.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Walter says, glancing back and forth between the two. ¡°Strange seeing a Zhev and a Crowny traveling about together,¡± he muses, making both Kaz and Wren bristle.


    Kaz clears her throat before moving the conversation forward with, ¡°We heard there is an official expedition of some kind supposed to take place soon?¡±


    ¡°¡®Zat so? You¡¯ll be looking for those academic-y folks, then,¡± Walter says, nodding to himself as if understanding. ¡°They¡¯re staying up at the Moonpeak. Only tavern here, across the bridge, up the hill by the river. Can¡¯t miss it.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Walter,¡± Wren says. They hesitate for a second before adding, ¡°Is it always this, you know, quiet here?¡±


    ¡°Mm,¡± Walter hums. ¡°Place is a might bit spooky, isn¡¯t it? Sea¡¯s always still, no fish nearby, no wild game that anyone can tell. Leaves and plants won¡¯t sprout even in the spring. Gotta ship in most food an¡¯ everything.¡±


    ¡°Sounds great,¡± Kaz mutters.


    ¡°There are monsters, though?¡± Wren asks.


    Kaz closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, able to ascertain the acrid, harsh smell of something dangerous and dark lurking past the carefully constructed palisade walls of the town. Even from here on the docks, it¡¯s noticeable. Mere animals who would defend their territory or kill for food do not give off the same scent of ill intent.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    ¡°Monsters¡± would be an apt enough term for whatever lurks among the scraggly, dead trees just out of sight, watching the town carefully.


    Waiting.


    No wonder the people here act like they¡¯re in the middle of a funeral procession, Kaz thinks to herself.


    ¡°Some real nasty things, that¡¯s for sure,¡± Walter answers, nodding for emphasis. ¡°It¡¯s bad enough that only those with permission from the warden are allowed out the gates. S¡¯one of the reasons we check who comes through: Far too dangerous to let just any looky-loo or troublemaker wander around.¡±


    ¡°Permission, yes,¡± Kaz says to herself. It means that someone is taking all of this very seriously, at least. That¡¯s reassuring. She continues, ¡°So, who is the warden?¡±


    ¡°Young woman, name of Bernadette. She¡¯s one of them devil-looking folk, but don¡¯t let that put you off. Got a good head on her shoulders,¡± Walter says approvingly. ¡°Pretty sure the expedition folks already have permission to leave town, if you get in with ''em. Heard they came from the University of Halcyon itself.¡±


    Kaz feels a small chill run up her spine, which she hopes is just due to the temperature.


    ¡°Thank you for the information, Walter,¡± she says.


    ¡°Yeah, thanks!¡± Wren adds cheerfully. ¡°Do we, you know..." They trail off, miming the act of giving something to the old man. "Is it proper to give a tip? With the info and all¨C¡±


    ¡°Walter here is a proud employee of the government of Kattelox. I¡¯m sure that, just like any proud citizen, he is more than happy to simply make a difference,¡± Kaz interrupts, locking eyes with the elderly man.


    Walter stares back, sharing a brief moment of silent understanding. A respectful lull of the conversation.


    Then the facade cracks and the old Human snickers. Kaz, unable to hold it in, laughs alongside him.


    ¡°Yes¡¯m, just simple civil servants are we,¡± Walter chuckles out. He holds his hand out and gently takes the fistful of silver coins that Wren offers. ¡°You two have a nice stay in Tarn¡¯s Rest, y¡¯hear? And please be careful.¡± Despite his mirth, the last sentence comes across as serious and, more importantly, sincere.


    ¡°We¡¯ll try. You keep your head down as well, old-timer,¡± Kaz says, hefting up a large knapsack off the snowy dock and onto her shoulder. From within, the muffled sound of metal shifting can be heard. Wren adjusts their leather shoulder bag, fixing the tangled strap which they have been absently fidgeting with while talking to Walter.


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you worry about me none. I didn¡¯t live this long by poking my head up, after all,¡± Walter says with a cackle. He watches the two start treading through the freshly fallen snow, heading from the docks into the town proper. Turning the collar of his jacket up against the chill wind, he shuffles back to the warmth of his dockside shack.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Tarn¡¯s Rest, despite the unique location of it, is not unlike other towns. The lower district is made up of residences and merchants, including a market near the town square, where a statue of the King of Kattelox, Frederik Thorburn, watches over the townsfolk in dutiful fashion. All the buildings are likewise of Loxian make, even down to the materials¨Cit seems that the wood from the strange, dead trees of this land are unfit for construction purposes, so wood from mainland Kattelox has been brought in for such purposes.


    Or, perhaps, nobody wants to actually attempt the process of cutting down the leafless, gnarled trees that dot the landscape, rather than them being unfit. That¡¯s assuming anyone would be willing to even lay hands on the wood to work with it. Even the wooden palisade walls have been constructed entirely out of timber shipped in.


    Much as Walter said, a bridge at the end of the lower district stretches across a thin river, which obviously flows yet has the same eerily placid surface as the sea beyond the docks. The upper district sits atop a rise in the land overlooking the lower district; the river actually cascades down not far from the bridge from above in a surprisingly beautiful waterfall, one of the few indications of its actual movement.


    Conversation with some of the few locals braving the cold winter day results in Kaz and Wren learning that the river has been named the Moonbow River, as when Corvega and Tryden, the large and small moons respectively, reach their zenith in the night sky, a rainbow appears in the mists that float up from the base of the falls.


    It makes sense, then, why the Moonpeak Inn is named as such: It sits directly on the edge of the river, at the very top of the falls.


    The rest of the upper district seems to contain the mayoral manor, the guard barracks, and a few high-end establishments and shops: A local bank and moneylender, a few artisan crafts shops, a shop specializing in magical artifacts and other oddities.


    As the two climb the wooden steps that serve as a path leading to the inn that sits atop the hill, Wren lets out a low whistle as they look at the nearby businesses and buildings.


    ¡°Can you imagine the amount of coin that¡¯s been spent building this town?¡± They ask.


    Kaz snorts as she responds, ¡°Loxians aren¡¯t the type to do anything half-way. Besides, they have the funds for it. They made out pretty well from the war, overall.¡±


    An uneasy silence lingers between the two for a moment before Wren speaks up, ¡°Yeah, well. Someone had to.¡±


    Kaz says nothing, her silence alone enough of an agreement.


    The sound of music, of laughter and life, floats out from the tavern as the two get closer--muffled, but obvious in its mirth. Wren seems to cheer up at the noise, glad to finally encounter some kind of joy in this drab place.


    ¡°Hear that?¡± They ask, looking over at Kaz with a smile.


    ¡°Finally found the party. It tracks that it¡¯d be in the local tavern,¡± Kaz says.


    ¡°They sound happy,¡± Wren affirms, feeling a sense of ease for the first time since arriving.


    ¡°Probably because it¡¯s warm inside,¡± Kaz says sharply.


    ¡°Oh Gods here we go¨C¡± Wren mutters.


    ¡°Look, it being this cold is just miserable. Do you see happy people outside right now? No. Did you ever see any happy people back home?¡± Kaz asks, tone full of the same frustration as it had during the boat ¡°discussion.¡±


    ¡°There were plenty of happy people back home. People that were outside,¡± Wren says, going through the motions of an argument that has been had many, many times before.


    ¡°Nah. The cold is bullshit,¡± Kaz says matter-of-factly. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to be happy when you¡¯re cold.¡±


    Wren chuckles a little, unable to help themselves, as they say, ¡°You just can¡¯t dislike something a normal amount, can you?¡±


    ¡°I dislike things in an amount that is perfectly acceptable in relation to how bullshit said things are,¡± Kaz argues.


    ¡°See, I don¡¯t think so,¡± Wren says as they climb the steps to the Moonpeak Inn. They pull the door open, feeling a rush of warm air that comes from within as the sound of happy tavern-goers and jovial minstrels gets louder, no longer muffled by the heavy wooden door.


    ¡°This is your problem. You¡¯re afraid to let yourself really love the things that you love. And, by extension, hate the things that you hate. It¡¯s no way to live,¡± Kaz explains, letting out a relieved sigh as they step up into the warmth flowing out of the open doorway.


    ¡°That sounds like a dangerous way to live,¡± Wren says, motioning for Kaz to go ahead and enter.


    ¡°You are not police of me,¡± Kaz says with a smirk, stepping through into the well-lit interior of the inn.


    ¡°No and I pity whoever would try to be,¡± Wren mutters, getting in the last word before they, too, step inside, letting the door close securely behind them.


    From the base of the hill, far enough away to avoid being conspicuous, a pair of figures that have been following the other two ever since they disembarked from the ship linger.


    ¡°You sure they¡¯re worth all this?¡± The taller one, a scruffy Human male with disheveled hair, asks with a voice that barely rises above a tired grumble.


    ¡°Did you see them bribe that old guy? They¡¯re loaded, fam,¡± the smaller one, barely half the size of the other, features obscured by a layer of robes, replies.


    The tall man lets out a long sigh, before ambling up the hill. He mutters, ¡°Fine. I could use an ale, anyway.¡±


    His small companion trots along after him, humming excitedly.

 Chapter Two

    There is a faint lull in the atmosphere when Kaz and Wren step into the Moonpeak Inn, as the patrons, performers, and staff all seem to turn their attention, with varying degrees of subtlety, toward the entryway. Wren blushes faintly, highlighting the myriad of freckles that spread across their cheeks, which is already showing signs of midday stubble. Kaz on the other hand just straightens her posture, meeting the crowd of gazes evenly with her own.


    After a brief few moments, the crew of bards onstage resume their cacophonous, and admittedly catchy, row of a tune. The patrons, of which there are a few dozen, go back to their own business, returning to their thoughts or shared conversations. There are more people in the tavern than Kaz expected, all told. It¡¯s not far past midday and most of the crowd looks the part of blue collar folk, who would normally be hard at work at this time.


    Wren, far less interested in staring down a bar full of half-drunk laborers than Kaz seems to be, has their attention turned toward the building itself. It is well-made and, more importantly, immaculately maintained. Everything is clean and the servers all wear similar clothing in some semblance of uniform dress. Even the lighting is bright, clearly showing the dusted corners and crevices that most establishments like this would try to downplay. This place feels nothing like a dingy bar, many of which Wren has been in during their travels.


    ¡°Whoever owns this place takes it seriously,¡± they say as the two make their way toward the front desk, located just off the side of the bar. ¡°It¡¯s very clean.¡±


    ¡°Why, thank you,¡± comes a reply from the person standing at the front desk. A dark-skinned Elf with stark white hair, wearing a well-made suit, with bright violet eyes and a stern expression. ¡°I pride myself in running the most well-kept tavern-inn within Tarn¡¯s Rest. The fact that it is the only tavern-inn is no excuse for mediocrity.¡±


    Kaz nods in agreement¨Cand approval. She says, ¡°Always nice to meet someone who takes pride in their work.¡±


    The Elf lets a smile ever so slightly creep across their features before speaking, ¡°As it is to meet a discerning customer. Welcome to the Moonpeak Inn. I am Semyon, the proprietor of the fine establishment.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Kaz, this is Wren,¡± she says, motioning toward her Dwarven companion, who simply raises a broad hand and waves shyly.


    ¡°Well, are you two here for leisure, or are you looking for lodging? We have numerous rooms available for rent,¡± Semyon says, motioning toward the nearby ornate wooden staircase leading up to the second floor. He adds, ¡°Purchasing a room for a week or more at a time will yield a reasonably fair discount.¡±


    ¡°Rooms would be nice, but for how long¡­¡± Kaz begins, but trails off, glancing at Wren. They take the pouch from beneath their cloak and open it, counting the contents within before holding up a few fingers discreetly to Kaz.


    Maybe we should¡¯ve been stingier with Walter, she thinks to herself.


    ¡°By the night, then. Worry not, we have the best rates in town,¡± Semyon says cheerily.


    ¡°I would hope,¡± Kaz says as she accepts a few coins from Wren and gives them to Semyon, who rubs them firmly between his long fingers before nodding in approval.


    ¡°A pleasure doing business with you. Breakfast and dinner are part of the fare; I¡¯ll get the keys to your rooms,¡± Semyon explains as he kneels down behind the counter, discreetly depositing the coins in a place that neither Kaz nor Wren can see. He stands back up, handing them each a brass key.


    ¡°We were also wanting to ask a few questions, if that¡¯s alright. About this town,¡± Kaz says as she and Wren accept their keys.


    ¡°I figured you two were new here. I know most everyone and I didn¡¯t recognize you,¡± Seymon explains, a self-complementary smile spread across his face. ¡°Ask away. Consider it an amenity that comes with purchasing a room.¡±


    Kaz lets out a small sigh of relief, offering a silent prayer in thanks to Kelathorne. She certainly did not want to have to choose between an extra night¡¯s lodging and paying for information just to find work.


    ¡°We¡¯re here looking for work. The potentially dangerous sort,¡± Kaz explains, earning a raised eyebrow from Seymon. She continues, ¡°You know, guard work, dealing with monsters, the like.¡±


    ¡°Sellswords, then. Mercenary work,¡± Seymon says, now looking the two up and down appraisingly.


    ¡°We prefer the term ¡®adventurers,¡¯¡± Wren says, crossing their arms.


    ¡°Specifically, we heard something about an official expedition being planned,¡± Kaz says.


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Seymon mutters, glancing over. The two follow his gaze to a table near the back of the tavern where a lone figure sits. ¡°One of the team members is over there, she¡¯ll have more information about it than I. As far as general work, there are plenty of issues that I¡¯m sure Bernadette would appreciate a helping hand with. You¡¯ll find her over at the barracks: She usually has some bounties that the townsfolk bring in, in addition to ¡®official¡¯ business that she doesn¡¯t have the guard-power to deal with.¡±


    Kaz and Wren share a glance before Kaz speaks, ¡°That¡¯s exactly the information we were looking for. Thank you.¡±


    As the two walk off, Wren waves back at him and adds, ¡°We¡¯ll try really hard to find some work so we can pay you for more nights!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m counting on it,¡± Seymon says with a small smile, turning his attention back to whatever task he had going before their arrival.


    ¡°Seems like there¡¯s a lot of work available,¡± Wren says quietly as the two cross the tavern, heading toward the back table that Seymon had pointed out to them. They add, ¡°That¡¯s good for us, right?¡±


    Kaz lets out a low, uncertain hum, before saying, ¡°Good for our pockets, bad for our health.¡±


    The patrons seated around at the tables cheer at the performers on stage, who have switched into some musical number about a donkey, a handful of thumb tacks, and an especially irate work foreman. The band, if nothing else, seems to know their audience well. The figure at the very back of the inn, however, seems far too engrossed in a large book.


    Now that the two are standing just a few feet away, they can make the person out amongst the crowd: An Elf in an academician¡¯s outfit, with long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She reads her book through large, circular glasses that take up much of her face, magnifying her almond-shaped eyes.


    Despite her magnified eyes and long, pointed ears, she is woefully oblivious as Kaz and Wren step up to the table. Kaz clears her throat, but that does little to break the Elf¡¯s attention from her large book.


    Wren leans to the side, trying to catch a glance at the contents of whatever she is reading. Thanks to their travel with Kaz the past ten or so years, Wren has picked up some basics of a lot of the different languages spoken across the world of Vale. Each region has their own dialect, with racial languages dying out thousands of years ago as cultures mingled and became more homogenous across the different lands.


    Even if Wren doesn¡¯t speak or read them, they can more often than not recognize which language is which. Carnist and Zhevni, the languages spoken from their and Kaz¡¯ homelands, for example, share a similar runic alphabet; despite the expedition being organized by the ¡®Loxians, the writing in the book is definitely not of that region. In fact, Wren doesn¡¯t know what language it is.


    The strange symbols are accompanied by odd diagrams, graphs, and illustrations that are also incomprehensible to Wren. Considering how intensely the Elf is studying the book, they aren¡¯t entirely sure if she comprehends the contents, either.


    ¡°What¡¯cha reading?¡± Wren asks innocently, causing the lady to visibly start. She looks up in confusion but doesn¡¯t move to close or obscure the book.


    ¡°Oh, hello!¡± She greets the two with an honest smile and an embarrassed chuckle. Sheepishly, she adds, ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m not the greatest at splitting my attention between things. Can I help¨COh! You wanted to know what I¡¯m reading!¡±


    Kaz and Wren are motioned to sit down and they do so, as bemused as they are amused.


    ¡°This is a copy of one of the few Monteith texts that have survived through history,¡± the Elf explains, pure delight in her expression and voice as she motions toward the book excitedly.


    Well no wonder I didn¡¯t recognize it, Wren thinks.


    ¡°Monteith? They¡¯re the¨C¡± Kaz begins, but the Elf cuts her off.


    ¡°¨CThe ancient civilization that suddenly appeared and then just as mysteriously disappeared, right! Some of their ruins are still mostly intact but we have no idea how¨C¡± The Elf stops, face going flush. She stammers out, ¡°Oh, I¨CI interrupted you, didn¡¯t I? I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Kaz lets out a laugh, shaking her head as she says, ¡°You¡¯re okay, I¡¯m used to it.¡±


    Wren frowns and shoots Kaz a sour look before asking the Elf, ¡°Can you actually read that? I didn¡¯t know anyone could read the Monteith language.¡±


    ¡°They can¡¯t! Er, I can¡¯t,¡± the Elf says as she looks back down at the book. ¡°Not entirely, anyway. But I¡¯m working on it.¡±


    A long silence lingers between the three as Kaz and Wren aren¡¯t certain of what to say, or if the Elf is going to keep talking. Finally, she shuts the book and turns her attention back up toward the two with a bright smile.


    ¡°Anyway, um, my name¡¯s Aderyn. Rhys. Most everyone calls me Addy,¡± she says cheerfully. She glances between the two before adding, ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re here for a lecture on Monteith linguistics, though. Right? You¡¯re¡­ Not, right?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Kaz says, feeling a soft pang of guilt in her stomach as she sees Addy¡¯s cheerful smile fade. She introduces herself and Wren before adding, ¡°Seymon said that you were part of the expedition, and we were¨C¡±


    ¡°The expedition!¡± Addy says, once again cutting Kaz off. ¡°Are you two interested in helping with it?¡±


    Kaz takes a deep breath and closes her eyes for a moment, reciting the scripture for patience a few times mentally, before she says, ¡°Yes, that¡¯s actually a big reason we came here. We heard the expedition was looking for help.¡±


    Wren speaks up, ¡°We didn¡¯t know if that was just for, like, labor or if you needed some help guarding the caravan, or what exactly.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well,¡± Addy mutters, her expression darkening a little. ¡°Right now, that would be yes. To all.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? ¡®Right now?¡¯¡± Wren asks, a puzzled look on their face.


    Addy sits back in her chair and slides the strange book into her shoulder bag, as if wanting to shield it from the story she¡¯s about to tell. After a moment, she begins, ¡°You¡¯re technically a few months late to join the expedition. The, er, first expedition, anyway.¡± She pauses, debating on what information is necessary to share.


    As anyone who has taken one of her classes can attest, Aderyn¡¯s answer to what information is relevant to any conversation is always: Yes.


    ¡°Okay, so, three months ago¨CWell, actually, I guess it was about a year¨CNo, no, fifteen¨C¡± Addy begins.


    Kaz and Wren glance at one another worriedly with the silent understanding that they should have probably used the bathroom before they sat down for this story.


    ¡°Okay, right, so,¡± Addy mutters to herself, organizing her thoughts. She finally says, ¡°This continent, the Heart of Vale, was just being officially explored for the first time around fifteen years ago, after the beginning of the 4th Era. This land has been deemed dangerous and wrong for ages and any attempt to explore it has been a failure due to how dangerous it is.¡±


    Wren raises a hand to interrupt respectfully, asking, ¡°The Dockmaster, uh, Walter, told us that there are no game animals here. Is that true?¡±


    Addy smiles a little, feeling comfortable in this lecture-like format of conversation. She says, ¡°That¡¯s right! None of the monsters here on the Heart seem to require any kind of nourishment, nor do they fight amongst each other. Which indicates¨C¡±


    This time, it¡¯s Kaz¡¯s turn to cut Addy off, ¡°¨CThat all the monsters are here to guard something.¡±


    Addy claps and smiles brightly as she praises Kaz, saying, ¡°Very good! This doesn¡¯t appear to be a natural ecosystem.¡±


    ¡°You want a gold star?¡± Wren says to Kaz under their breath, smirking.


    ¡°Be one more than you¡¯ve got,¡± Kaz responds proudly.


    ¡°As I was saying, this land was considered taboo for millennia, and for good reason it turns out. Since Kattelox has claim to this town, the University of Halcyon decided to put together an actual expedition to see what secrets exist here. Professor Thorburn is the head of the expedition and we had about a dozen different experts in various fields, including myself. I¡¯m the acting professor of Monteith studies at the university,¡± Addy explains, gesticulating excitedly as she tells her story. But her expression dims and she becomes far less animated as she pauses before the next part.


    ¡°We hired about twenty others to work as guards and laborers before we set out. It was surprisingly quiet for the first week. We had no real goal, we were just doing a sweep of the surrounding area and mapping it out as we went. Then, one night, everything just¡­¡± Addy pauses and makes a gesture with her hands, like an explosion. She keeps going, ¡°It¡¯s like everything was just waiting the right time for our guard to be down. I don¡¯t even know what attacked us. Some of our group were just academics with no combat experience, but some of us were mages, a few even served their time in the military. Even with them and the guards, people were falling like trees in a windstorm. The last thing I remember is Professor Thorburn grabbing me and teleporting us away, back here¡­ Nobody else made it back.¡±


    ¡°Whoa,¡± says a strange, high-pitched voice. All three start, engrossed in the story so much that they hadn¡¯t noticed anyone approaching.


    A Goblin stands beside the table, the top half of their head just visible above the edge. They smile, showing rows of sharp, pointy teeth, iconic of their kind. Same for their red eyes and floppy ears; the messy mop of moss-green hair that covers their head is a bit unusual, though. The reputations of the green-skin races, like Orcs and Goblins, has improved substantially since the early racial disputes of the First Era, but some stereotypes persist. The Goblin stereotypes are certainly not dispelled by this individual, whose robes are smeared with dirt and moss. Wren is certain that they see a few mushrooms growing on the Goblin¡¯s shoulder, partially obscured by their mess of hair.


    ¡°Hi,¡± the Goblin says simply.


    ¡°Uh,¡± Kaz manages to grunt out before Addy reaches out and grabs under the Goblin¡¯s arms, lifting them up.


    ¡°Aww, you¡¯re so tiny! Are you here for the expedition, too?!¡± Addy says cheerfully. She coughs a little as a fine dust floats up from the Goblin¡¯s clothes; she says, ¡°Little dusty there.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re spores,¡± the Goblin says, seemingly unperturbed by being picked up.


    ¡°Neat! Am I dying?¡± Addy asks, coughing again. The Goblin, thankfully, shakes their head reassuringly.


    ¡°Uh, Addy. I think it¡¯s rude to just pick people up,¡± Wren says absently, watching the scene unfold.


    Addy, still coughing, nods in understanding and sits the Goblin back down. She slides back into her seat and grabs the nearby pitcher of water, drinking some.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, those aren¡¯t toxic,¡± the Goblin explains to Addy before looking around the table. They ask, ¡°I heard you all talking about an expedition. What expedition?¡±


    ¡°We were just getting to that part,¡± Kaz explains, looking at Addy, who seems to have stopped choking for the moment.


    ¡°Um, yes! Everyone died! Well, not everyone. Professor Thorburn and I didn¡¯t,¡± Addy says, taking another sip of water and clearing their throat. ¡°Since then, we¡¯ve been trying to get another expedition set up. We have some laborers on board, but we¡¯ve not been able to find anyone to act as protection. Until now, maybe?¡± She asks tepidly.


    ¡°Well, we came here specifically because we heard about the expedition. But, are you sure you want to go back out there after what happened?¡± Wren asks.


    For the first time in the conversation, Addy¡¯s features sharpen and her demeanor becomes serious. She says, very simply, ¡°There is something on this continent and we are here to find it. If nothing else, we want to gather the corpses of our companions.¡±


    Kaz nods in understanding and says, ¡°They deserve to be recovered, at least. It sounds dangerous, but¡­¡± She trails off, looking over at Wren.


    Wren finishes for her, saying, ¡°If the compensation is good enough, it sounds like a worthy cause.¡±


    ¡°So that means you¡¯re going out there? Outside the walls?¡± The Goblin asks.


    ¡°Ideally. Oh! We didn¡¯t introduce ourselves! You can call me Addy,¡± she says suddenly. Kaz and Wren chime in, in turn. None of the three offer their hand after seeing the ¡°spore treatment¡± that Addy was subjected to when she picked the Goblin up. Addy continues, ¡°What about you, mister¨Cah, miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°¡®Miss¡¯ works. My name¡¯s Dahlia,¡± she says, climbing up onto one of the oversized chairs. She does not actually sit down, instead standing in the chair so that she can be at roughly the same height as the others.


    ¡°What brings you to Tarn¡¯s Rest?¡± Kaz asks, sizing up Dahlia curiously.


    ¡°My family runs a farm on the coast of Eryndal,¡± Dahlia explains.


    ¡°The Mushroom Coast?!¡± Addy asks, eyes wide in awe.


    ¡°Correct. We grow all kinds of fungi and molds and moss and other things from all over Vale. When Mom and Dad heard about the Heart getting settled, they wanted me to come out and see if there¡¯s anything new to bring back and raise,¡± Dahlia explains. Her mouth turns down into a frustrated frown as she says, ¡°But they won¡¯t let me out of town to look around! They say it¡¯s too dangerous. But if you¡¯re going anyway, I can go with you, right?¡±


    ¡°Well, if you¡¯re willing to help fend off the monsters, we¡¯d gladly pay you to join us. You don¡¯t seem to be afraid of what¡¯s out there,¡± Addy muses.


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯ll pay me to go with you? Really?¡± Dahlia asks, looking faintly surprised.


    ¡°Can you defend yourself?¡± Kaz asks, crossing her arms.


    ¡°I¡¯m not afraid of what¡¯s out there, if that¡¯s what you mean,¡± Dahlia says, tilting her head slightly.


    As the others discuss this, Wren¡¯s mind wanders. Their hand unconsciously wanders to their coin purse, worried about their finances and hoping this might resolve those issues. However, their hand only grasps at empty space. They glance down, seeing that the pouch that was fastened to their belt is gone.


    Panic shoots through them and they look around, eyes landing on Dahlia, who they hadn¡¯t noticed approaching in the first place. More angrily than they perhaps intend, they ask, ¡°You¨Cdid you take my coin pouch?¡±


    Everyone at the table looks at Wren, surprised. Dahlia blinks and holds up a finger, pointing as she says, ¡°Huh-uh. He did.¡±


    Again, everyone¡¯s attention shifts to the direction that Dahlia is pointing, just in time to see two figures, one taller and one shorter¨Cabout the same height as Dahlia herself¨Cquickly slip out the front door.


    ¡°Sons of bitches!¡± Wren growls, leaping up from their chair as they dash toward the front door. Kaz is just a few steps behind, hefting their heavy rucksack as she reaches inside, rummaging for her weapon.


    ¡°Well, crackers,¡± Addy mutters as she scrambles to her feet and follows after the group with Dahlia in tow, who is excited to see a real life fight in person.


    Maybe someone will die, she thinks eagerly as they all run out of the tavern.

 Chapter Three

    It is late evening and the streets of Tarn¡¯s Rest grow dark as the last bit of illumination given by the occluded sunlight fades. It is merciful, perhaps, that the heavy cloud cover prevents a clear view of the sky, as such a beautiful sunset would be marred by the gnarled, twisting branches that make up the skeletal canopy that would function as the horizon.


    A hundred thousand dead limbs grasping at the sun, eager to extinguish its light, if only for a short time.


    Fighting against the encroaching gloom are a series of braziers which burn bright, lit by the weary town guard, who begrudgingly trudge about with torches held aloft in hopes of pushing back not only the darkness, but also the oppressive aura that emanates from the mysterious inner lands of the Heart of Vale.


    The flickering flames hold fast, providing warmth of body and peace of mind to those brave enough to leave the safety of their homes and face the chill night air.


    As if sensing a challenge from the islands of fire in the sea of dark, the sky above lets loose the bounty it has been holding for just such an occasion: Snow, more and more, falling in thick, wet flakes that sizzle and pop when impacting the fiery braziers.


    Such vulgar condensation weighs as heavily on the spirits of the townsfolk as it does the eaves of the buildings, accumulating thickly on what has already fallen. It is the type of snow that clings just on the edge of solidity, promising to throw those who tread upon it off balance and to soak into any bit of cloth or leather exposed to it.


    It is, as most evenings in Tarn¡¯s Rest are, miserable.


    Perhaps it is not surprising, then, that a pair of figures slip out of the Moonpeak Inn, one of the few places of levity and comfort, and immediately regret their decision to face the bitter chill as they make their way down the path, heading toward the docks.


    ¡°Shit a dick it¡¯s cold,¡± the Human grumbles, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. He is pale of skin, tall and lanky, with unkempt, scruffy hair and scraggly stubble. His expression is perpetually a mixture of fatigue, frustration, and foreboding. ¡°We should¡¯ve just stayed on board the ship and skipped dealing with this piss hole of a town.¡±


    His companion, a Halfling, shivers despite having a thick layering of clothes, scarves, and a cloak as protection against the chill. He is short, even for his race, with tanned skin and well-kept dark hair. The deep, wet snow would be a struggle to walk through normally, which is why he hops along the tracks left by his companion. With a smirk, he says, ¡°Nah, fam. It was worth it.¡±


    The Human snorts derisively and says, ¡°A mug of weak booze and a near-empty purse. Well worth freezing my ass off for.¡±


    The Halfling responds, defensively, ¡°They looked loaded, okay? A Zhev and a Crowny wouldn¡¯t be running around places like this if they weren¡¯t loaded.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right. Except, you know, they are running around broke as shit,¡± the Human argues.


    ¡°Even broker now,¡± the Halfling says proudly.


    The Human sighs loudly, then asks, ¡°How much did you end up swiping from ¡®em, anyway?¡±


    A voice, loud and angry, calls out from behind the two: ¡°Seventeen copper, eight silver, two gold, a stick of cinnamon and a neat rock I found!¡±


    ¡°Ah, fuck,¡± the Human says tiredly as both he and the Halfling stop. The two have made it to the bridge and are partially across it: Diving into the frigid waters does not sound particularly pleasant and there¡¯s little to no chance of running through the heavy snow. So, reluctantly, they slowly turn around to face those that followed them.


    Unsurprisingly, the Dwarf they stole the coin pouch from is there, breathing heavily and looking positively pissed as they hold a large knapsack in both hands. The tall Orc lady stands beside the Dwarf, holding an ornate sword in one hand and a heavy, metallic shield in the other. She certainly seems like she knows how to use said implements; odds are, her armor is in the knapsack that the Dwarf is holding onto.


    Perhaps more surprisingly is the well-dressed Elf lady and the grubby-looking Goblin that are catching up slowly to the others, both navigating the snow with some difficulty, having not quite reached the bridge yet. They had been at the table with the Dwarf and the Orc, but it hadn¡¯t seemed like they knew each other very well. Well enough to want to see how this plays out, though.


    ¡°This is really starting to be a thing,¡± the Human mutters, annoyed.


    ¡°Give me back my money!¡± Wren yells angrily.


    ¡°Dunno what you¡¯re talking about,¡± the Halfling says stubbornly.


    ¡°Hand it over,¡± Kaz commands.


    This ain¡¯t worth it, the Human thinks, rubbing their face with one cold hand. Just give it back, Cash.


    ¡°You got any proof that this is really yours?¡± The Halfling asks, crossing his arms.


    ¡°I already told you what¡¯s in the pouch! Go ahead and turn it out,¡± the Dwarf demands.


    ¡°Oh yeah,¡± the Halfling mutters, shaking the pouch. It isn¡¯t very heavy and from the rattling inside, it sounds like the Dwarf is right on the money. His expression turns incredulous and annoyed as he shouts back, ¡°Wait, that¡¯s really all that you got?!¡±


    ¡°Told you it wasn¡¯t worth it,¡± the Human says in exasperation.


    ¡°They looked loaded!¡± the Halfling growls and points at Kaz and Wren accusingly. He shouts at them, ¡°You¡¯re holding out!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re here looking for work, asshole!¡± Wren shouts back. ¡°Sorry we aren¡¯t a couple of rich nobles!¡±


    With a long, drawn-out groan, the Halfling complains loudly, ¡°Just my luck, a couple of broke dick adventurers! Fine, take your stupid coin back!¡± With that, he tosses the mostly-empty pouch into the snow a few feet from Wren and Kaz.


    ¡°Told you it wasn¡¯t worth it,¡± the Human repeats, but pats the Halfling on the back reassuringly. The two of them turn to leave, when Kaz¡¯s voice makes them stop in their tracks.


    ¡°Stop! Where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± She asks sternly. The sword she holds out toward the two begins to glow with a bright inner light, bathing the group of six individuals in a sharp radiance.


    ¡°Really, Cash? You really robbed a broke Dwarf and their knight bodyguard with holy powers?¡± The Human growls. He wants to keep walking and leave this whole situation behind, but he can¡¯t quite bring himself to step outside of the ring of light shed by Kaz¡¯s gleaming sword.


    ¡°Whoever¡¯s heard of a poor knight?!¡± The Halfling argues back, equally stuck in the glow¡¯s radius. Unable to leave, the two of them turn back to face Kaz and Wren¨Cand Abby and Dahlia, who watch from a short distance away.


    ¡°Look, Shinypants,¡± the Halfling begins, addressing Kaz. ¡°We gave the coin back. Drop your holy cop poop spell and we¡¯ll all just leave, okay? Nobody gets hurt, we leave this stupid town tomorrow on the first ship out, you all can go back to doing whatever.¡±


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Not much of an apology,¡± Wren says, an intense look of irritation still on their face.


    ¡°I¡¯m supposed to just let you two leave, so you can go to some other port and rob more people blind?¡± Kaz asks. She shakes her head before continuing, ¡°Not happening. Give up now and I¡¯ll take you to the guards. If you don¡¯t, then I¡¯ll drag you there. Understand?¡±


    The Halfling starts to say something, but the Human shushes him and steps forward. Kaz feels a slight shiver go down her back as the man glares at her darkly. Despite not having a visible weapon, despite only being a few inches taller than her at best and a similar frame, she can feel his confidence and his anger.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to do this,¡± he says, snarling. ¡°Fuck off.¡±


    Kaz hears Wren drop her bag as they ready themselves for a fight. Behind the man, the Halfling begins reaching into his robes, his attention focused on Wren. Kaz grips her sword tighter, intent on standing up for her sense of justice regardless of how tough these pickpockets might actually be.


    The tension grows between the four. Some of the wandering guards have begun to take notice and watch from afar, willing to see some action before moving to break things up. Several patrons from the Moonpeak have come out onto the front porch to watch as well; Semyon is among them, his expression difficult to read.


    Just as the tension reaches its boiling point, right before one of the four decide to set things in motion by making the first move, a voice calls out loudly from the other side of the bridge that connects to the lower district:


    ¡°Stop this foolishness at once!¡±


    Wren, Kaz, and the two others freeze. They all turn to look, seeing a tall female in heavy armor glaring at them from across the river. Her skin is a deep crimson, with features that resemble that of a goat¡¯s: Hourglass-like eyes, curved horns growing from her hairline, and a pair of cloven hooves instead of feet. A long, hairless, prehensile tail flicks back and forth behind her, making her agitation all the more palpable.


    Beside her stands a Human male of average height, clean shaven, with long auburn hair tied back. His robes and manner of dress are similar to Addy¡¯s, giving a clue as to his identity even before the Elf calls out:


    ¡°Professor Thorburn! Hey!¡± She yells from the other end of the bridge, waving.


    He seems to ignore her for the moment as both he and the Half-Fiend woman step onto the bridge. The sound of her heavy hoofbeats on the wooden bridge seem to snap Kaz and Wren back to reality, where they realize that they¡¯ve heard of this woman already from the dockmaster, Walter: This is Bernadette, the guard captain of the town.


    ¡°What in the nine hells is going on here?¡± Bernadette asks gruffly as she and the professor reach the group.


    ¡°They stole our coin!¡± Wren immediately snaps, pointing at the other two.


    ¡°We gave it back! But then they started threatening us!¡± The Halfling counters, flipping off Wren and Kaz behind his back so that the guard captain doesn¡¯t see.


    ¡°Aderyn, is any of this true?¡± Asks the professor, whose voice is soft and calculating, almost inaudible over the wind and snow.


    Addy moves past the others and makes her way to Professor Thorburn to avoid yelling to be heard. She says, ¡°Yep! All of it, actually. That¡¯s Kaz and Wren, they came to the tavern to ask about joining the expedition. While we were there, we ran into Dahlia, who also wants to join in. She saw the little guy grab Wren¡¯s coin purse before leaving with the big guy, and then we all followed them down here.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not fond of fighting going on in the streets of my town, but I¡¯m also not fond of thieves,¡± Bernadette says coolly, glaring at all four¨Cbut lingering on the Human and Halfling.


    ¡°We were merely trying to get back what is rightfully ours,¡± Kaz explains as she slides her sword into the sheath attached to her belt.


    ¡°Sounds like they gave it back without a fight. I¡¯d say you were looking to prove a point,¡± Bernadette says, now focusing her attention on Kaz and Wren.


    ¡°It was our point to prove! They¡¯re thieves!¡± Wren argues.


    ¡°Just because this is the frontier of a new land doesn¡¯t mean that vigilantism is allowed,¡± Bernadette says, scowling. ¡°Not sure how it is in Zhevrun or the Crown these days, but this is Kattelox territory. The law stands for a reason.¡±


    Kaz grits her teeth, frustrated by the admonishment, but she has no good argument to excuse herself with. Wren starts to say something, but Kaz merely raises a hand to stop them. Wren says nothing to Bernadette, but says under their breath much of what Kaz wishes to say.


    ¡°Maybe you all would do well with a few days¨C¡± Bernadette begins, but Professor Thorburn cuts her off, much to everyone¡¯s surprise.


    ¡°Now, now, Miss Bernadette. I think we can work out a much better arrangement than throwing them in jail for a few days, don¡¯t you?¡± He asks.


    Even Bernadette seems caught off guard, clearly not used to being spoken over. With a hint of subdued venom in her voice, she asks, ¡°What would you suggest, Lord Thorburn?¡±


    Lord? The thought echoes throughout the minds of all four watching this scene unfold.


    ¡°As you know, I¡¯m seeking people for the next attempt at an expedition. It¡¯s obvious that those we found for our last attempt were not up to par for the dangers that lay in wait within the Heart,¡± Professor Thorburn explains to Bernadette¨Cthough he is clearly speaking to everyone else as well. ¡°These four clearly seem to know how to handle themselves and, if I had to guess, have plenty of unique talents that such an expedition would desire to have.¡±


    He now turns to the others, directing his words to them: ¡°I am Felix Thorburn, headmaster of the University of Halcyon. We are here on behalf of King Frederik Thorburn¨Cmy brother, yes¨Cto explore this undocumented region and find what mysteries might reside here. I¡¯ll put this as simply as I can: Our expedition will be quite dangerous, but very lucrative to those involved, as some of you seem to already be aware.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wanting to blackmail us, get to the point,¡± the Halfling mutters, crossing his arms.


    ¡°Nothing of the sort. If you wish to sit in jail and potentially face prosecution for your crimes, so be it. Alternatively, if you wish to assist with our expedition, I would be more than willing to compensate you and I¡¯m sure that Miss Bernadette here would be more than happy to look past this¨Cmisunderstanding,¡± Felix says, smiling.


    Bernadette says nothing, clearly not happy with her part in this accord, but unwilling to speak out against Felix.


    Kaz and Wren look at one another for a few moments before nodding. Joining the expedition was the entire reason they came to this place, anyway. Kaz says for the both of them, ¡°That works for us.¡±


    The Human and the Halfling, on the other hand, mutter to one another for a few moments, seemingly not nearly as eager to agree to such terms. After a tense back and forth, the Human asks, ¡°You want to go out in this weather?¡±


    ¡°I would like to wait until the first thaw of Spring within a month or so, to ease the difficulty of our journey,¡± Felix explains.


    ¡°Month¡¯s a long time to sit around here, especially without somewhere to stay,¡± the Halfling points out.


    ¡°I would be willing to pay for your lodging at the Moonpeak until we leave. And you would be free to do as you wish around town, assuming you do not try to flee,¡± he says. After a very intense look from Bernadette, he adds, ¡°And assuming you do nothing illicit or illegal, of course.¡±


    This puts the other two back into a deep, personal conversation.


    From behind the group, Dahlia jumps up and down, raising her hand. When Felix takes notice and points to her, she asks, ¡°So, I didn¡¯t do anything wrong but I wanna join. Can I get a free room, too?¡±


    Felix seems to consider this strange little Goblin for a long moment before chuckling and saying, ¡°I suppose you shouldn¡¯t be inadvertently punished for doing nothing wrong. Fine, if you are willing to help the expedition, I will include you in this deal.¡±


    ¡°Aww yiss,¡± Dahlia says triumphantly before going back to munching on little fistfuls of the thick, heavy snow.


    The secret conversation seems to have come to an end as the Human stands up straight, clearing his throat a little before he says, ¡°Fine, we¡¯re in, but we reserve the right to walk out if we feel like you¡¯re not paying us what this is all worth. We¡¯re not going to be taken advantage of, understand?¡±


    ¡°Perfectly reasonable. We can work out the details over breakfast tomorrow morning, though I can assure you, you will be compensated well for your efforts,¡± Felix says.


    ¡°Mm, fine. M¡¯name¡¯s Demyon Volkov. You can just call me Demy. This here¡¯s Cashew, I like to call him Cash,¡± Demy explains.


    He motions toward Cashew, who indifferently asks, ¡°Sup?¡±


    ¡°Wonderful. We can go around and properly introduce everyone once we get your accommodations squared away, yes? Come, come,¡± Felix says as he walks past the group and up the hill toward the Moonpeak Inn, Addy in tow. The others share bitter glances, save for Dahlia, who seems to be in the midst of a brain freeze, before following after.


    Bernadette spits out of the corner of her mouth, mumbling, ¡°Fucking nobles.¡± She heads up the slope toward the barracks, unable to shake the feeling that she¡¯s going to be seeing far too much of that crew in the month to come.

 Chapter Four

    ¡°Good morning.¡±


    The voice greets Demy just as he reaches the bottom of the staircase, startling him a little. He brushes his messy hair back from his bleary eyes, still sensitive to the morning light that streams through the windows of the Moonpeak Inn. Sitting at one of the tables near the kitchen entrance is the Dwarf from the night before, the one that Cashew stole the pouch from.


    ¡°Oh, hey. You¡¯re, uh¡­ Red?¡± Demy asks, voice uncertain. The rest of the tavern seems to be entirely empty, save for the noises of the workers making breakfast in the back, and of course the Dwarf. He wasn¡¯t really anticipating anyone to be awake yet and was hoping to have a peaceful meal before the other, louder people showed up to ¡°discuss¡± the whole expedition thing.


    ¡°Wren,¡± the Dwarf responds. Sitting on the table in front of them is a plate of typical Loxian breakfast: Toasted bread, eggs, sausages, some stewed beans. They bring a steaming mug to their lips and take a sip of some kind of dark, acrid liquid that makes Demy¡¯s nose twitch.


    ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m not good with names,¡± Demy apologizes and takes a seat opposite them at the table. He takes a moment to survey the spread of food before asking, ¡°Is it any good?¡±


    ¡°Not bad. I almost forgot that this place is a colony of Kattelox, but this proves it,¡± Wren says, motioning down at their plate. ¡°I don¡¯t know how they can eat two pounds of random leftovers in the morning and not just fall asleep afterward.¡±


    Demy lets out a soft snort, before saying, ¡°I miss breakfast from home. Sirniki¨Clittle fritters made with cheese, some sour cream and jam on top? Instead, Loxians have¡­ beans.¡±


    Wren chuckles. ¡°Those sound really good. You¡¯re from Phyleris, right? I think I had something like those for breakfast when we were there a few months back. And your name¨C¡±


    ¡°What kind of breakfast did you have growing up?¡± Demy asks, interrupting Wren and moving the subject away from himself.


    ¡°Whatever we had,¡± Wren says quietly before taking a bite of sausage. They do not elaborate.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Demy says simply. An awkward silence hangs heavy between the two for a few seconds before it is thankfully interrupted by one of the tavern workers sticking their head out of the kitchen door and asking Demy what he wants for food.


    ¡°Meat, eggs, toast. No beans!¡± Demy replies. He quickly adds, ¡°And a pitcher of ale!¡±


    Wren waits until the worker disappears again before looking at Demy quizzically and asking, ¡°Ale? This early?¡±


    Demy seems to consider this for a moment, perhaps searching for the right response. With a smirk, he says, ¡°Hair of the dog.¡± He then begins to cackle, as if telling a particularly funny joke.


    ¡°You¡¯ll just end up sicker that way. Get some coffee, that¡¯ll help sober you up,¡± Wren explains, smiling as they watch the scruffy half-asleep man laugh like an idiot.


    ¡°Ugh, more beans,¡± Demy laments, perking up a bit as his food¨Cand ale¨Care brought out. He pours himself a mug from the pitcher and takes a long swill of it. He motions toward Wren¡¯s mug of coffee dismissively and says, ¡°I¡¯ll stick with the tried and true, thank you. That stuff¡¯s not good for you anyway.¡±


    Wren¡¯s eyes wander to Demy¡¯s plate, seeing that despite his specific instructions, it is the exact same as their own plate, beans and all. Demy follows their gaze, staring down at the splotch of legumes on his otherwise beautiful spread of meats.


    Softy, simply, he says, ¡°Stupid fart seeds.¡±


    Wren can¡¯t help but laugh out loud, unable to cease even as more of the group descend the stairs and make their way over to the table.


    ¡°You seem happy this morning,¡± Kaz teasingly says to Wren as she finds a seat at the table. A quick discussion with the waitress who comes out of the kitchen results in a plate of food in addition to a pitcher of water and an insulated container of coffee, as well as enough mugs to accommodate the group.


    Wren, trying to explain through their laughter, can only manage to fumble out between gulps of air: ¡°Beans.¡±


    Kaz pours a cup of coffee and takes a sip, nodding along to Wren¡¯s poor attempt at communication. ¡°Sure, right. Makes sense how that would give you the giggles. ¡®Beans,¡¯ uh-huh,¡± she says mockingly.


    Dahlia pulls herself up into one of the chairs beside Demy, sniffing the air. ¡°Smells good, what¡¯s for eats?¡± She asks, looking around curiously.


    ¡°All kinds of stuff, but, hey¨CGoblin, uh, person?¡± Demy asks uncertainly.


    ¡°Dahlia,¡± she answers, watching Wren still choking on laughter.


    ¡°Dahlia, cool¨Cyou like beans?¡± He asks.


    ¡°Ya,¡± she answers simply.


    ¡°Great, here,¡± Demy says and holds up his plate above Dahlia¡¯s head. ¡°Open wide.¡±


    Dahlia opens her admittedly wide mouth as Demy scrapes the beans off his plate and into her open maw. She chomps down on them happily, letting out a muffled, simple utterance: ¡°Beans.¡±


    Wren, who was just about to stop, tumbles into another fit of laughter at this display.


    Kaz snorts a bit, which is high praise from her when it comes to comedy.


    ¡°Hey, can someone help me with this?¡±


    The others look up, seeing Cashew slowly making his way down the steps, holding up a disheveled, mostly-still-asleep Addy.


    ¡°Holy Kel, what happened?¡± Kaz asks, standing up quickly and making her way over to help.


    ¡°M¡¯jus¡¯tire¡¯,¡± Addy mumbles sleepily, leaning on Cashew¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°I found her passed out on the floor,¡± Cashew explains, straining to hold her up. Kaz gently lifts her up from being slumped onto the Halfling¡¯s shoulder¨Conly to have her slump against Kaz, mumbling something incoherent about waste baskets before she begins to snore once again.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with her?¡± Kaz asks.


    ¡°I think she¡¯s just stupid,¡± Cashew mutters.


    ¡°Professor Rhys is not much of a morning person,¡± Felix explains, appearing at the top of the staircase. ¡°Most of her lectures are performed during the afternoon¨Cor evening.¡±


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Told you,¡± Cashew says.


    Kaz practically carries Addy over to the table and props her up in the chair beside Wren, who doesn¡¯t seem to mind all that much when Addy slumps over onto them sleepily.


    ¡°So she¡¯s nocturnal,¡± Wren says with a smile.


    ¡°Night owl,¡± Dahlia says, now chomping on her own plate of food.


    ¡°She¡¯s been like this ever since she managed to figure out how that ¡®artificial light¡¯ works,¡± Felix explains, making his way to the table where the others are. ¡°She¡¯ll wake up eventually and she knows the situation, so.¡±


    He considers his thoughts for a moment while the others eat in expectant silence. Finally, he says, ¡°Not only is this expedition an academic matter, but it is also of political importance. There are numerous governments and groups who would like to know what secrets are here upon the Heart of Vale, but none of them are willing to risk such a venture, especially as Kattelox has claim to this land due to this settlement being a colony of ours.


    ¡°Our first attempt met with failure, as we were unprepared for the resistance that we would face. Professor Rhys and I were the only survivors. However, it helped us understand the importance of having those of adequate power and ability. Everyone here seems to be competent in situations that have turned violent¨Cor at least claim to be,¡± he says, casting a glance over everyone.


    ¡°What kind of creatures attacked the first expedition?¡± Kaz asks, directly across the table from Felix. ¡°In fact, what kind of creatures are on this island?¡±


    ¡°Mm, that¡¯s right. The rest of you haven¡¯t seen them yet,¡± Felix says. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, shutting his eyes for a long moment. Then, he begins to explain, ¡°They¡¯re humanoids of various types. Elves, Dwarves, mostly Humans. Generally naked, though they all seem to be sexless. They seem comatose until something draws their attention, when they become extremely violent.¡±


    ¡°So they¡¯re just random people?¡± Wren asks, confused.


    ¡°Yes, and no. There are commonalities amongst all of them,¡± Felix begins.


    ¡°They have no pupils and their mouths are full of serrated, triangular teeth. Like shark¡¯s teeth,¡± Addy suddenly says, sitting upright but still looking as tired and disheveled as before.


    Felix nods solemnly and continues, ¡°They are also incredibly strong and agile, with hands and feet capable of becoming elongated and sharp, like claws. They are heavily resistant to damage, physical or otherwise. Once what they consider to be a threat has been neutralized, they become comatose once again. They don¡¯t appear to require sustenance, nor do they seem to grow tired.


    ¡°There have been a few attacks on Tarn¡¯s Rest, normally from those who venture outside and flee back to the town in an attempt to escape the creatures. Which is why the town is so hesitant to allow just anyone to leave, you see. We had one of our colleagues, an expert in physiology, open one up that we managed to kill, but not before it had ripped through a dozen townspeople and guards to get after a child that had not heeded their parents¡¯ warnings and gone outside the walls to play.¡±


    ¡°The kid¡­?¡± Demy asks, only to be answered by a long silence. He drains the rest of his mug of ale and pours another.


    ¡°What were the insides like?¡± Dahlia asks, eyes big and curious.


    ¡°They were unlike anything we¡¯d ever seen!¡± Addy says, now hungrily tearing into her breakfast as she seems to have woken up from the conversation. ¡°Some organs were completely missing, while others were in different places, or multiplied! The one we opened had three separate hearts. There were some organs we couldn¡¯t even identify.¡±


    ¡°Not to mention that we ruined three different sets of surgical equipment working on the thing,¡± Felix adds.


    ¡°And a large group of these things suddenly ambushed you?¡± Kaz asks, her arms crossed.


    Felix smiles at the question and says, ¡°Correct. We¡¯re unsure if they congregated due to some individual running from¨Cand into¨Cnumerous of them, or if they were perhaps placed that way purposefully.¡±


    ¡°Placed there? You really think those things are here to guard something?¡± Cashew asks suspiciously.


    ¡°Hence our curiosity on the matter,¡± Felix answers.


    ¡°Hm,¡± the Halfling hums, thinking as he absently plays with the remainder of his food. Finally, he simply says, ¡°Cool.¡±


    ¡°Who knows what they might be guarding,¡± Wren mutters, salivating at the prospect of what such a discovery might be worth. ¡°When are we going?¡±


    ¡°Not soon, I hope,¡± Kaz interjects, nodding toward the nearby window and the snow that continues to fall heavily outside. ¡°Marching in this weather would be more dangerous than those creatures.¡±


    ¡°Arguable, but no, I don¡¯t intend to travel in these conditions. Kelaren is already a quarter through, then we have the Spring Festival. The weather should turn after that, so presumably, we¡¯ll leave once that happens, likely a few days into Pryne,¡± Felix explains.


    ¡°Wait, that means we¡¯re just going to sit around for a month?¡± Cashew asks, irritated. ¡°Our lodging¨C¡±


    ¡°¨CWill be paid for the entire time, until we can begin the expedition. Do not worry,¡± Felix finishes.


    ¡°But it¡¯s boring here!¡± Dahlia whines, laying her head on the table. ¡°There isn¡¯t a mushroom in this entire town.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about mushrooms, but if you¡¯re bored, I certainly could use some help,¡± says a voice as the front door of the inn opens. Bernadette walks in, looking just as ready for trouble as she did the night before in her full armor and large sword slung across her back.


    ¡°Ah, Miss Bernadette. I trust you aren¡¯t going to suggest anything dangerous, as I do require these individuals for my own matters,¡± Felix says, cheerful but faintly threatening.


    ¡°If it wasn¡¯t a little dangerous at least, I wouldn¡¯t need them,¡± Bernadette responds, giving Felix a chill glance. ¡°Besides, I lost several able-bodied people to your last expedition and we¡¯re even more short-handed around here because of it.¡±


    The corner of Felix¡¯s mouth twitches slightly but he does not address her directly, instead turning back to the table, ¡°Well, it is their prerogative what to spend their time and energy on until the expedition, as long as it doesn¡¯t interfere with their eventual duties.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do what I want,¡± Cashew mutters angrily, clearly not enjoying the talk of him being beholden to anyone or anything.


    ¡°What kind of help are you needing? Is there a reward?¡± Wren asks, raising an eyebrow.


    ¡°I would pay for your help, yes,¡± Bernadette answers.


    ¡°Does it involve going outside the town?¡± Dahlia asks, standing up in her chair eagerly.


    ¡°I¨Cyes, it does,¡± Bernadette admits, which makes Felix bristle visibly.


    ¡°Well, you all discuss your endeavors. I have my own to take care of¨Cjust don¡¯t die on me,¡± Felix says tersely before standing up abruptly and leaving the table, returning upstairs.


    ¡°Oh, you made him mad,¡± Addy warns, looking at Bernadette.


    She responds by snorting, tail flicking in irritation, and says, ¡°Not like it¡¯s hard to upset a noble. Look, I¡¯ll tell you what I need help with and you can decide if it¡¯s worth what I¡¯m offering, okay? Unlike his kind, I don¡¯t own you just because I paid for your services.¡±


    ¡°Even if it does involve us encountering trouble, it might be best if we have some practice with those things before we commit to a full-on expedition of this region,¡± Kaz considers. She adds, ¡°It might also be wise for us to gain some experience in working together.¡±


    ¡°Bonding. Great,¡± Demy mutters into his ale unenthusiastically.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Wren says, full of the enthusiasm that Demy clearly is lacking. ¡°What are we doing¨Cand more importantly, what are we getting paid?¡±


    ¡°We can discuss the price, but I¡¯ll just say that I have more coin than people to pay, right now,¡± Bernadette says, earning a grin from Wren as well as the attention of Cashew. She takes a deep breath, thinking of how to phrase her request, before finally telling the group:


    ¡°I want you to find out just why in the Nine¡¯s grace that Tarn Southgate spent his entire fortune and the last few years of his life just to build a manor on this barren hellscape.¡±

 Chapter Five

    The group of six make their way through the forest, their intermittent chatter challenged only by the crunching of the snow beneath their feet. Aside from that, the forest is completely silent. While the thrum of insects being absent is explicable, there should be some signs of life, even in this frigid environment. The occasional chatter of birds, the movement of game animals, or even just the sound of wind passing through evergreens and the skeletal remains of shrubbery help make even the winter months (or every month, for the portions of the Crown that are tundra-like) seem like there is some source of life.


    Here, however, there is nothing. The trees are all basically deadwood with few branches, no shrubbery grows to leave sticks and twigs to be tussled about by the wind, and there are no animals here, no birds, and presumably even during the warmer months, no insects. The only movement apart from their own is the falling snow that drifts down from the gray heavens above.


    ¡°I get why nobody likes going outside the town walls,¡± Cashew says, his voice muffled by the thick layers of the scarf that wrap around his face, the hood of his cloak covering the rest of his head. His eyes are the only parts of him visible and they dart around warily, watching for some kind of movement besides the snowfall.


    ¡°It is uncomfortably chilly,¡± Addy says, pressing her head down into her own scarf so that it covers as much face as possible.


    ¡°I think he means that it¡¯s creepy out here,¡± Dahlia corrects. While initially excited to step outside of town, she has gotten progressively less cheerful as the group have walked.


    ¡°More like both,¡± Cashew mutters.


    ¡°It is creepy, though,¡± Wren says, looking worried. ¡°Even back home there were birds and deer and foxes and the like.¡±


    Kaz glances down at Dahlia and remarks, ¡°Do you still think you¡¯ll find some new type of fungi out here?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no death without life,¡± Dahlia says coldly, eyes still scanning the forest. The flatness of the remark causes a faint chill, unrelated to the cold, to run up Kaz¡¯s spine. The little Goblin smiles and continues, ¡°But we know there has been death here. We just have to find it and we¡¯ll find those that feast upon it.¡±


    Kaz shifts a bit in her heavy armor, the combination of which it and the padding layers beneath doing a decent job at keeping the cold at bay. Eager to change the subject, she asks, ¡°Addy, what do you know about Sir Southgate? Bernadette mentioned that he was a general, right?¡±


    ¡°Up until he moved to this place? A lot! He was born on Fathe 17th, 1938 3E¨C¡± Addy begins rambling.


    ¡°Aw, here she goes,¡± Demy mutters.


    ¡°¨Cgrew up in the town of Palofa¨C¡±


    ¡°Palofa these nuts,¡± Cashew cackles.


    ¡°¨Cworked his way up to general¨C¡±


    ¡°I should¡¯ve been more specific,¡± Kaz says apologetically.


    ¡°¨Cson, Andrew, died in the Battle of Vorominsk¨C¡±


    ¡°Addy, sweetie, what about info related to why he would build a mansion here?¡± Wren asks, trying to focus the flow of information.


    ¡°¨COh, okay!¡± Addy says cheerfully, thinking for a moment. She responds, ¡°No. The most common theory is that he wanted privacy to grieve after the years of combat and loss of his son.¡±


    ¡°I feel like he could¡¯ve found somewhere a little closer to home for a lot less money and effort. Kattelox is enormous; surely he could have found some unclaimed wilderness to build a house on,¡± Kaz reasons.


    ¡°Grief is complicated, though,¡± Wren says somberly. ¡°Sometimes you don¡¯t want to be around anything that can remind you of what you lost. You want to be as far away as possible.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s never far enough,¡± Demy mutters under his breath.


    The group goes quiet as they reach a clearing. At the far edge of it sits Southgate Manor, enormous and imposing. It is built in a manner similar to architecture of Tarn¡¯s Rest, made of a combination of stone drawn from the nearby mountains and wood from mainland Kattelox. There are two, perhaps three floors, with room enough for an attic space, and it is wide and long enough to fit at least four Moonpeak Inns within its walls.


    A stream from the nearby mountains wraps around the back of the estate, flowing onward toward Tarn¡¯s Rest, where it will gather enough tributaries to become the Moonbow River and flow through the center of town.


    The building is still in immaculate condition, as nature has made no move to reclaim it. No weeds, no vines, no wildlife exists here upon the Heart to invade the abandoned home. Even the clearing, which constitutes the yard of the manor, shows no signs of being overgrown. It all looks, oddly enough, as if it is simply waiting for its owner to return, as if Tarn himself had simply made a day trip to town and is set to return any minute.


    But that is not the case. While some windows are shuttered, a few in the front are made of glass, which are still wholly intact and uncracked. No light shines from them, however. Despite the lack of decay, in spite of its preserved state, the building does not seem particularly inviting. It is eerie and devoid of warmth and life, to the point that even though the six are standing out in the cold, unsettling silence of the forest, it takes some effort to even approach the house.


    ¡°It¡¯s huge,¡± Kaz finally says as the group slowly make their way across the clearing, breaking the awed silence.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t it just him and maybe some servants? You¡¯d think he was building it for his whole extended family,¡± Wren says, baffled.


    ¡°Nobles have to flaunt their wealth, even if it¡¯s to no one but themselves,¡± Cashew says bitterly.


    ¡°This place is wrong,¡± Dahlia warns.


    ¡°It¡¯s definitely creepy,¡± Wren admits.


    ¡°No, not just creepy. Wrong,¡± Dahlia corrects, brow furrowed. ¡°How long has this place been abandoned?¡±


    ¡°About twelve years, give or take a few days,¡± Addy answers.


    ¡°There should be some decay. Weeds and the weather cause damage, insects and mold move in, stuff like that. Where are the decomposers?¡± Dahlia asks, frustrated.


    ¡°You said it before,¡± Kaz responds, eyes scanning over the exterior of the mansion carefully. ¡°Decomposers need death. There¡¯s no death without life. Considering nothing seems to live here, it makes sense that the entire cycle is thrown off.¡±


    ¡°Purgatorium,¡± Addy mutters.


    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Demy asks, frowning.


    ¡°It¡¯s a place that exists between life and death,¡± Wren answers.


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°We were taught that it¡¯s a place where the soul is prepared for its final destination, where mortal impurities are removed to prepare the person for an eternity of peace or punishment,¡± Kaz says, running her fingers over the front of her shield, which is embossed with the symbol of her deity: Kelathorne.


    The sound of a door creaking open snaps the group back to reality: One of the large wooden doors of Tarn¡¯s manor is wide open, with Cashew standing in the entryway, looking impatient. He holds the iron key that Bernadette had given them back in town, which is supposed to open most doors within the estate.


    ¡°Come on, we got stuff needs doin¡¯. We can debate philosophy in the cold later,¡± Cashew says, twirling the key between his fingers. He continues, warning the others, ¡°The entryway is clear, but try to be quiet.¡±


    Demy, Wren, Addy, and Dahlia file through the door dutifully¨Cand quietly. Kaz, on the other hand, stops beside Cashew. She stares down at him and he stares back, neither breaking the gaze.


    ¡°Pretty sure that key was in my pocket,¡± she says flatly. ¡°Are your sticky fingers going to be a problem during all this?¡±


    Cashew smirks and shrugs, admitting, ¡°Just taking the initiative, Boss. Wanted to check the door for any kind of deterrent before one of the others started feeling up the handle with their dumb paddle hands.¡±


    Kaz raises an eyebrow as she asks, ¡°Do you think they would have just happened to forget to mention that the front door was trapped?¡±


    ¡°I figure people are lying until they prove that they¡¯re honest,¡± Cashew responds. ¡°Safer that way. Besides, that half-devil lady? Totally an orphan growing up, right? I don¡¯t trust orphans¨C¡±


    ¡°¨CBecause they¡¯ve got nothing to lose,¡± Kaz finishes.


    Cashew blinks in surprise and laughs, ¡°See, you¡¯re not an idiot. You get it.¡±


    ¡°Okay, but no swiping stuff. If we¡¯re going to work together, we need to trust one another. And I can¡¯t trust you until you prove yourself trustworthy, right?¡± Kaz asks with a smile.


    ¡°Fine, fine. You got it, Boss. I¡¯ll ask next time,¡± Cashew says before he tosses the key back toward Kaz, who catches it. With that, he turns and slips into the shadows of the entryway.


    Kaz chuckles and shakes her head, pocketing the key once more as she mutters, ¡°You¡¯re killing me, Smalls.¡±


    She steps through the dark doorway and slowly closes the door behind her.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    If the exterior of Tarn¡¯s manor was surprisingly well-kept, then the interior is practically immaculate. Not only are there no signs of decay or structural damage, there doesn¡¯t even seem to be any dust or cobwebs, nor signs of habitation from wildlife. At this point, that isn¡¯t surprising to the six, though it still seems to upset Dahlia.


    What is within the manor, though, is everything. That is, it seems like nothing is missing, from what was originally here. From pieces of art that include paintings and sculptures that adequately convey to any visitor the wealth and culture of the owner of the house, to things like a few cloaks and umbrellas sitting off to the side in a small closet, the entryway appears to be frozen in time, left as it was the day that Tarn passed away.


    ¡°You would think a place like this would be picked clean,¡± Wren marvels, looking around at the opulent decorations.


    ¡°Literally anywhere else, it would be,¡± Cashew says, inspecting one of the paintings nearby, which depicts two men posing in military attire, one older and the other younger, though both share enough similarities that they must be related.


    Demy sniffs the air a little. Normally, abandoned places like this either smell of rot or have the stale smell of stagnant air, but this place smells like the air has continued to circulate. Careful not to speak too loudly, he warns the others, ¡°Doesn¡¯t smell cooped up like a lot of old places. Must be an opening somewhere, or something¡¯s come through recently.¡±


    ¡°Bernadette said that nobody has been out here in years, that she knows of,¡± Kaz reminds the others.


    ¡°Allegedly,¡± Cashew emphasizes.


    Addy steps forward, moving from the small entryway into the open foyer. A large central staircase ascends to the second and third floors; each floor has one or two sets of doors on either side, leading out from the foyer, which seems to act as the anchor to the rest of the house. A pair of large doors sit on either side of the base of the staircase; she thinks about the exterior of the house and compares it to the interior, trying to make a mental layout.


    ¡°Those doors must lead out back,¡± she says, motioning toward them. ¡°Besides that, three floors, broken up into, uh¡­ left and right.¡±


    ¡°West and East,¡± Dahlia corrects.


    ¡°I¡¯m not good with directions,¡± Addy admits cheerfully.


    ¡°Three floors, broken in two sections each, so six¨C¡± Wren begins, but is sharply cut off by Kaz.


    ¡°Nope. We¡¯re not splitting up,¡± she says sternly.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t that be the fastest way, though?¡± Dahlia asks.


    ¡°Sure, but it¡¯s the most dangerous if we run into anything,¡± Cashew muses.


    ¡°And if someone ends up dead, then we didn¡¯t really save any time after all, did we?¡± Kaz asks rhetorically, crossing her arms.


    ¡°So we all stick together?¡± Demy asks.


    ¡°That seems excessive. Groups of two or three should be fine,¡± Cashew says.


    ¡°No, no splitting up at all,¡± Kaz states, standing firm.


    ¡°But that will take way longer for no reason!¡± Cashew whines.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know how dangerous those creatures are,¡± Kaz counters.


    The two argue loudly, with Demy and Wren joining in to support Cashew or Kaz, respectively. Addy and Dahlia, however, have their attention focused on the second and third floor landings of the foyer, seeing movement.


    ¡°Hey, loud people,¡± Dahlia hisses back at the others, gaining their attention. She points up above, where the group can see figures making their way down the stairs, others climbing over the banisters and vertically down the walls, sticking to the flat surfaces with little to no issue.


    One of the figures stands at the top of the central staircase, staring down at the group. It is tall and humanoid, with a shape akin to a female, but no visible genitalia or other biological sex characteristics. It has long, scraggly hair and smooth, unblemished flesh. A pair of iris-less, soulless eyes survey the six; the creature¡¯s neutral expression slowly shifts as it opens its mouth in a wide grin, showing rows of shark-like, serrated teeth.


    ¡°Uh, hello?¡± Kaz asks, slowly drawing her sword. ¡°Can you understand us? We¡¯re here on behalf of the captain of the guard.¡±


    The figure opens its mouth wider, emitting a strange, inhuman sound, like a mixture of a person croaking and some kind of insectoid clicking noise. The sound echoes dozenfold within the foyer as more of the creatures answer its call. Behind the group, outside the front doors, more of the creatures begin making the shrill, alien vocalization.


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Wren asks through clenched teeth.


    ¡°It sounds like a dozen of ¡®em, probably more,¡± Demy mutters, eyes darting around worriedly.


    ¡°Fighting that many in the open is suicide,¡± Cashew says quietly, inching toward one side of the room, toward one of the doors. Dahlia silently follows his lead, edging toward the other side of the room.


    Kaz wants to argue, wants to rally the others and make a stand here against the creatures, but she has no idea what these things are or what they¡¯re capable of. The sight of them, humanoid but somehow so far removed from being a person, coupled with their weird movements and the inhuman noises they are making, sends a chill up her spine. Every part of her body is screaming at her to run, to get away.


    One of the creatures suddenly drops from above, landing in the middle of the group on all fours. It lets out a piercing shriek, awkwardly twisting its body to stand on two legs as its fingers crack and lengthen, bone piercing from its fingertips to form long, sharp claws.


    This is all the incentive that Kaz needs to act.


    ¡°Run! Scatter!¡± She screams out, seeing the others bolt for the doors on either side of the room. In horror, she sees that Addy is not moving at all, standing perfectly still and just staring at the creature, frozen in place. Kaz moves quickly, grabbing the Elf with her arm and hefting her off her feet, bolting toward the nearest door. She can see Cashew holding the door open, frantically gesturing for her to hurry.


    ¡°They¡¯re talking! I recognize some of it!¡± Addy cries out, but doesn¡¯t resist as Kaz drags her away from the creatures.


    ¡°Live first, think later!¡± Kaz says admonishingly, seeing the strange humanoids scrambling to catch up to her. One, two¨Cno, five, six of the things, from all sides, scrabbling down the walls, from the dark corners of the room, all clicking and croaking as their claws clack on the hard wooden surfaces.


    With one final heave, she leaps through the doorway, holding onto Addy tightly. Cashew slams the door as soon as she is through, plunging the three into complete darkness.


    Several bodies slam against the door, screaming and clawing at the wood.


    Despite all odds, the door holds.


    Then there is silence, leaving the three in a sensory void with only the blood pounding in their ears and the cold uncertainty of if the other three were lucky enough to get away as well. Addy sums the situation up rather succinctly as she softly says:


    ¡°Jeepers.¡±

 Chapter Six

    Demy sits on the floor, his back leaning against the large wooden door that separates the¨Cfrom the looks of it¨Cdining room that he is in, from the main foyer on the other side. The creatures had slammed against the door for a few moments, but now there is only eerie silence from the foyer.


    He fishes the flask from his pouch and takes a drink, trying to ignore the stinging pain from his left arm, which hangs limply at his side, blood sliding down it from the large gash across his bicep. Whatever those things are in the foyer, they¡¯re lethal.


    ¡°Are you two okay?¡± He asks, looking over. Beside him, also sitting with their back against the door, is Wren, looking a bit pale in the soft light cast from a floating white orb that hovers a foot or so from Wren. Demy finds himself glancing back at the orb every few moments, mesmerized by it.


    ¡°I feel fantastic,¡± Wren mutters, holding the side of their head which they had slammed into the doorframe in their mad dash out of the foyer.


    ¡°I¡¯m good,¡± Dahlia says, picking herself up off the floor. Demy had grabbed her right after Kaz shouted to run, afraid that the little Goblin wouldn¡¯t be fast enough, and had unceremoniously dropped her after making it through in order to brace against the door.


    ¡°Sorry about that, Dahlia,¡± Demy says softly, just in case the things are still on the other side listening.


    ¡°For what? You saved me,¡± she says as she moves closer, her eyes big and faintly glowing in the light of Wren¡¯s floating mote of illumination.


    ¡°Well, I kinda dropped you on your face,¡± he says sheepishly.


    ¡°Better than what happened to you,¡± she says, poking at the gash on his arm and making him wince.


    ¡°Did one of those things do that?¡± Wren asks, moving the mote of light closer to inspect the wound.


    ¡°Yeah, those claws aren¡¯t just for show,¡± Demy groans, gritting his teeth as Dahlia continues to poke at the wound. ¡°Could you not?¡±


    ¡°Shut,¡± Dahlia commands. She runs her hand over the gash, leaving a trail of fine dust in its wake. Demy sucks in air through his teeth, feeling a sharp stinging pain that subsides quickly; the dust reacts to the blood, causing it to coagulate. Another pass of her hand and a layer of moss and ivy appears, binding and sealing the wound.


    Demy moves his arm a little, touching the newly-grown plant matter. He lets out a low whistle, the pain from his arm almost entirely gone. ¡°Well, that sure is handy.¡±


    ¡°Nature repairs what it can and recycles what it can¡¯t,¡± Dahlia says, grinning a little. ¡°You could be repaired, lucky you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, lucky me,¡± Demy grumbles, carefully getting to his feet. Wren follows suit beside him, the little mote of pale white light bobbing as it tries to stay a certain distance from their head. Demy watches as it flits about; he reaches out to touch it, but his hand passes right through the intangible orb.


    ¡°You made this, right?¡± He asks, a little dazed.


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± Wren says sheepishly. ¡°Normally Kaz handles the light, but¡­¡± They trail off, looking worriedly at the door.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re okay. Cash is the slipperiest little bastard I¡¯ve ever met and Kaz seems like she can handle herself,¡± Demy says and puts a hand on Wren¡¯s shoulder in an attempt to be comforting.


    ¡°What about Addy?¡± Dahlia asks.


    Wren and Demy share a brief glance before Wren says, reassuringly, ¡°She was on the other side of the room with Kaz and Cashew, right? They¡¯ll make sure she¡¯s okay!¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Dahlia says. She turns her attention to the room they are in: A long dining room, full of the same ornate decorations that the foyer had. Plates and silverware are out presentationally on the table, though she gets the feeling that nobody has eaten anything in this manor for a long time. Not counting those creatures in the other room, maybe.


    ¡°What about us, then?¡± She asks.


    Demy walks over to one of the shuttered windows. Carefully he pushes it open, just a crack, allowing a beam of daylight to slice through the darkness of the room. He almost lets out a startled cry, seeing one of those creatures standing mere feet away in the snow, its back luckily to the window; it doesn¡¯t seem to notice. Demy pushes the shutter open just a bit more, seeing several other of the creatures standing about lifelessly.


    Slowly, he closes the shutter back and turns to whisper to the others: ¡°Those things are still outside, lots of ¡®em. You both seem like you know how to make magic¨Canything you know that could help us sneak past?¡±


    ¡°I¨Cmaybe? But we still need to find what we can about why Tarn built this place,¡± Wren says.


    ¡°Wait, you¡¯re not serious, are you?¡± Demy asks, frowning. ¡°Fuck snooping around this manor full of weird not-people. We need to find a way to get back to town.¡±


    ¡°We came here for a reason, we took the mission knowing we¡¯d face trouble. We gave her our word that we¡¯d help her find out Tarn¡¯s secrets,¡± Wren argues, crossing their arms.


    Demy squints his eyes, leaning down to look Wren in the face as he says, ¡°You just want the gold, don¡¯t you? I bet you¡¯re hoping we find some secret stash here in the manor, too.¡±


    Wren looks away, arms still crossed as they say, ¡°She offered us a substantial reward, it would be rude to go back without something to show for it.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s worth more: Your life? Or a full coinpurse?¡± Demy asks, sneering a bit.


    ¡°At least one of those things is worth something to somebody,¡± Wren says flatly, giving Demy a bitter stare that is enough to make him flinch a little.


    ¡°Wha¨CI mean, you, uh,¡± he stammers, uncertain of how to respond to that.


    ¡°I¡¯m not leaving until we find out what we came here for,¡± Wren says stubbornly. ¡°I don¡¯t like going back on my word and I do like getting paid. It¡¯s part of the reason Kaz and I even came to this town.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just stupid¨C¡± Demy begins, but stops when Dahlia steps between himself and Wren.


    ¡°We are already here. We need to find the others before we try to leave, we might as well look for information at the same time,¡± she says.


    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    ¡°Yeah, but¨C¡± Demy starts to argue, but Dahlia holds up a finger sternly.


    ¡°Besides, how are we supposed to survive the expedition if we do not know how to fight those things? We learn now, while we have a chance,¡± Dahlia says sternly.


    The three stand in awkward silence for a few moments before Demy sighs and holds up his hands in defeat. ¡°Okay, fine. We look for the others and check for information about the old man while we¡¯re at it. If we come upon one of those things, we see what it¡¯s made of,¡± he says.


    ¡°Good plan, great plan,¡± Dahlia agrees, walking calmly toward the only other door, near the back of the dining room. Wren follows after without a word, giving Demy the cold shoulder.


    ¡°Yeah, sure. Great plan,¡± Demy grumbles, moving to stay in the radius of the pale, mesmerizing orb of light.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    The sound of running water fills the room that Kaz, Addy, and Cashew have found themselves in. It is partially made out of stone, unlike the foyer, which made the mad dash and subsequent tumble into the room all the more painful. Luckily, a scuffed knee and a sore shoulder were the only injuries sustained in the escape from the creatures.


    Cashew, who sits on the small retaining wall around the fountain in the center of the room, stares down into the water, which ripples faintly. A few small openings around the edge of the basin lets the water flow back out to the river just behind the manor, presumably where the water to the fountain comes from in the first place. The room seems to be some kind of indoor bath house, based on the several square pools of water that take up much of the space, apart from the fountain. There are two doors against the back wall, but upon inspection, both only lead to a pair of indoor bathrooms, also made largely of rock and connected to the river out back.


    A steel shield leans against the ledge of the fountain nearby, glowing with a warm light that fills the room; Kaz sits just beside it, head down in contemplative prayer. Addy sits on the floor, leaning back against the ledge as she flips through one of her books, lost in thought.


    Just sitting around is making Cashew fidget. He finally says, louder than he intends to in the relative quiet, ¡°So we doing this? Or what?¡±


    Kaz lifts her head a little and looks at him. ¡°I thought you weren¡¯t fond of the plan?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± he sneers.


    ¡°Going back through the foyer is the only option, this wing has no exit,¡± Kaz says, repeating the main point from the long discussion prior.


    Cashew stares down into the pool of water, at the drainage holes, and frowns hard enough that it¡¯s almost audible.


    ¡°I¡¯m not excited about it, either, but it¡¯s our only option. We have to deal with those things sooner or later and we need to get back to the others,¡± Kaz continues.


    ¡°You¡¯re serious about sticking this whole thing out, then?¡± Cashew asks, raising an eyebrow. ¡°We could just make a distraction, get the others, then book it back to town.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather get some practice in on those things. Each one we take out is one less we¡¯ll have to watch out for on the expedition trek, anyway,¡± Kaz counters.


    I guess if things get hairy I can just slink off, Cashew thinks. He glances back at Addy, who is still sitting quietly nearby. Speaking to Kaz, he asks, ¡°Okay, but what about her?¡±


    ¡°Addy, are you on the plan?¡± Kaz asks.


    ¡°Hm? Oh, yeah!¡± Addy says, looking up from her book. ¡°We have to deal with them if we¡¯re going to find out what Tarn came to the Heart for. I want to know if it has to do with them! Also can I dissect one?¡±


    ¡°You¨Cwhat?¡± Kaz asks, frowning.


    ¡°Like, take one apart?¡± Cashew asks, puzzled.


    ¡°Yeah! I really think those things were speaking in the Monteith language, so I want to see what they¡¯re made of,¡± she says cheerfully as she stands up.


    Literally, Cashew thinks.


    ¡°Why on Vale do you think they¡¯re speaking some ancient, forgotten language?¡± Kaz asks.


    Addy smiles as if she has just been given a gift and takes a deep breath, before beginning to explain, ¡°Okay, see, ancient Monteith is written in a unique way that I¡¯ve begun referring to as tandem diagrapha. There are two different writing systems, which have unique characters and meanings, but each one individually conveys a completely different meaning. When written together, the two systems create the actual, singular Monteith language¨C¡±


    Cashew groans loud enough that Kaz worries the creatures in the foyer might hear. She reaches out and grabs Addy¡¯s shoulder gently, trying to interrupt her, ¡°Addy, Addy, hey. Short version, okay?¡±


    ¡°¨COh, okay! Um, so those things out there, I think, were actually communicating, or at least trying to. You heard them making two distinct types of sound at once! That would be tandem diglossia! They¡¯re the first creature I¡¯ve ever encountered that vocalizes in that way,¡± Addy says, trying to keep it as brief as possible. It is difficult for her.


    Without thinking, Kaz asks, ¡°So that weird croaking-chittering sound is how the Monteith spoke?¡± She is immediately reprimanded by a tiny punch in the shoulder from Cashew.


    ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t think so. But I think those things are capable of speaking it, if they weren¡¯t¡­ whatever is wrong with them. They¡¯re just making feral noises and screaming right now, I think. But maybe?¡± Addy rambles, partially to herself.


    ¡°Y¡¯know what, I was wrong? Let¡¯s just fight them, we¡¯ll take them all at once,¡± Cashew complains, getting up from the ledge. ¡°I¡¯ll take death over another historical lecture.¡±


    Kaz pats Addy¡¯s shoulder and stands up. She grabs her glowing shield and makes sure it is strapped onto her arm effectively before unsheathing her sword: A steel broadsword with a wide, hefty blade and an ornate pommel made in the image of her deity¡¯s symbol, a crown.


    After a few test swings to warm herself up, she says, ¡°Alright, so we¡¯re going to try to funnel them into this room one at a time. We¡¯ll need someone to be at the door to open it and then close it when one of the things comes through; we¡¯ll also need someone to be the visible and audible bait to draw the things in.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, you¡¯re bait, fam,¡± Cashew says, walking over to stand by the door. ¡°Not only are you the one glowing, but you might be able to take a swing or two in that hefty armor.¡±


    ¡°Fair point,¡± Kaz says. ¡°Do you have something to defend yourself with?¡± She asks, looking at Cashew.


    He reaches into his cloak and pulls out a short, curved sword, of a style she is unfamiliar with. Which is quite odd, considering she has seen the weapons of nearly every region of Vale.


    Cashew grips the sword confidently and gives Kaz a thumbs up.


    You continue to impress, Smalls, she thinks to herself.


    ¡°Addy, what about you? Cashew and I should be able to handle things¨C¡± Kaz begins, glancing back, only to see Addy digging around in her pack. She comes out with a pair of strange gloves made of a material that Kaz doesn¡¯t recognize, which glow with a faint blue-ish hue, and an odd visor that fits over the head, similarly of an unrecognizable material.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help!¡± Addy says excitedly as she slides the gloves on, which glow a bit brighter. She takes off her glasses, putting the visor on. A light appears on the smooth, reflective surface and shifts around, almost like some kind of artificial eye. ¡°I¡¯ve wanted to try these out, anyway. Let¡¯s go!¡± Addy cheers.


    ¡°Ready!¡± Cashew echoes, grabbing the handle of the door with his free hand.


    Here goes nothing, Kaz thinks as she takes a defensive stance, glowing shield facing the door and her sword held ready at her side. ¡°Go!¡± She yells.


    Cashew swings the door open.

 Chapter Seven

    The venture out from the dining hall has been, thankfully, uneventful. The door at the back of the room had let out into a hallway with several doors: One led to a kitchen, still clean and dust-free after all these years, including the rows of various cookware placed neatly in the requisite spaces, but otherwise devoid of anything meaningful; Another led to a pantry, connected to the kitchen, still with various dry goods and a few casks of ale, which despite its age Dahlia assured is still good and from which Demy restocked his flask(s); The last door led to a simple bedroom area with a few beds, which the three assumed to be some kind of servant¡¯s quarters, and which was entirely bare of belongings.


    Seems the servants simply grabbed everything of theirs and left after Tarn died. Demy respects that they left the art and other valuable things alone, while Wren has been doing internal math of their carrying capacity for such treasures since stepping into the foyer. The discussion of just which one of the two is the intrepid adventurer and which one of the two is the land-locked pirate has been a hot topic of conversation over the course of the past hour or so of searching.


    ¡°I thought people from the Crown were minimalists or something,¡± Demy muses, walking beside Wren as the two follow after Dahlia, who is taking lead and inspecting everything very diligently. There doesn¡¯t appear to be anywhere else to check in this area, so the dour little Goblin is heading toward the end of the hallway, where a square set of wooden stairs curves up and around to the second floor.


    ¡°We¡¯re not minimalists, we¡¯re nomads. Most of the Crown is, anyway. We live off the game animals and plants that shift around with the seasons. Having lots of possessions isn¡¯t really, you know, something that we did,¡± Wren says, shrugging.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to be connected with nature on that level,¡± Dahlia says as she ascends the staircase, eyes scanning the landing above for signs of those things from the foyer.


    ¡°It was nice in some ways,¡± Wren mutters, glancing down at the steps as they begin up them. ¡°But growing up, I had nothing that was mine. I like having trinkets and mementos of things, it¡¯s tangible, you know?¡±


    ¡°But none of that stuff is really necessary, is it?¡± Demy asks. ¡°Wasn¡¯t it simpler just to have what you needed?¡±


    ¡°Simpler isn¡¯t always better,¡± Wren says, a hint of bitterness creeping into their voice. ¡°There¡¯s more to life than just surviving.¡±


    Dahla pokes her head over the side of the banister above, smiling down at the two. In a sing-song tone, she says, ¡°Beware of what you want. It might want you more.¡±


    ¡°What does that even mean?¡± Wren argues, putting their hands on their hips and looking up at Dahlia. The Goblin cackles a little and slides back, disappearing from view.


    Demy smiles a little but doesn¡¯t say anything, not wanting to upset Wren any further. Instead, his eyes follow the two balls of light that dance around Wren and himself. Dahlia has a third, the glow from which is visible as she trots around the second floor landing curiously.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know people from the Crown practiced magic, either,¡± he says, feeling a sense of calm as watches the lights circle one another.


    ¡°They don¡¯t,¡± Wren says, flatly.


    ¡°Then, uh, who taught you how to do that?¡± Demy asks, tearing his attention from the lights.


    ¡°Nobody,¡± Wren says.


    Demy blinks slowly, clearly not understanding. He asks, ¡°Then how¨C¡±


    Wren cuts him off, tersely explaining, ¡°Magic was seen as wicked and untrustworthy. Nobody taught it to me, it just manifested when I was younger.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s, well, really cool actually,¡± Demy says. ¡°My grandparents knew some simple, like, hedge magic, but it never made sense to me. I bet your folks were thrilled, huh?¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°Any idea where you got it from?¡± Demy asks, too enraptured by the simple display of arcane power to pick up on Wren¡¯s discomfort.


    ¡°I just know it has something to do with Corvega and Tryden,¡± Wren answers shortly.


    Demy stops at the top of the steps, going a bit pale at the realization. He mutters awkwardly, ¡°Oh, th-the moons. That makes sense. Tracks, as uh, as Cash would, you know¡­ say.¡±


    Both Wren and Demy are snapped out of their personal grievances by Dahlia, who hisses out at them from around the corner.


    ¡°Hey! Talky Chattertons! Over here,¡± she says, motioning to follow.


    Demy frowns and says under his breath, ¡°M¡¯not a ¡®Talky Chatterton.¡¯¡± He and Wren trot after Dahlia all the same, finally catching up to her outside the only door in the dead center of a long hallway.


    She pushes the door open slowly and the soft light from their orbs, which Demy now understands to be moonlight, floods into the room. It is cavernous, stretching up into the third floor above with a staircase on the far side. Rows and rows of shelves line the walls and stretch across the interior, full of books of all sizes, shapes, and colors. From just the nearest couple of Shelves, Demy sees that most are written in the common tongue, Valeant, but even more are written in languages he doesn¡¯t know, though at least a couple seem to be written in Phylerian, his native tongue.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± Wren says softly as they step into the room, the awkward conversation from before forgotten in the face of seeing this much literature collected in one place, rivaling the libraries of a few of the universities they and Kaz have visited upon their travels.


    ¡°Old guy was a reader,¡± Demy says quietly, careful not to speak too loud in case of anything lurking in the aisles of the expansive study.


    ¡°Secrets of manor? In here, somewhere,¡± Dahlia says triumphantly, grinning.


    ¡°Oh, oh no. You mean we have to read all this?¡± Demy whines. Dahlia immediately shoots him a dark look and he winces, relenting, ¡°Okay, okay. I¡¯ll, uh, skim through the ones written in Phylerian.¡±


    Dahlia looks up at Wren curiously. ¡°Can you read?¡± She asks.


    Wren huffs, crossing their arms defensively and saying, ¡°Just because I¡¯m from the Crown means that I don¡¯t know how to read and write?¡±


    Dahlia stares, unblinking.


    Wren drops their arms, sighing, ¡°I know how to read Valeant, yes.¡±


    ¡°What about the Crown tongue?¡± Dahlia asks.


    Wren purses their lips, answering, ¡°Carnist is only spoken.¡±


    ¡°Then you handle the common tongue,¡± Dahlia says dismissively, shimmying up the nearest ladder to the third floor landing.


    Wren grumbles and moves over to the nearest shelf, grabbing the first book they see that is legible. ¡°You wanted this, Greedy Child,¡± they mutter darkly, speaking the last couple words in the guttural, throaty speech of their homeland.


    The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    A phrase all too familiar.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Any uncertainties about whether or not the monsters are still waiting outside are immediately dispelled when Cashew opens the door. Multiple of the things are standing just outside, staring off into space obliviously.


    All that changes very quickly.


    The nearest monster, pale and naked, eyes dead and lifeless, slowly turns to face the doorway, drawn by the light from Kaz¡¯s shield. It stares, mouth full of serrated teeth agape, looking very odd but non-threatening in the moment. At least, it would, were it not for the oversized claws at the end of each hand, the talons at the end of each foot clicking against the wooden floor as it turns its whole body toward the room.


    Kaz hits the hilt of her sword against the steel of her shield, letting out a resounding, metallic echo as she yells out at the gaping thing, ¡°I¡¯m waiting, monster!¡±


    It is as if a switch is flipped. The slack jaw tightens into a snarl; its wandering, blank eyes focus; the claws hanging limply at its side curl. It opens its mouth wide, letting out its strange tandem screech, just before bolting forward with surprising speed.


    It passes the threshold to the room, charging at full speed, talons digging into the wooden floor. Cashew acts, moving to slam the door shut¨C


    A second monster slams into the door just before it fully closes, sending the door crashing back open and throwing Cashew back several feet to the floor. The monster stumbles awkwardly, obviously not expecting the sudden obstacle, and slumps to the floor off to the side of the door.


    Cashew groans in pain, seeing stars from where the door hit him in the face on the backswing. Fighting against the dizziness, he scrambles to his feet, grabbing his sword from the ground as he rises.


    The first monster hits Kaz¡¯s shield, claws scraping at the metal. Her sabatons screech against the stone floor as she scoots back a few inches, holding fast against the impact of the thing. It is far stronger than it looks, its body showing none of the musculature that would normally indicate its ability to almost topple a seasoned warrior in full plate.


    She swings her shield out, pushing the monster back, throwing it off balance. Her sword gleams in the blinding light radiating off her shield as it slices through the air, into the monster¡¯s side. The heavy, sharp metal digs into flesh¨Cbut not nearly as deeply as it should.


    The thing screeches and swipes a claw at Kaz¡¯s face, catching her off guard, but she manages to step back from the blow, pulling the sword out from the creature¡¯s side with some effort.


    What is this thing made of, burlap and tar? Kaz thinks to herself, noticing the second monster nearby and Cashew stumbling to his feet. She yells, ¡°Smalls, the door!¡±


    ¡°Working on it!¡± Cashew yells back, trying to steady himself enough to make a dash toward the open door. His thoughts are going faster than he is, but the dizziness is fading thanks to sheer willpower.


    Gotta move, there were way too many of them out there¨C


    A third monster steps through the open doorway, almost leisurely, head swiveling slowly from side to side, inspecting the room with a curiosity that is almost feral, animal-like.


    ¡°Fucking Kel!¡± Cashew seethes and slams into the door, knocking it against the monster with enough power to push it aside and slam the door shut, the latch catching audibly. The thing screeches, no longer amiable in its demeanor, crouching low as it focuses its attention on Cashew.


    ¡°Language!¡± Kaz yells back, the use of her deity¡¯s name in such a crude fashion grating against her ears. The creature in front of her swipes at her again but she turns the blow aside. She grips her sword tighter, saying a silent prayer for assistance, knowing that she will need it against this foe.


    Her faith is rewarded as the blade begins to glow, heat billowing from the metal as it erupts into white-hot flame. The monster takes a step back, possessing at least enough sentience to feel the primal fear of fire.


    Cashew would be impressed if he weren¡¯t focused on his own threat, which is preparing to pounce at him. He holds his curved shortsword at the ready, his other hand reaching into the back of his cloak and grabbing the hilt of one of the many similarly-made daggers hidden on his person.


    It¡¯ll leap, but I¡¯ll go low. Cut into it, roll to avoid the claws. Should be able to get back to it before it recovers from the failed pounce, he thinks, going through the scenario in his mind in an instant. He tenses, seeing the monster do the same just as it leaps¨C


    A thunderous sound echoes within the stone room as a bright flash of blue light illuminates the room, overpowering the glow of Kaz¡¯s shield and sword.


    Cashew watches, in amazement, as a blue bolt of raw energy slams into the creature mid-jump, hitting it in the shoulder, which obliterates into a gaping hole of exposed muscle and bone, blowing its arm entirely off in the process.


    The thing cries out in pain and flounders, hitting the stone floor a few feet in front of Cashew. As surprised as he is by whatever just happened, Cashew is an opportunist at heart. He moves quickly, pouncing on the downed, injured creature like a predator, sensing weakness. The first slice of the sword is shallow, the first stab of the dagger barely puncturing the suspiciously tough hide of the humanoid thing. The second slice, however, is deeper.


    The second stab goes farther.


    He thinks of Addy postulating about the interior of the creature as he punches the dagger over and over into the creature¡¯s heart, slicing through its neck as it flails weakly, trying to grab him with its remaining claw but he avoids its dying spasms easily.


    Spurned on by bloodlust and adrenaline, Cashew gets to his feet, flicking the blood off his blades, which he notes is a thick, viscous, black bile.


    He quickly glances back to where the blast of blue energy came from, seeing Addy standing toward the back of the room, holding her arm out to her side, glove still crackling with blue energy. Below her open palm, standing on four legs, is an oddly-shaped thing, all sharp angles and smooth surfaces, made of an unfamiliar material like her glove and visor.


    At the front of the¨Cdevice?¨Cis an opening that glows with the blue energy, where the blast came from. Its four limbs move like a spider¡¯s legs, the tips of which click and clack against the stone floor, as it fine-tunes its trajectory, aiming at the third monster that is picking itself off the floor from where it stumbled after hitting the door.


    The glowing eye-like dot on the front of Addy¡¯s visor shifts toward Cashew and she smiles widely, giving a thumbs. She speaks, presumably to her little artificial companion, excitedly exclaiming, ¡°Nice shot, CAM! Second salvo locked on, fire!¡±


    The cannon-thing, ¡°CAM¡± apparently, jerks back slightly as it fires another bright blue blast at the remaining monster. It hits it square in the face, disintegrating its entire head in a spray of thick black gore.


    Cashew feels slightly better about their overall odds of survival, seeing this.


    Kaz continues her fight, methodically and carefully blocking each claw swipe until she finally sees it lurch back awkwardly for a heavy swing: An opening. She steps forward, stabbing her flaming, holy blade directly into the creature¡¯s chest. Unlike before, when the edge of the blade barely cut into the monster¡¯s flesh, the wrath of divine energy singes flesh, weakening it, allowing the sword to pierce through the skin, through muscle, through bone and organ, all the way out the back of the monster.


    It spasms as the flames quickly spread across its body, consuming it entirely in a matter of moments, leaving only ashes littering the stone floor. The fire wreathing the sword quickly fades out, as if it were never there. Kaz takes a deep breath and returns the sword to its sheathe, giving a small utterance of thanks for the intervention.


    ¡°Fuckin¡¯ A¡¯. That went well,¡± Cashew says, chuckling as he also sheathes his blades.


    ¡°No plan survives first contact with the enemy,¡± Kaz utters, looking over at Addy, at the little contraption that tippy-taps around her feet.


    ¡°Care to explain that?¡± She asks, then quickly adds, ¡°In brief.¡±


    ¡°This is CAM-01!¡± Addy says cheerfully. ¡°Constructed Automaton Mortar. Number one. It took me years to get these gloves to work, they¡¯re ancient Monteith technology that uses ambient raw matter and an internal supply of nanites, which are a lost¨C¡±


    Kaz crosses her arms.


    ¡°¨CCAM goes boom and makes things explode!¡± Addy finishes, raising her arms high for emphasis.


    Cashew leans against the wall by the door, taking a moment to focus and calm down. ¡°Okay, apart from the obvious, solid job. We gonna keep this ball rolling?¡± He asks, motioning toward the door.


    ¡°Let¡¯s shoot for one at a time from now on,¡± Kaz says. ¡°Addy, you good?¡±


    Addy grunts, dragging the monster¡¯s body¨Cthe one that Cashew finished off¨Cover to the corner. ¡°Oh, sure! I¡¯m just going to start dissecting this thinger. CAM, repositioning protocols for optimal target acquisition and minimum friendly fire percentages,¡± she says.


    CAM lets out a couple of beeps and taps over to the wall, climbing up it with ease, making its way to the ceiling, where it waits patiently, aimed at the door.


    ¡°¡®Minimum friendly fire percentages?¡¯¡± Cashew repeats worriedly.


    ¡°Righty-ho, dissecting we go!¡± Addy quips, forming a small blade out of thin air in her hand before she plunges it into the monster.


    Cashew and Kaz share a knowing glance.


    ¡°I for one feel comfortable with the mechanical blaster-crab providing overwatch for us,¡± Cashew says with a shrug.


    Kel, hate to bother you twice in one day, Kaz thinks, beginning another silent prayer. She once again pulls out her sword, taking point as Cashew does the same, drawing his weapon.


    He opens the door.

 Chapter Eight

    ¡°This is pointless. We¡¯re not going to be able to go through every book here in a reasonable amount of time. We should find the others and secure the manor first,¡± Wren complains loudly while standing in the middle of the library.


    ¡°We would if you stopped complaining and read faster,¡± Dahlia says, poking her head over the third floor bannister.


    ¡°I think they¡¯re right,¡± Demy says, tossing yet another seemingly useless book to the pile on the floor. ¡°The others might be in trouble. Besides, there are plenty of books in here that the three of us can¡¯t even read.¡±


    ¡°And one of those things might stumble in here any minute and catch us unprepared,¡± Wren adds.


    ¡°Oh, so now you want to find others!¡± Dahlia shouts down. ¡°You said you wanted to find out why the old man made this house!¡±


    ¡°Well, yeah! But I didn¡¯t mean that I wanted to find that out while ignoring the others and the monsters just outside the door,¡± Wren argues.


    ¡°You did not specify!¡± Dahlia loudly argues back. ¡°You did not complain when we started reading!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s just because I wanted a reason not to talk to Demy for a few minutes!¡± Wren yells.


    ¡°Hey, rude,¡± Demy says, frowning.


    From one of the darkened aisles of the library, the three hear a soft groan. They freeze, eyes wide, as someone says, ¡°What¡¯s with the yelling? I was having a righteous little nap.¡±


    Demy and Wren share horrified glances, uncertain of what to do. From up above, Dahlia breaks the awkward silence by yelling:


    ¡°Sorry! We didn¡¯t know the library was occupied!¡±


    A series of footsteps and a soft rustling sound comes from a few aisles over. Demy steps in front of Wren slightly, holding his arm in front of them protectively as he waits for whoever¨Cor whatever¨Cit is to appear.


    ¡°Wha¨CI don¡¯t need you to protect me,¡± Wren hisses quietly at him, cheeks growing ever so faintly flush.


    ¡°Shh,¡± Demy growls, obviously not interested in arguing the point.


    Wren takes a step back, deeper into the aisle, and begins considering their options for a potential tussle in this library. Fire will damage the books, though ice could also do some damage when it thaws. Maybe something less physical, something to demoralize or subjugate: It just sounds like one person, after all.


    ¡°If you can cover me, I¡¯ll try to charm them or something,¡± Wren says quietly.


    ¡°Gotcha. You go low with the magic and I¡¯ll go¨C¡±


    Demy is cut off as the stranger rounds the end of the aisle of shelves, coming into the light of Wren¡¯s floating moon-orbs. There are plenty of things about the stranger that causes Demy and Wren to both freeze, thoughts of striking first completely leaving their minds, though perhaps just how tall the person is might be the first thing to register.


    He is taller than Demy by over a foot, maybe more, easily in the seven to eight foot range of height. He is as spindly as he is tall, wearing a very simple tunic and slacks in earthy tones, with bare feet. His hair is almost humorously long and straight, actually dragging the floor in strands that are a mossy green color, reminiscent of Dahlia¡¯s.


    As surprising and odd as those features are, it is his eyes and mouth that cause Demy and Wren the most alarm: Sleepy, blank eyes without pupils and a row of serrated teeth within his slightly agape mouth.


    Just like those monsters from the foyer.


    ¡°Howdy. Is this your house?¡± The strange man asks, flashing a smile that can¡¯t help but come off as unsettling.


    ¡°... Hi,¡± Demy says, finishing his sentence from before, but with a vastly different meaning than intended. Staring up at people is not something he is used to.


    It is, however, something Wren is used to, though not quite this severely. They answer, fumbling over their words a bit, ¡°I, uh, n-no? This is Tarn¡¯s, uh, house. Who a-are you?¡±


    ¡°Death from above!¡± Dahlia shouts as she leaps from the third floor banister, sneering in bloodthirsty abandon as she careens toward the stranger, flecks of deadly spores spreading off of her as she plummets¨C


    Directly into the man¡¯s arms as he reaches up and gently plucks her from her fall. If he jumped, he likely could have just grabbed onto the landing and hauled himself up.


    ¡°Ohp, careful now little fella,¡± the stranger says with a smile. ¡°That would¡¯ve been a nasty tumble to take.¡±


    Dahlia, caught entirely off guard, just lets herself be held like a stuffed toy in the giant¡¯s grip. He carefully leans over and sits her down on the floor beside Demy and Wren, staying bent over as he speaks to the three on their level.


    ¡°My name is, uh,¡± he stops, scratching his cheek with an abnormally long finger. ¡°You can call me Kem. They might not get mad at me over that.¡±


    ¡°Greetings, Giant Kem,¡± Dahlia says, holding her comparatively very, very small hand up to him in offering. He takes it with a single finger, shaking up and down slightly. ¡°I¡¯m Dahlia. This is Demy and Wren.¡±


    ¡°Nice to make your acquaintance,¡± Kem says, his voice a low rumble, coming out with the same slow, gentle quality that his movements have. ¡°This isn¡¯t your house, then?¡±


    ¡°Uh, no. This place belonged to an older man named Tarn, he passed away. We got sent here to find out why he built this place, actually,¡± Wren says, staring up at Kem in awe. They sense no malice from him, but they have so many questions they want to ask.


    ¡°Oh. It wasn¡¯t here last time I stopped by, is all,¡± Kem says. ¡°How long has it been here?¡±


    ¡°Fifteen years or so, I think?¡± Demy answers. After a second, the cogs in his brain turn and he blurts out, ¡°Wait, did you say ¡®last time I stopped by?¡¯ You¡¯ve been on the Heart before?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s ¡®The Heart?¡¯¡± Kem asks, standing up straight once more. The other three have to crane their necks to continue looking him in the face. Dahlia, even, takes a few steps back to achieve this.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°This continent? The Heart of Vale,¡± Wren explains.


    Kem stares at the three blankly for a moment before letting out a hearty chuckle. ¡°That¡¯s what you call it, huh? That¡¯s cool as,¡± he says with a big, serrated smile.


    ¡°Giant Friend Kem?¡± Dahlia asks, seemingly already considering this impossibly tall, mysterious figure to be of companion quality. ¡°What are you? Are you like those monsters out in the foyer?¡±


    ¡°¡®Monsters?¡¯¡± Kem repeats sleepily. ¡°Oh, the failures. They didn¡¯t turn out, so not really, no.¡±


    There are so many questions that Wren wants to ask, but only one of them sits at the front of their mind so sternly that they can¡¯t help but ask it, despite Dahlia already doing so: ¡°What are you?¡±


    Kem looks down at Wren curiously, head slightly tilted, like a bored child staring at an ant. For the first time in this conversation with Kem, Wren can feel something radiating from him that isn¡¯t just tired amusement. It¡¯s not a feeling Wren has ever felt before, not one they can describe, but it makes them shudder with a mixture of fear and awe at this thing looming over them.


    They watch as Kem opens his mouth and produces a sound not unlike the groaning, clicking amalgamation that those monsters from the foyer made before. Except this time it sounds like an educated utterance, an actual form of communication, as the two sounds reverberate together in disturbing harmony.


    The sound produced has no literal meaning to Wren. It is not recognizable as a word or phrase, waiting to be translated in some other language. This sound has no analogy to any modern utterance, both in form and meaning, though there are certainly those who would try to use some linguistic vector to convey the meaning, though none would come close to conveying the actual impact of this sound.


    Yet, Wren knows what the sound is. What it means. It is an answer to their question, to Dahlia¡¯s: It is what Kem is.


    Even though he has spoken in the common tongue with the same amount of ease as themselves, there is no word for what he is. Even if there was, Wren understands that it would not carry the same weight as the harmonic intersection of noises that sound so far removed from that which the living refer to as a language that it isn¡¯t even fair to compare them.


    Dahlia, bless her, does not seem to care for the sanctity of this sound. She tries, very unsuccessfully, to repeat it back to Kem. Both Wren and Demy worry that the attempt to do so will be taken as offensive, as blasphemous, somehow.


    Kem, however, only laughs: A slow, throaty, genuine guffaw.


    ¡°That¡¯s pretty close!¡± Kem says, leaning down¨Cway down¨Cto Dahlia. ¡°You¡¯re missing a few internal mandibles to hit the high trill, though.¡±


    He smiles and opens his mouth wide, as if showing her something. Dahlia¡¯s eyes widen in amazement, though Demy and Wren aren¡¯t sure they want to see just what she is being given the chance to view.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± is all Dahlia can manage.


    From somewhere on the other side of the manor, muffled by distance and layers of building, a loud, thunderous sound echoes. It causes all four to jump, Kem included. After a few seconds, the sound happens again.


    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s the others?¡± Wren asks.


    ¡°Sounds like fighting to me,¡± Demy says.


    ¡°¡®Others?¡¯ There are more of you?¡± Kem asks.


    ¡°Yeah. Like we said, we came here to find out why Tarn came to this continent in the first place. When we got here those things, the¡­ Failures? There were a lot of them in the foyer and they attacked us; we got separated,¡± Wren explains.


    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s my bad,¡± Kem admits sheepishly. ¡°They follow us around like useless children.¡±


    Us? Demy mentally echoes.


    ¡°I need to leave, anyway. They should follow me out,¡± Kem says, letting out a groan as he stretches, letting out a yawn. Obviously his nap could have gone on a bit longer.


    ¡°Wait¨C¡± Demy begins, but Dahlia cuts him off.


    ¡°Don¡¯t go! Are you from here? Do you know what those ¡®Failures¡¯ are protecting? Could you help us search this island? Do you know if there are any cool mushrooms that live here?¡± Dahlia asks, trying to fit in as many questions as she can in the smallest amount of time, sensing that their time to ask such things is quickly fading away.


    Kem stops and stares down at Dahlia for a long moment; he reaches his long arm down, hand clasping her on the shoulder (and most of her side, with how large said hand is). He leans down and smiles warmly, though there is something menacing in his dead eyes.


    ¡°You do not belong on this land. None of you do,¡± he says, gaze moving across Demy and Wren. ¡°Leave before you do something foolish.¡±


    Dahlia stands her ground, even though her body tells her to cower at the large man¡¯s gaze. Stubbornly, she asks, ¡°Tell us why.¡±


    Kem seems to consider this for a long few moments. Another thunderous blast echoes in the distance.


    ¡°No,¡± he finally says. ¡°I¡¯ll be in enough trouble as it is.¡±


    With that, he stands fully and turns, taking long strides over to a set of double doors on the very edge of the light¡¯s illumination. He opens one of the doors and stoops to actually fit through the frame, pausing briefly.


    ¡°You said you are here to know why the owner built this house? You should check the basement,¡± Kem says softly. ¡°But after that, you should leave. If there are more of you, tell them to leave.¡±


    He scowls and mutters, ¡°Some things deserve to remain forgotten.¡±


    With that, he closes the door behind him.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    ¡°Can you believe that these things have three hearts? Three!¡± Addy exclaims excitedly, covered in tar-like gore and surrounded by multiple of the monsters and their innards, all splayed out in compartmented piles on the stone floor.


    ¡°Our surprise knows no limits,¡± Kaz says tiredly, sitting on the edge of the fountain, using a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from her brow.


    ¡°You keeping track of body counts?¡± Cashew asks, laying on the floor beside Kaz, exhausted.


    ¡°Enough to know I¡¯m ahead of you,¡± Kaz says with a smirk.


    Beside the two of them, CAM lets out a couple beeps of mirth.


    ¡°Oh fuck you¨CAddy tell your stupid, er, dog to keep its mouth shut!¡± Cashew yells.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a dog! And has no mouth!¡± Addy says, using a long bone from one of the creatures to help snap open another¡¯s rib cage.


    ¡°Stupid dogs and their stupid mouths,¡± Cashew mutters to himself.


    ¡°Addy, have you found out anything about those creatures from your research?¡± Kaz asks, glancing over at her.


    ¡°Yeah! They have organs!¡± She says.


    Cashew groans into his hands.


    ¡°Whole bunch of ¡®em!¡± She adds.


    ¡°Enlightening,¡± Kaz says, slowly rising to her feet. ¡°By my counts we¡¯re about a quarter of the way through all of them. Are we ready for another wave?¡±


    Cashew slowly pushes himself into a sitting position and says, ¡°If the others haven¡¯t solved the secret of this place by the time we¡¯re done, I¡¯m going to throw Addy¡¯s dog at them.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem as worried about them now,¡± Kaz says, using the fountain to clean off the thick layer of gore on her blade.


    ¡°That was before we killed a dozen of the stupid fucks,¡± Cashew admits, stretching to make his back pop loudly.


    ¡°Thirteen,¡± Kaz corrects.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Cashew snaps.


    The sound of a large door swinging open from out in the foyer causes the two to stop bickering and stare at the stone door in surprise. A minute drags by. Then two.


    Cashew quietly creeps over to the door, glancing back at Kaz, who gives a small nod. He quietly pulls the door open, peeking out into the foyer.


    ¡°Well?¡± Kaz asks quietly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see any of them,¡± Cashew whispers back. He turns to get another look out into the foyer, only to see an eye staring back through the gap in the door. With a startled cry, Cashew jerks back from the door, slamming his head into one of the torch sconces on the wall in his frantic attempt to flee.


    ¡°Cash!¡± Someone yells.


    It¡¯s the last thing he hears before the world spins and the ground rushes up to meet him, bringing with it only darkness.

 Chapter Nine

    The first thing he becomes aware of is that his head hurts. No, not just hurts. Aches. A sharp, piercing pain that throbs from the very back of his skull, radiating out in ripples of misery. It¡¯s different from other headaches he¡¯s had, whether from hangovers or the occasional migraine that puts him in the ship¡¯s hold for an entire day, unable to stand the sun¡¯s light for fear of it becoming worse.


    The second thing he becomes aware of is the sound of water. A slow, methodical trickling sound.


    Where am I? He thinks. The sound of the water reminds him of being back home, relaxing near the suspended gutters that would distribute water drawn from the summit all around the city. Am I back in Quallesh?


    ¡°Wake up,¡± says a voice. It is familiar, but difficult to place.


    If only my head would stop hurting so damn much, he thinks.


    ¡°Wake up!¡± Says the voice, more sternly.


    He grumbles a response, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.


    ¡°Kavi you codpiece, wake up!¡±


    He freezes.


    There¡¯s only one person that calls me that, he thinks. He opens his eyes, seeing that he is laying in an expansive garden, near the aforementioned waterways that travel across gutters built into the tops of the palace walls and spread out in all kinds of directions upon ornate trellises and sculptural supports.


    Besides him is another Halfling, a native Indirian, like himself. Tanned skin, long dark hair, wearing a custom-tailored dress of only the finest fabrics. Cashew knows this person, knows her to be one of his oldest friends. One of his only friends from back home.


    ¡°Go away, Princess. I¡¯m trying to sleep,¡± he says mockingly, turning his head away from her slowly. His attempt to not show any pain seems to fail, however.


    ¡°Just let you go back to sleep after rattling your brains, huh? A nice post-concussion nap,¡± she says, a smirk on her face. ¡°Pretty sure you¡¯re not supposed to let someone with head trauma go to sleep.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a myth,¡± he grumbles, closing his eyes again. ¡°What do you even want?¡±


    ¡°Just reminding you that you promised to come back some day,¡± she says kind of absently, leaning over to flick Cashew in the forehead. He yelps, feeling a wave of pain ripple through his skull again.


    ¡°Augh, you tool!¡± He cries out and opens his eyes again, glaring up at her. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to remind me, not like that.¡±


    ¡°Well you won¡¯t remember if you keep giving yourself concussions,¡± she muses.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± he groans, closing his eyes again. It¡¯s so hard to keep them open, between the sun shining above and the pounding pain of his headache. But it¡¯s not as bad, now that he thinks about it. It feels like it¡¯s starting to fade. But in the pain¡¯s place is just exhaustion.


    Before he can nod off, he feels her hand on his arm. ¡°You¡¯ll come back, right?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Told you I would,¡± he mutters sleepily.


    ¡°When?¡± She asks.


    ¡°When I¡¯m done,¡± he argues, feeling consciousness slipping away, just like back in the weird bathroom in Tarn¡¯s manor.


    Wait, that¡¯s right. That stupid old house with the weird stupid monsters and my stupid party members! He remembers, right on the verge of sleep.


    ¡°You better, asshole,¡± she says.


    ¡°I am¨C¡±


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    ¡°¨Cno¡¯n¡¯ass¡¯ole,¡± Cashew manages to slur sleepily, eyes fluttering open.


    He is laying on the stone floor of the indoor bathing area, the trickling of water he has been hearing coming from the nearby fountains. Standing over him are his companions: Demy and Wren look worried, whereas Dahlia and Kaz just look annoyed. Addy is nowhere in sight.


    ¡°Oh, sure. I heal you and I get called an ¡®asshole,¡¯ huh?¡± Kaz says, frowning down at him. Her hands are still glowing faintly, but the light gradually fades away.


    ¡°Should have let his brain keep leaking,¡± Dahlia says, grinning.


    ¡°Should have,¡± Kaz echoes in agreement.


    ¡°You okay, Cash?¡± Demy asks, offering a hand. Cashew takes it and lets his tall friend help him up with little effort. He appreciates that Demy takes it slow, as he is still a bit dizzy. The pain is gone but it almost feels like it should still be there.


    Body and brain wonder where the trauma went all of a sudden, Cashew thinks to himself. He¡¯s never been a big fan of magical healing, finding it disorienting. He reaches back and feels the back of his skull, which is intact and, phantom pain aside, doesn¡¯t hurt.


    Better than the alternative, though.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Just knocked myself silly, had some weird dreams,¡± he says. After a moment of realization, he squints up at Demy, ¡°Thanks to you, that is! Peek at me through the fucking door!¡±


    ¡°Hey, that wasn¡¯t me,¡± Demy says defensively. ¡°That was Wren.¡±


    ¡°Wow, throw me under the cart,¡± Wren chides. ¡°Er, sorry Cashew.¡±


    ¡°Happens,¡± he says, shrugging. He¡¯d give Demy a hard time about it, but he doesn¡¯t know Wren well enough to give them a thorough shitting-on. ¡°Since we¡¯re all not dead, I assume those things are gone.¡±


    ¡°Failures,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°Hey, fuck you. We killed like a dozen of them,¡± Cashew argues, frowning.


    ¡°No, not you. Those things. They¡¯re called ¡®Failures,¡¯¡± she clarifies.


    ¡°You¡¯re sure that¡¯s what he called them?¡± Addy asks, walking over from scrubbing the icky, sticky gore off of herself.


    ¡°Wait, who called them that?¡± Cashew asks, perplexed.


    ¡°We ran into this dude in the library in the other part of the house,¡± Demy begins explaining. ¡°Tall, really tall, said his name was Kem. Called them ¡®Failures¡¯ and said a bunch of other weird stuff.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡± Cashew asks.


    ¡°Notably, he said that the reason Tarn built this place is in the basement,¡± Wren answers.


    ¡°Strange, I haven¡¯t seen any kind of entry to a basement. Did you three see anything on that side of the manor?¡± Kaz asks.


    ¡°Nope. Dining room, some servant¡¯s quarters, a kitchen, then the library upstairs,¡± Demy explains. After a certain look from Cashew, he continues, ¡°We even kicked around in the kitchen and pantry, to see if there was a wine cellar or something.¡±


    ¡°Cellar door could be outside,¡± Dahlia offers.


    ¡°You said that guy spoke like the Failures did, right? That he said something like it was an actual language? I knew it¨Cwhat did it sound like?!¡± Addy rambles, badgering Wren excitedly.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t make that sound if I wanted to,¡± Wren says, feeling a shudder go down their spine as they think about Kem speaking in that way.


    ¡°I can try. He said I was close,¡± Dahlia says. She opens her mouth wide and lets out an incomprehensible, guttural sound that causes everyone besides Addy to wince. Addy, by contrast, is absolutely fascinated.


    ¡°Can you do that about seventeen more times?¡± She asks Dahlia.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    ¡°Probably,¡± Dahlia answers. ¡°Giant Friend Kem said that I was missing some ¡®internal mandibles¡¯ to really nail it, though.¡±


    ¡°Hm. We can get some sticks and shove them in there,¡± Addy muses while Dahlia nods excitedly.


    Wren clears their throat before addressing the others, ¡°We still have business to attend to here. Now that those things are gone we should be able to search the rest of this place.¡±


    ¡°Wren¡¯s right. We need to look for this supposed basement, for one thing,¡± Kaz says.


    ¡°We also need to check the second and third floor on this side of the house. Since it wasn¡¯t on the other side, the old guy¡¯s bedroom is probably up there. Might find something important in there,¡± Cashew adds.


    ¡°I still want to search more through the library,¡± Dahlia says, going back to opening her mouth widely so that Addy can triangulate the optimal placement of a few wooden ¡°Mandible Replacers.¡±


    ¡°Should be pretty safe to split up now. Not like it being dangerous stopped us before,¡± Demy says with a snort, taking a swig from his flask.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go upstairs and try to find the bedroom. Tarn might have had a lockbox or something in there,¡± Cashew says.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go with Cashew!¡± Wren says quickly. This earns a sideways glare from said Halfling and a perplexed look from Demy.


    ¡°You know that anything of real value has probably been picked clean already¨C¡± Kaz begins, but Wren cuts her off.


    ¡°To check for magical auras! Anything valuable or important could have some kind of magical protection, you know,¡± they say, nodding at their own reasoning.


    ¡°Like I said, there probably isn¡¯t¨C¡± Kaz starts, once again getting interrupted.


    ¡°You¡¯re right! There probably isn¡¯t anything valuable at all. I¡¯m sure we won¡¯t find anything for the group,¡± Cashew agrees as he walks toward the door, smiling.


    ¡°Mmhm. We¡¯re just looking for, like, some old stinky journal or something, that¡¯s all,¡± Wren says, trotting after Cashew.


    ¡°We ain¡¯t gonna see a copper from that bedroom,¡± Demy says.


    ¡°No chance,¡± Kaz sighs.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to the library,¡± Dahlia says simply and begins to leave.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come with!¡± Addy says and grabs her bag, running to catch up with Dahlia.


    Demy and Kaz watch the two leave before sizing one another up, the ambient trickling of water loud in the otherwise quiet stone room.


    ¡°Guess that means we¡¯re checking for the basement,¡± Kaz says.


    Demy frowns and quietly asks, ¡°Does this mean we have to go outside?¡±


    Kaz furrows her brow, eyes scrutinizing Demy as she asks, ¡°Yes, it does. If we do happen to run into one of those Failures, are you going to be any help?¡±


    ¡°If we run into trouble, I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Demy sneers, turning away to leave without another word.


    Silently, Kaz follows after.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    The peaceful quiet of his bedroom is like music to Felix¡¯s ears. There is a faint murmur of life coming from the tavern regulars and the entertainment downstairs, but it is far away and muffled, just the faintest hint of life happening elsewhere. It is a strange kind of limbo that he is used to, having grown up in the bustling royal keep of Halcyon, where there always seems to be some kind of business going on in any given part of the castle. Being the youngest of three brothers certainly did not help in trying to find somewhere solitary and quiet.


    Felix rubs his temples, feeling the onset of a headache brewing. He wants nothing more than to close the blinds and fall face down into his bed, to rest after a long day spent dealing with Bernadette and trying to recruit crew for the coming expedition. A lot of talking, a lot of strained smiles and pretending to care about the woes of a bunch of self-absorbed peasants. A lot of bartering and pleading, begging¨Che hates that part especially.


    I should not be begging a bunch of beggars for help, he thinks bitterly. He turns away from the bed and sits down at the nearby desk. Reluctantly, he begins searching through one of his travel bags as he continues to complain internally.


    This cloak and dagger buffoonery is a remnant of the last era.


    He carefully pulls a case from the bag and opens it, producing a rolled-up piece of parchment; he spreads it over the desktop, making sure it is perfectly flat, before procuring a dropper full of black ink. As the light catches the bottle just right, the dark liquid inside shimmers with a rainbow of color.


    ¡°Frederik Thorburn,¡± Felix says in a monotone, holding the dropper full of ink high above the blank parchment. A drop squeezes out of the end and falls to the page, splattering and spreading out far beyond what it should. The page gains color and features as the dot of ink fills up the entire surface, showing a large stone room full of various maps and sculptures of the world of Vale. Seated at a large table in the center is a man in regal clothing who bears a passing semblance to Felix himself, save for a well-groomed beard and reddish-colored hair in contrast to Felix¡¯s clean-shaven face and lighter brown hair.


    The king looks up, eyes catching Felix¡¯s, and he smiles.


    ¡°Good to hear from you! I¡¯ve been worried, after what happened with the expedition,¡± Frederik says, the worried smile he so often wears these days fading ever so slightly at the mention of the incident.


    ¡°Sorry to worry you, brother,¡± Felix says, trying to keep his exhaustion from showing through. Frederik worries about much¨Ctoo much for one man, certainly¨Cand Felix hates to add to his brother¡¯s long list of worries. ¡°I¡¯ve just been busy, trying to set up another group to attempt the expedition with. I just the other day found a group that might be able to protect the caravan from those humanoid creatures: They¡¯re presently, um, proving their abilities by helping the local constable with an issue.¡±


    Frederik¡¯s expression brightens a little as he says, ¡°I¡¯m glad to see that the setback hasn¡¯t affected you too badly. I¡¯m sorry about your colleagues.¡±


    ¡°Well, I managed to save Professor Rhys. She¡¯s the one that would be most difficult to replace and, if we¡¯re correct, the one that will be most useful,¡± Felix responds, glancing down into the bag he pulled the scroll box from just before. Within is a strange lump of metal, found when the town of Tarn¡¯s Rest was first being built. Unknown purpose, a piece of something larger, but certainly of the same material as the ancient Monteith relics. It is the reason that Aderyn is here in the first place.


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re alright¨C¡± Frederik begins, but Felix cuts him off.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he says, harsher than he intended. He takes a deep breath and sighs, apologizing once he sees his brother¡¯s worried expression, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I just grow weary from talking about them. They were friends and colleagues, but it cannot be helped now. I would rather focus my grief on making their deaths worthwhile.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Felix,¡± Frederik says, his tone heartfelt. He decides to change the subject and asks, ¡°So, that group you say you found, what are they like?¡±


    ¡°Ah, well,¡± Felix stammers, glancing away like a child who has been caught playing with something dangerous, something they are not supposed to be playing with. ¡°They¡¯re an odd bunch. Very, erm, diverse.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re all Loxian citizens, yes? From the mainland?¡± Frederik asks, voice exasperated. ¡°Felix, don¡¯t tell me¨C¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault, everyone here is some kind of pick-swinger or box-mover,¡± Felix responds back, agitated. ¡°These people are rough sailors and ex-military officials, they will actually be able to fight back against those things.¡±


    ¡°¡®Rough sailors?¡¯ Felix, you aren¡¯t telling me that they¡¯re not just foreigners, but vagabonds and criminals as well,¡± Frederik laments. ¡°You know how Flint feels about this.¡±


    Felix sneers, knowing full damn well how Flint feels about it, alright. Bitterly, he says, ¡°They are the best that I can find in this backwater village. And Flint¡¯s whole crusade to keep the other lands out of this is foolish¨C¡±


    ¡°Heard my name. Oh, hey little bro!¡± Says a deep voice. A third man steps into frame, much taller and broader than either Felix or Frederik: He is handsome, with features that line up with the other two. His smile is broad and confident, devoid of the worry and the exhaustion of his brothers.


    ¡°Flint,¡± Felix says curtly in greeting.


    ¡°We were just discussing the expedition,¡± Frederik explains.


    ¡°Any luck finding something other than laborers out there?¡± Flint asks, smirking up at Felix.


    ¡°Maybe. They¡¯re being stress-tested right now,¡± Felix says, tone short, expression flat.


    ¡°Told you, I could just send a regiment out there,¡± Flint says dismissively.


    Felix can feel his eye twitch but he holds it together. Through grit teeth he says, ¡°You¡¯re the one who doesn¡¯t want to cause a scene and get the other regions of Vale involved, brother. I told you before that sending in a visible military presence would cause people to start talking more than they already are.¡±


    ¡°You also said that you could find some people and disguise it as just some nerd expedition,¡± Flint reminds him, tapping a large finger against his bicep in a slow, rhythmic beat. A habit that has irritated Felix since the three were children.


    ¡°I can but it would be a lot easier if I could recruit anyone here instead of just native Loxians,¡± Felix argues.


    ¡°No!¡± Flint says, voice rising for emphasis. ¡°Anyone we don¡¯t have documentation on could be a spy from one of the other regions. Whatever is on that stupid rock is ours to find, we can¡¯t trust any of the other countries getting to it first or finding out what it is.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t even know what it is yet!¡± Felix spits back angrily. ¡°The third era is over Flint, the war is finished. We should be building bridges, not walls!¡±


    ¡°Easy for someone who spent the whole time reading books and discussing philosophy to say,¡± Flint growls, face reddening. ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time before the next stupid reason to kill one another shows up and we will not be caught out this time.¡±


    ¡°Your paranoia will be the next stupid reason¨C¡± Felix begins, but Frederik finally speaks up.


    ¡°Silence!¡± He says sternly. Both Felix and Flint immediately stop, looking away in shame. There is a reason that Frederik is the ruler and not them; a reason that is easy to forget because of his caring, worrisome demeanor.


    After a moment, Frederik continues speaking, this time softer and more appeasing, ¡°Felix has assured me that he has found a capable group of individuals. You said that you are going to set out again once the snow thaws: Is that correct, Felix?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Felix answers, head down.


    ¡°Then this discussion is closed. Keep us updated and, please, be careful,¡± Frederik says.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Flint adds, simply.


    ¡°I will. Goodbye,¡± Felix mutters, flicking his hand across the surface of the scroll and causing the image to scatter into dust, leaving the page blank once more.


    His head throbs and he glances at the bed, knowing that his anger will not let him find peace in sleep. Leaving his magical materials out on the desk, he stands up with an agitated groan and starts toward the door.


    After dealing with his brothers, a drink sounds fantastic.

 Chapter Ten

    ¡°Do you think he really expected to have guests out here?¡± Wren asks, starting their way up the staircase to the third floor.


    ¡°I¡¯m going off the assumption the old guy had sand in his ears,¡± Cashew remarks, taking one last glance down the dark hallway the two have just come from.


    ¡°¡®Sand in his ears?¡¯¡± Wren repeats, looking over the side of the staircase, expression puzzled.


    ¡°Y¡¯know. Guy was nuts,¡± Cashew clarifies, starting up the stairs after them.


    ¡°Well, I guess you of all people would be able to recognize if someone is nuts,¡± Wren jokes.


    ¡°That¡¯s racist,¡± Cashew chides.


    ¡°Wha¨Cbecause your name is Cashew. Nuts. Get it?¡± Wren tries to clarify, unsure if the Halfling is being serious or not.


    Cashew squints back at Wren judgingly, ¡°Uh-huh. Oh, I got it.¡±


    Wren sighs and continues to ascend to the third floor.


    The second floor of the manor¡¯s East wing, it turns out, is made up almost entirely of guest bedrooms, many of which seem to have never been touched. The two combed through the rooms carefully: Wren opened their aura to detect anything that might be enchanted or magical, while Cashew tapped and knocked on the walls and checked in dressers and under beds, looking for any kind of hidden compartments or other secrets. The search came up entirely empty, though the two wonder if Tarn ever had any kind of guests over, or if he just expected to at some point. After all, why have guest rooms when you don¡¯t have any neighbors on the entire rest of the continent?


    The third floor hallway is similar to the second floor: Just a long, straight hallway with doors on either side. Unlike the second floor, which had several doors leading to the small guest bedrooms, this floor only has two doors facing each other in the very center of the hall.


    Wren hums, looking from one identical wooden door to the other. Tepidly, they ask, ¡°Well, uh, left or right?¡±


    ¡°Got a coin?¡± Cashew asks in response.


    Wren smiles and fishes a copper piece out of their bag, musing, ¡°Let the fates decide. I respect that.¡±


    ¡°Whatever, racist,¡± Cashew mutters, looking off down the hall. Wren still can¡¯t decide if he is joking or not. ¡°Heads is left, tails is right.¡±


    Wren flips the coin, hearing the metallic ringing sound as the metal spins in the air before coming back down. They catch it and slam it onto the backside of their other hand. After a brief pause for effect, they reveal: Tails.


    ¡°Sweet,¡± Cashew says and reaches out, grabbing the doorknob. However, it doesn¡¯t turn. After a few seconds of awkward silence, Cashew remarks, ¡°I blame you.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t lock the stupid door,¡± Wren argues, huffing.


    ¡°Just sayin¡¯: It was your coin,¡± Cashew counters, reaching into one of the many interior pockets of his baggy clothes. He procures a few small, thin pieces of metal: One flat and curved sharply in an L-shape and the other long and thin, with a slight bend near the tip. The former slides into the bottom of the lock by its short end, carefully providing pressure as the latter moves inside and feels along the top, searching for the tumblers. As one tumbler is pushed up into place and catches, Cashew uses the L-shaped piece of metal to keep the lock turning, holding the depressed tumblers in place as he searches for the next one in line.


    Wren peeks around Cashew¡¯s back, a look of genuine surprise on their face. They let out a low whistle and say, ¡°That¡¯s handy. Do you think you could teach me how to use those things? I¡¯ve always wanted to learn. For, uh, reasons.¡±


    ¡°You think your cop buddy would like that?¡± Cashew asks, attention set on his work.


    ¡°Kaz isn¡¯t police of me,¡± Wren huffs slightly, crossing their arms. ¡°So, could you? Teach me, that is?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t deal with racists,¡± Cashew says, smirking a little as the second to last tumbler falls into place.


    Wren sighs and says, ¡°What if I apologize for offending you? I didn¡¯t mean to, but if I did, I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    The lock clicks and the door cracks open ever so slightly. Cashew glances back at Wren and says, ¡°You¡¯re way too easy. Tell you what, you teach me how you do that and maybe we¡¯ll swap tricks. Business transaction, yeah?¡± He motions toward the floating orb of light by Wren¡¯s head.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll help you learn how to do it, but I can tell you how it works for me,¡± Wren says, making the tiny moon-orb bounce up and down playfully.


    ¡°Deal,¡± Cashew mutters, turning back to the door. He carefully pushes it open.


    Inside, as the two expected, is a bedroom. This one is expansive, unlike the smaller guest rooms downstairs, with lots of personal details that the others lack. The personal details in this room are of surprising interest, however: Military-style maps of different areas are on the walls, as well as various paintings, most showing battles or soldiers. A couple different suits of armor and a multitude of weapons are presented proudly, as are several different scrolls and medals indicating accolades from the King of Kattelox himself.


    The remainder of the room consists of ornate furniture, including a large bed that doesn¡¯t look as if it has ever been used. The dressers contain clothing and personal effects that look to have been untouched since finding themselves in this room.


    Near one of the suits of armor, preserved in a glass case, is a plaque. Wren makes their way over to it and begins reading out loud, as Cashew moves along the edges of the room, tapping to try and find any trace of false walls or other secrets:


    ¡°By decree of King Frederik Thorburn, this plaque commemorates Andrew Southgate, proud soldier of Kattelox and son of General Tarn Southgate. Andrew fought valiantly for his country and fell during the Battle of Vorominsk, upon the continent of Phyleris, on the date of Rahn 17th, 1993 3E. As his remains could not be reclaimed, this plaque exists in their place.¡±


    Cashew stops tapping at the walls and floors long enough to walk over and stare at the plaque next to Wren. ¡°So this all belongs to Tarn¡¯s dead kid?¡± He asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s a shrine,¡± Wren says sadly.


    Cashew frowns and looks around at everything, including the never-used furniture. In a soft tone, unlike him, he asks rhetorically, ¡°The old man never got over it, did he?¡±


    ¡°Some people really love their children,¡± Wren mutters, looking at the displayed pieces of armor with a stony expression.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cashew agrees softly, looking away. The somber, awkward moment stretches on for several seconds before Cashew finally says something else, ¡°Is any of this stuff magical?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± Wren says. Their eyes begin to glow with the same light as the mote that circles their head. Cashew can track their gaze, which illuminates everything they look upon, like a pair of small hooded lanterns.


    ¡°Well?¡± Cashew asks.


    ¡°A couple of the weapons and the armor are enchanted. Not sure what kinds of magic, but the auras seem strong,¡± Wren says. ¡°Probably worth quite a bit.¡±


    Cashew considers this. ¡°I¡¯m not opposed to graverobbing, but taking this stuff feels¡­ not great,¡± he finally admits. ¡°Besides, we probably wouldn¡¯t be able to find any buyers in town. Doesn¡¯t look like anything we could use, either.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, good point. We¡¯d totally take it otherwise!¡± Wren exclaims, crossing their arms.


    ¡°Oh bet,¡± Cashew says, unable to help from cracking a smile. ¡°So, anything else glow in here?¡±


    After a sweep of the room, Wren shakes their head and says, ¡°Not that I can tell. Did you find anything?¡±


    ¡°Nope. No secrets in here that I can find,¡± Cashew says, glancing back at the items on display. He adds somberly, ¡°Probably didn¡¯t want to sully the shrine to his son.¡±


    ¡°That just leaves the door across the hall to check out. You think it¡¯s Tarn¡¯s bedroom?¡± Wren asks, making their way back to the open doorway of Andrew¡¯s bedroom.


    ¡°Unless it¡¯s in the basement, I think it has to be,¡± Cashew muses. He starts to walk out of the bedroom but Wren holds their arm out, stopping him.


    ¡°Wait. The door,¡± Wren says, staring out at the closed door just across the hall. Their eyes continue to shimmer with the ability to see magical auras.


    ¡°What about it?¡± Cashew asks, squinting at it as if he can discern what Wren is seeing.


    ¡°Let¡¯s just say it¡¯s a good thing we didn¡¯t flip heads before,¡± Wren says and steps forward through the doorway. The door in front of them glows brightly, enchanted with some kind of magical effect. While Wren isn¡¯t sure what exactly the effect is, they can hazard a guess that it isn¡¯t something that they want to be on the receiving end of.


    ¡°Some kind of magical trap, huh? The old guy took his privacy seriously,¡± Cashew jokes, standing back into the room a few feet just in case something goes awry. ¡°Can you do anything about it?¡±


    ¡°I think I can dismiss whatever is on it. You, uh, might want to stand back in case it doesn¡¯t work, though,¡± Wren warns.


    Cashew, already several steps back into Andrew¡¯s bedroom, takes yet another step back behind one of the armor displays. He holds up his hand out from behind it, giving an affirmative thumbs up.


    Wren focuses on the door, silently willing whatever enchantment affecting it to dissipate. Unlike the scholars who study magic to recreate it through practiced rituals, the arcane comes to Wren unconsciously, allowing them to impose their will on the world around them. They aren¡¯t certain how they know to do these things: It just comes naturally, reflexively. Each magical effect is like flexing some kind of intangible muscle. Conjuring one of the floating orbs or seeing magical effects requires only minimal effort, while something like disrupting an enchantment requires considerably more.


    Like wind sweeping away the ashes of the former evening¡¯s fire, Wren¡¯s will wipes away the magic on the door, causing it to scatter and dissipate entirely. They take a deep breath, having held it in as they concentrated, out of habit. The last time they attempted to cleanse a magical trap was back on Kattelox and it resulted in having their eyebrows and beard singed off. Took months to grow back in and even now, their left eyebrow grows in kind of crooked.


    ¡°Door¡¯s clean,¡± they say, wiping a bit of sweat off their brow.


    ¡°Good shit,¡± Cashew says, coming out from behind the display and making their way over to the closed door. ¡°I¡¯m going to believe that you actually did something and didn¡¯t just stand here and clench your cheeks for a full minute for no reason.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate the confidence,¡± Wren mutters as Cashew tries the door, finding it unlocked.


    ¡°Don¡¯t need a lock if the door just kills you when you touch it, huh?¡± Cashew muses, pushing it open.


    Inside the room is a bedroom, similar to Andrew¡¯s, down to the displays of armor and weapons, the maps and art on the wall, and accolades in their cases. Many of the weapons and armor show clear signs of past use and, as Wren can clearly see, are enchanted much like the gear in Andrew¡¯s room¨Cand the door.


    ¡°So, robbing the son¡¯s grave felt bad. How do we feel about Tarn¡¯s stuff?¡± Wren asks, looking around in awe.


    ¡°I mean, we still probably wouldn¡¯t find someone who could afford any of it in town,¡± Cashew answers, already inspecting the furniture and walls.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± Wren grumbles, checking the maps on the wall. Their stomach sinks slightly, seeing the region where they lived drawn in detail upon one of them.


    I wonder how things would have been different if the Loxian army found our village instead of Kaz¡¯s platoon? They wonder, uncertain of how to feel about seeing a reminder of home upon the wall.


    ¡°Jackpot! Wren, come check it,¡¯ Cashew calls from the other side of the room, behind the bed.


    Wren snaps out of their pondering and walks over, seeing him kneeling down besides the head of the bed. He reaches out and raps on the floor with his knuckles: The sound that reverberates from the wood is dampened and hollow-sounding.


    ¡°Found the old bastard¡¯s little hidey-hole. Any magic on it?¡± Cashew asks.


    Wren shakes their head, seeing only the plain wood of the floor. ¡°Not that I can tell,¡± they clarify.


    ¡°Sweet as,¡± Cashew says, grinning. He takes one of his daggers and carefully uses it to pry up the wooden board, revealing a small compartment, within which sits a small chest. He glances back at Wren, who confirms that it isn¡¯t magical, before he gently lifts it out of the cubby.


    ¡°Looks locked. Oh, what do we have here?¡± Cashew mutters as he inspects the lock. He sits the chest down on the nearby desk and pulls out his lockpicks once more. Making sure his hands are clear from the front of the lock, he sticks one of the thin metal pieces inside. An audible clicking sound is heard, like a gear turning, and Wren watches in amazement as a thin, sharp needle shoots out the front of the lock, imbedding itself into one of the wooden bed posts a few feet away.


    ¡°That looks like it would have hurt,¡± Wren muses, getting a closer look at the needle. It is slick with some kind of oily film which they have no interest in touching.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, I¡¯m starting to dislike the old guy a little,¡± Cashew admits. It takes a few minutes of work, and a few failed attempts, to pick the lock, which is of a surprisingly high quality. Or perhaps not too surprising, considering the lengths Tarn took to hide whatever is inside. Eventually, however, the lock clicks and Cashew leisurely opens the chest, taking his time to savor the excitement.


    ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡± Wren asks excitedly, peeking around Cashew¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Looks like some papers. Letters, actually,¡± he answers, holding up a stack of papers. The only other thing inside the little lockbox is a nondescript metal key, which he also holds up. ¡°Any of it shine?¡±


    ¡°The key is magical. Can I see it?¡± Wren asks and Cashew hands it to them, turning his attention to the letters. Wren turns the key over and over in their hand, eyes glowing as they scrutinize the magical aura: Different types of magic glow with different colors; this one glows a soft white.


    ¡°Some kind of protection magic. I bet it¡¯s just to keep the key from rusting or getting damaged,¡± Wren finally concludes. ¡°Think it just goes to Andrew¡¯s room?¡±


    Cashew looks up from the letters, squinting at the key. ¡°Nah, the bitting is different. This looks like it¡¯s to a really heavy lock,¡± he says.


    ¡°Maybe the basement?¡± Wren muses out loud before pocketing the key. ¡°What about those letters?¡±


    ¡°No luck, they¡¯re written all stupid,¡± Cashew complains, holding them out to Wren. They look through the letters, which admittedly mean little more to them than they do to Cashew.


    ¡°I think this is written in Loxian; Addy should be able to read it,¡± Wren says.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there supposed to be some old journal with a cryptic message and a half-finished last entry for us to find?¡± Cashew asks, looking over the room with a frown.


    ¡°Maybe Addy and Dahlia found it in the library,¡± Wren ponders out loud. ¡°Oh, or it might be behind whatever this key goes to?¡±


    Cashew pouts a bit, muttering, ¡°It better be. With lots of gold that is morally unobjectionable to take.¡±


    ¡°We deserve it,¡± Wren says reassuringly, patting Cashew on the back.


    ¡°Don¡¯t touch me, racist,¡± Cashew says as the two leave the bedroom.

 Chapter Eleven

    ¡°This is the second biggest library I¡¯ve ever seen in a private residence!¡± Addy says in awe. The cavernous room takes up the entire second and third floor of the West wing of the manor: The collection is large enough to be organized into various sections based on their content, at least of what Addy can tell.


    ¡°What is the biggest?¡± Dahlia asks, returning to the very same book she was reading before Kem¡¯s surprising introduction.


    ¡°I¡¯m not actually allowed to legally say!¡± Addy says with a smile, walking over to grab one of the books off the shelf beside Dahlia.


    ¡°Neat,¡± Dahlia says with a toothy grin.


    The two turn their attention to the texts, spending the next few minutes flipping through book after book. Actually reading them in detail would be impossible, but a quick glance through the pages gives a good indication of what the book is about. To go through as much of this room as possible in a timely manner, merely looking for patterns or some kind of annotations is the best solution.


    Not one to stay quiet for very long, Addy finally decides to speak up after the two finish an entire shelf, which seemed to be entirely dedicated to geography across the different continents of Vale. She looks over at Dahlia and asks, ¡°Do you still think you¡¯ll find some kind of new flora on this continent?¡±


    Dahlia frowns, placing the books the two have already gone through in a pile off to the side for ease of organization. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she admits. ¡°But I want to see what makes this place prevent rot and decay. So I still want to go on the expedition.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t your parents send you to find stuff, though? Won¡¯t they be mad?¡± Addy asks.


    ¡°No,¡± Dahlia answers, simply.


    ¡°Well, we still don¡¯t know what kind of secrets this continent holds. We did bring along a botanist and a biologist for the expedition, initially,¡± Addy says as she moves to the next shelf, idly starting to go through the books.


    Dahlia follows suit, taking a book off the lower shelf that she can reach. ¡°Those were the people that died, right?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Addy says, her usually cheery demeanor darkening. ¡°They were my colleagues. My friends. Good people who just wanted to learn about this new land.¡±


    Dahlia reaches over and gently puts her hand on Addy¡¯s back, patting her. ¡°I am sorry. Death is natural, but loss still hurts,¡± she says, reassuringly.


    Addy smiles a little at Dahlia and says, ¡°Thank you. Have you ever lost a friend?¡±


    ¡°I have never had a friend. Except my parents,¡± Dahlia explains.


    ¡°Wha¨Cnever had a friend?!¡± Addy stammers, aghast at the notion.


    ¡°Our farm is located in a very unpopulated area of the Mushroom Coast. It is unsafe for most people. There were few other people, apart from those who came seeking ingredients. So I did not know anyone to be friends with,¡± Dahlia explains flatly.


    ¡°I thought it was common for Goblins to have large families. Do you not have any brothers or sisters?¡± Addy asks, curious.


    ¡°My birth was difficult,¡± Dahlia explains. ¡°So I was the first and last.¡±


    Addy places a gentle hand on Dahlia¡¯s shoulder and smiles, saying, ¡°Well, you know that I¡¯m your friend, right?¡±


    Dahlia responds by giving Addy a perplexed look and asks, ¡°You are? But we have only just met.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter. There¡¯s no hard rule on how long it takes to become someone¡¯s friend!¡± Addy says excitedly.


    ¡°I thought there would be a process,¡± Dahlia says, still confused.


    ¡°Do you like being around me?¡± Addy asks


    ¡°It is enjoyable,¡± Dahlia answers.


    ¡°Do you trust me?¡± Addy asks.


    ¡°You have not given me a reason to distrust you,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°Well, I like being around you and I trust you. All it takes to be someone¡¯s friend is to be their friend!¡± Addy surmises.


    ¡°You are certain you want to be my friend?¡± Dahlia asks, unaccustomed to this kind of interaction.


    ¡°Mmhm. I think you¡¯re really neat! And I¡¯m sure everyone else considers you a friend, too!¡± Addy says with a smile. She is absolutely the type of person who has never met someone that isn¡¯t immediately a friend, until proven otherwise. Dahlia is no exception.


    While she still does not fully understand, Dahlia cannot help but feel happy at Addy¡¯s words. ¡°Thank you, friend Addy,¡± Dahlia says, returning her smile.


    ¡°See! That¡¯s all it takes,¡± Addy says and lifts Dahlia off her feet into a big hug.


    Dahlia stiffly allows Addy to hug her. ¡°Do friends often engage in embraces such as this?¡±


    ¡°It is called a hug and yes they do. Did your parents hug you?¡± Addy asks, still hugging.


    ¡°Yes. But I did not know that it was acceptable for friends to do, how would I have known this?¡± Dahlia answers, frowning. Despite her demeanor, she returns Addy¡¯s hug.


    ¡°There! Now we¡¯re friends!¡± Addy says cheerfully; she gently sits Dahlia back down before returning to the nearby shelf of books, beaming at the notion of having another friend.


    Dahlia follows along, grabbing a book off the shelf before asking, ¡°What are your parents like?¡±


    Addy blinks, caught off guard by the question. ¡°Huh? Why do you want to know?¡± She asks.


    ¡°We are friends. Friends share stories about themselves with one another, yes?¡± Dahlia asks, uncertain.


    ¡°Oh! Yeah, they do. Er, we do! I just haven¡¯t been asked about my parents in a long time,¡± Addy says, still a bit caught off guard.


    ¡°Why not?¡± Dahlia asks.


    ¡°Oh, because they were kind of famous at the university. They were both professors for a very long time and didn¡¯t have me until later in life. I¡¯m an only child, too,¡± Addy explains, tossing another book into the pile absently.


    ¡°¡®Were?¡¯¡± Dahlia asks.


    ¡°They both passed away some time ago. Mom went first, then Dad, about¡­ fifty-three years ago? I think?¡± Addy says, staring up into space as she does mental math.


    Dahlia stares in awe, mouth slightly open. ¡°I forgot how long it is that your kind lives,¡± she says. ¡°Still. I am sorry about your parents, friend Addy.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, but they had long lives. They were happy. Like you¡¯ve talked about, death is just a natural part of life,¡± Addy says softly.


    ¡°What were they like?¡± Dahlia asks, still curious.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°Ah, Mom was a historian! She was quiet but had a really calm presence to her. A lot of her students would call her mom¨Cit made me feel like I had siblings after all!¡± Addy recounts, smiling at the memories. ¡°People say that I remind them of Dad a lot, he liked to make bad jokes and was always smiling. He taught linguistics, which is how he and Mom met in the first place. They would often go to each other for information. Mom said he got on her nerves initially because he talked so much, but I guess she warmed up to it eventually.¡±


    Dahlia listens contently, still flipping through the books as Addy goes on about her parents and her upbringing. It is nice to be able to listen to someone else instead of just listening to her own thoughts, for once.


    ¡°What about your parents?¡± Addy asks.


    Dahlia pauses, staring at the same page and not saying anything for a few moments. Finally, she tepidly says, ¡°Friend Addy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah?¡± Addy answers, confused.


    ¡°Would it make me a bad friend if I did not want to talk about my parents?¡± Dahlia asks quietly.


    ¡°Of course not! If it¡¯s a hard thing to talk about, you don¡¯t have to. Communicating that boundary politely makes you a good friend,¡± Addy explains.


    ¡°I am not used to being away from home. I miss them,¡± Dahlia says sadly.


    ¡°That¡¯s okay,¡± Addy says comfortingly. ¡°Maybe after all this is over, I can come with you to visit them and you can tell them you¡¯ve made a bunch of friends on your travels!¡±


    ¡°I think they would like that. Thank you, friend Addy,¡± Dahlia says, this time initiating a hug as she wraps her arms around the much taller Elf¡¯s waist.


    Addy chuckles a little and leans down, hugging the little Goblin back. ¡°Of course, that¡¯s if we ever get out of this library. Have you noticed any kind of pattern or anything yet?¡± She asks.


    Dahlia lets go of the hug and shakes her head, frowning. ¡°I have not. There are a lot of different topics, but they are not strange topics,¡± she says.


    ¡°No, they¡¯re not. Everything so far has been, well, just about what you would expect from a library like this. Lots of history and stuff about the war, but we¡¯ve gone through everything from food recipes around the world to nursery rhymes,¡± Addy muses, deep in thought.


    ¡°It is hard to find a pattern going book by book. Perhaps if we could see the entire library at once and see the different sections,¡± Dahlia suggests.


    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s a great idea!¡± Addy exclaims.


    ¡°I am aware, that is why I said it,¡± Dahlia says. ¡°But how do we accomplish that?¡±


    ¡°I have an idea,¡± Addy says excitedly. She digs around in her shoulder bag, once again pulling out the strangely-made, sleek gloves that she used back in the bathroom downstairs.


    ¡°What are those?¡± Dahlia asks curiously.


    ¡°They¡¯re gloves made by the Monteith, very advanced technology! I was going to explain it to Cashew and Kaz but they make weird faces when I talk for too long so i stopped but anyway the Monteith developed a type of microscopic robot called a nanite which could perform all kinds of different tasks including taking apart matter and repurposing it¨C¡±


    ¡°Recycling,¡± Dahlia interrupts, understanding.


    ¡°Yeah!¡± Addy says excitedly. ¡°These gloves control the nanites, which use harvested minerals as building blocks and the remaining matter as fuel to create constructs, made up of the harvested minerals and the nanites themselves, which I can control using the gloves!¡±


    Dahlia wrinkles her nose. ¡°Technology? Like the machines in the capital city that we would see when we would have to make deliveries of ingredients? They make the land sick and people lazy,¡± she mutters.


    ¡°Kind of, but the technology of the Monteith was way more advanced!¡± Addy exclaims.


    Dahlia merely grumbles at this prospect, but says nothing to avoid upsetting her friend.


    Addy moves her hands and fingers oddly as the gloves crackle with a blue energy. Dahlia watches in uncertain awe as bits of material coalesce from the nearby floor, shelves, books, and anything else inanimate. The swirling mass shimmer and contorts, forming into a shimmering, spherical construct. An eye-like lens appears on the front of it and glows a bright blue; the thing beeps and whirs, floating into the air as if by magic.


    Dahlia wonders what the thing tastes like.


    ¡°This is UNA-01! Universal Navigation Assistant. Number One!¡± Addy exclaims. She reaches into her bag for her visor but realizes that she deconstructed it by accident; after she removes her glasses, a wave of her hands sees it once again appear, already covering the top part of her face.


    ¡°What does the ball do?¡± Dahlia asks warily.


    ¡°I can see what UNA sees, thanks to these neat glasses,¡± Addy explains. UNA chirps and floats up toward the ceiling, its eye rotating down to look at the library from above. ¡°This way we¡¯ll get a birds-eye view of all the books, to see if there is a pattern.¡±


    Dahlia believes she would have preferred to have an actual bird for this, but remembers that there are no birds on this strange land. Somehow, that makes her even more upset.


    ¡°What do you see?¡± She finally asks, trusting in her friend despite disliking every ¡°machine¡± she has come into contact with in her life.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­¡± Abby murmurs, seemingly staring off into space. Though, Dahlia can¡¯t see her eyes due to the visor, which is a bit unsettling. ¡°Okay, I can make out some sections. Folklore, some physical sciences, oh! A pretty big section on herbalism, you might like that, Dahlia! Some cultural books, alchemy books, a¨Chuh,¡± she mutters, going quiet.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Dahlia asks, a little worried.


    ¡°On the third floor, there are a couple bookcases against the wall that have books with titles that are just gibberish. Strange¡­¡± Addy mumbles, leaning in slightly as if trying to get a better look. ¡°It looks like there¡¯s something behind the shelves. A doorway? Or maybe just a little alcove.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m on it,¡± Dahlia says, already climbing up one of the nearby ladders to the third floor landing.


    ¡°UNA, keep an eye out,¡± Addy orders. The floating orb beeps and whistles, hovering over to stay a few feet from Dahlia, protectively scanning the area.


    ¡°Which shelves are they?¡± Dahlia calls out.


    ¡°Northwest corner, second and third from the wall!¡± Addy calls back.


    Dahlia nods and makes her way over to the shelves, carefully approaching them. Sure enough, none of the books on either of the two cases have coherent titles in any language, just a series of odd symbols. Barely visible from directly in front of the shelves, there seems to be a space behind the two, hidden from all but the most intense scrutiny.


    Cautiously, Dahlia reaches out and touches one of the books. She goes to pull it off the shelf but realizes that she can¡¯t¨Cthe book seems to be stuck, part of the shelf somehow. She can, however, push it in slightly, though it just pops back out.


    ¡°They¡¯re not even real books, are they?¡± Addy calls out from below. ¡°Can you move the bookcases?¡±


    Dahlia pushes on one, but it doesn¡¯t budge in the least. ¡°No,¡± she says loudly. ¡°They¡¯re heavy. I think they¡¯re weighted down or maybe secured to the floor.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Maybe it¡¯s some kind of puzzle!¡± Addy yells out excitedly. ¡°I bet the symbols in the books are some kind of code! Maybe if we deciphered it, there would be some pattern of books that we could push in and make the shelves move! UNA, get closer to the books so we can¨C¡±


    Ignoring Addy¡¯s excited postulating, Dahlia simply reaches out and puts a small hand on each book case. She mutters something, a bit of magical recitation taught to her by her parents, and her little clawed hands glow with a sickly green light. Addy goes quiet on the floor below, watching through UNA as the shelves begin to react to Dahlia¡¯s touch. At first the wood blanches as if the very color is decaying from it, before it begins to rot at a rapid pace. The solid matter grows soft, warping slightly before it begins to dry out and harden once again, calcifying and flaking off, turning to dust. This wave of rapid decay spreads out from Dahlia¡¯s touch, causing both bookshelves to crumble and dissolve into ashen piles in a matter of moments.


    Addy realizes with amazement, not horror, just what Dahlia¡¯s hug could have meant for her if Dahlia had wished ill of her. ¡°That¡¯s so cool!¡± She shouts, even more excited to have the little Goblin as a friend.


    Dahlia smiles a little to herself but says nothing as she steps forward, ash crumbling beneath her feet as she inspects the little alcove that the bookcases were hiding: It is a small arched depression into the wall, perhaps originally meant to be a depression where a little reading nook might be placed. Instead, it just has a few wooden shelves built into the depression, upon which a couple dozen books sit.


    ¡°Secret books!¡± Dahlia calls out. A second later, she can hear Addy ascending the ladder excitedly. Dahlia takes a couple of the books that are written in Common or Erynese, though most of them are written in languages she doesn¡¯t recognize.


    ¡°Secret books are my favorite!¡± Addy says as she steps up beside Dahlia, her visor lifted up and resting atop her head. ¡°Oh, there are a bunch, too.¡±


    ¡°What languages are the others in?¡± Dahlia asks.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see, there are a few in Loxian, some in Indiric¨Cthere¡¯s even a couple in Zhevni. Most of them are in Phyleran, though,¡± Addy answers, flipping through them all. Her brow furrows as she reads through the different titles and pages.


    ¡°What do you think it means? About Tarn?¡± Dahlia asks, her expression the same as Addy¡¯s.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure. But I feel like we need to get back to the others and tell them, before they stumble upon something bad,¡± Addy says.


    Dahlia nods in agreement and starts down the ladder. Addy follows after her, instructing UNA to follow along just in case. They leave the couple dozen books where they found them in the secret alcove, each one full of information about a very specific topic:


    Magical curses and diseases.

 Chapter Twelve

    The exterior backyard of the manor is far more intricate than either Demy or Kaz expected it to be: Unlike the front yard, which is fairly bare and seems to have had very little construction done to it, the backyard is far more detailed. The river flows only a short distance from the manor itself, with a large stone pool situated between it and the back of the house. A pair of sluice gates allow water from the river to flow into the pool and back out at a steady interval, keeping the pool full at all times.


    A large, metallic pipe leads from the back of the house and runs along the side of the pool, leading slightly downstream from the lower sluice gate. Kaz reasons that the pool, which runs up against the very edge of the house, must supply water to the interior bathroom. The pipe, then, guides the used water back out to the river, to avoid contaminating the pool.


    The rest of the backyard is set up like a fancy garden, but obviously there are no flowers or plants that grow here. Instead, there are a variety of stone sculptures placed upon the stone pathway that runs along the side of the pool where the two doors lead out from the main foyer. Various chairs, benches, and tables, made of wood much like the majority of the manor itself, line the pathway.


    ¡°Man, the rich live in their own little world, don¡¯t they?¡± Demy muses as he steps out onto the stone pathway, looking around the yard. A high stone wall surrounds the perimeter and encloses everything. The sluice gates are built into the wall itself, but are not the only break in the fence, as there is a heavy wooden gate on the side of the wall opposite the pool.


    ¡°You mean you wouldn¡¯t want to have a pool party here?¡± Kaz asks teasingly. ¡°It¡¯s surprisingly peaceful out here.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, like a graveyard is peaceful,¡± Demy grumbles. ¡°I can¡¯t get over some old dude building a mansion in the middle of nowhere and setting it up as if he¡¯d ever have guests.¡±


    ¡°Maybe he just wanted a sense of normalcy,¡± Kaz guesses with a shrug.


    ¡°Then he should¡¯ve built this back on Kattelox and saved everyone the headache,¡± Demy says as he puts his hand on one of the nearby statues, which depicts what he assumes is a Loxian soldier. The stone is cold but otherwise smooth, showing very little wear and tear from the elements. Just like everything else on this weird continent.


    ¡°I agree. Though, it was inevitable that someone would try to settle the Heart,¡± Kaz says, frowning. She ambles throughout the backyard, looking for something that would indicate an entrance to the basement, but there is no such door or opening that she can tell.


    ¡°I guess. Why hasn¡¯t someone done it before, though? I mean, people knew it was here, right?¡± Demy asks.


    ¡°Because this place is taboo,¡± Kaz answers, walking along the back wall of the manor, looking for any kind of break in the wall or odd construction.


    Demy wrinkles his nose and says, ¡°That chopped up green stuff with the grain in it? Cash has tried to get me to eat it but it looks like lawn trimmings. What¡¯s it got to do with this place?¡±


    Kaz turns to stare at Demy incredulously. ¡°Taboo. You know, off limits. Cursed. Not socially acceptable?¡±


    ¡°I mean, Cash really seems to like the stuff,¡± Demy says, slightly confused.


    ¡°No, not¨C¡± Kaz pinches the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut in exasperation. ¡°The Heart of Vale is cursed, as taught by the Nine Divines. How do you not know this?¡±


    ¡°Growing up, the only time we brought them up was to complain when something went wrong,¡± Demy says defensively. ¡°Sorry if I don¡¯t know the deep lore, mister¡­ sister¡­ priest person.¡±


    Kaz lets out a low hum of disapproval, but decides against chastising Demy. Instead, she explains, ¡°The legends say that the Heart of Vale was cursed by the Nine Deities; the reason for this was so heinous that the Nine would not speak of it. So for thousands of years, the only people who would come to this place were heathens or outlaws.¡±


    She stops and casts a sideways glance toward Demy, muttering under her breath, ¡°That seems to still be true in some cases.¡±


    Demy responds with a particularly rude hand gesture, which makes Kaz snort.


    ¡°That¡¯s why it¡¯s so hard to get people to come here and why it was such a big deal when General Southgate decided to settle here. The Loxians have taken it upon themselves to defend him, which is why they put money into Tarn¡¯s Rest and, I bet, why they¡¯re funding the expedition. Hoping to prove that he wasn¡¯t some crazy heathen for building a mansion on the continent,¡± Kaz finishes explaining.


    Demy ambles toward the center of the ¡°garden,¡± which is marked by a pedestal with a sundial atop it. The shadows cast by the sun, just now dipping past the horizon of timelessly dead trees, show that it is late in the evening, near dinner time. Demy scoffs a little, not particularly needing the ancient clock to tell him that it is near sundown, let alone that it¡¯s dinner time. His growling stomach is enough to do that.


    ¡°So, what do you think about this place?¡± Demy asks, still staring absently at the sundial.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Kaz asks in response, making her way over to the sundial as well, curious as to what he is staring at.


    ¡°You¡¯re a holy person, right? Can¡¯t you tell when something is not right?¡± Demy elaborates.


    ¡°Seems you know something about the faithful, despite your agnostic upbringing,¡± Kaz says, raising a curious eyebrow at him. Demy does not respond, merely waiting for her to answer. After a moment, she does, ¡°It¡¯s definitely tangible. I think everyone can feel it, but it¡¯s clearer for those who train to sense these things. This continent feels very sterile, very removed from the rest of the world. Like some kind of limbo where nothing lives nor dies, where the living are intruders.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a holy person, but this place has had the hair on the back of my neck on end since I stepped foot here. It smells wrong,¡± Demy grumbles.


    ¡°Are you sure you have nothing of the divine in you?¡± Kaz asks playfully.


    ¡°If I do, it ain¡¯t willingly,¡± Demy mutters.


    ¡°There¡¯s something in you, though. Isn¡¯t there?¡± Kaz asks, her voice no longer playful but stern and serious.


    Demy instinctively takes a step away from Kaz and glares at her. ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± He asks, warily.


    ¡°It¡¯s pretty easy to understand, I would think,¡± Kaz says, turning to stare directly at him. ¡°There¡¯s something in you. There¡¯s something wrong with you.¡±


    Demy scoffs dismissively and says, ¡°You¡¯re just trying to egg me on, huh? You¡¯re sore we never got to actually throw down that first night. Have you been waiting all this time just to get me alone to try your luck?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not it and you know it isn¡¯t,¡± Kaz says, eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯m not trying to fight you, I just want the truth.¡±


    ¡°I got nothing to tell you,¡± Demy warns.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°You¡¯re lying,¡± Kaz says, her eyes faintly glowing.


    ¡°So your god is cool with you interrogating your friends like some dickish town guard?¡± Demy asks, gritting his teeth.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need holy vision to tell that you¡¯re not being truthful,¡± Kaz says, crossing her arms. ¡°And I haven¡¯t decided if we¡¯re friends yet or not. I¡¯m waiting until you decide to be honest with me, because that¡¯s what friends do.¡±


    ¡°Pretty sure friends respect one another¡¯s boundaries,¡± Demy says.


    ¡°When the safety of myself and our other friends is involved, that is the boundary I draw,¡± Kaz states.


    ¡°You actually think I¡¯m dangerous?¡± Demy asks incredulously.


    ¡°You¡¯re telling me that you aren¡¯t?¡± Kaz asks. ¡°Since we¡¯ve been here, I¡¯ve not seen you carry a weapon. That wouldn¡¯t be so strange, but I¡¯m certain that you have no magical talent, either, with how you¡¯ve been fawning over Wren¨C¡±


    ¡°¨CFawning?!¨C¡± Demy chokes out.


    ¡°¨CYet you don¡¯t seem worried in the least. So either you¡¯re more dangerous than you let on, or you don¡¯t care about your well-being. Either way, I find it concerning,¡± Kaz finishes.


    ¡°This is why I didn¡¯t want to do this, but that stupid noble asshole would¡¯ve turned us in otherwise!¡± Demy growls. ¡°All because Cash had to try to steal an empty fucking purse!¡±


    ¡°I just want to know that I can trust you. If you need help¨C¡± Kaz starts, but she is interrupted as Demy punches one of the nearby stone statues out of frustration. To her surprise, the heavy stone crumbles at his punch, disintegrating into countless chunks and pieces of debris.


    ¡°I knew you¡¯d stick your goddamn nose into my business the second I met you!¡± Demy snarls, taking out the rest of the statue with one well-placed, heavy kick. He turns to Kaz, eyes glowing a deep red, teeth bared. ¡°You want to know if I¡¯m fucking dangerous?¡±


    Kaz raises her hands up, palms out, showing that she has no intent to fight. ¡°Demy, I just want to know if I can trust you. And that¡¯s because I want you to trust me,¡± she says.


    ¡°Oh, I trust you all right. I trust you to not leave it alone! You want the truth? I am dangerous!¡± He shouts, taking a step toward her. ¡°And I try to keep that under control, but everywhere I go, people prod and poke and point! I hide and I drink and I try to keep my head down but nobody will leave it the fuck alone!¡±


    He takes another stomping step toward Kaz, seeming to tower over her. She can sense the¨Cwhatever is wrong with him strongly now as the dark, inhuman anger radiates off him in waves. She instinctively puts her hand on the hilt of her sword, feeling the same fear that she felt back when the two first met and were prepared to stand off against one another. An unnatural, irrational fear of facing down something dangerous, something feral.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight you, Demy,¡± she says sternly, standing her ground.


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± He snarls, his clenched teeth longer and sharper than they were before, his eyes full of rage. ¡°You¡¯re just like everyone else! You won¡¯t leave me alone and keep pushing until it¡¯s too late!¡±


    ¡°Demy¨C¡±


    Her words fall on deaf ears as Demy takes a swipe at her with a hand now tipped with sharp claws. She steps back from the blow, avoiding it as she draws her sword and raises it defensively. Just in enough time, as it turns out, as Demy swings another clawed hand toward her, but she manages to swat it away with her sword, leaving a gash across his palm in the process.


    ¡°Bitch!¡± Demy roars.


    ¡°There¡¯s something dark in you and you have to fight it,¡± Kaz says, slowly backing away from him


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?!¡± He yells out, stalking after her. ¡°You think I¡¯m not fighting it every second of every day?!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just asking to understand what you¡¯re going through! I want to help you, that¡¯s what friends do,¡± Kaz says, trying to plead to him.


    ¡°That¡¯s what they always say, but then the guards come, then the chains get brought out!¡± Demy argues back, his low and guttural voice even deeper, angrier.


    Kaz moves around the large central sundial, trying to put something between herself and Demy. She truly doesn¡¯t want to fight him, but she¡¯s afraid that if she tries to use her divine magic to subdue him, that he¡¯ll retaliate too quickly. He¡¯s too close, too focused on her; she has no opening and knows that if he gets his hands on her, she¡¯ll crumble just like that statue did.


    Demy seems to realize that she is stalling for time, looking for an out, and he pounces at her opportunistically. His leap puts him on top of the sundial, in prime position to leap upon her and tear her to shreds. He can see the surprise and fear in Kaz¡¯s eyes, a look he¡¯s seen before in the final moments of others, moments before the light within gets snuffed out forever. It makes him angrier for some reason and it¡¯s hard to think, hard to form even a simple, coherent thought. Some part of him, deep down, is screaming to relax, to calm down, but it¡¯s too late. He let himself get too upset, let himself get irritated for no reason, and now¨C


    The sundial shifts, stone on stone grinding, as the circular top begins to spin slowly.


    Demy perches atop it, his anger momentarily forgotten and expression uncertain as he slowly spins around with the sundial. Going around once, twice, three times. He stops suddenly, facing Kaz once again as the sundial presumably reaches the end of its rotation.


    On the other end of the backyard, the sluiceways shift. The one upstream closes and the one downstream opens, letting the water that fills the large pool rush out in a deafening roar.


    Kaz sees her opportunity. She holds her hand out toward Demy and utters a silent prayer, rewarded by a faint, golden halo of light that appears around his head. Demy blinks, already confused and out of sorts from the shifting of the sundial. He can feel himself relaxing, feel the anger leaving him. His frustrations, insurmountable and enraging moments prior, now seem trivial.


    His bestial features recede, eyes returning to their normal color as he plops down heavily on the sundial, staring off into space in indifferent dissociation. A moment later, the halo fades away; his eyes once again regain focus and he looks around, momentarily disoriented. Kaz can see realization hit him and he looks at her sheepishly, flustered.


    ¡°You¨Chas anyone ever told you that you¡¯re really annoying?¡± He asks, shoulders slumped in guilt.


    ¡°A few times,¡± Kaz says, letting out a sigh of relief. ¡°So, uh. You got a little upset there.¡±


    Demy looks away shamefully and says, ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I try not to think about it, or else I get frustrated and, and¨C¡±


    She puts her hand on his shoulder, the metal of her gauntlet clinking brightly in contrast to the roar of the rushing water leaving the pool. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I pushed you to that. I¡¯m not trying to persecute you for whatever that was, I just want to make sure everyone is safe,¡± she explains calmly. ¡°And that includes you.¡±


    Demy looks up at her, seeming very much like a dog who got into the trash despite knowing better. ¡°I almost really hurt you,¡± he says softly.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not going to push you about it. But you need to be honest with me, and everyone, so we don¡¯t accidentally do something that will set you off again,¡± she says.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he says guiltily. ¡°I¡­ Cash knows. But I don¡¯t like to tell people, it¡¯s my problem¨C¡±


    Kaz crosses her arms and gives him a stern look.


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± he says, getting up off the sundial. ¡°I¡¯ll, it¨Cit¡¯s a long story. Let me psych myself up for it and when we get back to town, maybe, yeah.¡±


    Kaz considers this for a long moment before nodding. ¡°Alright. That¡¯s fair,¡± she says.


    Demy nods and looks away again, frustrated and ashamed and maybe just a bit relieved. His eyes widen after a moment and he points to the now-empty pool. ¡°Hey, you see that?¡±


    Kaz turns her attention to where he is pointing, to the very end of the pool that runs up against the side of the house. At the bottom of the stone pool is a door made of heavy stone, placed so it would be basically impossible to see from above if the pool isn¡¯t drained.


    ¡°Holy Kel,¡± Kaz mutters in awe. ¡°The basement door! We found it!¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Demy says absently, before agreeing with more enthusiasm. ¡°Yeah! We did! Totally on purpose, right?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely. I¡¯m the one that noticed something off with the sundial¨C¡± She begins.


    ¡°¨CAnd it was stuck so I had to use my super cool muscles to turn it,¡± Demy finishes, posing in triumph.


    Kaz chuckles and agrees, ¡°That¡¯s exactly how it went. We weren¡¯t fighting or anything.¡±


    ¡°Of course not, why would we? We¡¯re friends,¡± Demy says.


    Kaz smiles a little and pats him on the back, saying, ¡°Yeah, we are. Let¡¯s go get the others so we can finally check out this secret, hidden basement.¡±


    ¡°That we found!¡± Demy quips cheerily as the two make their way back to the foyer in search of the others.

 Chapter Thirteen

    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it¡¯s already healed,¡± Kaz mutters as she inspects Demy¡¯s hand, her brow furrowed as she traces the faint¨Cand still yet fading¨Cscar across his palm. It is the only remnant of the wound she inflicted with her sword less than ten minutes prior.


    ¡°Yeah, it does that,¡± Demy responds, a bit uncomfortable by Kaz scrutinizing his hand. ¡°One of those things clipped my shoulder earlier; I was just going to let it go but Dahlia healed it first. I didn¡¯t have the heart to tell her not to.¡±


    ¡°Handy little trick,¡± Kaz admits and drops his hand. ¡°I¡¯ll remember to save my prayers for if you¡¯re really hurting, then.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, thanks,¡± Demy says sarcastically. ¡°It¡¯s kind of obnoxious. Do you know how hard it is for me to get drunk?¡±


    ¡°Moderation is virtuous,¡± Kaz says simply, scanning the foyer for the others. It is empty, however: She and Demy are the first to return.


    ¡°If the Nine ever do anything good for me, maybe I¡¯ll take that under consideration. Until then,¡± he muses, taking his flask from his jacket pocket and downing the rest of it. He shakes it a little, only a scant drop or two coming from the upturned container. Annoyed, he says, ¡°Damn, I wonder if I have time to go refill it from those casks in the pantry before the others get here.¡±


    The sound of a door opening causes him to groan in exasperation.


    ¡°Yo, Demy! Oh, hey officer,¡± Cashew greets as he trots down the stairs, giving Kaz a mocking smirk.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a cop, you twerp,¡± Kaz shoots back, giving the Halfling a small, playful shove. ¡°I was a captain in the army, it¡¯s not the same.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh, very different,¡± Cashew says, rolling his eyes.


    ¡°You guys are never going to believe what we found,¡± Wren says with a big smile.


    ¡°Pretty sure that¡¯s our line,¡± Demy says.


    ¡°Did you find the basement?¡± Wren asks curiously.


    ¡°We found the basement door, yes,¡± Kaz answers with a smile. She and Wren high five¨Cor mid five, really, considering their height difference.


    ¡°I bet that it¡¯s locked! Right?¡± Cashew says with a knowing grin.


    ¡°Uhh,¡± Demy mutters, looking over at Kaz.


    ¡°Well, we didn¡¯t actually¡­ check,¡± Kaz says sheepishly.


    ¡°You¨Cwhat?!¡± Both Wren and Cashew exclaim loudly, simultaneously.


    ¡°I mean, we saw the door,¡± Demy says, defensively.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t go check to see if it was locked?¡± Cashew practically yells.


    ¡°It was in the pool,¡± Kaz says simply. As if that explains their actions perfectly.


    ¡°Oh well that explains it,¡± Wren says with a snort. ¡°Kaz hates water, I mean hates it, so there¡¯s no way she¡¯d check it if it was under water.¡±


    Demy goes to say something but Kaz puts her hand over his face, shushing him in the process. Quickly, she says, ¡°Look, I don¡¯t trust pools. Their depth is deceptive, they¡¯re basically death traps.¡±


    ¡°So what, we gotta swim down to it?¡± Cashew asks.


    Kaz pauses for a second, looking away. ¡°We figured out how to drain the pool. It should be empty by the time we go back out there,¡± she lies.


    Wren squints a little and leans in, staring up at her. Suspiciously, they say, ¡°Wait a minute, you drained it already and just didn¡¯t think to check the door, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°You suck at lying,¡± Demy mutters as he swats her hand out of his face.


    ¡°Water doesn¡¯t deserve the truth,¡± Kaz argues. ¡°Anyway, you asked if the door was locked. How do you know it¡¯s locked?¡±


    ¡°Because we found this really cool old key!¡± Wren answers, fishing it from their pocket and holding it up triumphantly.


    ¡°If that isn¡¯t a ¡®Secret Basement of a Creepy Old Mansion¡¯ key then I don¡¯t know what is,¡± Cashew says affirmingly.


    ¡°Did I hear ¡®Secret Basement of a Creepy Old Mansion?¡¯¡± Dahlia asks as she and Addy appear, descending the staircase to the others. She adds, ¡°Cool key.¡±


    ¡°You did, and thanks! We found it in a secret lock box in Tarn¡¯s bedroom,¡± Wren brags.


    ¡°We found a secret shelf full of books on magical curses and diseases!¡± Abby says excitedly.


    Demy blanches at her words. Kaz and Cashew both give him a discreet glance.


    ¡°Well we found the basement door; we had to solve a puzzle to reveal it,¡± Kaz adds proudly.


    ¡°Yay! We all did good!¡± Abby says happily.


    ¡°The key and the door make sense. But the books we found make me worry about what¡¯s down there,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°Why would the General be researching such a thing?¡± Kaz asks.


    ¡°A better question is why he would hide that he¡¯s researching it,¡± Cashew points out. He blinks and looks at Wren, saying, ¡°Hey, that¡¯s right. Those letters.¡±


    ¡°Oh! I almost forgot about them,¡± Wren says, digging the batch of letters out of their bag. ¡°Addy, we found some letters written in Loxian in the secret compartment that had the key in it. Can you read them?¡±


    ¡°I can try!¡± Addy says, holding her hands out. She takes the letters from Wren and opens them, scanning them gingerly. ¡°Looks like Tarn was in communication with¡­ Oh! Professor Abney!¡±


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Dahlia peeks up at the letters from beside Addy. ¡°Do you know them?¡± She asks.


    ¡°I do! Professor Abney was on the expedition team. She volunteered, now that I think about it,¡± Addy says.


    ¡°Sounds like she knew more than she let on,¡± Wren says.


    Cashew mutters under his breath so that Addy doesn¡¯t hear, ¡°I bet most of the expedition crew were like that.¡±


    ¡°Why would Tarn be contacting them?¡± Kaz asks.


    ¡°Professor Abney was the head of our alchemy department,¡± Addy explains. ¡°It looks like her and Mr. Tarn were talking about some kind of possible cure.¡±


    ¡°Cure?¡± Demy asks, suddenly looking up. He reaches out and puts a hand on Addy''s shoulder in an attempt to focus her attention, his expression serious as he asks, ¡°Cure for what?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure!¡± Addy says, looking up at the much taller Demy. ¡°They were really vague in the letters, they didn¡¯t actually say.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± Demy mutters, letting his hand drop.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry Demy,¡± Addy says gently, giving the much larger man a hug. She adds reassuringly, ¡°But I bet that we¡¯ll find out if we check the basement!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. You¡¯re right,¡± Demy says, smiling a little. He pats her head, too awkward to merely return the hug, as he says, ¡°Thanks Addy.¡±


    ¡°Looks like we know what the plan is, then,¡± Kaz says. She looks at the others. ¡°We don¡¯t know what we¡¯ll run into down there, so we should be battle-ready just in case.¡±


    ¡°Always itching for a fight,¡± Cashew says with a smirk, heading toward the back doors.


    ¡°Kaz, a blessing might help if there is some kind of disease or curse,¡± Wren mentions as they and Kaz follow after Cashew.


    ¡°Good call. I¡¯ll say a quick prayer before we open the door,¡± Kaz agrees.


    Demy quietly follows after, really wishing he had the time to go grab some more ale, especially after what the others found.


    ¡°Come on UNA!¡± Addy says and looks up, seeing her little mechanical companion circling overhead. She follows after Demy, UNA softly humming as it follows after her.


    Dahlia brings up the rear, staring at the back of Demy¡¯s head, unblinking.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    The floating orbs of light created by Wren help to illuminate the bottom of the pool, which act as miniature versions of the two moons that sit high above in the dark sky, down to the size difference between the two and the particular phases of each. The sun has fully dipped behind the horizon and night has unceremoniously crept across the Heart, though with it comes none of the usual sounds of insects and nocturnal creatures. It is eerily silent, save for the noises made by the group as they make their way down into the empty stone basin.


    ¡°How did you find this door again?¡± Cashew asks. He stands in front of the secret door with his arms crossed, looking it up and down carefully for any signs of being trapped. He doubts it is, since it is hidden like this, but Tarn seemed to be a bit paranoid about anyone getting down here. The stone door is completely free of markings, presumably to not stand out from the rest of the wall: There isn¡¯t even a handle. The only indication that it is in fact a door is the slight outline, which is tough to see even right in front of the door, with the pool drained.


    ¡°Well, you see¨C¡± Demy begins, but Kaz interrupts.


    ¡°We bumped into the sundial and it drained the pool,¡± she says flatly.


    ¡°Hey, we had a whole story for how we found it!¡± Demy whines.


    ¡°Yeah and they already called us out on not actually checking to see if the door was locked,¡± Kaz says and shrugs her shoulders.


    Wren pats Demy on the back and reassuringly says, ¡°Hey, you found it, that¡¯s what¡¯s important.¡±


    ¡°But¨Cbut my muscles,¡± Demy continues to whine.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you¡¯re huge,¡± Cashew says dismissively. He walks over to the nondescript chunk of stone that serves as the door and starts inspecting it more closely, looking for some kind of lever or latch or something.


    UNA descends from above slowly, hovering just above Cashew, also inspecting the door with its bright blue eye.


    ¡°What is that thing?¡± Wren asks, watching UNA float just above Cashew¡¯s head.


    ¡°The mosquitos here are huge,¡± Demy mutters.


    Cashew hears the low hum of the construct and looks up, letting out a shout of surprise as he covers his head and ducks away from it. ¡°Addy, your stupid flying dog thing is crowding me!¡± He shouts.


    ¡°She¡¯s not a dog! Her name is UNA,¡± Addy responds, hopping down from above to the floor of the pool.


    ¡°The mosquito is a girl?¡± Demy asks, confused.


    ¡°She¡¯s not a mosquito!¡± Addy says and holds her arms out, catching Dahlia as the little Goblin falls from above.


    ¡°Thank you, friend Addy,¡± Dahlia says as Addy sits her down.


    ¡°Wait, your other dog wasn¡¯t a girl,¡± Cashew argues.


    ¡°CAM also isn¡¯t a dog! And prefers non-gendered pronouns,¡± Addy explains.


    Kaz groans and rubs her temples.


    ¡°So, any sign of the keyhole?¡± Wren asks Cashew, trying to get things back on track. For Kaz¡¯s sake, if nothing else.


    ¡°I think so,¡± he says and moves back in front of the door, keeping a wary eye on UNA. His hand slides over the smooth surface for a moment before he presses his fingers against the stone, which gives way in a neat square. The indented portion slides to the side, revealing a keyhole.


    ¡°Nice, Cash,¡± Demy says, giving a thumbs up.


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Kaz agrees.


    ¡°Yeah, well,¡± Cashew mutters, giving a dismissive shrug as he smirks victoriously.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure a petty thief such as yourself has a lot of practice finding things like this,¡± Kaz teases.


    ¡°That¡¯s profiling, officer,¡± Cashew says, giving her a rude gesture or three.


    ¡°Is it safe to use the key now?¡± Wren asks, impatiently stepping up to the door, the key already out of their bag and in their hand.


    ¡°Should be, I didn¡¯t see anything off. What about your dog, Addy?¡± Cashew asks.


    UNA lets out a few beeps as Addy and Dahlia move up to stand with the rest of the group. ¡°She says that the door looks clear and also that she is not a dog!¡± Addy exclaims with a smile.


    Wren glances back at Kaz, nodding to her. Kaz nods back and clasps her hands in prayer, bowing her head as she begins to speak:


    ¡°Holy Kelathorne, we are on mission from a just source. Bestow upon us a small blessing so that we may perform our task without fear.¡±


    A soft light shines from Kaz¡¯s amulet, washing over the others in a warm, reassuring wave. Most react in some combination of surprise, awe, and/or indifference, save for Demy, who frowns deeply but manages to keep his mouth shut, merely letting a discontent hum sound from the very back of his throat. Dahlia notices, however; she continues to stare up at him, her expression flat yet intense.


    Bolstered by Kaz¡¯s prayer, Wren doesn¡¯t hesitate to place the key within the lock and turn it. There is the sound of machinery, of cogs and wheels moving somewhere within the wall; then the square stone door shudders and depresses inward, just as the small section hiding the keyhole had done prior.


    The sound of grating stone mixes in with the sounds of clockwork machinery as the door continues to move back. It stops for a brief moment before moving to the side, sliding into a perfectly cut out space for itself and revealing a gaping opening of darkness beyond.


    Wren¡¯s lights move up to float alongside them, but they seem to struggle to penetrate the darkness, acting as little more than dim candles against the smothering wall of shadow. They manage to illuminate just enough of the entrance to reveal a set of stone steps leading down into the pitch black. UNA slides into position alongside the magical lights, shining her own light from the lens that acts as her eye.


    Even the combined effort of magic and technology does little to push back the gloom.


    From deep within, there is the very faint, brief sound of movement.


    The clinking of metal for but a second.


    The ticking of a clock, endlessly.


    And nothing else.


    The six share a worried glance before drawing their respective weapons and carefully, slowly, descending down into the abyss beneath the manor.

 Chapter Fourteen

    The staircase is a task to descend for the six, even though it is thankfully short. The heavy darkness completely swallows the light sources once inside, making it nearly impossible to see anything more than a few inches from one¡¯s face; it also seems to have some effect on sound, muffling any kind of noise made within it. Even shouting and less than a few feet from one another, the group strains to hear anything within the oppressive void.


    The stairs themselves are uneven, seemingly intentionally so, as if to make it all the more difficult to traverse safely. Thus, walking down the few dozen steps is a slow, arduous process, devoid of most sensory input. The corridor itself isn¡¯t wide enough for multiple people to stand shoulder to shoulder, so the group quickly figured out a marching order: Cashew in front, trying to feel around for anything that might stick out as dangerous; Kaz next, though her glowing armaments do little against the dark; Wren right after, though their moon-lights also struggle to cut through the shadows; Dahlia fourth, the only one who seems largely unperturbed by having to stumble down the stairs in the dark; Addy fifth, who holds onto UNA for balance as she keeps slipping clumsily; and finally Demy bringing up the rear, nose wrinkled at the musty smell of the dead air.


    Cashew has lost count of the steps, not due to how numerous they are, but because some of the steps are cut out in such a way as to barely count as one: Some were best off just ignoring, while some were so close to the previous step in height that calling it more than just a slightly uneven path would be an insult to the very concept of a step.


    Whoever made this needs to be stabbed. It was probably the old bastard, he¡¯s lucky he¡¯s already dead, Cashew thinks to himself, sneering a little. He takes another step, and¨C


    Suddenly the darkness is lighter. Sound isn¡¯t as muffled. His eyes, already adapted to the dark, take in the last couple of steps and the rectangular opening just in front of them, which seems to open into some kind of stone room.


    ¡°Well that sucked,¡± Cashew grumbles, looking back at the strange barrier where the normal darkness becomes something deeper.


    Like the sun itself cresting over the horizon at dawn, Kaz¡¯s shield passes out of the wall of shadow, blazing brightly with pure light. The bottom section of the stairs is easily illuminated by the glowing shield and, a mere moment later, the glowing sword as well. Cashew¡¯s pupils shrink in reaction to the sudden brightness and he flinches away, covering his eyes with the hood of his cloak.


    ¡°Fuck the Nine that¡¯s bright!¡± He seethes, seeing flashing stars of light behind his closed eyelids.


    ¡°Language,¡± Kaz warns, wincing a bit at the brightness. ¡°You¡¯re not wrong, though.¡±


    From behind Kaz, Wren steps out into the now-bright area and cries out, ¡°My eyes!¡±


    This pattern continues as the other three venture into the light as well. The six mill about the bottom of the steps, eyes slowly acclimating. The wall of shadow is behind them now and in front is the open doorway that leads into the large, dark room. It¡¯s impossible to tell how large the room is from here, but the light cast into it shines on nothing but stone floor, giving the impression that it is either quite large or quite empty.


    Considering the lengths taken to hide this basement, odds are that it¡¯s not just an empty room.


    Demy moves his hand into and out of the wall of murk, amazed. He asks, ¡°What causes this? Some kind of magic?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it must be magical darkness,¡± Wren answers. ¡°A lot of it. I would dispel it, but to get rid of that much would take me a few days.¡±


    ¡°Kind of a silly trap,¡± Kaz says, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed, waiting for everyone to be ready to move forward.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a trap,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, nobody would make stairs like that on purpose,¡± Cashew argues.


    ¡°The stairs could be a kind of trap, to slow down anyone who comes down here. But the darkness is for something else,¡± Dahlia says.


    Addy¡¯s eyes widen and she snaps her fingers, saying, ¡°You¡¯re right! It¡¯s not the only failsafe, either, is it?¡±


    ¡°¡®Failsafe?¡¯ What¡¯s that?¡± Demy asks, frowning.


    ¡°Dahlia and I were looking at the sundial before we hopped down into the pool. It¡¯s set to only rotate between a certain time frame, meaning it can¡¯t be used otherwise,¡± Addy explains.


    ¡°It rotated right about dusk,¡± Kaz says.


    ¡°That¡¯s when the mechanism unlocks to allow it to rotate. It stays open until sunrise, when it locks again,¡± Addy says.


    Demy¡¯s eyes widen a little as he mutters, ¡°It won¡¯t open during the day. While the sun¡¯s out.¡±


    ¡°Wait, then the magical darkness is actually to make sure that no sunlight shines down here?¡± Wren surmises.


    ¡°Mmhm,¡± Dahlia hums knowingly.


    From within the dark room, once again, the sound of movement echoes. This time it is clearly audible as it echoes off the stone walls, no longer muffled by the dampening effects of the wall of darkness.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, this waiting is killing me,¡± Cashew complains, motioning toward the doorway. The group readies themselves and, still in single file marching order, step through the threshold.


    The room inside is, indeed, quite large. It likely takes up a good third of the total perimeter of the manor above, all made of heavy stone. Odds are it sits under the entire bath house portion of the first floor, considering the material it is made up of.


    It is cold down here and dark, though the lights from the group¡¯s various abilities work just fine compared to the stairs. What is illuminated confirms some suspicions, but merely raises others: There are numerous small cells built against one wall, some of which have their doors wide open, but some of which are locked up still. A few of said locked cells have bodies within them; a large pile of bodies sit in the corner within a large bin. All of the remains, which are very much dead, have not decomposed in the least. But a closer inspection shows all of the ones within the bin in the corner to be desiccated; the ones in the cells however look thin and frail, as if starved.


    Along the other side of the room, directly opposite the small cells, is one large cell that takes up a good quarter of the basement. Unlike the others, which are little more than cages without so much as a cot, this cell is decorated well. Comfortable-looking chairs, shelves, a table, a nice bed in the corner, the works. Though, what was once nice furniture is now scattered and broken, tossed around the cell in seeming frustration and anger. There are books askew on the floor, spilled from the battered and collapsed cases, and the table has been broken into numerous pieces, many of which rest outside of the cell.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    The remainder of the basement looks like a laboratory of sorts. Bottles and various containers full of odd fluids and other materials, ingredients that should have long ago become inert or rotted away, but much like the bodies, remain free of decay as they sit on display. A variety of books and free sheafs of paper lay around, scribbled upon with ramblings and notes in the Loxian tongue.


    ¡°Everyone, be careful,¡± Kaz says softly, quietly. The six spread out slightly from the rigid single file they have been in: Addy and Dahlia wander toward the laboratory, while Wren goes over to look at the pile of bodies in the corner; Demy takes a long draught from his flask before walking over to the prison cells, his expression grim; Kaz stands in the center, providing as much light as possible for the entire room, while Cashew carefully makes his way over to the one large cell, curious about the once-nice things within it.


    ¡°This is an amazing alchemical laboratory!¡± Addy says, perhaps a bit too loud. Dahlia holds her finger up to her lips silently and Addy apologizes, ¡°Oh that¡¯s right sorry we¡¯re sneaky poops right now.¡±


    ¡°It is, though,¡± Dahlia agrees, much more quietly, as she climbs up into one of the chairs and surveys the tables. She reaches over to one of the shelves and takes a few bottles off of it, turning them over in her hands. ¡°These reagents, they come from our farm.¡±


    ¡°Really? Mr. Tarn must have been serious about whatever alchemy he was doing here, then,¡± Addy says with a smile.


    Dahlia can¡¯t help but return the smile to Addy, feeling a hint of pride.


    She turns her attention to some of the loose papers and books, which appear to be journals and research notes. She scoots a pile toward Addy, who nods in understanding and begins looking through it all, just as Dahlia takes her own remaining pile and begins sifting through it.


    On the other side of the room, Wren hops over the side of the large bin where the dozens of bodies rest. Careful not to step on any of the bodies, they kneel down and begin going through the mass of old, desiccated flesh. Some of the bodies wear rags or simple clothes, while others wear what look like guard uniforms or even mismatched gear, indicative of sellswords and adventurers. The gear of the latter seems to still be in decent shape: Wren considers trying to pack all of it out of here, but thinking of hauling all of this stuff up those mismatched steps makes them cringe.


    Yet, a lot of the gear and belongings of these people seem to have just been tossed into the bin uncaringly. More digging yields several pouches with coin still jingling within: Nothing close to a fortune, but certainly more than the average person would just leave in a bin full of the dead in the corner of a basement.


    Tarn definitely didn¡¯t have to worry about money, did he? Wren thinks grimly as they pocket the coins, along with any bit of useful gear or jewelry they can find.


    ¡°Hey, you find anything¨Care you seriously looting the dead bodies?¡± Demy asks, having ambled over from the cells nearby. He leans over the edge of the bin, plenty taller than the container itself (unlike Wren), staring down at the Dwarf as they scramble to stand, pockets full of coin and jewelry jingling in the process.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like they need it,¡± Wren argues. ¡°Tarn didn¡¯t either. It¡¯s just sat down here for a whole decade, so obviously it¡¯s up for grabs.¡±


    ¡°I mean, I¡¯m not like the cop over there, but that seems kinda, you know, shiesty,¡± Demy mutters.


    ¡°Where I come from, scavenging is a part of life, okay? Now help me out of here,¡± Wren says, holding their hands up.


    ¡°I mean, we¡¯re underground, right? This meets the criteria of a mass grave,¡± Demy argues, helping Wren to climb out of the bin.


    ¡°Shush it. The loot isn¡¯t the most important part,¡± Wren says sternly as they drop onto the solid stone floor of the basement.


    ¡°Uh-huh,¡± Demy mutters, hearing the Dwarf jingle like a tax collector prancing out of an orphanage.


    ¡°They¡¯re all desiccated,¡± Wren explains.


    ¡°They¡­ pooped themselves?¡± Demy asks.


    ¡°So close! Those bodies, all of them, they¡¯re dry. They feel like an old torch, parchment wrapped around dry wood. Something drank them like a good stout,¡± Wren says, jerking their finger back at the bodies.


    The hair on the back of Demy¡¯s neck bristles, but he says nothing.


    ¡°What about the bodies in the cells?¡± Wren asks.


    ¡°Nah, they look like they starved to death,¡± Demy says.


    ¡°Do you think after Tarn died, they just got left down here?¡± Wren asks sadly.


    ¡°That¡¯s a miserable way to go,¡± Demy says, shaking his head. ¡°Wonder if it was better or worse than how all those others died.¡±


    Frowning, the two glance over at the cells then back at the bin of bodies, wondering who all of these people were before finding their fate down here in the cold, dark basement upon a foreign, empty land, potentially never to be found. Where did Tarn even get these people?


    Across the basement, Cashew walks down the length of the single, large cell, looking at the remnants of the furniture inside. Whatever was kept in here at some point decided that it did not want to be kept in here.


    He glances back at the other side of the basement, at Demy and Wren who stand near the individual cells, where the still-fresh dead bodies lean against the bars, reaching out for freedom that never came.


    I¡¯m sorry you never got to leave your prison, he thinks sadly, knowing to some degree how they must have felt. Despite his often cynical views, and how much shit he gives to Kaz, he silently says a prayer to Elyphiss: She who welcomes the spirits of the deceased with open arms.


    He is startled out of his moment of silence by a sound, similar to the ones that the group have heard twice now: The sound of movement, followed by the sharp rattle of chains.


    Cashew jerks his attention up to where the sound is coming from, his wide eyes looking toward the far corner of the cell, behind the intact, disheveled bed. A figure is standing there, a dark silhouette on the very edge of the light cast by the divine, arcane, and technological effects by the rest of the party.


    ¡°What¡­¡± he mutters, staring at the silhouette. At first, he expects it to just be another body, propped up in the corner of the cell, but he realizes that another corpse wouldn¡¯t explain the sounds of movement. He starts to call out to the others, his eyes still locked on the figure warily, when he stops.


    A pair of red eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness, stare directly back into his. He¡¯s sure that the eyes weren¡¯t staring at him just moments before, because he certainly would have noticed them: Wide and crazed, full of animalistic, feral hunger.


    But something about them is calming. Relaxing.


    Cashew doesn¡¯t say anything as the figure slowly, quietly starts to move closer. He continues to stare at the floating red eyes, mesmerized by them. His mind screams at him to say something, to look away, to run.


    I have to look away don¡¯t look at it look away look away LOOK AWAY¨C


    Instead, he steps forward, expression slack as he leans against the bars of the cell, reaching up to hold onto them.


    The shadowy figure glides toward him, the light now faintly illuminating them. They¡¯re a person, or some kind of humanoid at least, wearing fine clothes that hang limply off its gaunt, sickly frame. The person is pale and thin, emaciated to the extreme, and Cashew can feel the ravenous hunger rolling off of it in waves, its intent evident by its bared teeth, which include long canine fangs.


    Cashew doesn¡¯t respond at all as the thing grabs onto the front of his cloak, lifting him up and off his feet, holding him at eye level with the person¨Cthe creature. As it opens its mouth wide and leans down toward his neck, Cashew realizes in full horror what this thing is and what it¡¯s about to do to him. All he can think as his eyes widen in fearful anticipation of the sinking of sharp teeth into his neck is:


    Vampire.

 Chapter Fifteen

    The pain of the vampire¡¯s bite never comes.


    A flash of light erupts beside his face, right in front of the vampire¡¯s eyes. It screeches out in pain as patches of the skin on its face boil as the luminance touches it, quickly turning to ash and flaking off. The vampire jerks back and lets go of Cashew, who drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes, his body still frozen by the creature¡¯s enchanting gaze.


    It retreats into the shadows of its cell, covering its face with its hands as it seethes with pain and frustration.


    ¡°Cash! You okay?!¡± Demy says, reaching the fallen Halfling first. He scoops Cashew up in his arms protectively, stepping away from the cage. Cashew¡¯s body is stiff; his muscles are locked up and his eyes are dazed.


    Kaz steps up between Cashew and the bars of the cell, hand held out at the bars of the cage, fingers splayed out. Her hand glows with the same bright light that halted the vampire¡¯s attempt; the light illuminates part of the cage and the creature scoots further away from it in fear. Kaz says nothing, merely staring at the vampire with cold eyes, unblinking.


    Wren runs over to Demy and Cashew, their demeanor serious as they simply ask, ¡°Kaz?¡±


    ¡°Undead. Vampire, likely,¡± she answers.


    ¡°Did it bite him?¡± Dahlia asks, making her way over calmly. Addy follows along, looking worried.


    Wren lowers Cashew¡¯s cloak hood and checks his neck while Demy continues to hold him, grimacing at what Wren might say. When they finally announce, ¡°No bite, it just charmed him,¡± Demy lets out a shaky sigh.


    ¡°Can you fix him?¡± He asks, looking over at Wren with pleading eyes.


    Wren gives him a reassuring smile before turning their attention back to Cashew. They hold their hand out toward him, focusing their intent upon him as they reach deep within, flexing the ¡°muscle¡± in their mind that draws forth the magical energy that flows through their veins. Their eyes glow white, with the light of the twin moons above, showing them the magical aura of the enchantment.


    Much like the magic upon the door to Tarn¡¯s bedroom, the spell upon Cashew¡¯s mind fractures and sways, the aura breaking apart into a million pieces and scattering back to the aether as raw mana, raw arcane energy.


    Cashew gasps, taking a deep breath as he twitches in Demy¡¯s arms. His chest heaves and his eyes flick around, wide and scared, until he realizes where he is. His breathing slows and he sighs, tiredly leaning against Demy.


    ¡°Heh, not meeting with Elyphiss today,¡± he chuckles weakly, downplaying the adrenaline rush of fear still coursing through him.


    ¡°Not today, friend,¡± Demy says with a small laugh, hugging him tightly. Cashew hugs him back, shaking slightly.


    ¡°If you got bit, you wouldn¡¯t be meeting her, anyway,¡± Dahlia says flatly.


    ¡°Are we sure that it¡¯s a vampire?¡± Addy asks, trying to peek through the bars of the cell at the creature huddled in the corner. She is held back by Kaz, who keeps her attention on the figure in the cell, ready to react without any hesitation.


    ¡°Held in a basement that blocks out sunlight, burned by holy radiance, mesmerizes victims,¡± Dahlia begins listing.


    Wren takes over, ¡°The bodies down here are all drained of blood. Add that on to what we found in the house, with the books about magical curses and diseases, and the note from Tarn about trying to find a cure.¡±


    Dahlia motions toward all the alchemical equipment and notes nearby, explaining, ¡°Which is what all of this is for. The notes are mostly failed experiments, looking for a cure to the affliction. The old human was working on it up until he died, it seems.¡±


    ¡°That makes sense,¡± Addy mutters, still trying to get a good look at the vampire despite Kaz¡¯s prevention. ¡°Mister Tarn had this manor built for his research. It¡¯s quiet and secluded, so there¡¯s nobody to get curious or get him in trouble for harboring a vampire. Maybe he was like you, too, Dahlia!¡±


    ¡°He was looking for new ingredients to try,¡± Dahlia says, nodding a little.


    ¡°So why did Tarn care about some random vampire? He built this place on some dangerous new land, spent a fortune, and even killed a bunch of people just feeding it?¡± Demy wonders aloud.


    Wren and Cashew exchange glances, but it¡¯s Kaz who finally speaks up for the first time since discovering the creature: ¡°Because it¡¯s his kid. That¡¯s Andrew.¡±


    There is a moment of silence as the six take in this information, which hangs heavily in the stale air around them. To some this is a complete surprise, but the suspicion has been growing among the group as they gradually uncovered the secrets of the manor: The mystery of the manor being built in the first place, the correspondence looking for some kind of cure, the literature covering afflictions like vampirism, the hidden basement designed to keep out sunlight, the drained bodies. Only someone desperate would go through all this, meaning the vampire in question must be someone important. Someone who Tarn would spend his fortune for, would kill for.


    ¡°But I thought he died in some battle¨C¡± Demy begins to ask, but stops. Phyleris is his home and its dangers are something he knows all too well. There is a reason that most of the books come from Phyleris, which is that such afflictions run rampant in the bogs and marshes, where few dare to tread and disease spreads unhindered.


    An old wound aches on his shoulder, but Demy fights the urge to touch it. ¡°They probably ran into a feral vampire. Or maybe even one of the Phylerian soldiers,¡± he says softly.


    ¡°He did die. Kind of,¡± Dahlia says. ¡°The old man lied so that his son wouldn¡¯t be destroyed.¡±


    ¡°That means Mister Tarn was working on a cure for at least ten years, before he died,¡± Addy says, thinking.


    Wren shakes their head in dismay. ¡°Which means that he¡¯s been down here for what, ten years?¡± They ask, looking over at Addy.


    ¡°A little over eleven,¡± she corrects.


    ¡°Stuck in a cage, alone in the dark, for eleven years? How has he not starved?¡± Demy asks, baffled.


    This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    ¡°Vampires can¡¯t starve to death. They go through withdrawals and become crazed and feral without it, but they won¡¯t die,¡± Dahlia explains.


    Demy frowns and looks at the cage. Softly, empathetically, he says, ¡°Pretty sure that¡¯s worse than dying.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more,¡± Kaz says tersely. She draws her sword, the glow from her hand seeping down the metal blade once again; she holds it out toward Andrew, who hisses and scoots farther into the corner, away from the light. The door to the cell is directly to her side and she grabs it, finding it to be locked. ¡°Cashew, open this door.¡±


    Cashew carefully slides out of Demy¡¯s grasp, steadying himself on his feet. He hesitates, however, looking from the door, to Kaz, to Andrew, and says, ¡°I mean, I know he tried to bite me and all, but are we really going to kill him?¡±


    ¡°He is already dead,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°Exactly. We¡¯re just putting him out of his misery¨Cand everyone else¡¯s,¡± Kaz says, gazing back at the pile of dead bodies in the corner.


    ¡°Miser Tarn tried for years to find a cure, though,¡± Addy says sadly.


    ¡°He just wanted to save his only family,¡± Wren mutters, staring through the bars at the huddled figure. ¡°It isn¡¯t his fault he¡¯s different, now.¡±


    Demy stands tall, expression stern as he says, ¡°Red¡¯s right, it¡¯s not his fault that he got infected. You should be trying to help him, not kill him!¡±


    Kaz glances back at Demy, her expression just as stern and serious as his own. Calmly, she explains, ¡°He has lived in misery for years. There is no cure and he is likely to infect others. Look how close he came to biting Smalls, that would¡¯ve infected him too.¡±


    Cashew rubs his neck, letting out a small groan of uncertainty before he says, ¡°I¡¯m not happy about that, no. But they¡¯re not wrong, it¡¯s not his fault if he got infected. Aren¡¯t vampires supposed to be, like, evil, though?¡±


    ¡°False,¡± Dahlia says in her usual flat, matter-of-fact tone. ¡°It might change your outlook, but being infected doesn¡¯t cause a personality shift directly. They are driven to feed off blood and spread the¨Cdisease or curse, however you want to think of it¨Cand if they don¡¯t, they go crazy and spread it anyway.¡±


    ¡°So it¡¯s not their fault, but they can¡¯t help it!¡± Addy exclaims.


    Kaz lets out an exhausted sigh, turning her gaze downward as she explains, ¡°Look, this isn¡¯t a witch hunt. I¡¯m not saying we kill¨Cdestroy¨Cthem out of malice. They¡¯re sick. They¡¯re infectious. It is not an easy decision or one to be made lightly, but letting a vampire go free to spread the sickness is not something we should do. He¡¯s dangerous, even if he isn¡¯t trying to be.¡±


    ¡°Then your answer is to just kill him?!¡± Demy asks through gritted teeth.


    ¡°That shouldn¡¯t be our first solution,¡± Wren says in agreement. ¡°We should try to think of a way to help him control himself. There has to be another way.¡±


    Kaz considers this, reaching up to rub her talisman of Kelathorne between her fingers in thought. Finally, she says, ¡°You¡¯re right, sentencing him to death should be a last resort. But if we can¡¯t find another way to help him, then that¡¯s the only option, apart from just leaving him locked up down here.¡±


    ¡°Well, first thing¡¯s first, he¡¯s kind of crazy from a decade of blood withdrawal. Can that be fixed or is he just broke?¡± Cashew asks, leaning against the nearby stone wall.


    ¡°From what those books said, a vampire can go without blood for however long, but they¡¯ll go crazy and feral. Feasting on blood again can snap them out of it, though!¡± Addy explains.


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting him bite me,¡± Cashew complains.


    ¡°I mean, we all have surplus blood, right?¡± Wren says. ¡°Make a little cut, collect some in a bowl to give to him. Kaz or Dahlia can heal the wound up after.¡±


    ¡°Man¡¯s gotta eat,¡± Demy says, happy that the conversation has moved away from outright murder. Cashew gives him a look and shakes his head discreetly, though, causing Demy to frown in confusion.


    Kaz, on the same page as Cashew, elaborates to Demy: ¡°Giving him your blood might not be a good idea. Considering, you know. Your condition.¡±


    ¡°My what? I¨Coh. Oh!¡± Demy says, finally understanding.


    ¡°¡®Condition?¡¯ Are you sick, Demy?¡± Wren asks, looking worried.


    ¡°Oh, uh, it¡¯s a long story,¡± Demy says sheepishly. Wren huffs up at him and he relents, saying, ¡°I¡¯ll tell it when we get back to town, okay? I¡¯ll tell everyone.¡±


    ¡°Promise?¡± Wren asks, almost a command.


    ¡°Promise, okay?¡± Demy replies, holding his hands up in surrender.


    Cashew looks over at Kaz, squinting. Kaz nods, but says nothing, indicating that she knows of Demy¡¯s situation. He scoots over to her, careful to stay out of arm¡¯s reach of the cage.


    ¡°How much do you know?¡± Cashew whispers.


    ¡°No specifics, but I can take a guess,¡± Kaz whispers back.


    Cashew scowls at her, arms crossed. Instead of getting defensive, however, he quietly says, ¡°Demy¡¯s a good guy. He just needs help, like our vampire buddy over there. Most people don¡¯t get that.¡±


    Kaz looks over at Demy and Wren, nodding slowly. ¡°It¡¯s a lot easier to hurt than it is to help, sometimes. A lot simpler. You were right to challenge my decision.¡±


    Cashew shrugs and says, ¡°You were doing what you thought was right. The fact that you listened makes me feel a lot better about our whole arrangement.¡±


    Kaz¡¯s attention turns to Addy and Dahlia, who are having a quiet, in depth conversation apart from the rest of the group. ¡°Do you two have any ideas?¡± She asks.


    Addy looks up with a smile, ¡°We might have an answer to helping him calm down and a long-term solution.¡±


    ¡°Wait, did you find a cure in his notes after all?¡± Wren asks, looking around Demy at the two.


    ¡°Nope!¡± Addy says cheerfully.


    ¡°Then, what¨C¡± Cashew starts to ask.


    ¡°Tarn wanted to save his son¡¯s life. Even though he never found a cure, that doesn¡¯t mean he didn¡¯t succeed,¡± Dahlia says, a small smile spreading across her face. She turns back to the laboratory bench with Addy and the two begin work.


    The others watch curiously until Kaz¡¯s attention once again drifts and she asks, ¡°So, are we going to address the numerous murders that transpired in order to feed Andrew?¡±


    ¡°They were probably assholes,¡± Cashew says with a shrug.


    ¡°Upon carefully, uh, investigating their belongings, I can attest that most of them were probably pirates and sell-swords of dubious morals,¡± Wren says.


    Kaz squints at them both and says, ¡°We¡¯ll let Andrew explain himself if and when he comes back to his senses.¡±


    ¡°Say, you were going to share all that investigated belongings with the rest of us, weren¡¯t you?¡± Cashew says slyly, grinning at Wren.


    They flush slightly and look away, explaining, ¡°Well most of what we found was just old gear, nothing really of value.¡±


    ¡°What about all the coin and jewelry, though?¡± Demy asks.


    ¡°Demy!¡± Wren hisses.


    ¡°Ah-ha!¡± Cashew says, pointing an accusing finger at Wren. The two begin to argue over splitting the findings while Demy and Kaz do their best to keep the confrontation from becoming physical.


    On the other side of the room, Addy and Dahlia busily toil away at what they hope will result in some life-saving science!

 Chapter Sixteen

    ¡°Are you sure this is going to work?¡± Kaz asks incredulously.


    ¡°Nope!¡± Addy answers.


    ¡°That¡¯s reassuring,¡± Cashew says, his words thick with sarcasm.


    ¡°It should work,¡± Dahlia clarifies. ¡°Assuming that Elderly Human Tarn was as competent as his notes make him out to be.¡±


    Demy carefully makes his way over to the cage where Kaz continues to stand watch, her radiant glow keeping the imprisoned Andrew relegated to the corner where the light doesn¡¯t reach. He carries a large wooden bucket, which Wren had carefully washed out and that now contains a clear, viscous fluid that smells of salinated copper.


    ¡°This stuff isn¡¯t a cure, though?¡± Demy asks in a disappointed tone, standing by the cell door as Cashew unlocks it, using a silver key found in one of the drawers of the nearby alchemy tables.


    ¡°Despite years of study and an amazing understanding of pharmacognosy, Mister Tarn never was able to find a cure for vampirism,¡± Addy begins to explain happily. ¡°In his notes, he mentions that sourcing blood from Katteloxian prisoners and dubious bandits and pirates encountered on the voyage was both impractical and morally suspect, so he was searching for another means to feed Andrew while he sought a cure.¡±


    ¡°Which is foolish,¡± Dahlia says flatly. ¡°He did not wish to compromise and wanted a perfect solution. If he had focused on finding a blood alternative, then none of this would have happened.¡±


    Cashew opens the door to the cell and Demy gently sits the bucket down inside. The door is quickly closed and locked once again.


    ¡°Tarn had tunnel vision, sure, but he didn¡¯t want his son to be a monster. That¡¯s understandable,¡± Wren says.


    Demy casts his gaze at the floor and says nothing.


    ¡°¡®Child¡¯ always comes before ¡®Monster,¡¯ especially if they are not at fault,¡± Dahlia says sharply. ¡°Elderly Human Tarn should have focused on his child being happy and healthy, not on trying to make them perfect.¡±


    Wren stares at Dahlia, a flush of shame spreading across their cheeks as the throbbing pain of an old wound gnaws at their soul. Softly, they admit, ¡°Even if Tarn was just trying to do what he thought was best, you¡¯re right, Dahlia.¡± Even softer, they add to themselves, ¡°I should know that more than anyone.¡±


    ¡°All of this assumes that Andrew isn¡¯t a monster. He might be locked up for a reason,¡± Kaz reminds the others.


    ¡°The Phylerian books about vampires mentioned that the notion of it turning people outright evil is superstition!¡± Addy reports. ¡°Most accounts of vampire attacks are due to vampires actively not trying to feed and accidentally becoming crazed and feral. And those who do become deranged killers were probably not great people in the first place!¡±


    ¡°A person¡¯s circumstances do not make them evil, only their actions,¡± Dahlia states. She glances over at Demy, tilting her head a little as she asks, ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Friend Demy?¡±


    Demy looks up in surprise and gives her a small smile and a nod, saying, ¡°That¡¯s what I was raised to believe, yeah.¡±


    ¡°Well, let¡¯s see what actions our friend here has engaged in,¡± Kaz says. She lowers her hand, the light fading. Hesitantly, Andrew raises from his defensive hunch in the corner, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light coming now from Wren¡¯s orbs and UNA¡¯s beam of light.


    Cautiously, the vampire creeps toward the door, sniffing the air like a hungry beast. In a sudden flash of movement, he moves forward and snatches the bucket. Outside of the cell, Kaz, Wren, and Cashew all tense, ready for some kind of attack or trick. But all that Andrew does is pull back, carrying the bucket back to the corner of the cell.


    There, after a cursory sniff, he brings the bucket to his lips and tilts it up, taking a long drink of the thick fluid. He lets out a shuddering sigh, rapturous almost, before bringing the bucket once again up to his mouth. This time he does not lower it and he chugs the concoction eagerly.


    ¡°Fuck me blind, he likes it,¡± Cashew mutters.


    ¡°Success! Here Mister Tarn, I¡¯ll finish your notes for you,¡± Addy says gently as she opens one of the lab journals, scribbling in it.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know that, exactly,¡± Kaz says, watching carefully.


    ¡°He has not caught fire, yet. That is encouraging,¡± Dahlia says.


    Andrew lets the bucket drop to the floor of his cell, empty. He leans his head back against the bars, mouth open as he gazes up at the ceiling, eyes partially glazed over.


    ¡°He looks happy,¡± Demy says.


    ¡°Some things are really good after not getting any for a long time,¡± Wren says. When every pair of eyes not belonging to Addy (UNA¡¯s single eye-like lens included) turn to face them, Wren blushes in embarrassment.


    ¡°Y-you know, like when you¡¯ve not had a, uh, food in a really long time! H-hungry, that¡¯s the word, when you¡¯re really, uh. Hungry,¡± they babble, staring at the ground.


    ¡°Hung-ry,¡± Cashew emphasizes with a smirk, causing Kaz and Demy to snort.


    ¡°Friend Addy?¡± Dahlia whispers, leaning toward her. ¡°I am not good with the slang. I thought the term was ¡®thirsty?¡¯¡±


    Addy closes the book and beams, looking over at Andrew as she says, ¡°He sure was!¡±


    As the group snickers amongst themselves, within the cage, Andrew slowly turns his attention to them. His gaze at first is distant, absent of consciousness, but some manner of sentience slowly creeps back into his eyes. He blinks once, twice. He looks from one person to another, finally settling on Kaz.


    ¡°Uh, hello,¡± he says awkwardly, raising a hand to offer a meager wave. ¡°What¡¯s going on? Who are you?¡±


    The six exchange words in a hushed tone, debating on what exactly to say here. Finally, Kaz breaks the silence by proposing:


    ¡°First, would you mind telling us your name?¡±


    ¡°Andrew Southgate,¡± he says, a bit warily. He looks around the dark room, clearly confused, and asks, ¡°Did my father hire you? Where is he?¡±


    The others look away, averting their eyes from his. All except for Kaz, who returns his gaze evenly, already sensing from Andrew that her worries of him being some dangerous monster are untrue. Respectfully, she tells him, ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but General Southgate is dead. Has been, in fact, for some time. You have been locked away down here for longer than you might believe.¡±


    A sequence of emotions pass across Andrew¡¯s face in very short order: Surprise, understanding, sadness, even a twinge of anger. He holds the emotions in quite well, likely from his time spent as a soldier. The fallout of never letting yourself feel those emotions is something he saw often in his comrades, thus there would be grief later. But right now, information is more important.


    ¡°Please, tell me everything,¡± he says.


    Kaz, somewhat relieved and impressed both by him possessing these emotions and his not expressing them before asking for the report, obliges.


    ¡°From what my companion has said, it¡¯s been over eleven years since your father passed,¡± she begins. ¡°Since you¡¯ve been down here, alone¡­¡±


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Andrew sits in silence once the group finishes explaining the events of the past decade or so, much as he did during most of the explanation. An interjection here or there to ask for clarification, especially when Addy somehow got off on a tangent about the obvious scientific foundation of ancient Monteith nanite technology compared to her peers¡¯ claims that their origin was magical in nature (how such a topic came into the conversation is still unclear), but for much of the conversation he was content to merely listen.


    The others, uncertain of what to say or do, sit in awkward silence, waiting for the vampire to process the information. And, more than a few of them hope, to provide some context of his own about how his predicament came to be. Yet, he does not speak, nor cry, nor even move for an agonizingly long time: He simply sits in the desk chair within his cell (which he put back upright and slumped into once they began to tell their story), chin resting in his hands, staring at a spot on the floor directly in front of him.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    Dahlia is fairly certain that he doesn¡¯t even blink for several minutes. As someone who also finds disdain for the act of ocular moisturization, often preferring to stare distrustingly at whatever has her attention for long periods of time, she feels a certain camaraderie with this dead thing that somehow continues to persist in front of her.


    Finally, Andrew lets out a soft sigh and sits upright, looking at the group. He seems to focus on Kaz, perhaps recognizing a fellow soldier, though his words extend to them all as he says:


    ¡°Thank you. Not only for telling me all of this, nor just for saving me after all this time, but for making sure that my father¡¯s efforts weren¡¯t in vain. I didn¡¯t even know he was working on a blood substitute; he always was bad for getting tunnel vision about whatever was in front of him.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re sorry for your loss,¡± Wren says, their voice soft but sincere.


    ¡°He lived well, despite how the world was for much of his life. He fought for what he believed in and tried to leave Vale a better place than he found it. I¡¯d like to think he succeeded; we should all be so lucky,¡± Andrew muses. ¡°Besides, I could tell he was running out of time. After Vorominsk, I stopped aging, but it was like he started aging for the both of us. Was he given a proper burial?¡±


    Addy speaks up, voice gentle as she explains, ¡°From what I know he was taken back to Kattelox and buried beside his wife and¨Cwell, and beside the grave that was made for you.¡±


    This, after everything, seems to be the tipping point for Andrew. His face scrunches and he puts one hand over his eyes. Voice slightly breaking, he says, ¡°I see. That¨Cthat¡¯s good.¡±


    Wren glances at Cashew, whispering so the others don¡¯t hear, ¡°I¡¯m glad we didn¡¯t end up taking anything from their rooms, now.¡±


    Cashew, for all of Vale trying to look like he¡¯s not about to cry, manages to reply simply with, ¡°Yeah.¡±


    Kaz lets the vampire grieve, respectfully waiting for him to gather himself a bit more. There is more to learn, still: Both in terms of how all this happened, and perhaps more importantly, just how trustworthy Andrew truly is.


    Once he finally takes his head out of his hands, she sees her chance. Keeping her voice even and fair, she asks, ¡°We would like to hear from you just what happened that led to you being down here, if that¡¯s alright.¡±


    ¡°Of course. It¡¯s the least I can do for you helping me,¡± Andrew says, wiping at his eyes a bit with the back of his hand.


    ¡°On the note of ¡®helping you,¡¯ I have a request,¡± she adds. ¡°Dahlia and Addy assure me that your condition doesn¡¯t cause you to be amoral, but I admit, the superstition persists. Would you accept a pact of truth, to ease my worries?¡±


    Andrew sizes Kaz up a bit, eyes lingering on her pendant. With a small smile, he responds, ¡°A soldier and a devotee of Lord Kelathorne. I have nothing sinister to hide and if it will help you trust me, I accept your pact.¡±


    Kaz offers her hand through the bars of the cell and, as the others watch with various levels of bated breath, Andrew does not hesitate to take it. Within the air above his head the sigil of Kaz¡¯s patron deity, an ornate crown within a stylized diamond shape, materializes and glows faintly.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Kaz says, withdrawing her hand from the cage.


    ¡°Thank you for not taking the opportunity to purify me,¡± Andrew says with a chuckle. He pauses, then says, ¡°Ah, I said that out loud.¡±


    ¡°Well, looks like it works,¡± Demy says.


    ¡°Alright, so, what led to me becoming¡­ well, a vampire,¡± Andrew begins, running his tongue over one of his pointed fangs unconsciously.


    ¡°The village of Vorominsk was an important point in the supply line for the Phyleran army. This was, of course, some years before Phyleris turned against the Crown, and allowed a unified front to finally put an end to the war,¡± Andrew explains. Kaz and Wren, in particular, shift uncomfortably at the mention.


    ¡°The regiment I was a part of was tasked with taking control of the village, but it was heavily fortified when we arrived. The fighting was brutal and we suffered heavy casualties on both sides,¡± he continues, staring off into space as he relives the events of that day. ¡°We finally overtook the remainder of the Phyleran forces, who surrendered. That was when a group suddenly appeared from the nearby forest and approached the city, only half a dozen or so in total.


    ¡°We thought it was reinforcements in spite of how few there were, but the Phylerans seemed more rattled than us. When the group reached the city, we realized why: It was a group of vampires, which were roaming the land during the conflict, scavenging blood from the fallen and wounded. I guess they saw an opportunity with how few of us were left.


    ¡°They fell upon us like ravenous beasts,¡± he says, lowering his gaze slightly. ¡°I admittedly understand what kind of hunger drove them. Perhaps they were desperate, or just crazed by the smell of so much spilled blood. We silently formed a truce with the remaining Phylerans and fought back as well we could.


    ¡°It went¡­ poorly. There were a few dozen survivors at that point, between both sides, but we were unprepared and exhausted from the long battle. They tore through us like a pack of wolves among sheep. One lunged for my neck but misjudged my reaction, instead only succeeding in tearing a chunk of flesh from my shoulder. I am not sure whether I merely wounded it or killed it in turn, but I shamefully admit that I fled.¡±


    Addy suddenly interjects with, ¡°All these years, the mystery of there being no survivors from that battle was all because of vampires?! But you made it out, why didn¡¯t you tell anyone?¡±


    Andrew, along with the others, all turn to stare at her.


    ¡°Friend Addy, he would have had to out himself if he told anyone,¡± Dahlia explains.


    Addy blinks, brow furrowed. Confused, she asks, ¡°Wait, because he¡¯s gay?¡±


    Kaz turns back to Andrew, motioning for him to continue. ¡°She¡¯ll get there eventually. Go on,¡± she says.


    Andrew nods in understanding and continues, ¡°So, I ran. Eventually I succumbed to my injuries and the exhaustion. A patrol found me and brought me back to our main encampment, luckily where Father was overseeing the war from. By that point the¨Cinfection had taken hold and I, well, died.¡±


    ¡°What was it like?¡± Demy asks, warily.


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall anything, not until I came to my senses, hunched over the body of one of the healers that had tended to me. They and Father were the only ones in the room when I returned, crazed and hungry, but he couldn¡¯t stand to strike me down. When I regained control of myself, I explained to him what had happened.¡±


    ¡°So he snuck you out of there and back home,¡± Cashew surmises.


    ¡°Yes. In the years that followed, I stayed hidden away while the war played out. I¡­ am ashamed to admit that during this time, I took many lives. Father would have prisoners brought from the dungeons of Halcyon, those sentenced to either death or eternal imprisonment for their crimes, for me to drink from,¡± Andrew admits, looking away from the group in shame.


    Dahlia tilts her head slightly and says, ¡°You seem bothered. Yet you were a soldier, were you not used to killing people?¡±


    This earns a sour look from Kaz before Andrew elaborates: ¡°As grim as the field of battle is, you meet your opponent knowing that you fight for a cause and for your own life. There is at least some honor in that. In this, there was none. I was merely hungry, and they merely butchered. There is no justice in that.¡±


    Cashew crosses his arms, arguing, ¡°I mean, they were hardened criminals. It wasn¡¯t like you were chowing down on old women and babies. So, maybe a little justice, you know?¡±


    ¡°Says the criminal,¡± Kaz mutters.


    ¡°¡®Says the criminal¡¯ who hasn¡¯t been caught or done anything actually illegal that you know of, officer,¡± Cashew says while rolling his eyes.


    ¡°You literally stole my coin purse,¡± Wren complains.


    ¡°Allegedly literally stole it,¡± Cashew corrects.


    ¡°Did you eat any pedophiles?¡± Dahlia asks.


    ¡°Oh, oh, can we try to guess how many?!¡± Addy asks excitedly.


    Kaz¡¯s glare is enough to cause the commentary to cease. Her attention returns to Andrew and she asks, ¡°So, after the war, I assume the General began looking for a cure?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right. I did some research up to that point, though I was never much of an academic. Father was smarter than many of his peers assumed him to be, though, and he had many connections to scholars both in Kattelox and beyond. Sadly, nobody had an answer, so he turned his sights to the possibility of discovering something himself,¡± Andrew continues.


    ¡°The Heart of Vale,¡± Dahlia says, nodding in understanding.


    ¡°He thought he might find some kind of new, unknown ingredients upon this land, and said that it would be easier for me to stay hidden here. On top of having the privacy to conduct his research,¡± Andrew says.


    ¡°So Mister Tarn had the same idea as your family, kind of,¡± Addy says to Dahlia.


    Dahlia replies, ¡°Then just like me, he found that this land is a sterile, unnatural place.¡±


    ¡°That all makes sense, but how did you end up locked in a cage?¡± Demy asks, frowning.


    ¡°Not to mention the entire secret basement thing,¡± Wren chimes in.


    ¡°The basement was built to keep me and his research away from the eyes of the house servants. As you already saw, I still required people to feed discreetly from,¡± Andrew explains, motioning toward the corner where the various bodies are.


    ¡°At first, he was having disreputable types shipped from the mainland, but when the settlement surprisingly sprang up on the coast, it became too difficult to keep it secret. It didn¡¯t help that his health was becoming worse by that point, either. So, we had the cage made specially for me, since we had to ration what few prisoners remained. I must have become crazed from hunger around the time he died, because I don¡¯t recall him failing to¨Ccome back to check on me,¡± he finishes sadly.


    Kaz nods slowly, as much to herself as to the story told. ¡°Thanks to the mixture that the General¨Cand Addy and Dahlia¨Chave created, you won¡¯t have to feed off people anymore,¡± she says.


    Andrew smiles bitterly and says, ¡°That is a relief. Though, I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s even worth it, in the end. How can I return to society like this? Even if I explain that I¡¯m not a danger to anyone, how could anyone trust my word after how many I¡¯ve killed? What life is there for me?¡±


    ¡°Elderly Human Tarn spent the last of his life to help you,¡± Dahlia says, staring directly at him. ¡°Even if you are a dead thing, you still have use. More than most dead things, even.¡±


    ¡°I think your father would want you to have a life and be happy,¡± Wren adds with a smile.


    Andrew considers this, finally nodding as he says, ¡°You¡¯re right, he would. But that doesn¡¯t change how society will view me.¡±


    ¡°Well, see, we might know of this little town that is in dire need of people to help defend it from some crazy fucked up monster things,¡± Cashew says nonchalantly. ¡°Place is new, some idiots built it on a forbidden continent, you¡¯ve probably never heard of it. Bet they wouldn¡¯t ask too many questions for someone willing to work graveyard shift.¡±


    Andrew raises an eyebrow and looks around the group, settling on Kaz.


    She offers a smile and says, ¡°He¡¯s right. I hear the pay is pretty good, especially for an old soldier like yourself.¡±


    A smile slowly spreads across Andrew¡¯s face, fangs showing without shame for perhaps the first time, as he says, ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

 Chapter Seventeen

    ¡°By the fucking Nine,¡± Bernadette mutters, eyes wide.


    She is sitting in her office (one of the back rooms of the barracks), staring up at Andrew Southgate, who stands awkwardly across the desk from her. The other six, the expedition members she sent out to Tarn¡¯s manor, stand behind Andrew, all of them with varying shades of pride and smugness on their faces.


    ¡°Language,¡± Kaz chides softly.


    Bernadette gives her an annoyed look, before once again turning her attention to the living ghost in front of her. The story the group had given her upon returning seems outlandish, but it is hard to dispute with Andrew standing right there. The Battle of Vorominsk is common knowledge, even among the lower class of Kattelox, due to the mythos surrounding it. The fact that one of the many lost was General Tarn Southgate¡¯s son has always been a big part of said mythos and is one of the reasons Tarn was such a tragic, renowned figure in Loxian society.


    It¡¯s one of the reasons that Tarn received the compensation he did when the war ended. His popularity is one of the reasons that so many people were willing to come to the Heart of Vale and help with his manor, then stay and found Tarn¡¯s Rest.


    Without Andrew¡¯s mysterious death on Phylerian soil, the odds of Bernadette¨Cor anyone¨Cever coming to the Heart in the first place are low.


    And, yet, here he stands, looking hardly any different than in the pictures taken of him shortly before his ¡°death.¡± He is a bit paler, in far less formal attire, yet he seems somehow more charming in person. Considering the explanation given for him still being alive, or what passes for alive at least, perhaps the charm is not entirely to do with his handsome features. And since Bernadette has never been particularly attracted to men, Andrew is either an exception or a supernatural entity.


    With his crimson-red eyes and elongated fangs partially visible within his awkward smile, she has reason to believe that it is, in fact, the latter.


    ¡°Let me get this straight: You want to help our little town?¡± She asks, as perplexed by his interest in helping as she is by the rest of the situation.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been stuck in that basement for years. My father is gone, the war is over, I have no other family,¡± Andrew explains, staring at the floor thoughtfully. ¡°At this point, my family¡¯s legacy is here, with this town and the settlement of this continent. And, if I¡¯m being honest, I don¡¯t really know what else I would do with my time. All I know how to do is fight for the sake of others.¡±


    Both Kaz and Bernadette give nods of understanding at his words.


    ¡°When all you know is the life of a soldier, it¡¯s easy to feel lost during peacetime,¡± Kaz mutters.


    ¡°I won¡¯t lie, we¡¯re more short-handed than a charity drive run by a bunch of Faloth worshipers,¡± Bernadette jokes, earning a few snorts of understanding from the audience of seven. ¡°A former soldier, one that¡¯s a powerful vampire no less, would be a godsend. Except, well, about the ¡®vampire¡¯ thing.¡±


    Seeing Bernadette¡¯s look of concern, Dahlia steps forward and explains, ¡°The notion that curses like these make people ¡®evil¡¯ is a myth. The only way they¡¯re dangerous is if they wish to be, or certain circumstances occur. For Vampire Friend Andrew here, it is only if he becomes starved of blood that he loses control of himself.¡±


    ¡°Exactly my point. How are we supposed to feed him without organizing some kind of blood drive or letting him turn the entire town?¡± Bernadette asks.


    Andrew looks down at Dahlia, who gives a small smile and nods at him. Bolstered by her support, he explains, ¡°My father was working on a blood substitute just before he died. Dahlia and Addy managed to finish the formula; it seems like it works. It brought me out of my, uh, state and sated me.¡±


    ¡°The formula isn¡¯t like, just blood with a spritz of citrus juice or something, is it?¡± Bernadette asks with a frown.


    ¡°It uses some pretty common ingredients used in alchemy and cooking!¡± Addy contributes.


    ¡°All of which is already stocked up here, or would be easy to ship in,¡± Demy adds.


    Wren and Cashew cavort quietly for a few moments before Wren speaks up, ¡°A day¡¯s supply is about the same or less than how much most people spend on meals. A few copper per bottle, we think.¡±


    ¡°We could surely swing that,¡± Bernadette says, the feelings of surprise over everything the group have found slowly turning to feelings of relief, bordering on delight. The prospect of having someone competent to help her keep the town safe is certainly tantalizing, not to mention the fact that the others might be open to helping as well, at least until they have to leave.


    I guess they proved themselves by putting this decade-long issue to rest. Not too shabby, she thinks.


    ¡°Oh, you don¡¯t have to pay me. As long as you¡¯re willing to make sure the ingredients for my, uh, food are always in supply, I¡¯ll pay for it, also,¡± Andrew says.


    ¡°Wuh?¡± Bernadette stammers out, echoed by both Cashew and Wren.


    ¡°You¨Cyou¡¯re willing to do this for free? Like, volunteer for it?¡± Wren asks incredulously.


    ¡°My father¡¯s estate is largely intact¨Cthanks in part to this settlement,¡± Andrew explains. ¡°I have enough worth to live simply and afford the ingredients for several lifetimes, at least. For the time, anyway, it would make me happier just to help.¡±


    Bernadette wants to smile from ear to ear with how this situation is turning out, but she manages to keep her poker face, albeit just barely. ¡°If you are willing to volunteer, then we will gladly take you, Sir Southgate. I¡¯ll personally make sure that you never have to worry about running out of ingredients for your¨Cfood,¡± she says.


    ¡°Maybe Mister Andrew could join in on the expedition, too!¡± Addy says optimistically.


    ¡°That might not be logistically possible, thanks to the sun,¡± Kaz reminds her.


    ¡°Even if we had a covered wagon or something?¡± Demy wonders aloud.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t take a cart or anything because we didn¡¯t know the landscape. Everyone just carried their own supplies,¡± Addy explains. ¡°Maybe you could carry a coffin for him!¡±


    ¡°That sounds not very fresh,¡± Demy mutters, shaking his head.


    Besides, I have dibs, Bernadette thinks, squinting at the others.


    ¡°Well, even if Andrew here is willing to do volunteer work, I believe we had an agreement,¡± Wren mentions, as nonchalantly as possible. Which is not very, in fact.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Bernadette straightens up in her chair and clears her throat before answering, ¡°You¡¯re correct. I admit, I didn¡¯t expect the six of you to find anything, much less solve, well, the whole mystery and show up with the long-thought-deceased-and-technically-kind-of-actually-is Andrew Southgate. I¡¯m impressed, but also grateful.¡±


    ¡°As am I,¡± Andrew adds.


    ¡°Considering our surplus of funds on top of everything else, I think you definitely deserve double what we agreed upon,¡± she finishes with a wry smile as she reaches under the desk and pulls out a large sack of coins, sitting it on the table with a small thud and the jingling of metal within.


    ¡°Oh we¡¯re eating good tonight boys! And girls! And, uh, whatever Wren is,¡± Cashew cheers.


    Dahlia turns to Addy, acting out the scene in her head: ¡°Why yes hello Dapper Tavern Elf Person, I would like one of your finest meats please.¡±


    Addy, playing along, bows politely and says, ¡°Why yes madame, one of our finest imported meats, would you care for soup or salad as an accompaniment?¡±


    ¡°I care very much for I have lots of money,¡± Dahlia says with a toothy grin. This results in both giggling at their shared joke.


    ¡°I would like to match whatever the reward is,¡± Andrew says suddenly, smiling at the others. ¡°I¡¯ll have to procure it from the manor, of course, so it might be a few days.¡±


    Surprised, Kaz assures him, ¡°You don¡¯t need to do that, my lord. The reward is already more than enough.¡±


    Wren squeezes her arm hard enough that she absently pulls it from their grip, casting a sharp glance in their direction.


    ¡°Consider it a bonus for saving me. And an investment in your safety during this ¡®expedition¡¯ you¡¯ve told me of, especially since I am unable to accompany you,¡± Andrew explains. ¡°A stock of health elixirs and good equipment can be the difference between success and failure.¡±


    ¡°Some peace of mind would be plenty helpful,¡± Demy remarks.


    ¡°I suppose we can¡¯t turn down such generosity. Thank you,¡± Kaz finally says, trying to ignore the sound of a high five between Cashew and Wren behind her.


    The group procures their reward, which is hastily split into six portions by the duo most eager. Demy keeps an eye on them to make sure the split is even, while Kaz signs and finishes the official paperwork of temporary service required by the Loxian government funding this settlement.


    Addy and Dahlia chat eagerly with Andrew as the seven ultimately leave Bernadette¡¯s office and make their way back through the mostly-empty barracks, catching odd stares from the few guards within. Questions, most covering topics ranging from the people he has consumed to how he perceives the ambient temperature compared to the ¡°living,¡± are hurled at the Vampire, who tries to respectfully address each one.


    The group step out of the barracks and into the cold, dark streets of Tarn¡¯s Rest; both the chill and the gloom are fought off by the large torches that line the main path from the main gate to the docks. Of the seven, six are going to head toward the Moonpeak Inn and fill Felix in on the day¡¯s events before getting some much-deserved rest. Andrew, on the other hand, has decided to head back to Tarn¡¯s¨Crather, his¨Cmanor.


    ¡°Are you certain it¡¯s safe for you to go back alone, in the middle of the night?¡± Kaz asks, concerned.


    ¡°Compared to going in the middle of the day?¡± Andrew asks, chuckling.


    ¡°Oof. How¡¯s the sabaton tasting?¡± Wren mockingly asks Kaz.


    ¡°Silence, Casual,¡± Kaz fires back, feigning indifference.


    ¡°It is dangerous, though. Do you even know what¡¯s out there?¡± Demy asks, realizing that the topic of those¨CFailures hasn¡¯t even come up between them and Andrew.


    ¡°I know of those humanoid creatures with the empty eyes and serrated teeth, yes,¡± Andrew answers. ¡°They would occasionally wander onto the grounds of the manor, even before we finished it. We thought they were drawn by all the noise. I would handle night patrols when we were short-staffed, when I was still able to occasionally, discreetly leave the basement. I sustained more than a few injuries that would have killed me¨Cagain¨Cwere it possible.¡±


    ¡°Did you drink any of them?¡± Dahlia asks.


    ¡°I tried. Once,¡± he says, grimacing at the memory. ¡°I don¡¯t know what those things are, but they aren¡¯t people. They don¡¯t have blood, they have some kind of black ichor that runs through their body.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s sticky and smells like sulfur!¡± Addy exclaims, having been covered in it during her dissection session back at the manor. ¡°I hated it! I didn¡¯t taste it, though.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re better off,¡± Andrew explains, shuddering.


    ¡°Wait, if you know about them, do you know about Kem?¡± Wren asks suddenly.


    ¡°Kem?¡± Andrew echoes, looking confused.


    ¡°He was one of those things, kind of. But he acted like a person,¡± Demy says, recalling the strange figure. ¡°He was a head or more taller than I was with long, stringy, green hair, like vines or something. He had the same empty eyes and teeth and could make the same noises as those creatures.¡±


    ¡°He called them Failures,¡± Dahlia adds.


    Andrew frowns and shakes his head, saying, ¡°No. I would certainly remember if I did. Where did you meet him?¡±


    ¡°In the library of the manor,¡± Demy explains.


    ¡°Which is why we thought you might know something,¡± Wren says.


    ¡°Sorry, I have no idea. I certainly didn¡¯t see such a person¨Cthing?¨Cand I don¡¯t recall father ever mentioning one of the ¡®Failures¡¯ speaking or looking different than the others,¡± Andrew says apologetically.


    ¡°If you find out anything, please let us know,¡± Kaz says, holding her hand out once more to him, respectfully.


    Andrew takes her hand, giving her an approving nod. He says, ¡°Of course, my friends. Thank you again for giving me a chance, I will do my best to make good use of my situation.¡±


    ¡°Hey, so, if you ever decide to get rid of any of that nice stuff in your manor, Demy and I got some connections on the trade routes. Make sure you get a good deal, yeah?¡± Cashew explains. With a smirk, he adds, ¡°Make some coin for both of us that way.¡±


    Andrew chuckles and replies, ¡°I will keep that in mind. It¡¯s the least I can do for almost biting you, after all.¡±


    Cashew feels his heckles raise and he stammers out, ¡°W-well, you know, things happen. I¡¯m glad they didn¡¯t, though.¡±


    ¡°I would have felt bad. Though, the graveyard shift would certainly be less lonely,¡± Andrew says, giving a fanged grin.


    ¡°Cool, cool, yea¨CWhat?!¡± Cashew randomly calls out, cupping his hand over his ear to mime trying to hear better. ¡°What¡¯s that, Demy? Yeah I gotta go, there¡¯s a, you know. Problem with some¡­ stuff. ¡®Kay bye,¡± he babbles before taking off toward the inn.


    Demy, still standing with the group, just sighs.


    ¡°New fear unlocked,¡± mutters Kaz, watching him go.


    ¡°Well now we have to buy some toy bats to scare him with,¡± Wren says, putting their hands on their hips and smiling cruelly.


    ¡°Good-bye, Vampire Friend Andrew,¡± Dahlia says. ¡°Stop by the inn in the evenings some time to eat dinner with us. Or breakfast, for you.¡±


    ¡°That way you don¡¯t feel lonely or left out!¡± Addy says with a smile.


    ¡°I would like that, I think,¡± Andrew admits, delighted at the thought. He gives the group a final wave before walking off toward the far gate.


    The group watches him go for a few seconds before Dahlia says monotonously, ¡°We¡¯ll never know if he charmed us into liking him.¡±


    ¡°Why would you even bring up something like that?¡± Wren whines as the group begin making their way toward the inn, following the footprints left by Cashew in his frantic escape.


    ¡°We should know that it¡¯s a possibility,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°I would know,¡± Kaz says.


    ¡°Or do you only think that because he convinced you that you would know because he charmed you?¡± Addy ponders aloud.


    ¡°Maybe Cash is the only one that didn¡¯t fall for the charm,¡± Demy mutters, causing Wren to groan even louder.


    Continuing to argue about the possibility of them all falling under the Vampire¡¯s spell, the group head toward the comfort of the Moonpeak, with the rest of the month until the Spring¡¯s thaw to look forward to.

 Chapter Eighteen

    The streets of Tarn¡¯s Rest are dark, as are the buildings that line them. The braziers, lit every evening by the nightly guard, have burned down to nothing, with only the barest of cinders remaining. The only sound is the faint whistle of the wind coming off the bay as it winds through the eaves of the buildings in town and whips past the bare, ashen trees just outside the main gate.


    In a short while, the approaching dawn will begin to shed a scant luminance over the coastal settlement, until finally the sun breaks over the horizon and begins to warm the air just enough for the average person to hazard venturing outside. The changing of the guard happens before this occurs, of course, due to the new recruit whose sensitivity to the sun is of dire import. By now, the other night watchmen know of his condition and of his status as the lost son of Tarn Southgate, facts which fill them with relief concerning the monsters outside the gate, but which also fills more than a few with a new fear of the monster that resides within it.


    Considering that the position of night watch rotates through the entire rank of available guards in Tarn¡¯s Rest apart from Andrew Southgate himself, as is only fair to the others, this knowledge is shared amongst all who take up arms in protection of the town. And, due to the nature of loose lips and the tendency for said protectors to engage in respite within the Moonpeak Inn after their long stretches of duty, most of the town is aware of said War Hero/Vampire within the walls.


    Yet, it has been more than a week without incident from the nightwalker. Bernadette has spoken highly of him, as have most of the guards that have interacted with him. Indeed, the mayor of Tarn¡¯s Rest, a man by the name of Lord Ivan Gray, has spoken out in support of the assistance of the Vampire. Unofficially, of course.


    Thus, by the time the sun has crested over the walls of the town, Andrew has already returned to the safety of his makeshift room within the basement of the Moonpeak Inn. The morning patrol of guards have taken their positions throughout the streets, eager for the morning food stalls to begin setting up, ready for the day of merchants haggling in the market square and the laborers to help loading and unloading the ships that will eventually either leave or make port, as it is some of the only work available during the harsh winter when the road to the iron mine is closed.


    There is another that is awake at this early hour, before the first merchant or worker has worked up the courage to face the morning chill, however.


    Kazimiera Gw¨®zdek, long accustomed to rising at daybreak from her days as a Captain in the Zhevrun military, greets the cold morning air with a deep inhale as she steps from the door of the inn, careful to not disturb the jingling bells attached to the top of it.


    She is without her heavy armor and shield, though certainly not without her blade, which rests in its sheath, attached to her belt. Fearing less the assault of foes and more the air¡¯s bitter chill, she wears a moderately heavy set of winter clothing: New, tailored within this past week using the reward gained from both Bernadette and Andrew for her and the rest of the group¡¯s work.


    Yet, her furred hood is down, allowing the cold wind to blow through her neatly-trimmed hair and across her green-tinged skin. She is used to these temperatures thanks to growing up in Siskapol, the capital city located in the northern part of Zhevrun. With only a canal separating the city from the continent known simply as the Crown of Vale, parts of which have snow and ice older than the nation of Zhevrun itself, it is no surprise that the winters of her childhood were surprisingly harsh.


    The cold air upon her skin and within her lungs reminds her of home. Of days both better and worse, times both simpler and more complex.


    She sets out from the covered porch of the inn, boots crunching against the packed snow. It is curious that she has never actually seen the streets upon which she walks, as they have been covered in a thick blanket of white since her arrival here.


    This morning sees her upon a journey that she has been wanting to make since said arrival, though the past week or so has been far too busy for such a trip. Between the events of the first few days leading to the discovery of Andrew Southgate, the ensuing discussions with Felix concerning the supplies and other logistics of the upcoming expedition, and helping with a few odd jobs that Bernadette kindly requested assistance with, there has just been no time.


    But upon this day, the 12th of Shellan in the year of 17, of the 4th Era, she is finally going to see her sacred duty done.


    Kaz is going to visit the local temple and pay her respects to both her Lord, Kelathorne, as well as the other eight divines that preside over the world of Vale, over all of mortal life.


    Assuming she can find the damnedable place, that is.


    She stops in front of a building on the edge of the residential district of town: It is made entirely of stone, unlike many of the other buildings, which are a mix of stone and wood shipped in from the mainland. Its construction is not unlike the churches found upon the mainland of Kattelox, which leads her to believe this is the right place. However, the complete lack of care makes her worry that it isn¡¯t¨Cor, perhaps, worry that it is.


    The snow has piled up at the entrance of the building, signaling that nobody has been here to shovel it aside. And, worse, nobody has been inside the building at all. The windows are likewise caked in frost and snow, preventing most of the light from filtering through to the interior.


    If ass-beatings haven¡¯t been invented yet on this continent, we¡¯re about to have a major breakthrough, she thinks sourly. Where in Kel¡¯s name is the head cleric? Or any cleric, for that matter?


    Movement catches her eye and she turns, seeing an elderly woman making her way down the street, likely heading toward the market to get the best possible deals¨Cor just perhaps the freshest street pancakes. One of the Catfolk, with graying fur which is barely visible beneath the heavy cloak and layers of clothing she wears.


    Her eyes, bright green and alert, speak to the spirit still inhabiting the aging body.


    Kaz holds up her hand in greeting, offering a sociable smile as she says, ¡°Good morning. Would it be alright if I asked you a few questions, while I have your ear?¡±


    The elderly feline squints at Kaz a bit before chuckling. Her voice, deep and raspy, speaks out, ¡°Well, well, you¡¯re one of the newcomers that have been helping Miss Bernadette, aren¡¯t you? A devout Orc woman with a strong sword arm: That wouldn¡¯t be you, now would it?¡±


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Kaz, with her sword on her side and Kelathorne¡¯s symbol dangling visible from her neck, could be no other. She says, ¡°I¡¯m surprised that word of our little group has spread at all. We¡¯ve done nothing special.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I hear. I heard you all found the Southgate boy beneath the manor and figured out why old Tarn set up here in the first place,¡± the old woman says, a knowing smile spread across her face.


    ¡°Ah, well, I guess news travels fast in a small town like this,¡± Kaz says, a bit embarrassed. She offers her gloved hand, introducing herself, ¡°I¡¯m Kazimiera, from Zhevrun.¡±


    The old woman accepts the handshake, her grip gentle, as she likewise introduces herself, ¡°I am Fatimah, from Indiria. It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Kazimiera.¡±


    Kaz can¡¯t help but smile, enjoying the sound of her name spoken in the Catfolk¡¯s Indiric accent. ¡°There is an Indiran within our group, actually,¡± she says.


    ¡°Ah, yes. The little thief with the big mouth,¡± Fatimah says derisively.


    She knows us pretty well, then, Kaz thinks.


    ¡°What can I help you with, Miss Kazimiera? I cannot dally long, for I like to greet the markets first thing, to assure I get the most freshly caught of fish,¡± Fatimah explains.


    Kaz wonders if commenting on a Catfolk enjoying fish would be distasteful, and decides that it probably would be. Instead, she asks, ¡°I was going to pay my respects at the temple, but it seems abandoned. Where are the clerics?¡±


    Fatimah sighs and says, ¡°The last priest to care for the temple was here for only a few months. He left, saying that the Gods do not dwell upon this land, for it is forsaken. Since then, there has been no one to tend to it.¡±


    Kaz frowns with enough force to drop the temperature by another degree or two. ¡°That is unacceptable. Do you remember his name, by chance?¡± She asks.


    ¡°Oh, yes. An older Elf by the name of Garrett. He never seemed very pleased to be here; I am uncertain why he came to the Heart in the first place,¡± Fatimah wonders. ¡°Are you going to open the temple back up for us, Miss Kazimiera?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± Kaz says sternly. ¡°And I will find someone to tend to it in my absence. Thank you for your time and guidance, Lady Fatimah. Allow me to buy your fish for the day.¡± Kaz pulls a few coins from her pouch and gently places them into Fatimah¡¯s hands.


    She smiles and bows her head in gratitude, saying, ¡°May the Nine smile upon your charity for this old woman. If you are to clear out the temple, might I offer to come back with my fish and prepare a nice meal for the both of us?¡±


    ¡°I would be honored to share a meal with you,¡± Kaz says genuinely. ¡°Looking forward to it will help give me the strength to clear the snow.¡±


    She watches Fatimah carry on toward the market, her thoughts turning toward the mound of snow blocking the entryway.


    This is why I should always carry a shovel, she thinks. This and for burying bodies.


    Making sure she brought enough coin first, she begins walking down the street, heading for the general store.


    **********


    Kaz finds that the interior of the temple is not nearly as bad as the outside, thankfully. Upon the Heart of Vale, weather is still a factor, and as such snow is a part of the winter season. However, much of what would signal negligence within a building is absent. There are no spiders here to spin cobwebs about the corners, no insects to accumulate upon becoming stuck within the ironically holy walls of the temple. Even dust is absent from the surfaces within, as the normal causes of such detritus are missing from this unliving landscape.


    On the bright side, that makes it far easier to clean up within the temple. A scant bit of sweeping aside, all that really is called for is refreshing the offerings and resupplying candles to the nine shrines lining the back of the one-room stone building. The rest of the space is occupied by a small pulpit, several wooden benches, and a fire pit in the back.


    Her stomach growls a bit, thinking of the meal to come with Fatimah.


    I would¡¯ve eaten breakfast if the Loxians weren¡¯t so insistent on consuming several pounds of mismatched foodstuffs first thing of a morning, she thinks bitterly.


    To occupy her time, she gets a fire going in the pit at the front of the temple. Then, she begins setting up the shrines of each of the Nine, going in the order that they always seem to follow:


    Kelathorne, the Loyal Knight, patron of warriors and lawbringers.


    Phye, the Stern Scholar, patron of academics and practitioners of magic.


    Anboshel, the Fearless Traveler, patron of adventurers and wanderers.


    Balgon, the Stoic Artisan, patron of craftspeople and laborers.


    Kemartirh, the Placid Caretaker, patron of farmers and hunters.


    Vilic, the Competitive Rebel, patron of athletes and the oppressed.


    Faloth, the Avid Collector, patron of merchants and sailors.


    Elyphiss, the Coy Matron, patron of mothers and the deceased.


    Oranvil, the Bound Performer, patron of entertainers and artists.


    Each one with their own unique offerings, each altar lit by a pair of candles to invite those with prayers or simply requests to ask of them.


    Kaz thinks back to her parents, who were also soldiers. Also followers of Kelathorne. She was raised hearing the virtues of being honorable and loyal, of staying true to her words and fighting for what she believes to be right. Of holding herself to a higher standard than those around her, to be a positive example, but to remain humble and understanding.


    She kneels in front of Kelathorne¡¯s shrine, bowing her head in supplication, seeking guidance and forgiveness. Despite her intentions, Kaz knows that her actions are not always the most honorable, her thoughts not the most humble. There is always room to improve, to be better, to be a better person.


    I apologize for my mistakes and ask only to learn from them so I can strive to help those in need as well as myself, she silently prays.


    Her mind wanders to her friends at the inn, both old and new, and the events that have led her to this land.


    She concludes her prayers with, And help me to see that which is true, not merely that which I am told is right.


    An offering to Kelathorne often takes the form of a promise, or an oath. Kaz, then, promises to watch over this temple until she can find someone willing to take over for her, so that the townsfolk have a place to seek both solace and advice from the divine.


    While it is not always that Kelathorne provides her with some kind of sign, she can¡¯t help but take some meaning in the fact that, just as she finishes, she hears the door to the temple open and Fatimah call out her name, carrying with her the very first, freshest fish caught mere minutes before.


    Validated, she smiles and goes to help her new friend prepare what will certainly be a most memorable meal.

 Chapter Nineteen

    Wren sits alone inside the Moonpeak Inn, completely solitary apart from the invisible cooks in the back who have the majority of breakfast ready and set out. Odds are, Kaz has already left to tend to her temple restoration project, and the others seem to have little interest in being up at the crack of dawn.


    Honestly, the calm and silence is kind of nice.


    They take a sip of coffee, the very first of the morning, savoring the dark, bitter liquid as the warmth of it hits their stomach, blossoming out and causing a gentle heat to radiate within their entire torso. The invigorating concoction is one of the things that Wren has become very attached to, since leaving the Crown and exploring more of the world with Kaz.


    Back home, such a thing would be unheard of. If someone didn¡¯t grow or harvest it themselves, then it was simply not a thing to be had. Wren¡¯s clan did not often trade with the outside world, as was the case of most clans within the Crown. That is likely still the case, even though the third era has ended, and the seemingly eternal war along with it.


    Guess it¡¯s the other way around. The war ending was the cause of the era shift, Wren muses to themselves. It¡¯s not like someone proposed that we enter a new era and everyone just went ¡®Oh, okay, guess we¡¯ll stop all this fighting then!¡¯


    The breakfast disappears quickly, even the much-maligned beans. Unlike some of the others, Wren enjoys the hearty breakfast, though there isn¡¯t a whole lot of breakfasts that Wren hasn¡¯t enjoyed, in any country. Food was always sparse growing up, as the only things to eat were what could be scavenged or hunted.


    The notion of just having food to look forward to is something that Wren will never fully get over. As long as you have a few coin to spare, food is almost always available in the more civilized parts of Vale.


    Which is part of the reason that Wren decided long ago, maybe not even consciously, that they would always have coin to spare.


    The gold from Bernadette and Andrew certainly has been a windfall, but no matter how much they earn, Wren ends up burning through their funds far too quickly. It¡¯s not due to frivolous spending or poor bartering, it¡¯s merely just how life is.


    A new arcane foci was frustratingly expensive, for instance: A necklace with two gemstones corresponding to Wren¡¯s birth month (Valafyr 7th, thank you very much), shaped to resemble the moons Corvega and Tryden. Wren can perform magical spells without one, but it¡¯s easier with one, and more potent to boot.


    Magic is, after all, about intent, focus, and connections.


    Intent concerns the knowledge of what one wishes to accomplish. Some people study magic in an academic sense, learning certain concepts that are proven to function in detail. Some people, like Wren, need not study, instead having these concepts come to them naturally, at times in ways contrary to those found through research. Yet others have their intent shaped by inspiration from a deity, a powerful entity, the natural world itself, or even the beauty of art.


    Once one knows what to do, how to do it is a factor, which concerns the ability to focus. Performing magic requires a power source, specifically a connection to the raw energy of creation, simply known as ¡°mana.¡± The substance is intangible, a byproduct of life itself, and permeates every living thing, including the very world of Vale itself. Only through focus, through practice and effort, can a person learn to draw forth the mana within their bodies.


    Connections help to conjure this energy and actually use it as intended: This is the why of magic. Handling materials that embody the intended outcome helps to channel the energy for said outcome. Similarly, some materials seem to have some inherent connection and are used to create foci, which can also be made from things of great personal significance, or that are related to one¡¯s source of inspiration, can serve this purpose. These connections help link one¡¯s focus to one¡¯s intent, to create a magical effect.


    Wren rubs the polished gems of their necklace between their fingers, pondering.


    It is certainly a lot nicer than the one they had previously, which was crafted from bits and bobs of old belongings and stones taken from their former home. Before that, it took an immense amount of effort and energy to produce very little, but they had no concept of a magical foci back then. After all, it wasn¡¯t until they left home that they learned of such things. That wasn¡¯t until after their first real display of magic, after they¡­


    After¡­


    The point is the gems would¡¯ve cost way less on the mainland, Wren thinks sourly. Between the foci, stocking up on potions and gear for the upcoming expedition, which Felix was decidedly stingy about, and some simple niceties that were of minor cost, really, Wren¡¯s purse has grown far too light.


    Felix¡¯s words on the matter had been: ¡°Necessary provisions are accounted for, anything beyond that is up to your discretion.¡±


    Cheap bastard, Wren thinks.


    Rations and torches are all well and good, but what about a good sleeping bag? A nice tent? Some coffee, which is as close to a ¡®necessary provision¡¯ as one can get aside?


    Wren sips the last of their morning cup of said provision, holding off their irritation so as to not spoil the taste with such negativity.


    Once fully consumed, however, the irritation is allowed to freely flow.


    Silently complaining about absurd prices and stingy benefactors, Wren returns their empty dishes and silverware to the kitchen before hefting their bag over their shoulder. By now, the market square should be lively enough to turn a bit of profit


    So, as they have done for the past several days, Wren leaves the Moonpeak Inn and makes their way to the dockside market, to peddle their wares and recoup their financial losses.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Considering the population of Tarn¡¯s Rest along with the drifts of snow still piled up on the streets, it would be fair to say that the market stalls are practically bustling with excitement. There are a couple dozen stalls set up and easily quadruple that many people, ranging from an elderly woman haggling with the fisherman to a group of kids playing in the mounds of snow.


    The market is within view of the docks, where a cargo ship is currently docked and unloading various crates full of goods, which will gradually make their way to the stalls and the actual brick and mortar storefronts throughout the morning.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Wren can see Walter, spry and full of good humor, leaving his shack in order to do his rounds, signing off on all the sailors and the cargo itself. Kattelox has long prided itself on being organized, though it is often taken a bit overboard (pun intended, in this case).


    It is cold, of course, even if there are only a few weeks until the Spring Festival. Both children and adults are still in their winter clothing, consisting of heavy jackets and cloaks over their typical clothing. Some of the children are so bundled that they have to waddle around awkwardly, far more hindered by the clothes than they would otherwise be by the chill in the air.


    Wren¡¯s cold weather clothing, on the other hand, just consists of an extra fur cloak of their own make. The temperature here might be freezing for the Loxian folk, but for someone who grew up in the Crown, this is practically mild.


    They finally finish setting up their stall, the front shelf of which has several small, carved wooden figures of varying appearance, some painted, some with bits of fabric as makeshift clothing, standing in a neat row facing out at the street. Wren takes another, only half-finished, and sits down on the comfortable sleeping mat and blanket that they had purchased earlier in the week. Despite being for the eventual expedition, there¡¯s no reason to not get one¡¯s money¡¯s worth out of the sleeping gear when the opportunity arises.


    Getting comfortable, Wren pulls out a small knife, made not of metal but of bone: Blade, handle, sheath, and all. Bits of leather serve as the grip, which is molded from years of use to fit Wren¡¯s grip perfectly. It was a gift long ago by their mother and with it, a lesson: Waste nothing; learn how to make the best use of what you have.


    The Eklund Clan long knew the secret of tempering bone to be as durable as steel, through a process of applying special oils and drying it, repeatedly. As the thin edge of the bone blade easily slices through the wood of the unfinished figure, it is apparent how sharp and durable the odd knife is, despite its age and the fact that Wren can¡¯t remember ever needing to sharpen it.


    They let their mind wander, thinking of home, of their family. From such humble origins, from such a tight-knit community, Wren knows the importance of tradition. It is comforting, a solid bit of ground amidst an ever-shifting sea. Yet, there is an entire world to experience on the other side of the surface of that sea, and refusing to acknowledge it can be dangerous. Can make someone bitter and paranoid, on their isolated little patch of land.


    Wren snaps out of their thoughts, seeing a small Human child standing in front of their stand. Dressed in layers of thin, ratty clothing, with messy brown hair and big eyes that stare at the figures upon the shelf. On one hand, the disheveled look reminds Wren of a very tiny Demy, but on the other hand, they know that the rags are likely what the kid¡¯s parents could afford.


    ¡°What are those?¡± The child asks innocently, pointing at the dolls.


    ¡°They¡¯re toys: Dolls, made of wood and bits of stuff I find lying around,¡± Wren admits. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    The child doesn¡¯t answer, preferring to shuffle their feet with a mixture of impatience and awkwardness. Instead, they say, ¡°But dolls are made of old potato sacks and sawdust. Why are yours made of wood? They¡¯re supposed to be soft.¡±


    Wren chuckles a little and admits, ¡°Well, dolls can be made from a lot of things. I make mine from wood.¡±


    The child answers with a question almost immediately: ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s because it¡¯s what I had growing up,¡± Wren says. ¡°We had to make our own toys, where I¡¯m from, because we didn¡¯t have any money to buy new toys with. And we kind of lived really far away from other people, so there weren¡¯t any toys to buy even if we had money.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± the child says, their attention on the figure that Wren is currently carving.


    ¡°But, you can buy these!¡± Wren says, giving their best salesperson¡¯s pitch.


    The child looks surprised, then elated, then¡­ they glance down at their hand, which is clenched as a fist. Inside is a single copper coin. ¡°I dunno,¡± they mutter.


    I¡¯m losing ¡®em, Wren thinks, panicking. Thinking quickly, they sit the figure down on the ground and hold their hands above it. With a couple twitches of the fingers, a loop of mental imagery and words, a bit of arcane power invisibly descends into the doll from their downturned palms.


    Stiffly, though endearingly, the doll begins to dance, hopping around a bit.


    The child gasps in awe and claps their hands, watching the little figure teeter and totter about. Wren finishes the display and picks the figure back up, finishing the last bit of carving on it with a smile, as the child seems to struggle with whether or not to give up their allowance.


    Or, perhaps, not their allowance.


    ¡°But I¡¯m supposed to bring back some bread,¡± the child says worriedly.


    Wren feels their stomach drop.


    The dancing figure and the sounds of the cheering child seems to have attracted others. A few more children, all in similarly ratty clothing, linger around the stall, longingly staring at the toys on display. Even the ones overly bundled that Wren saw earlier are done so because of the numerous holes in each layer of fabric. And, suddenly, Wren is that age again. Wearing hand-made furs and leathers, making their own toys from whatever they could find, always hungry. Always hunting for their next meal, their family¡¯s next meal. Owning nothing but the clothes on their back and what they could carry from one place to another.


    The image of the child¡¯s face, full of awe and wonder, is replaced with the face of Wren¡¯s mother. The look in her eyes the first time she saw Wren perform magic.


    It was not awe in her eyes. Nor wonder.


    It was fear.


    Disgust.


    Forcefully, Wren makes the thoughts go away, an ability long-practiced since leaving the Crown behind. Their pulse begins to slow, breathing gradually returning to normal, muscles relaxing.


    These children don¡¯t need to see that, Wren thinks.


    They lick their dry lips and give their most genuine smile, looking out at the several children amassed in front of the stall as they say, ¡°Well, you better come back with some bread, then. As important as toys are, making sure you can eat is more important.¡±


    The child hangs their head sadly in understanding.


    Wren¡¯s breath hitches a bit, but they manage to keep their voice even as they gently tell the tiny crowd, ¡°You¡¯re all in luck, though, because¡­ because as it turns out, I just made too many of these dolls!¡±


    The child with the coin looks up, a bit confused, as do the others who tepidly linger at the edge of the stall.


    ¡°Well, since you have to get bread, you can¡¯t buy any from me. But that means I have far too many to carry back with me,¡± Wren explains, face ponderous as they try to figure out how to handle this mock dilemma. ¡°But I guess if I just let you all have some dolls, then you wouldn¡¯t have to spend your bread money and I won¡¯t have to worry about how to carry them all!¡±


    The children¡¯s eyes light up in surprise and delight. From the back, a small girl timidly asks, ¡°Really? Are you sure?¡±


    ¡°Of course! It¡¯d help me a lot,¡± Wren lies, though their smile is honest.


    Each of the children leave with the doll of their choosing, happily running off to play and show their parents. For a moment, Wren considers that maybe this isn¡¯t a unique incident, that the children have practice in how to pull at a shopkeeper¡¯s heartstrings in order to get what they want. Yet, seeing how happy they are, Wren decides that it doesn¡¯t matter, either way.


    The child with the copper lingers and, after a moment, asks Wren, ¡°Next time, if I have enough, maybe I can get bread and buy a doll. Would that be okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll start working on one just for you,¡± Wren tells them, before watching them scamper off toward the bakery stand.


    No profit for me today, I guess, Wren thinks to themselves. Though, the sound of children laughing nearby makes them reconsider this. Eh, maybe I broke even, after all.


    Wren takes another piece of wood out of their bag. With a sense of pride keeping at bay the memories they would prefer to forget, they begin carving another figure, one that will look like its eventual recipient whenever they come back.


    With or without a coin to spare.

 Chapter Twenty

    It is late at night in Tarn¡¯s Rest. The twin moons have already begun to dip toward the western horizon: Corvega, the larger of the two, is only a day or so away from being full, while Trydan, the smaller, has only the barest sliver of its entirety illuminated. The streets outside are frigid in the many hours of absence from the sun¡¯s warmth, with only the lit braziers along the stone path that runs throughout the town offering any reprieve from the cold darkness.


    The only people awake at this hour are the guards who make their rounds, all of whom are bundled up to combat the chill, save for one newly-appointed guard who neither feels the cold nor fears the shadows outside the light of the braziers¡¯ flames.


    Apart, of course, from those who have awoken in the middle of the night to get a drink, relieve themselves, or merely fetch another blanket to help combat the bitter night¡¯s chill, the result of one last push of cold air of the season before Spring arrives, bringing with it warmth and rain to feed the hungry rush of life eager to grow after the yearly moratorium that is Winter.


    There is one, however, who remains awake in spite of the hour.


    Aderyn Rhys has always found a preference in the quiet, solitary hours of the night. The silence and lack of distraction is perfect for ruminating on whatever endeavor or bit of interest might demand her attention at that moment in time. For Addy, whose interests often border on the obsessive, there is always something to put her attention toward.


    Especially considering that, for most of her life, her primary interest has been the ancient Monteith and the mysteries surrounding them: Who were they? Where did they come from? Where did they go? And, of course, how did all of their advanced technology function?


    These questions have kept Addy up at night¨Cquite literally¨Csince she was a child and her parents first introduced her to the mysterious people of times long past.


    Many people awaken early in the day to go about their duties, needing the light of day and/or the interaction of others to reach their goals. Addy occasionally needs such things like interaction with others, like for this expedition for whenever she teaches her classes back home in Halcyon, but her interests, her duties, require her to tinker with ancient technology and ponder on the purposes of it all, as well as on the Monteith who used it. And for this, silence and solitude are better than distractions and sunlight.


    Not that she minds dealing with others. She likes talking to people, especially the ones she considers her friends, and doubly so if she gets to talk about things that are of interest to her. But some people get upset when she gets too excited, or they deride her for her ¡°silly¡± interests and way of life. Though, those people just confuse her¨Cthat is, when she notices their disdain at all.


    People have always told her that the point of life is to find one¡¯s calling, or to contribute to society, or to just be happy. Yet, Addy does all those things. Her calling is her research, her contribution to society is a greater understanding of the Monteith, and all of it makes her happy.


    Yet, she hears people talk: She should have a more useful interest, or contribute something that isn¡¯t so obscure, or that her schedule or habits are weird and wrong. It¡¯s confusing: How was she to know that there are secret, hidden rules behind every actual rule?


    It¡¯s confusing.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she mutters to herself. ¡°They just don¡¯t understand, like I don¡¯t understand sometimes.¡±


    It¡¯s not like people would be mean for no reason. That wouldn¡¯t make any sense.


    Addy continues to ponder to herself, both out loud and in her own head, as she sits in her room at the inn on this quiet winter¡¯s night. The wind, coming off the bay, rattles her shudders a bit, but that sound is drowned out by the odd, otherworldly sounds that would be out of place literally anywhere else upon Vale: Beeps and whirs from UNA and CAM as they curiously investigate the interior of the room, communicating with one another (and Addy) through mechanical chirps and hums; this is coupled with the sounds of metal upon metal as Addy uses her tools to tinker with her visor in an attempt to calibrate it to her artificial friends.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not different,¡± Addy argues, glancing over at UNA, who hovers over the wash basin. The flying drone¡¯s one eye stares into the mirror as it curiously scans itself.


    UNA responds with a few high-pitched chirps.


    Addy rolls her eyes in response and says, ¡°No, they just don¡¯t understand my reasoning for how and why I do things. If they did, they wouldn¡¯t think it was strange, now would they?¡±


    CAM, who is presently attached to the side of her dresser in order to see through the crack of her shudders at the falling snow outside, lets out a few deep bloops.


    Addy wrinkles her nose in confusion and says, ¡°I don¡¯t see how that many orifices has anything to do with our conversation.¡±


    Another bloop.


    ¡°CAM!¡± Addy gasps, covering her mouth. ¡°I really should¡¯ve named you CAD instead.¡±


    She sits her tools down and picks up the visor, inspecting it carefully. She places it on her head and lowers it over her eyes; immediately, several screens pop up within her field of vision: Two of them show what UNA and CAM are looking at, while other screens are imposed over various things in the room with bits of text explaining aspects about them, such as the type of wood her dresser is made of, or the composition of the fibers that make up her bedsheets.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing Monteith technology is smart enough to decipher and incorporate unfamiliar languages,¡± Addy mutters, scrutinizing the ingredients in the leftovers of her dinner that sit on the nearby table.


    I wonder if Dahlia would recognize some of these molds, she wonders.


    UNA lets out a chirp.


    ¡°Not being understood would have done nothing to stop me from talking to you this much,¡± Addy says cheerfully.


    CAM bloops.


    If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°Well now that¡¯s just uncalled for,¡± Addy remarks, sticking her tongue out at her little four-legged companion. ¡°I won¡¯t correct Cashew anymore when he calls you a dog!¡±


    A string of interspersed bloops.


    ¡°Nuh-uh, you already said it. No takesies-backsies,¡± Addy says as she lifts the visor back up. She leans off the side of her bed, digging around inside of one of her bags before pulling out a small piece of¡­ something.


    It is one of the odd pieces of Monteith origin that were found on the shoreline when Tarn¡¯s Rest was being built. It is rectangular, a little smaller than a coin and much thinner, and is made out of some kind of material that is unfamiliar to the current era. It is no type of mineral that any scholar has been able to identify and is, for its size, incredibly light.


    Addy recognizes whatever it is made of as being of Monteith origin, as some of the components of her visor, of UNA and CAM, and of various other artifacts seem to be made of the same unknown material. Despite having the piece for over a decade, she has no idea what it is made of, let alone what its function is.


    Which, a decade of uncertainty is minor. Some artifacts she has in her office back home have remained a mystery to her for a hundred years if not more.


    ¡°What are you?¡± Addy asks rhetorically, turning the small rectangle over and over in her hands, eyes going over every bit of its shiny, smooth surface. ¡°A piece of armor? Part of some ancient weather device? A button? Some kind of¡­ magical egg?¡±


    Impulsively, Addy holds the piece closer to her face and sticks her tongue out, licking it.


    She frowns.


    ¡°You taste of untold mysteries and the flakes that come off old cast iron pots,¡± she says, sadly. ¡°Kinda salty, too.¡±


    Something suddenly bonks Addy right in the back of the head, causing her to jerk forward and her visor to fall over her eyes once more. ¡°Ow!¡± She whines, rubbing the point of impact.


    UNA lets out a few apologetic beeps as it lands on the bed beside Addy.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, UNA. But you might¡¯ve not hit me if you were looking where you were going instead of trying to keep an eye on your mirror doppelganger,¡± Addy says.


    Another couple of beeps.


    ¡°Yes, yes. They are not to be trusted with their inverted perspectives,¡± Addy agrees, turning her attention once more to the tiny rectangular piece of Monteith tech that she dropped onto the bed.


    Which now has a small screen overlay attached to it, when viewed through the visor.


    Addy¡¯s eyes go wide, watching as the screen, which for most things displays the text in the common tongue, is gradually filled with text in a strange, spidery script that cascades vertically down the screen in tandem, differing branches.


    Monteith, she thinks, in awe. It¡¯s so rare to find evidence of the language in more than small chunks. The fact that it is even written vertically, not horizontally, is an entirely new development.


    The strange writing shifts and warbles before it is replaced by common text.


    ¡°Wait wait nonono wait yes wait no!¡± Addy shouts, frantically grabbing for her notebook off the nearby desk along with her ink and pen. She flips the book open and begins scribbling, trying to quickly annotate the odd markings that were displayed ever so briefly on the visor, going over and over the images in her mind to keep them fresh long enough to recreate them¨Cat least, as best as she can.


    She finishes and stares at the scribbles across the open pages, amazed. This could be a major breakthrough! All she has to do is compare what is written here to what is shown¨C


    Addy¡¯s attention flicks back to the tiny rectangle on her bed, now curious about just what the text says. She reads the words, then reads them again, brow furrowing.


    ¡°GIX coordinate data relay marker. Initiate download?¡± She mutters under her breath, trying to parse the words presented to her. On the small screen displayed via her visor are two buttons, one marked ¡°Yes,¡± the other marked ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Um, yes?¡± She says.


    Nothing happens.


    She tries to reach out and touch the intangible screen, but her finger just goes through it.


    ¡°How am I¨Cwait,¡± she mutters, quickly grabbing her Monteith-made gloves from the side table, then putting them on. She reaches out and pokes the ¡°Yes¡± button, which reacts to her touch with the gloves on.


    A string of numbers and an empty bar appears, which gradually fills up. Once it is done, a small message pops up, reading:


    ¡°GIX coordinates downloaded; confirming present location.¡±


    Addy stares, mouth open, as the message changes to:


    ¡°GIX approximately 500 kilometers due north. Indicated route enabled.¡±


    A small flashing dot appears in Addy¡¯s field of vision as she turns to face north. She moves her head, but the dot remains static, pulsing faintly.


    500 kilometers north? That would be near the center of the Heart, Addy thinks. It takes her mind a moment to catch up to this very thought.


    ¡°Horsefeathers!¡± She shouts, standing up from her bed suddenly. ¡°I have to¨Cno, everyone¡¯s asleep¨Cbut this, the Heart, what is a GIX¨C¡±


    Shaking, she tries to calm herself unsuccessfully as she fumbles with the visor, taking it off.


    ¡°I gotta, okay, I know! I¡¯ll just wait downstairs and then as soon as they wake up I¡¯ll tell them, yeah, yeah! That way they won¡¯t be mad at me for waking them up okay UNA you¡¯re in charge until I get back!¡± Addy babbles before she runs out of her room.


    UNA lets out a series of beeps that sound suspiciously like chuckling.


    CAM, in response, powers down.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Addy snorts and lifts her head up, blinking sleepily. She is sitting at one of the tables near the back of the Moonpeak Inn¡¯s tavern area, still in her pajamas (covered in little cartoon owls). Her hair is a mess and the arms of her pajamas are wet with drool from where she had her head laying on them.


    ¡°Whuhzooit?¡± She manages to slur, trying to focus on the figure in front of her.


    Dahlia tilts her head, a bit worried, standing in front of the very sleepy Addy. ¡°Friend Addy, why are you resting here instead of in your room?¡± She asks. From behind her, the morning sun shines through the windows and the smell of breakfast wafts from the kitchen in the back. The rest of the dining area is thankfully devoid of people, at least for the moment.


    ¡°Cast iron¡­ orifices,¡± Addy murmurs, half-asleep.


    Dahlia stares.


    Addy raises her hands, gesticulating clumsily as she continues to explain, ¡°GIX relay¨Crelayed. Re-lay-ed. Rectangles!¡±


    ¡°Friend Addy, are you inebriated?¡± Dahlia asks, worriedly.


    Addy motions for her friend to come closer. Leaning in to whisper into the Goblin¡¯s ear, Addy says, ¡°Dots. Monteith in, in my eyes. North. Five hundred of ¡®em.¡±


    She then slumps onto Dahlia¡¯s shoulder, snoring loudly.


    Dahlia gently lifts Addy up, showing surprising strength for someone so small, and begins to carry her up the stairs back to her room. She passes by Felix on the way back to Addy¡¯s room; he gives the two only a cursory morning¡¯s greeting, unaware of the discovery that Aderyn will tell him later this evening, that will set the expedition¡¯s course into the unknown wilds of the Heart of Vale.


    And that will shape everything that is to come.

 Chapter Twenty-One

    Like many port towns, Tarn¡¯s Rest has a rudimentary postal service which is run out of a small wooden building that sits upon the docks. A solitary worker accepts letters and packages that arrive by ship for the denizens of the town, while also taking up very same items from the townsfolk to pass onto the next sailing ship. A small fee is often supplied by the sender, part of which is for the worker, and part of which is to assure safe passage of one¡¯s mail.


    In this case, the postal worker for Tarn¡¯s Rest is a Dragonfolk. With bronze-colored scales and reptilian features, like an elongated snout, clawed appendages, and even a stout tail, the Draconic heritage is plain to the eye. Yet, unlike their distant kin, Dragonfolk are bipedal and humanoid, fitting in with the other sentient races across the various continents.


    This particular one, by name of Lucius, hails from the mainland of Kattelox, where he has worked for years in various ports doing this very same job. It is a job he takes seriously, as he has seen the delight that good news brings to those needing a boost in morale, just as he has seen the dire understanding that bad news brings.


    Lucius is not a man prone to whimsy. He respects his work and those who task him with it.


    So, it is that, upon this day, the morning of the 14th of Shellan, in the 17th year of the 4th Era, when the front door of Lucius¡¯ shack jingles to alert him that someone has arrived, he is less than amused when he looks up to see the door closing¨Cand yet, there is nobody to see.


    ¡°Children,¡± he says with a hint of disdain before turning his attention back to the manifest he¡¯s working on for the next shipment of mail to go out.


    ¡°I am not a ¡®children,¡¯¡± comes a monotonous voice from the other side of his desk.


    Lucius freezes and slowly glances up from his paperwork, only to see nothing and no one standing opposite the desk of him.


    ¡°I serve neither ghosts nor the illusory-inclined,¡± Lucius states, emphasizing his words in order to convey his growing frustration.


    ¡°I respect that,¡± the voice says.


    ¡°Which one are you?¡± He asks, eyes narrowing.


    Much to his surprise, a pair of small, green hands grip the other side of the desk and the top half of a Goblin¡¯s head peeks over the edge at him.


    ¡°Neither,¡± she says, her large eyes unblinking as they stare at him, into him.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Lucius says in genuine surprise. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I wasn¡¯t aware we had any of your kind in this town.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve only been here a few weeks,¡± she remarks.


    ¡°I have heard of some newcomers that helped find the young Lord Southgate for Miss Bernadette. Is it true that he¡¯s a vampire?¡± Lucius asks, his tone quickly shifting to one of curiosity at the prospect of a juicy bit of gossip.


    ¡°You should ask him,¡± she says, still unblinking.


    ¡°Ah, yes,¡± Lucius mutters. ¡°My apologies, I¡¯m Lucius, the postal officer for Tarn¡¯s Rest. How may I help you, miss¡­?¡±


    ¡°I like that. ¡®Postal Officer¡¯ is a lot better than ¡®Mail Carrier,¡¯¡± she remarks.


    ¡°I¨CI thought so,¡± Lucius says with a shaky smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m Dahlia,¡± she finally says. ¡°Does a ¡®Postal Officer¡¯ also make sure letters get shipped out?¡±


    ¡°Why yes, they do. I do, that is,¡± Lucius answers.


    ¡°Okay,¡± Dahlia says, partially to herself, as she drops down from the edge of the desk.


    Now that Lucius knows to listen for them, he can hear the patter of her feet as she walks toward the front door.


    ¡°Wait!¡± He calls out, standing in order to actually see Dahlia. ¡°Are you not going to send your letter?¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t written it yet,¡± she answers, turning back to look at him.


    ¡°Whyever did you come to ask me if I would ship it out? Just having a mail¨Cpost office should have told you that your letter could be sent,¡± Lucius says, brow furrowed.


    ¡°I like to write letters to my parents,¡± Dahlia explains. ¡°Some towns I¡¯ve visited had ¡®Post Offices¡¯ that wouldn¡¯t take them because they thought it was a trick.¡±


    ¡°¡®A trick?¡¯¡± Lucius echoes, though he already knows what she means.


    ¡°There are still a lot of people that think that Goblins can¡¯t read. Let alone write,¡± she says.


    It is as he expected, though her words, combined with her unwavering gaze, make the knowledge sting all the worse. Despite the fact that the myriad races of Vale mingle in its larger cities and most lands are a healthy mix of all different forms, some stereotypes remain.


    Always, the hurtful ones remain.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± Lucius says, feeling ashamed for his initial ignorance and frustration. ¡°I will happily see to it that your letter to your parents is sent off properly, Miss Dahlia.¡±


    The little Goblin stares him up and down slowly, before finally nodding. She says, ¡°Thanks. When is the next shipment going out?¡±


    ¡°In the morning, but we send batches a few times a week, usually,¡± Lucius says.


    ¡°I¡¯ll bring it in the morning. Please wait for me,¡± Dahlia asks, though her tone of voice and gaze often makes requests seem like commands.


    Lucius does not see it this way, however. He gives her a curt nod before saying, ¡°I¡¯ll wait for it as long as I can.¡±


    Without another word, Dahlia leaves. Lucius sits back down in his chair, making a mental note to check from now on for those who enter the shop that are perhaps not so vertically-inclined.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Dear Mom and Dad,


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    How are you? Is that an odd thing to ask in a letter? It¡¯s not like you can respond right away. I¡¯ve seen people write lots of letters and they almost always start it by asking how the person reading it is.


    Now that I think about it, I¡¯ve written plenty of letters. I always start with ¡°How are you?¡±


    It hasn¡¯t made you respond.


    I finally made it to the Heart of Vale, though. If you send a letter for me to Tarn¡¯s Rest, it might actually make it to me.


    I miss you both.


    Things are not what I expected, here on the Heart. This land is wrong; you can feel it as soon as you step on the shore.


    There¡¯s a stillness to this place.


    At first, I thought it was just because of there not being much life here. The plants don¡¯t grow¨Cthe trees here are petrified and are older than my magic can tell. Older than the First Era, at the least. No moss, no brush, no vines, nothing. There are no animals either: No birds, no pollinators, no game animals.


    That all is strange enough. But the stillness goes deeper than that.


    There is no death on this land. The fallen do not rot, they do not decay. I thought it was magical at first, but I do not think so anymore. This land does not radiate magic, because magic is drawn from the essence of life, and of death.


    It is cold, sterile.


    Something beyond magic keeps life at bay. And because there is no life, there is no death, and thus there is nothing here that feeds on death. No fungi, no insects. Nothing tills the soil or sows the seeds, nothing helps to break down the dead and complete the cycle of life and death.


    It is unsettling. I hate it.


    I would have come home already because there is obviously nothing here for us to gather, but I wish to know more about this land, this purgatory in the middle of the world. Perhaps if I can find the secret that keeps life and death away I can use it somehow. That way this trip won¡¯t be a wash.


    That way I can fix everything.


    But there is more than just that keeping me here. I¡¯ve made a promise to take part in an expedition to the center of the island, which will help me figure out its secrets. But that¡¯s not all, really. There are people who seem to want me to stay, who like having me around.


    They are my friends.


    At least, they say they are.


    I have never had a friend, besides you two. I am not very good at it, I do not think; I do not know how to be a friend and I am still understanding how to recognize what they do that counts as ¡°friendly.¡±


    From what I can tell, being a friend is to be honest. To care. To be loyal.


    I did not think I was bad at these things. They are just new to me.


    There are five of them. My friends.


    Kaz is a large Orc who believes strongly in the Gods. She is sometimes rude, but I believe her to be honest and loyal. This makes her a good friend.


    Wren is a Dwarf who also knows magic. They are nice but easily distracted by money. They are sometimes rude but smile as they are, which is confusing.


    Cashew is a Halfling. He is small, like myself, and is even more rude than Wren. But I think it is so that he can pretend that he does not care, when he does very much.


    Demy is a Human, even larger than Kaz. He smells bad and seems sad often. I think that he is cursed somehow. But he is my friend which means that I want to help him.


    Addy is an Elf and my favorite friend. She is happy and likes to talk but does not make me talk about sad things. She is very smart and also very stupid and this makes me smile.


    My friends also have joined the expedition to find out the secrets of this land. I want to help them as much as I want to learn the Heart¡¯s secrets. The fact that I get to do both is a very good thing, I think.


    There are others.


    We found a man named Andrew in a very big house nearby. He is a vampire and he seems nice, but we have not spoken much. He has given us money and many thanks, so he is not an enemy, at least.


    Then there is a human named Felix, who is running the expedition. He says that he is the brother of the King of Kattelox, which seems to be true. He is not so much nice as he is polite. I think that he cares more about finding out the truth than about me or my friends, which I am not sure I like.


    Friend Addy seems to respect him, though. I do not think I would be a good friend if I spoke ill of her friend. Especially without more of a reason to do so.


    I will write another letter when we return from our expedition. We are supposed to leave in a few weeks when the snow thaws.


    I want to write more. I want to speak to you directly. But I must finish my letter tonight so that I can send it in the morning. Friend Addy mentioned that at some point, she and the others might come visit our farm and meet the two of you.


    I would like this.


    I will talk to you in my next letter. Hopefully I will have answers.


    I love you both.


    Signed,


    Dahlia


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    ¡°Look, we¡¯re ready to shove off. Whoever it is can send it in the next batch, we gotta go.¡±


    Lucius glances up at the gruff sailor, a stouter-than-average Elf, who stands with their arms crossed on the other side of the desk. They have been waiting here for over half an hour to gather the mailbag from him, but he has put off giving it to them for a few reasons.


    For one, the ship is heading out earlier than usual.


    For two, Lucius has¨Cor had, rather¨Ca few things left to address. This took only a few minutes.


    For three, he said that he would wait on the little Goblin.


    ¡°I¡¯m almost through,¡± Lucius explains, once again.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t written anything for the past ten minutes,¡± the sailor says, frowning.


    Lucius sighs loudly, the air forcing its way out of his reptilian nostrils in a show of irritation. Calmly, he says, ¡°I already told you, I¡¯m waiting on someone. They needed to send their mail out today.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure, but it¡¯s not fair to hold up an entire ship for one person,¡± they begin to argue, when the door to the small office opens, causing the specifically-placed bell just above the door to ring from the impact.


    Dahlia steps into the building, holding her letter. She glances at the sailor, then at Lucius.


    ¡°You¡¯re just in time,¡± Lucius says before the Elf can make any comments. He steps around the desk, holding out the open bag of mail to receive Dahlia¡¯s letter.


    Carefully, she places it inside and watches as Lucius pulls the drawstring closed; he then hands the sack off to the Elf.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± they grumble as they exit, rushing back to the docked ship.


    Dahlia turns her attention to Lucius, staring up at him with her large eyes. ¡°You waited for me,¡± she says simply.


    ¡°I told you I would,¡± Lucius says with a smile.


    She stays silent for a moment, thinking, before she says, ¡°Thank you. We are now friends, yes?¡±


    Lucius starts a little, caught off guard by the question. Yet, he can¡¯t help but find this interaction charming. ¡°I would be honored if you thought of me as a friend. I am Lucius,¡± he says, holding out his hand.


    Dahlia stares at it before sticking out her own hand, much smaller and considerably less scaled than his, letting him shake. Addy explained this ritual to her the other night, that it is a form of respectful greeting in Kattelox.


    ¡°I am Dahlia,¡± she says.


    ¡°Are you expecting a return letter?¡± Lucius asks.


    Dahlia shakes her head.


    ¡°Well, you should write more letters. That way you can come tell me stories about what you and the others have been doing,¡± Lucius says, chuckling.


    ¡°Why?¡± Dahlia asks.


    ¡°Well, because that¡¯s what friends do. Share stories with each other,¡± he explains.


    Dahlia nods a little, thinking about when she eats dinner with the others.


    ¡°This is true. Friends also share dinner. You should come to the inn and eat dinner with us so we can share stories,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that,¡± Lucius says. ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to bring some interesting stories of my own.¡±


    ¡°I will have to write another letter. I did not mention you in that one,¡± Dahlia muses as she turns and walks out of the door, causing the bell to jingle once more.


    Lucius watches her go, amused.


    I can surely splurge on dinner at the inn occasionally, he thinks as he returns to his desk, one friend richer.

 Chapter Twenty-Two

    It is nearing noon as Cashew sits in the corner of the Moonpeak Inn¡¯s tavern area, gingerly sipping on a pint of ale and trying to appear busy. He has been watching everyone come and go for lunch (or, in the case of some, late breakfast), all the while scribbling on a stack of old parchment with an inked quill. Contrary to his furrowed brow and intense scrutiny of his work, Cashew is not performing complex equations or chronicling some grand adventure: He is in fact just doodling on the pages, drawing cartoonish, stylized versions of his companions, of the events at the manor, of the vampire they brought back, and of the ¡°Failures.¡±


    All the while, he keeps an eye on those that come and go. Always watching from the peripherals of his vision.


    Most of the others are already gone, by this point in the day: Kaz is off playing Captain Officer Good Priest in the old, abandoned temple; Wren is down at the docks trying to con children out of a few copper; and Dahlia is probably off staring at something with the intense scrutiny that only stray cats and the psychotic can muster.


    Addy on the other hand is probably asleep half-hanging off her bed, if Cashew had to guess. The odd little Elf has practically been nocturnal since the group returned from Tarn¡¯s Manor, with the occasional frantic appearance to babble about some kind of ¡°discovery¡± that is only gibberish to everyone except Felix and maybe Dahlia.


    Demy, Cashew knows, is likely sleeping in. Stocking up on sleep before the big night is common for the Phyleran, and by Cashew¡¯s estimate, the 15th is the next big night. And that will be tomorrow.


    Cashew has spent his time since returning by keeping tabs on the others, wanting to know what they do in their downtime and also wanting to see them in their natural state, without pretense. To see who they really are.


    He admits, all of them seem to be on the level. Everyone has secrets, of course¨CCashew knows this intimately well¨Cbut based on what he has seen, in addition to the events at the Manor, the others seem to be trustworthy. Which is good, he really didn¡¯t want to have to cut and run.


    Literally.


    None of the other five are his target today, though. No, today he is going to focus on someone who has been far more secretive, who has been far more careful. Someone who Cashew hasn¡¯t had an opportunity to look into with any real depth, which is making him antsy.


    ¡°Yo, Cash,¡± comes a voice behind him suddenly, causing him to start in his chair and almost spill his bottle of ink over all of his doodles¨Cer, all of his very important documents.


    ¡°Son of a fuck¨C¡± Cashew hisses, casting a wild, scathing glare back at Demy, who stands behind his chair with a stupid smile across his face. ¡°Demy you mutt, I¡¯m working!¡±


    Demy cackles and takes a seat beside Cashew, a doofy smile still plastered across his face as he apologizes, ¡°Sorry Cash, you¡¯re real easy to tease when you¡¯re ¡®working.¡¯ You get that tunnel vision.¡±


    Cashew half-mutters Demy¡¯s words back at him in a high-pitched, mocking tone as he rolls his eyes. It¡¯s true that he hates being startled like this, caught off his guard, but the reality is that he is on guard. On high alert, to keep tabs on everyone that comes and goes.


    He side-eyes Demy, who unceremoniously steals a drink from Cashew¡¯s pint of ale.


    Not just anyone could sneak up on him like this, especially not some tall, dorky, himbo of a hobo trash garbage man. Yet, despite appearances, Cashew knows that Demy is far more competent than he lets on. The disarming demeanor (or, with strangers, the stoic silence) is not an act, but it is effective.


    ¡°What are you even doing awake? I figured you¡¯d be out until sundown, at least. Getting your schedule all sorted out ¡®n stuff,¡± Cashew muses, swiping his much-emptier mug of ale from his large companion¡¯s meaty grip.


    ¡°Mm, worried,¡± Demy mutters, his smile fading.


    Cashew stares at him for a long moment before pushing his mug back over to Demy. Demy¡¯s smile faintly returns as he takes it and downs the remainder of its contents.


    ¡°You worry too much,¡± Cashew says, a sense of understanding just beneath his tone of frustration. ¡°We handled it just fine on the 10th, didn¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but that was Tryden. That one doesn¡¯t make me nearly as¨Cyou know,¡± Demy says quietly, glancing around the tavern. There are numerous people here, some huddled into rowdy groups, which helps to hide the conversation happening between the two.


    ¡°I know, I know. Bigger moon, bigger problem,¡± Cashew says, letting out a sigh. ¡°But it¡¯s far from our first go at it. What¡¯s got you so worried? The fact that we¡¯re ashore?¡±


    ¡°I ain¡¯t so worried about getting out,¡± Demy says with a shrug.


    ¡°Then?¡± Cashew prompts.


    After hesitating, Demy finally mutters, ¡°I think it¡¯s time I tell everyone.¡±


    Cashew nods slowly, able to guess the source of his friend¡¯s anxiety even before he said it. Contrary to his usual snide tone, when he speaks, his voice is surprisingly comforting: ¡°Are you sure you want to, Demy?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s safer if they know, for everyone,¡± Demy says softly, head down. ¡°Maybe if they know, I won¡¯t be as stressed about it. Won¡¯t get frustrated as easily. I¡¯m just afraid they¡¯ll act like other people have, you know?¡±


    Cashew does know. He reaches out and pats Demy on the back reassuringly as he says, ¡°Look, Miss Fun Police already knows and she¡¯s being okay about it. She was the one I was worried about finding out the most. Pretty sure Addy will just be delighted like she always is. The Goblin, uh¡­ it¡¯s hard to tell with that one.¡±


    ¡°I think she knows, more or less. I¡¯m mostly worried about Wren,¡± Demy admits.


    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re almost as dense as you are,¡± Cashew agrees.


    Demy shoots Cashew a rotten look, earning a snarky chuckle out of the Halfling.


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t wanna scare off your little enbyfriend crush, but you¡¯re right. About probably feeling better if all of us know,¡± Cashew says, keeping sincere eye contact with Demy.


    ¡°I hope so. Do you think it¡¯ll go okay?¡± Demy asks sheepishly, obviously still worried.


    ¡°No matter what happens, I¡¯ve got your back. And if they don¡¯t, then they don¡¯t deserve you anyway, so fuck ¡®em,¡± Cashew says, snapping his fingers for emphasis.


    Demy smiles and puts an arm around Cashew¡¯s shoulder, giving him a discreet hug. He admits, ¡°You¡¯re right. Thanks, Cash.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. Don¡¯t mention it,¡± Cashew responds, eyes suddenly darting over Demy¡¯s left shoulder as he sees the thing that he¡¯s been waiting all morning, and admittedly a few other mornings, for: Felix Thorburn to make his way down the second floor staircase and stride out of the front doors of the inn.


    ¡°Shit, that¡¯s my cue,¡± Cashew says after the door shuts back behind Felix. He looks at Demy and says, ¡°G¡¯on now, git. I gots crimes be doing.¡±


    Demy glances over his shoulder, just catching a glimpse of Felix out of the front windows before the noble disappears around the corner. He grumbles in exasperation and says, ¡°Cash, what are you up to? You¡¯re playing with fire, if he¡¯s your mark.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s playing?¡± Cashew argues, getting up from his chair slowly. ¡°Since you got nothing important to do, why don¡¯t you keep watch for me in case he comes back early?¡±


    ¡°Wha¨Ccome back early from where? Wait, why do I have to keep watch?!¡± Demy argues.


    ¡°He¡¯s gone to blow smoke up the sheriff¡¯s ass, he meets with her every week,¡± Cashew explains. ¡°And because you¡¯re gonna get a bunch of food and be sitting here anyway!¡±


    Demy whines at being called out and used as a watchdog. He grumbles, ¡°Well, yeah, but¨C¡±


    ¡°What if I let you get all the ale you want on my tab?¡± Cashew asks, eyebrow raised.


    ¡°... Fine. Take your damn time,¡± Demy huffs, already out of his chair and heading toward the kitchen.


    With wandering eyes on Demy as he stalks toward the kitchen, Cashew quietly slips up the staircase toward the rooms on the second floor.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Guess I owe Wren a drink, too, Cashew thinks to himself as he uses his thumb to smudge out the arcane rune carefully drawn on the door¡¯s hinge, causing the magical alarm to dissipate without activating. He and the Dwarf had spent a few nights swapping stories and tricks: Cashew providing pointers on picking locks and lending Wren his old starter set of picks, and Wren explaining how magical traps function and how to break the binding runes that contain and trigger the spell.


    Such information would¡¯ve been very useful back home.


    As if the alarms stopped you from sneaking out anyway, a familiar voice chides in the back of his mind.


    Shut up, Princess, he mentally snaps back at the voice, irritated.


    The door to Felix¡¯s room is locked in addition to having a magical trap set on it, but this is much more mundane and familiar for Cashew to deal with. It takes less than a minute of feeling around the inside of the lock with the thin, slightly curved bits of metal to be rewarded with a soft click as the tumblers fall into place and the cylinder spins freely, retracting the deadbolt from the door¡¯s frame.


    He gently pushes the door open and quickly slips inside, before closing the door and locking it back.


    Felix¡¯s room is tidy, much like Cashew expected it to be. There are books, scroll boxes, and various arcane and writing supplies laying around, but everything is closed and neatly stowed. Whether as a quirk of an anal personality or as a precaution against prying eyes, Cashew isn¡¯t entirely sure, but he believes it to very likely be a strong display of both.


    In truth, Cashew likes to check out even the most trustworthy of individuals. As evidenced by him staking out the rest of the group over their collective downtime in town. It¡¯s less to do with paranoia and more that Cashew likes to support his trust or distrust in people with actual evidence. In the case of the others, what he has found and seen supports that they are, on the whole, trustworthy.


    Felix, though, is the opposite.


    There¡¯s something about him that seems off. While Cashew has had far less time to get a read on him, the nobleman is consistently aloof and distant, overly careful with his words and vague with the information he gives. Cashew knows that this is not uncommon for nobles and those who learn to navigate diplomatic situations and high society, but this does nothing to assuage his suspicion. If anything, it makes him more wary.


    Cashew knows well that part of being noble is never tipping your hand, as having money and power requires one to be infinitely more conniving and cutthroat than the typical thieves and vagabonds at the fringe of society.


    Hence, odds are good that Felix is hiding something.


    He is very cautious as he flips through Felix¡¯s belongings, peeking into containers and flipping through books. Most everything is research materials or simple supplies. Of course, it¡¯s not like anyone with something to hide would leave it out in the open, even beyond a locked, trapped door.


    Unlike the Manor, which had all kinds of tidbits and breadcrumbs to follow, there is no journal that chronicles Felix¡¯s thoughts, no strange keys, no ancient magical baubles to point toward anything.


    This is bullshit, he thinks. How am I supposed to figure this out if there aren¡¯t any clues?


    Cashew briefly considers that maybe Felix is on the level; that there are no clues to find. However, he quickly dismisses this notion by just imagining Felix¡¯s disdainful, smug face.


    Let¡¯s see, if he¡¯s not keeping anything tangible around, maybe he¡¯s been communicating with home base, Cashew ponders. He goes over the trinkets and jewelry laying around, but it is all either mundane or he¡¯s just magically inept.


    Probably both, the voice in the back of his head remarks.


    He ignores the sarcastic echo of his old friend and begins rummaging through the scroll cases. He knows these are magical, and he doesn¡¯t really want to be messing with them in case he accidentally triggers something, but it¡¯s the last thing he hasn¡¯t checked yet.


    As he opens one of the cases, he sees that instead of the usual format of arcane sigils and symbols, this page is almost entirely covered in a thin layer of ink.


    ¡°Well, what¡¯re you?¡± Cashew mumbles, spreading the parchment out over the desk. As if by magic¨Cwhich, it is¨Cthe entirely black page shimmers and lightens, showing a stone room full of maps and sculptures, with a large table at which a man in regal clothing is seated.


    ¡°Good to hear from you! I¡¯ve been worried, after what happened with the expedition,¡± the man says.


    From the page comes another voice, this one recognizable as belonging to Felix himself, which says, ¡°Sorry to worry you, brother.¡±


    Cashew grins widely and watches the scene unfold in front of his eyes.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Demy is on his way back to the kitchen with his empty plate and dishes, intent on grabbing another pint since it¡¯s Cashew-funded, when Felix Thorburn suddenly strides back through the front door of the Moonpeak.


    He feels his stomach drop and the hair on the back of his neck prickle in surprise, eyes widening. Cashew hasn¡¯t come back down yet, which means he¡¯s probably still up there in Felix¡¯s room.


    His eyes scan the room as he stands frozen, trying to think of a way to signal his friend without being too painfully obvious.


    I could cause a distraction, drop all these plates? But he wouldn¡¯t care, he¡¯s a noble douchebag. Maybe I could talk to him? He¡¯d probably just wave me off. Maybe I can, wait¨C


    He puts the dishes, all save for his mug, on a nearby table before making his way over to Felix, intercepting him before he reaches the staircase. Demy intentionally stumbles¨Cokay, mostly intentionally¨Cas he approaches, giving the biggest, stupidest smile that he can muster.


    ¡°Hey boss! ¡®Chu been up-ta?¡± Demy asks, slurring his words a little as he pats Felix on the back, spilling what little bit of ale remained in his cup out onto the noble¡¯s jacket.


    Felix, in kind, gives Demy an annoyed glance and brushes the suds off his coat, but he does stop walking. ¡°I was discussing business with Miss Bernadette, she¡¯s grown fond of you all keeping the town¡­¡± He trails off, mouth twitching a bit as he stares at Demy, considering his words carefully before he finishes, ¡°... Secure.¡±


    ¡°Well we do, you know, we do what we can,¡± Demy says, laughing loudly as if he¡¯s just told a very funny joke.


    ¡°M¡¯yes,¡± Felix mumbles. ¡°I¡¯m sorry Demyan, but I really must be¨C¡±


    ¡°Hey, wanna hear my wolf impression?¡± Demy asks. Before Felix can respond, Demy tilts his head back and gives his loudest, and most surprisingly on-point, howl, ¡°Awooooo!¡±


    The sound reverberates in the tavern, causing the lingering and/or late lunch crowd to turn and stare. Felix, additionally, can only stare in wide-eyed surprise.


    After Demy finishes, Felix merely stands there for a few moments, looking as some strange combination of impressed, irritated, and confused. ¡°I¨Cthat was, erm, very proficient of you, Demyan.¡±


    ¡°Thank ya sir,¡± Demy says, bowing slightly. A few scattered folks clap, though most just stare in awkward silence.


    ¡°I would love to continue our ¡®discussion¡¯ another time, but I must be going,¡± Felix says brusquely, giving Demy a pat on his shoulder before making his way quickly toward the stairs.


    It¡¯s on you now buddy, Demy thinks as he gathers up his dishes again and resumes his walk to the kitchen, even more eager for a drink than before.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    It is by sheer luck that the magical recording on the scroll ends just as Cashew hears a familiar howl coming from the tavern below. Immediately, adrenaline kicks in as he knows that this is the signal and that he only has a very short amount of time to put everything back and get out of this room.


    Must go faster, must go faster, he thinks to himself as he shoves boxes back into bags back into the places that the bags full of boxes were previously in. He rearranges everything on the desk back to how it was, returning every little thing to how he remembers it being when he first came in.


    Content with the placement of everything, Cashew bolts toward the door¨Conly to hear a set of footsteps approaching from the hallway.


    Shit on my father¡¯s balls! He screams internally.


    Cashew turns and surveys the room, mind racing for a new plan. Should he hide? No, Felix stays in his room for hours on end, he¡¯d find the little Halfling sooner or later. That means the only option is the window. He runs over to shutters and pushes them open, staring down at the placid yet deceptively fast-moving water of the Moonbow River, which the back of the Moonpeak Inn goes up to the very edge of.


    Jumping from the second floor into water cold and fast enough to kill in seconds is not the greatest plan. In this situation, it probably doesn¡¯t even break into the top ten possible plans.


    Cashew looks up, seeing the eaves of the roof hanging just out of reach; this part of the roof is far enough on the edge that it still has snow and ice covering it, much to his dismay.


    The sound of a key entering the lock behind Cashew makes the decision for him.


    He jumps, little hands grasping for the edge of the eaves. He grabs it and almost loses his grip thanks to the icy slush that is equally trying to cling to the roof¡¯s rim, but manages to hold on. He rocks forward then back, using his momentum to kick his legs back and close the shutters before rocking forward and kicking up as hard as he can, flipping the lower half of his body up and over the eaves.


    His hands finally lose their grip and he hangs there, top half still over the edge, staring upside-down at the closed shutters. From within the room, he hears the door open¨Cand footsteps approaching the window.


    Trying to keep his groaning to a minimum, Cashew uses his legs to clamp onto the roof, muscles straining as he flips himself up and onto his back, breathing heavily as he stares up at the overcast sky above.


    Beneath him, the shutters open.


    A bit of slushy snow and a few icicles fall from the edge of the roof where Cashew was hanging just seconds before, causing him to freeze, wide-eyed.


    Felix, annoyed, mutters, ¡°Just another couple weeks until this miserable place isn¡¯t covered in soggy sky filth.¡±


    Slowly, the shutters close back.


    Cashew smiles up at the sky, breathing out loudly as he mutters beneath the sound, ¡°Get fucked you soggy bitch.¡±


    He lays there for a few minutes as the adrenaline slowly wears off and his breathing returns to normal before he flips over and scrambles across the roof, eager to gossip about the Thorburns¡¯ machinations to his friends.

 Chapter Twenty-Three

    ¡°I really appreciate this,¡± Demy says as he tests the restraints currently set up against the back wall of the Moonpeak Inn¡¯s cellar: Heavy iron chains ending in manacles, embedded into the natural, solid stone wall that serves as the foundation of the building.


    ¡°It¡¯s not often I get to help a comrade in this place, let alone one who has become something of a local hero,¡± Semyon says as he leans against one of the nearby large wooden barrels that holds the tavern¡¯s ale supply. The chains being embedded into the stone are thanks to the Dark Elf, who Demy was pleasantly surprised to learn is proficient with magic.


    Upon asking Semyon where he learned such spells, the fellow Phyleran had simply ignored the question and changed the subject.


    Demy respected this, knowing that some secrets are best left alone.


    ¡°I¡¯m no hero,¡± Demy scoffs, letting the chains go now that he is satisfied with their security. Not that the inspection is needed, as they have functioned just fine on the previous nights. Logic, however, means nothing to the gnawing uncertainty that is anxiety.


    ¡°Your humility would be inspiring were it not rooted in self-loathing,¡± Semyon remarks.


    ¡°Ohh, burn!¡± Cashew whistles, sitting on top of a nearby provisions barrel, kicking his feet in (although he wouldn¡¯t admit to it) similar anxiety felt for his worrisome friend.


    ¡°Y¡¯know, I really don¡¯t need both of you giving me shit,¡± Demy grumbles.


    ¡°Considering how close you are to your friend Cashew here, I assumed that you found the stern teasing to be endearing,¡± Semyon says with a smirk.


    Demy growls under his breath and makes his way over to the cask of ale to pour himself a pint. Semyon watches, but allows him to do so.


    ¡°He¡¯s always a little grumpier on days like these,¡± Cashew says softly so that only Semyon can hear, also watching Demy.


    ¡°I cannot blame him,¡± Semyon responds, keeping his voice low.


    ¡°Hey, thanks for not freaking out about¨Cyou know. Having a safe place he can count on means a lot,¡± Cashew adds, locking eyes with Semyon.


    ¡°He is lucky that I have known those like him. Many of our compatriots would not be so understanding,¡± Semyon explains.


    Demy walks back over to the two, taking a long draught from his tankard before reluctantly admitting, ¡°It¡¯s almost time, I can already feel it. Cash, would you go get the others?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re certain about telling them?¡± Semyon asks, sensing the reluctance in Demy.


    ¡°No choice, really. We¡¯re going to be on the expedition for who knows how long and they need to know,¡± Demy says, already downing the remainder of his ale. He wipes his mouth before adding, ¡°Besides, they¡¯re all¡­ they¡¯re good folk. No matter how they take it, they deserve to know.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re pretty sure a couple of them already know, or at least suspect it, anyways,¡± Cashew adds.


    Semyon nods, but says nothing. A few moments of anxious silence linger between the three until Demy can¡¯t take it anymore.


    ¡°I¡¯m getting some more ale,¡± he mutters before walking off toward the cask once again.


    Cashew sighs and hops off the barrel. ¡°Guess it¡¯s now or never,¡± he says to Semyon as the two make their way toward the steps that lead up into the kitchen area.


    ¡°You know, my father had a phrase he liked to use for situations like this,¡± Semyon says, cracking a smile.


    ¡°Oh yeah?¡± Cashew asks, raising an eyebrow.


    Semyon mutters to himself in Phyleran, finally coming to an adequate translation in his mind before speaking in the common tongue, ¡°In life there is often but one choice: Shit or bust.¡±


    Cashew snorts, completely caught off guard. ¡°¡®Shit or bust!¡¯¡± He repeats loudly, cackling as the two reach the top of the stairs. ¡°I¡¯m stealing that.¡±


    It is Shellan 15th.


    The night when the largest moon, Corvega, will loom full overhead.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    ¡°I¡¯ve never had a ¡®meeting¡¯ before this last month. Now they happen all the time,¡± Dahlia muses as the group of five shuffle through the kitchen of the Moonpeak Inn, heading toward the entrance to the cellar.


    ¡°Lucky you. Kaz loves meetings,¡± Wren complains quietly¨Cthought just loud enough for the Orc to hear.


    Kaz rolls her eyes, taking the bait as she quips back, ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I try to foster good communication between us.¡±


    ¡°Which I appreciate, but did we really need the meeting about what constitutes efficient soap usage?¡± Wren counters.


    ¡°Okay, look,¡± Kaz says in exasperation as she stops walking and turns around, narrowing her eyes at Wren. ¡°That was fourteen years ago, we were just getting used to one another, and you didn¡¯t even know what soap was. I was trying to teach you how not to waste a whole bar in one bath.¡±


    ¡°I had just learned the glory of heated baths and dirt-cheap, good-smelly, disappearing scrubby chunks!¡± Wren argues. ¡°You could¡¯ve at least waited until I was dry to bitch!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s wasteful,¡± Kaz mutters. ¡°You still waste too much soap.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a fraction of a copper piece for a bar and I like bubbly-suds!¡± Wren snips.


    From the bottom of the cellar steps, Cashew¡¯s head peeks back into view and he points accusingly at Kaz and Wren. Warningly, he says, ¡°Am I gonna have to separate you two?¡±


    Addy giggles and starts down the steps, followed by Dahlia. She admits, ¡°That still sounds better than some of the early staff meetings back at the university.¡±


    Dahlia, meanwhile, wonders why the Dwarf and Orc are talking about taking baths with the little after-dinner snack cubes that are left on the bathroom counter.


    Wren sticks their tongue out at Kaz, though they can¡¯t help but crack a smile when Kaz gives them a rude hand gesture in return. The two are the last to descend the steps to the cellar; Cashew closes the hatch, wanting as much privacy as possible.


    ¡°What are we doing down here anyway, Smalls?¡± Kaz asks, glancing around at the rows of wine bottles, casks of ale, and countless barrels and boxes of various dry goods and other provisions.


    ¡°Whoa,¡± Wren utters, seeing Demy standing near the back wall, wearing heavy manacles that are chained to the stone wall itself. They raise an eyebrow and cross their arms as they vocally decide, ¡°I dunno what¡¯s going on, but I think I¡¯m into it.¡±


    ¡°Have you done something bad?¡± Dahlia asks innocently, standing off to the side with a furrowed brow.


    ¡°Believe me, you won¡¯t be into it,¡± Demy grumbles to Wren before turning his attention to Dahlia. ¡°This is to stop me from maybe doing something bad.¡±


    Kaz frowns a little and glances back at Cashew, who nods in return. She says nothing, knowing that, finally, it¡¯s Demyan¡¯s time to speak.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Wren asks, worried.


    Demy fidgets a little, picking at his nails anxiously. He goes to take a drink from his mug, which sits on a nearby box, but finds that it¡¯s empty. He realizes that this is the third time he¡¯s gone to take a drink only to find it empty. With a sigh he sits it aside and, avoiding the looks of confusion (and, from Cashew and Kaz, stern understanding), he starts to speak.


    ¡°I¡¯m from a little town called Dredgen¡¯s Fen, in the Eastern marshlands of Phyleris. It¡¯s a mining town that grew up around a bog iron deposit. It was never more than a blip in the middle of a dangerous swamp, but when the mine started drying up, most people left. My family were some of the only ones who stayed.


    ¡°So I grew up doing hard labor in the mine. Not much other choice. We were poor and, no, not very religious,¡± Demy adds specifically for Kaz, staring directly at her. ¡°We offset what little coin we made by hunting, fishing, foraging from the swamp. There¡¯s a lot of life that lives off the death in a swamp, and we lived off of that.¡±


    Dahlia hums in understanding and approval.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°What¡¯s this have to do with the restraints?¡± Addy asks curiously, poking at the heavy iron chains.


    ¡°Anyone who has spent time in Phyleris will tell you that the swamps are dangerous. Even beyond just the normal plants and animals. Things live in the bog that feed off the people who aren¡¯t careful, who get lost or hurt. After years of being lucky enough to avoid those things, that luck finally ran out.


    ¡°I was on my way back to the Fen after a day of hunting, but I spent too long and night fell. Corvega was full and high in the sky, like it will be tonight. It probably was stalking me for a while, but I didn¡¯t notice, since I was just intent on making it home. It jumped me, some big bestial thing, all claws and teeth.


    I was near enough to town that they heard me screaming. Some folk came with torches and weapons, managed to scare it off. But I was a mess, barely alive. They bandaged me up and took me home, where the local healer spent what little power she had mending me over the next few days.¡±


    ¡°What was it? The thing that attacked you?¡± Wren asks, their expression mortified.


    ¡°A were-beast,¡± Dahlia answers, her unblinking gaze leveled at Demy.


    He lowers his head a little, but nods.


    ¡°A Volkolak, what we call a werewolf. I found out why a few days later, when it was Trydan¡¯s turn to be full. I was still at home recuperating; my wounds were mostly healed, but my parents didn¡¯t want me to go back to work until I don¡¯t remember much, except for the blood. I just, I couldn¡¯t¡­¡± Demy trails off, his breath hitching in his throat as he looks away.


    Cashew steps up beside him, placing a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. Demy lets out a stuttering breath and gives Cashew a hug with one arm, using the other to wipe at his face. His shaggy, wild hair covers his shame, but does little to hide it.


    Demy regains his composure and gives Cashew a thankful nod before letting him go. He continues, ¡°I woke up out in the swamp the next morning. I didn¡¯t go back home, I just¨Cleft. I¡¯ve been running ever since. I never stay in one place long. I eventually made it to the coast and met Cash, who was at port.¡±


    ¡°I convinced him to come with me. On the ship we¡¯d restrain him on nights like this and we worked on trying to control that part of him,¡± Cashew explains.


    ¡°I¡¯ve gotten better about it. Apart from the occasional frustration,¡± Demy pauses, glancing at Kaz, ¡°I handle it okay. I can control it some. But when I get really angry or freaked out, I still lash out. And I still lose it entirely during the full moons.¡±


    An awkward silence falls as Demy stops talking, unable to look at the group.


    He feels a hand on his shoulder, larger than Cashew¡¯s. He glances up, seeing that it belongs to Wren, who is smiling softly. The others all look on, not in fear or anger, but in understanding.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t tell you sooner,¡± Demy mumbles.


    ¡°Well, you should be!¡± Wren says sternly, making him flinch a bit. They continue, ¡°But I get why you didn¡¯t. I¡¯m upset that you didn¡¯t say something sooner, but I¡¯m glad that you finally felt comfortable enough to tell us.¡±


    Demy smiles a little and shrugs, ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like I could keep it a secret forever. I¡¯m glad you¡¯re not too mad.¡±


    ¡°It could be worse! You didn¡¯t eat anyone,¡± Addy says with a shrug.


    ¡°He tried to eat me back at the manor!¡± Kaz complains loudly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t count,¡± Cashew teases, earning himself a punch in the shoulder that almost knocks him on his ass.


    Demy¡¯s chuckling is interrupted by a sudden sensation that has become all-too-familiar by now. He pushes Wren away slightly, feeling his blood pressure spike. His mouth goes dry and his breathing becomes ragged. Barely able to speak, he manages to fumble out, ¡°Get b-back! Shit¨C¡±


    Wren barely has the time to take a few large steps back before Demy doubles over. The others watch in horrified awe, except for Cashew who just winces and looks away, as Demy begins to change.


    It is not pleasant. The stories passed around by word and by book do not adequately convey the process. It is thankfully brief, but visceral. Bones snap, muscle tears, flesh rips. Demy¡¯s groans become screams that become growls that eventually become a rumbling, deep-throated howl that echoes within the cellar deafeningly.


    Within minutes, the chained man in front of the group is no more. Instead, there is a humanoid wolf, fur black and eyes red, barely able to stand up fully within the cellar without smacking its skull into the wooden slats above. The shackles and chains, which seemed far too large for Demy, look small now on this monstrous wolf-man, who stands easily a head and a half taller than Demy¡¯s already substantial height.


    With a threatening rumble, Demy sits on the basement floor, eyes never leaving the group.


    It is Addy who first breaks the hushed silence that follows:


    ¡°Puppy!¡± She shouts, arms wide as she moves to hug Demy.


    Cashew, prepared for this, tackles her with a shout of, ¡°No!¡± His intent to knock her down fails, though he does succeed in wrapping his arms around her waist and anchoring her from moving forward.


    ¡°But¨CPuppy!¡± Addy explains.


    ¡°There¡¯s a reason that he¡¯s chained up, Addy,¡± Kaz says, speaking for the first time in a while. She steps up with the others, keeping wolf-Demy in her peripheral vision at all times. ¡°He said it himself. He loses control like this. He¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°He hasn¡¯t done anything dangerous, though. He hasn¡¯t tried to break free or attack us,¡± Wren argues, much to Kaz¡¯s surprise.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean he won¡¯t,¡± Kaz argues back.


    ¡°He can¡¯t be happy in those chains, though,¡± Addy says sadly.


    ¡°Demy will be even sadder if he accidentally hurts anyone,¡± Cashew says, still holding onto Addy¡¯s waist. ¡°Let alone if he were to infect someone.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too much of a risk,¡± Kaz says sternly. ¡°Nobody is going near him and especially nobody is taking his restraints off.¡±


    ¡°He just poured his heart out to us and we¡¯re just going to leave him chained up in a dusty basement?!¡± Wren practically shouts, face reddening out of frustration.


    ¡°That is exactly what we¡¯re doing because he poured his heart out to us,¡± Cashew snaps, starting to get annoyed himself.


    ¡°But he¡¯s so fluffy!¡± Addy argues.


    Kaz begins to argue back, but the sound of footsteps makes all four pause. They turn, watching as Dahlia steps up to the seated Demy, staring up into the face of the giant black wolf, whose red eyes are locked onto Dahlia curiously.


    ¡°Dahlia¨C¡± Kaz warns, reaching out, but the Goblin entirely ignores her.


    Instead, she holds up her small hand. The four watch in amazement as Demy leans down, sniffing it with his newly-formed snout¨Cbefore bonking the top of his head gently against her tiny palm.


    Dahlia responds with gentle pets. She doesn¡¯t look back at the others, but when she speaks it is directed to them all the same, ¡°He doesn¡¯t like the restraints.¡±


    Addy, Cashew, Kaz, and Wren say nothing and simply stare.


    ¡°Do you?¡± Dahlia asks. Demy whines a little, eyes closed as she pets the top of his head, scritching through the coarse black fur. ¡°We should take them off him.¡±


    ¡°But¨C¡± Cashew begins, this time, but she cuts him off.


    ¡°He¡¯s dangerous when he gets angry or scared. Like any animal,¡± Dahlia explains simply. ¡°The chains are to make sure he doesn¡¯t lash out, but they just upset him.¡±


    Dahlia finally turns her head to look at the others. ¡°We have to show that he can trust us, that we trust him. That way he won¡¯t be upset, or angry, or scared.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure, Dahlia?¡± Wren asks, their tone hopeful.


    ¡°Unless we want to leave him here for the expedition, it¡¯s up to us to teach him that he¡¯ll be happier if he trusts us and stays calm,¡± she says matter-of-factly.


    Wren takes a deep breath and steps forward first, despite Kaz moving to hold them back. They carefully, calmly approach, watched by Demy¡¯s bestial eyes the entire way. But when they reach up, he doesn¡¯t snap or react harshly, instead just letting out a pleased grunt as Wren runs their hands through his fur.


    ¡°Puppy!¡± Addy says and starts forward, causing Demy to start slightly. Dahlia holds up her hands to Addy, who understands and tries to calm down slightly. She says, much softer and gentler, ¡°Puppy.¡±


    Demy does not flinch as she makes her way over and gives him a hug, unable to wrap her arms completely around him.


    ¡°Well fuck me blind,¡± Cashew mutters, watching.


    ¡°Did you never try to approach him like this?¡± Kaz asks.


    ¡°No. Neither of us wanted to risk it,¡± Cashew explains. He steps forward and gives Demy a few pats before digging the key to the restraints out of his pocket. He glances back at Kaz for the go-ahead.


    Kaz considers this before finally nodding the affirmative. She remarks to Cashew, ¡°You two weren¡¯t wrong to be careful. But Dahlia¡¯s right, we¡¯re his friends and if we want him to come on the expedition, we have to show him that he can trust us.¡±


    Cashew cautiously begins undoing the restraints. ¡°What if he freaks out on us?¡± He asks, still a bit uncertain.


    ¡°Then Demy has to trust us that we¡¯ll stop him from doing anything bad, if he gets worked up,¡± Kaz says, staring at Demy. He stares back, seemingly understanding, though it is hard to know for sure.


    Cashew sighs and, sincerely hoping that this isn¡¯t a horrible idea, unlocks the manacles. They fall to the floor, metal chains clanking rhythmically as they go limp.


    Demy responds by¨C


    Licking Cashew¡¯s face.


    ¡°Eugh! Gay!¡± Cashew sputters, wiping the drool off his cheek.


    The tension in the air breaks and the others laugh, reassuring Demy with scritches and pets. Ultimately, the giant werewolf ends up laying on Wren, who isn¡¯t too plussed about being a pillow to their bestial friend.


    ¡°Puppy puppy puppy,¡± Addy repeats cheerfully, running her hands through the fur.


    ¡°He might be hungry,¡± Dahlia says as she sits atop Demy¡¯s broad back. He does not seem to mind.


    ¡°Shit, I¡¯m hungry. We all still need to eat dinner,¡± Cashew adds.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think bringing him up into the crowded tavern is wise,¡± Kaz says sternly.


    ¡°It would just overstimulate him,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think he¡¯s gonna move,¡± Wren says with a bit of effort, partially squashed under Demy¡¯s weight.


    ¡°We can eat down here so he isn¡¯t lonely!¡± Addy says happily. ¡°We can have a slumber party! Oh, we¡¯ll get blankets and make a fort!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna see my fort and be like, ¡®Oh shit Cash, that makes my fort look like balls!¡¯¡± Cashew says, cackling.


    With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, Kaz relents. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll bring food down and go from there. Addy, can you help me carry some stuff?¡±


    ¡°Okay!¡± She says, ruffling Demy¡¯s fur a bit before hopping up to go help.


    Demy, for his part, lets out a pleased whine. Some part of his mind, some bit of personality that remains intact despite the transformation, knows that he is safe in the company of his friends.


    For the first time in years, full moon or not, Demyan Volkov isn¡¯t afraid.

 Chapter Twenty-Four

    The month of Shellan has ended, and with it, winter has finally released its icy grip upon the land. Temperatures have steadily risen within the past week or two, driving out the remainder of the snow that has stubbornly clung to the stone streets¡¯ edges. The chill winds coming in off the surreally-still bay have gained some hint of warmth, though it will be weeks still, perhaps months, before these mild breezes give way to the dense heat of summer.


    The calendar of Vale is universally observed throughout all the nations, as the thirteen months are named for aspects that all peoples agree on: The Nine Deities, the material world of Vale, the moons Tryden and Corvega, and the lone sun, Serana. While each region has its own holidays and traditions observed, there are four distinct holidays that are part of the universal calendar. The Spring Equinox, the Summer Solstice, the Fall Equinox, and the Winter Solstice: These four days are observed between calendar months, serving as four unique, extra days specifically for the festivals, each year.


    Between the last month of winter, Shellan (named for the deity Anboshel), and the first month of spring, Valafyr (named for the world of Vale itself), is one of these unique holidays: The Spring Equinox. Each festival has its own traditions associated with it; the Spring Equinox is often observed with a festival sponsored by the local governments, where street vendors provide foods of all kinds made with things like eggs and small game, which are prevalent food sources during the early days of spring.


    This is all topped off by a plenty of drink, music, and a community dance where it is tradition for those unencumbered by partnership to ask for a dance from someone of interest; for those who are already in a relationship, asking their partner to a dance is supposed to bring good luck for the two throughout the year.


    This tradition is prevalent enough throughout Vale that those currently going through relationship troubles are often spoken of as: ¡°Missing one too many dances.¡±


    It is on this evening of the Spring Festival that the six members of the expedition make their way through the marketplace of Tarn¡¯s Rest. Much of the illumination comes from the lanterns hanging from the numerous occupied stalls, strewn between each stand on long stretches of rope, as the last rays of Serana grasp impotently at the horizon, trying without success to prolong the day as the fiery star descends from view.


    The smell of various foods cooking fills the dockside with a wonderful m¨¦lange of aromas. Most are familiar, at least to Addy, as many of the stall operators come from mainland Kattelox. Though there are several stalls with foods from other countries, as there are people from all different parts of the world here in Tarn¡¯s Rest.


    Much to the dismay of General Flint Thorburn, if he knew.


    ¡°I¡¯m telling you. The Loxian nobles are up to something shady,¡± Cashew mumbles through a mouthful of some form of deep fried meatball with an egg in the center of it.


    ¡°Nobles? Up to something?¡± Wren asks sarcastically, snacking on some thin, fried potato sticks. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I can believe something so outlandish.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, okay, fine. But not just like, ¡®Up to something.¡¯ Nobles are always paranoid and scheming some bullshit, but this was shady even by normal standards. The beefcake boot-licker fucker, uh¨C¡± Cashew pauses, trying to remember the name of the person he is disparaging.


    ¡°Flint Thorburn. General of the Kattelox Military, brother to King Fredrik Thorburn,¡± Addy explains, happily munching on some planks of fried fish smeared with some kind of thick, white condiment that only Demy was brave enough to taste out of the others.


    He said it somehow tasted more like old fish than the old fish it was lathered upon.


    ¡°¨CSure, that,¡± Cashew mutters, gesturing toward Addy for emphasis. ¡°He was really adamant that nobody foreign be part of the expedition because he was afraid of spies. And he seemed sure that they were going to find something in particular that he didn¡¯t want anyone else to know about.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sure you don¡¯t know what they¡¯re talking about, Addy?¡± Kaz asks, munching on a roasted hock of some kind of large fowl. Demy, happy in his own little world of food and strong ale, has the other leg.


    ¡°Nope! It sounds like they expect to find something related to the Monteith here, which isn¡¯t that strange of a bet to hedge on. The entire continent seems to have some kind of anti-life effect over it, which is either some really, really powerful magic or the result of some kind of ancient technology!¡± Addy explains, unperturbed by everything.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t bother you that they mentioned you like you were some kind of tool to detect machines with? That them losing the entire previous expedition was just kind of whatever as long as you survived and it turned out you were useful?¡± Wren asks, seeing what Cashew is exasperated about.


    ¡°I mean, this is my field of expertise. Felix isn¡¯t wrong, that it would be really hard to find someone with enough knowledge to replace me, compared to someone else. And I would want to be involved if it does end up being related to the Monteith,¡± Addy says, thinking about why any of this would upset her.


    ¡°The others worry that Felix is using you because you¡¯re too nice to recognize their ill intent,¡± Dahlia explains, finally deciding that she wants to try a piece of the fried fish with the gloop on it that Addy has. Upon tossing it into her wide maw, she determines that it is not nearly as rancid as Demy made it out to be.


    ¡°You assume their intent is ill, though. I don¡¯t see why it would be, unless they had reason,¡± Addy muses, feeding Dahlia another chunk of fried fish, mindful of the Goblin¡¯s tiny sharp teeth and the impact that might have upon Addy¡¯s exposed fingies. ¡°And if they have good reason, it¡¯s not really that ill, is it? Either way, I¡¯m happy to lend my expertise because I want the chance to discover and figure out any new instances of Monteith technology!¡±


    ¡°I wish I was as trusting as you are, Addy,¡± Wren says with a sigh.


    ¡°Tch, not me. We¡¯ll be suspicious enough to even you out, okay?¡± Cashew says, glancing up at Addy, who just tilts her head in confusion.


    ¡°You really don¡¯t need to do that, though. I¡¯m sure Felix has reasons for being secretive,¡± Addy says.


    ¡°We¡¯re just being careful in our own way and making sure we¡¯re all safe¨Cincluding you,¡± Kaz says with a smile, which Addy returns with a nod of understanding.


    Demy, for the first time, speaks up, ¡°We¡¯re setting out in the morning, right? We should just try to have a good time tonight. We¡¯ll have plenty of time to worry starting tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Is that positivity I sense?¡± Cashew asks, squinting up at Demy suspiciously. ¡°Who are you and what have you done to Demy?¡±


    If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I can be in a good mood sometimes,¡± Demy argues.


    ¡°Literally you can¡¯t,¡± Cashew argues back. ¡°Pretty sure you¡¯ve gone years without being in a mood that even remotely resembles good.¡±


    ¡°Maybe Demy is just happy that he doesn¡¯t have to be on guard around us constantly,¡± Dahlia suggests.


    ¡°Aww, is someone comfortable with us because we know that he¡¯s secretly just a big, happy pupper?¡± Wren asks in a saccharine, half-teasing tone as they reach up and pinch Demy¡¯s cheeks.


    ¡°Am not!¡± Demy whines, though if he presently had a tail it would likely give him away due to wagging. ¡°I have meat, ale, and good¨Cadequate company! That¡¯s all!¡±


    ¡°I am comfortable with adequacy,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°Adequately friends! Yay!¡± Addy says loudly as she hugs both Dahlia and Demy¨Ca more lopsided attempt at embrace she could not have partaken of.


    While Dahlia seems pleased at this, Demy rolls his eyes and half-jokingly¨Cmaybe quarter-jokingly¨Csays, ¡°Whoa there, friends is awfully familiar, isn¡¯t it? We¡¯re acquaintances at best. Probably more like occasional cohorts.¡±


    ¡°Occasional cohorts! Yay!¡± Addy repeats and hugs tighter.


    ¡°We should try to have a good time tonight. Felix wants us to meet up and head out tomorrow morning, so I doubt we¡¯ll be able to kick back like this for a while. Just don¡¯t go overboard,¡± Kaz says as she gingerly drinks from her mug, which is about half-full with ale. There are a couple stalls set up specifically with various types of ale as well as a few other types of spirits, which she is eyeing up.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. We¡¯ll try to have fun, but certainly not too much, officer,¡± Cashew says snarkily.


    ¡°Fun within prescribed limits,¡± Kaz reminds him, pointing her finger in his face for added emphasis. ¡°We have work tomorrow.¡±


    The sound of music begins to lilt from the nearby towering tent set up at the edge of the market, just before the ground gives way to the docks. Dozens of people mill about the entrance while the workers finish making sure that the tent is nice and stable. Earlier in the day, the prospect of a closed tent was deemed unnecessary, but the clouds above have begun to gather, ready to let loose the first of many spring rains. The open-air tent is in the process of quickly converting to a closed tent, at the very last minute. Just in case.


    ¡°Oh, I can¡¯t wait! I love the spring dance!¡± Addy exclaims eagerly, already bopping to the rough rhythm of the performers doing their final warm-up. ¡°Dahlia, what about you?¡±


    ¡°What about me?¡± Dahlia asks, finishing off the remainder of her and Addy¡¯s plates of street food.


    ¡°Do you like the spring dance?¡± Addy repeats.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember ever celebrating it with my parents,¡± Dahlia admits.


    Addy gasps, genuinely shocked at this revelation. ¡°You¡¯ve never done a spring dance?!¡± She asks incredulously.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never danced at all,¡± Dahlia says, looking at the ground awkwardly.


    Addy leans down and hugs her little friend, smiling as she asks, ¡°Well, do you want to? I¡¯ll teach you how! I¡¯m really clumsy, so I bet you¡¯ll be better at me in no time!¡±


    Dahlia seems a little hesitant, but seeing Addy¡¯s smiling face, she finally relents. ¡°Alright, Friend Addy.¡± She lets Addy grab her hand and lead her toward the tent, which is just now beginning to open up.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never met anyone who had a more secluded upbringing than me, even,¡± Wren muses, watching the two run off.


    ¡°So your family did the spring festival?¡± Demy asks.


    ¡°Yeah, my clan did. Clan Eklund. In the Crown, the spring festival is more about making morale in the clan better, than anything romantic,¡± Wren explains.


    ¡°Oh,¡± Demy replies, sounding a little disappointed.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not to say that I don¡¯t think it can¡¯t be romantic,¡± Wren adds, glancing up at him.


    ¡°I was, uh, thinking of asking if¨Cyou know, if you wanted to dance,¡± Demy admits, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.


    ¡°You mean to tell me you know how to dance?¡± Wren asks with a smirk.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯m a great dancer,¡± Demy huffs, crossing his arms, though his face flushes a bit. ¡°I always had someone wanting to dance with me back in the Fen.¡±


    ¡°I mean, everyone wants to dance with the dog when one wanders into the tent,¡± Kaz mutters, leaning over to Cashew. He snorts, almost choking on his drink, and smacks Kaz in the thigh good-naturedly. She chuckles in response.


    ¡°Is that so? Well, then,¡± Wren says, crossing their arms.


    ¡°Well, then¡­?¡± Demy echoes, confused.


    Wren says nothing but raises their eyebrow and nods their head toward the tent, smiling slyly.


    After a second, Demy understands. ¡°Oh!¡± He exclaims, then asks, ¡°Would you, uh, care to dance with me?¡±


    Wren taps their chin, seeming to ponder this for a long few moments before responding, ¡°Nah.¡±


    Cashew and Kaz both crack up at this, while Demy whines and pouts.


    ¡°I¡¯m joking! I¡¯d love to dance with you,¡± Wren admits, hooking their arm around Demy¡¯s. ¡°Let¡¯s go show these bumpkins how to dance.¡±


    Demy, who is pretty certain that both he and Wren count as bumpkins more than the average townsperson here in Tarn¡¯s Rest, decides to roll with it and replies, ¡°Let¡¯s give ¡®em a show, Red.¡±


    Cashew and Kaz watch the two strut off toward the tent, which has lit up, the front flaps open and showing the festivities currently going on within: A few different stages with performers upon them, a large circle of people surrounding an area full of all manner of folk, old and young, performing various types of dances. Even from here, they can see Dahlia and Addy taking up a large portion of the dance floor, doing odd flips and rolls and getting cheers from the crowd.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just us now,¡± Kaz mutters.


    ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re not¨C¡± Cashew begins.


    ¡°¨CNo, no way,¡± Kaz answers, pursing her lips as she shakes her head.


    ¡°Because that¨C¡± Cashew continues.


    ¡°¨CRight, just kinda, eh¨C¡± Kaz mumbles.


    ¡°¨CExactly, just not. Kinda cringe to be honest,¡± Cashew agrees.


    The two stand in awkward silence for a few moments.


    ¡°I¡¯m still hungry, honestly,¡± Kaz admits.


    Cashew jumps at the break in the awkwardness, saying, ¡°Yeah! There were some nice alcohol stands set up, too.¡±


    ¡°Bar hop?¡± Kaz asks, eyebrow raised. ¡°Well, stall hop.¡±


    Cashew gives a thumbs up, ¡°S¡¯roll, sister. Bet I can put more away than you.¡±


    ¡°By Kel¡¯s Beard you can!¡± Kaz says in defiance, smiling in spite of herself as she and Cashew make their way back to the market stalls as drops of rain begin to fall from the dark sky above.


    Spring is here.


    It¡¯s time to go.

 Chapter Twenty-Five

    It is the 1st of Valafyr, 4E 14. The Spring Equinox has come and gone, bringing with it the rejuvenating rains of spring.


    Yet, upon the Heart of Vale, there is nothing to rejuvenate.


    It is early in the morning and the sky is a dark gray. Rain falls from above in steady sheets, blanketing the ground of Tarn¡¯s Rest with a steady veneer of moisture. The ground, dead as it is, refuses to accept the nourishing bounty from the heavens, acting as if it is already gluttoned by weeks of precipitation.


    As the town is built on an angle, the water rolls down hill and street, heading for the sea. The Moonbow River is already engorged, filled to the brim with runoff: Any normal river in any normal part of Vale would be fast-flowing rapids, but even as full as it is, the Moonbow is placid, like a glass that would run over if even a few more drops were added to it.


    It is in this weather that the members of the expedition find themselves amassed at the edge of town, once more prepared to leave through the front gate that likely sees less use than any other gate found upon Vale. Everyone is in thick cloaks, enchanted by Dahlia and Wren to repel as much of the falling rain as possible: The same minor magical effect helped keep the snow from clinging to and drenching the group on the way to Tarn¡¯s Manor, which ended up being a fantastic proof of concept against the constant rainstorms of spring.


    Each person has their belongings on their back, as trying to pull a wagon through uncharted territory is a losing proposition in the best of circumstances; as it is, here in the Heart, the cart would even have to be pulled along by the expedition members, as horses and other animals brought upon the shore have a tendency to fight wildly and flee¨Cdirectly into the ocean, only to drown in their attempt to get away.


    Without horses, no cart. Without a cart, packing only what is necessary is paramount. Dahlia¡¯s natural magics should be able to help provide some food apart from the rations everyone has packed, but there is no wild game to hunt nor native plants to forage. If the rain keeps up, at least, water should be no real issue.


    At least, once Kaz finishes cleansing it, as a precaution.


    The rainwater should be clean, but on this strange land, nothing is safe to be taken at face value. Not when simple assumptions could end up with someone dead. Or worse.


    ¡°So it¡¯s just us, then?¡± Kaz asks, taking a break from inventorying everyone¡¯s belongings as she looks over at Felix. Despite her genuine question and even tone, the noble seems to flinch in frustration.


    ¡°It would seem so,¡± Felix grumbles, mood already dark from the weather. The fact that nobody else has shown up is bothersome on numerous levels, not the least of which is that Felix had offered a stipend up front to the few that had agreed to accompany the group, in order for them to adequately gear up.


    ¡°How many were we expecting?¡± Dahlia asks, curious.


    ¡°More than zero,¡± Felix says curtly.


    ¡°Can¡¯t say I blame them for deciding not to go, though,¡± Demy mutters, staring up at the stormy sky.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like they added anything besides some extra muscle, though, right?¡± Wren asks, unable to keep from thinking about the cost of hiring random laborers to come along. ¡°They couldn¡¯t have brought much more gear and I doubt that most of the workers here would be much help against those Failures.¡±


    ¡°Probably would¡¯ve made good bait. Or distractions,¡± Cashew says, earning a sour look from Wren and Kaz both.


    Felix does not remark on this, as the Halfling is correct. Being fodder and pack mules were the main functions of having random peasants tag along, so logistically, it¡¯s a minor loss. The audacity of them to just ghost Felix¡¯s generous agreement is the thing that really bothers him.


    As the seven members of the Expedition of the Heart watch, the gates of Tarn¡¯s Rest begin to slowly creak open. The soaked wood groans from swelling and disuse, resisting being opened as if the structure itself is trying to keep the group from embarking on their adventure. If there is any point in which to decide to just walk away, it is now. But each of the seven have their own reasons for stepping through the gates.


    It¡¯s far too late to turn back, even if they¡¯ve yet to even take the first step.


    Shit or bust, Cashew thinks, snorting to himself.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t someone say something? This is kind of a big deal,¡± Wren says, sounding more than a little anxious. Demy offers a comforting arm around their shoulders and they lean into him, thankful for the effort.


    Addy takes a deep breath, knowing that this is her time to shine. She has plenty of things to say.


    Kaz, as if sensing the impending disturbance to the day¡¯s travel distance that an hour-long Addy ramble will cause, interjects first by placing her hands together in prayer.


    She begins to speak to the heavens above, voice even and powerful, ¡°We beseech you, Anboshel, to watch over our journey. Kelathorne, we ask you to protect us in this strange land. And¨C¡±


    ¡°¨CAnd Phye, we ask that you let us find some really neat thingers!¡± Addy finishes.


    Kaz glances up at Addy, surprised. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you were religious at all,¡± she says.


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡± Addy asks.


    Kaz shrugs a little and admits, ¡°I¡¯ve met a lot of academic-types that aren¡¯t, is all.¡±


    Addy wrinkles her nose. ¡°The smartest people I know will admit that they know just enough to know that they¡¯ll never know everything. It¡¯s important to be open-minded to all possibilities, and the deities are a possibility!¡± She explains.


    ¡°Treat all outcomes as valid to minimize bias,¡± Felix elaborates.


    ¡°Exactly, Professor!¡± Addy exclaims, bouncing excitedly. ¡°We¡¯re going to make history, regardless of what we find! We might as well have fun while we do it!¡±


    The others can¡¯t help but find Addy¡¯s enthusiasm infectious, but the dim weather and uncertainty of what is to come weighs on everyone all the same. It lingers along as they walk through the gates, like an eighth party member: Familiar, but not entirely welcome. It only worsens with the sound of the gates closing behind them, but they continue on.


    There is only forward, now.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    The first day of travel has been rough, set back by the pouring rain. Discomfort and low visibility haven¡¯t helped, but the real difficulty has been the miserable slop that the rain has turned the ground into. Without any active root systems to soak up the water and to provide structural support to the soil, it immediately floods and turns to mud.


    It¡¯s a wonder the continent hasn¡¯t just sloughed off into the ocean.


    The mud has been a menace for most of the group, but for Cashew and Dahlia, it has been exponentially more troublesome. To the point that, almost wholly incapable of walking, the two are now piggybacking rides: Cashew holds onto Demy¡¯s back, practically steering him through a variety of gestures and rude comments; Dahlia on the other hand sits on Kaz¡¯s shoulders quietly, posture straight and eyes alert, akin to a cat who has found the tallest perch possible.


    Wren fares some better due to sheer belligerence and leg musculature, but they still wish that someone were strong enough to carry them. Unlike their fairly light Halfling and Goblin companions, Wren¡¯s Dwarven frame is broad and stout, muscled and dense. Carrying them would be akin to carrying a small boulder; the odds of either Felix or Addy being able to do so are slim to none, even if they worked together.


    Felix, sensing the discomfort and dwindling morale, offers words of encouragement in the form of, ¡°We are almost to the manor. Lord Andrew gave us permission to use his accommodations in his absence.¡±


    ¡°Thank the Nine. My legs are killing me, walking through this muck,¡± Wren grumbles.


    ¡°Oh, come on. It¡¯s not that bad,¡± Demy says with a smirk.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Says the long-legged bog-strider,¡± Wren responds, casting him a cool glance in return.


    Dahlia, atop Kaz¡¯s shoulders, points ahead and confirms, ¡°Manor in sight.¡±


    Kaz reaches up and fist bumps Dahlia in appreciation, smiling a little as she does so. ¡°If I remember correctly, the land beyond the manor is more mountainous, so it might be more solid than this lowland soil we¡¯re on,¡± she says, sounding hopeful.


    ¡°It¡¯s kind of funny,¡± Addy muses, bopping to a tune that only she seems able to hear.


    ¡°What is?¡± Wren asks, frowning.


    ¡°We waited over a month for the snow to go away and this isn¡¯t any better!¡± She answers cheerfully.


    ¡°Oh, yeah. I¡¯m laughing, really,¡± Wren says, expression flat and annoyed.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t, though¡­¡± Addy wonders aloud.


    The group reach the front door of the manor as the grayscale illumination of the day is at last fading. Felix pushes it open, carefully¨Cstill mindful of the story that the others brought back of their time here. The main foyer is free of Failures¨CAt least, the monstrous sort, Felix thinks as he glances at the other six. The interior is dark, but as it is dry, it couldn¡¯t be any more inviting. The group does their best to kick the muck from their boots before they enter and begin lighting the wall sconces; Wren goes for the larger target that is the enormous fireplace near the back of the room, thankfully stacked high with fresh wood brought from the mainland.


    As blue-white flames leap from Wren¡¯s hands and catch the kindling, they decide that whenever they get back to town, they¡¯re going to give Andrew a kiss right on the mouth for this gift.


    Within moments, there is a roaring fire that the group have spread their cloaks and wet boots out in front of. While it gives off heat as normal, the oddly-colored flames shed a much softer light than what would be typical.


    Demy watches the fire dance, mesmerized as he asks Wren, ¡°So, your magic. It has something to do with the moons, right?¡±


    Wren blinks, surprised at the question. ¡°It is, yeah. You asked about it when we were here at the manor last time, too,¡± they say, holding their hands out to the fire and enjoying the  gentle heat that brings feeling back to their numb extremities.


    ¡°Well, last time I mentioned it, I couldn¡¯t really explain why I thought your magic was so pretty,¡± Demy says with a coy smile.


    Wren blushes faintly and is presented with two immediate options on how to respond. As is customary, they decide to go the route of the shitter.


    ¡°You think my magic is pretty, huh?¡± They say teasingly, grinning up at Demy.


    ¡°I¨Cno! I mean, I do, but not¨C¡± Demy flounders, growing far redder than Wren, far faster.


    Demy¡¯s embarrassment is salvaged as Felix speaks up, his voice easily filling the space thanks to his time spent speaking over murmuring students back at the university, ¡°Professor Rhys, would you care to check the¨Cdevice that you claim will lead us to, hm, something?¡±


    ¡°The what?¡± Addy asks, currently occupied in full by cleaning the rain droplet marks off her glasses.


    ¡°The, uh, thing. The discovery you¨C¡± Felix begins, but Addy cuts him off with a sudden burst of excitement.


    ¡°Oh! The universal coordinate device!¡± She practically shouts in realization as she begins digging in her pack excitedly.


    ¡°Is this the thing you claim is directing us toward a point somewhere inland?¡± Kaz asks, finding a seat in one of the nice, cushioned chairs that line the foyer.


    ¡°Yep! It mentioned something called a ¡°GIX¡± and gave a set distance to it. Now where did¨Cah!¡± She says triumphantly, holding up the small, rectangular ¡°coin.¡± She also retrieves her visor and puts it on, staring at the strange object in her hand.


    ¡°Uhh, Addy?¡± Cashew asks, seated atop one of the end tables. He has a half-eaten ration bar in one hand, which is being stared at hungrily by Dahlia a few feet away, as she has already eaten hers.


    ¡°Hold on, the coordinates are updating,¡± Addy explains nonchalantly, as if those words are normal parts of the average person¡¯s lexicon.


    ¡°Oh, well, fuck me. Sure,¡± Cashew says sarcastically before noticing Dahlia, who is a few feet closer than a moment before. ¡°Whoa sister, this is my nutrition cookie. You best step off,¡± he tells her warningly.


    ¡°Cookie,¡± Dahlia repeats, a little sadly.


    Cashew sighs and tears a chunk off the end, tossing it over to her. She catches it with her mouth, chomping happily.


    ¡°Oh, here we go! Ah!¡± Addy squeals in delight. ¡°It works! 460 kilometers due north, so we¡¯ve traveled¨Cthat seems right!¡±


    ¡°Who is Keelow Meader and why are there so many of him?¡± Dahlia asks as she continues to chew on Cashew¡¯s donated chunk of ration.


    ¡°¡®Kilometer¡¯ is a unit of measurement that the Monteith used. They called it the ¡®Metric System,¡¯ and it was a decimal-based system that took a standard unit of measurement, like meter for distance or gram for weight, and had prefixes for each increase or decrease by a tenth. ¡®Kilo¡¯ for example is the suffix for three decimal point deviations to the positive, or an increment of a thousand, so a thousand ¡®meters¡¯ is a ¡®kilometer.¡¯ And we traveled forty ¡®kilometers¡¯ worth of distance today!¡± Addy elaborates.


    Silence.


    ¡°That is all very interesting, Professor,¡± Felix drones, obviously used to these kinds of conversations. ¡°All I am asking is if the device is accurate, however.¡±


    ¡°Oh! Yeah, it seems right. Tarn¡¯s Manor is about 24 or 25 miles out of town, so the math and direction of travel checks out,¡± Addy explains.


    Dahlia frowns. ¡°I don¡¯t like that it knows where we are, too,¡± she mutters.


    ¡°If the Monteith were so smart, why did they use stupid math?¡± Cashew asks.


    ¡°The metric system is more efficient because it¡¯s very standardized and consistent!¡± Addy explains.


    ¡°Maybe, but familiarity seems more important than raw efficiency,¡± Kaz argues, finishing the last bit of her rations.


    ¡°That¡¯s true,¡± Addy admits, thinking. ¡°So we have to find a way to make everyone forget how to measure things, first!¡±


    Felix interjects, having had plenty enough of this conversation for one night, ¡°Alright! Let¡¯s all get some rest, we have another long day ahead of us. Assuming we will be following the trajectory that Professor Rhys has found for us, we have another dozen or so days of walking to look forward to.¡±


    ¡°Assuming we don¡¯t run into any issues,¡± Kaz murmurs.


    ¡°Or find something interesting,¡± Wren adds, their green eyes glimmering eagerly in the soft firelight.


    I should be so lucky, Felix thinks. He says, instead, ¡°I¡¯m confident we can deal with whatever we come across. For now, let us rest.¡±


    While the allure of the various beds throughout the manor is tempting, the group instead sets out their sleeping cots on the floor in front of the fireplace, where it is warmer and, hopefully, safer. After gathering a few more logs to occasionally feed to the fire throughout the night, everyone drifts off to the sound of rain pattering against the windows and the crackle of moonfire.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Addy is not sure what time it is, but the darkness outside the windows, the snoring of the others, and the remaining few logs on the fire indicate that it is late into the night. Any other time, she would be awake and tinkering with her things, but when out in the field, daylight is paramount to work around.


    It takes her a few moments to figure out what it is that woke her up. The snoring from the others¨Cspecifically Demy¨Cisn¡¯t loud enough or infrequent enough to disrupt her sleep. It is only when the sound repeats that she realizes what it was that woke her up:


    A small notification sound, a mechanical beep, coming from her visor.


    Addy picks it up and slides it over her head. A message flashes in the corner of her field of vision, reading: Incoming message from [username: Engel].


    Brow furrowed, Addy digs around in her nearby bag and grabs one of her gloves, sliding it on her hand. She reaches out and pushes the blinking message bubble, accepting it.


    After a few seconds, a strange symbol pops up, like a small horn with several lines radiating from the end of the bell, indicating that she has connected to something¨Cor someone.


    ¡°Uh, hello?¡± Addy asks quietly, still groggy but her intrigue has helped wake her. She feels a strange rush of adrenaline when a voice suddenly responds.


    ¡°Ah, sorry to message you so late,¡± the person says. They have a soft, feminine voice, but there is a sharpness to the words, a certain playful tone that Addy isn¡¯t sure if she finds fun or unsettling. They speak in the common tongue but with a heavy accent that Addy does not recognize: Heavy and glottal with some sounds, but lilting and smooth in others.


    ¡°It¡¯s, um, okay! Who are you?¡± Addy asks, now fully awake.


    ¡°Engel is fine for now, my dear. And who might you be?¡± Engel asks.


    ¡°Aderyn. My friends call me Addy,¡± she responds.


    ¡°May I call you Addy, then?¡± Engel asks, the hint of an intangible smile evident in her voice.


    ¡°Sure!¡± Addy says, having never met someone who isn¡¯t immediately considered a friend before.


    For better or worse.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± Engel says, beginning the word with more of a ¡®v¡¯ sound than the usual ¡®w,¡¯ which Addy can¡¯t help but find charmingly unique. ¡°Now, sorry for waking you, but I have something important to tell you about your little trip.¡±


    Addy pauses, considering the situation. Being contacted over ancient Monteith technology is strange enough, but this ¡®Engel¡¯ seems to know about the expedition as well. She considers waking up some of the others, but isn¡¯t sure if they¡¯ll be upset¨Cmost people get mad when she wakes them up this early to tell them something, after all.


    I¡¯ll just tell them in the morning, Addy decides, a little sadly. Instead of waking the others, she instead tells Engel:


    ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±

 Chapter Twenty-Six

    It is the third day of the expedition: Valafyr 3rd.


    The rain continues at a steady pace, falling from a sky that one might assume has never been graced by the clear sight of Serana; the clouds are bulbous and clumped together, like a decrepit old quilt that should¡¯ve been burned long ago. Some parts are a darker gray than others, heavy with sin and moisture, no doubt. The bloated, patchwork sky is static and unmoving, as if the bank of rainclouds have decided to merely sit atop the Heart of Vale bitterly, angry at the hubris of life in trying to come to this desolate place.


    The previous night, the first of many nights camping outside in this weather, was made some better by the foresight of Kaz to bring several sleeping tents, which helped to keep the rain from falling directly on them, but only did so much to temper the issue of the rain that had already fallen. Even upon a nice, rocky outcropping that was thankfully free of mud, everyone¡¯s cots were entirely soaked through by morning.


    Thus, it has been two days of heavy trudging up the side of the slick, wet mountainside instead of taking the highland valley route below. Such a path would still be muddy, but infinitely less tiring and frustrating.


    The real source of frustration, however, is the uncertainty behind why the group are taking this path: The sudden message from a stranger named Engel, sent through one of Addy¡¯s technological trinkets in such a way that no other person should have the equipment or the know-how to perform.


    Now, in the late evening before dusk takes what little light there is away, it is time to see if the mysterious tip is true, false, or just some hallucination by a sleep-addled Addy.


    In truth, none of the outcomes are particularly encouraging.


    ¡°I¡¯ll catch you if you fall, alright?¡± Demy tells Dahlia reassuringly while standing at the base of a tall, but still very much dead as everything else is, tree.


    The Goblin nods and tucks Cashew¡¯s spyglass into her robe. Using her little claws and talons, she begins scrabbling up the towering, skeletal tree. It has no leaves but plenty of branches, which Dahlia gets plenty of purchase on despite the slippery-smooth texture. Any other tree, she could just dig her claws into and scale directly upward, but the petrified wood of these forests are too hard for that.


    Granted, if this were any other tree anywhere on Vale, she could just ask the tree to lift her up, due to it being alive. Not so, here in the ironically dead Heart of the world.


    ¡°Why did you let Dahlia climb the tree? It¡¯s your spyglass, after all,¡± Kaz mutters, casting a wayward glance at Cashew.


    He shrugs, currently taking refuge from the wind and rain by standing downwind of his larger companions. ¡°She offered. Why should I climb some slippery, stupid, dead tree if I don¡¯t have to?¡± he argues passively.


    ¡°I figured you¡¯d jump at the chance to show how cool you can climb,¡± Wren muses, their fuzzy hood pulled up to help with the buffeting rain.


    ¡°Wow, okay. And here I thought the blatant racism from you toward me was over,¡± Cashew says, holding his arms out to each side to seem larger¨Cand to adequately display the severity of the offense taken.


    Wren, who has since become accustomed to the tiny man¡¯s sudden vagaries, rolls their eyes and says, ¡°My bad, I didn¡¯t know that you were afraid to climb the tree or I wouldn¡¯t have bothered you about it.¡±


    Cashew stares at Wren, head tilted to the side, silently. After a terse few moments, he says, ¡°Demy, I¡¯m sorry but I¡¯m about to fight your little enbycrush.¡±


    ¡°And get shit on!¡± Wren quickly adds back.


    Kaz casually picks Cashew up by the back of the shirt with one hand and holds out her other hand at Wren, letting out a sigh. ¡°No fighting on shit mountain please,¡± she says in exasperation.


    Off to the side, Addy scratches at her arm habitually, looking unusually worried as she says, ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, please don¡¯t fight.¡±


    Cashew and Wren look over at her and slowly stop smacking at one another, slightly ashamed.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Addy. We¡¯re just goofing,¡± Wren says reassuringly.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Cashew agrees, but whispers to Wren, ¡°I¡¯d have kicked that ass though.¡±


    Wren nonchalantly gives him a rude gesture, hidden behind their back.


    Addy looks at the ground, scratching her arm harder as she admits, ¡°I really did hear her, though. I promise.¡±


    Kaz steps over to her, still carrying Cashew with one hand. She places her other one on Addy¡¯s shoulder gently and says, ¡°We¡¯re not mad, really.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± she says softly. ¡°It¡¯s just that the professor seemed upset that I didn¡¯t wake everyone up while it was happening, but I¡¯ve done that before and people got mad like he did this time! What should I have done?¡± She asks, looking up at Kaz with wide eyes that are damp from more than just rain.


    Cashew, still held up by the scruff of his collar, surprises Kaz by reaching out and hugging Addy. He says, ¡°You didn¡¯t do anything wrong, fam. He just¡­¡± he trails off, eyes wandering over to Felix, who stands at the edge of the little mountainside encampment the group have set up, collecting rainwater with an air of frustrated indifference that nobles tend to wear like badges of honor, in Cashew¡¯s experience.


    Choosing his words carefully, Cashew finishes by saying, ¡°He¡¯s probably just upset that he didn¡¯t get to talk to her, because of how cool it probably was.¡±


    Addy hugs him back and sniffles a little. ¡°You¡¯re right. Because it was really cool!¡± she exclaims, a hint of her usual cheery self showing through.


    Kaz gently sits him down and gives him an approving pat on the back. Two sides of the same nut, she thinks with some amusement.


    Wren joins in on trying to lift Addy¡¯s mood by asking, ¡°You said that the person¨CEngel? You said they had a strange accent?¡±


    ¡°Yeah! They sounded feminine, but I¡¯m not sure if they¡¯re a girl or not. They had a really strange way of speaking that I¡¯ve never heard before¨C¡±


    Addy rambles on and Kaz tunes out, letting Wren and Cashew handle holding the door for the flood of information that spews forth from the Elf. Instead, she turns her attention toward Felix, watching him go about the fairly trivial task of refilling his canteen, knowing that it¡¯s likely just busywork to keep him from interacting with the group.


    He certainly was upset with Addy when she told them the next morning about the conversation; at first, Kaz thought it was just because he wanted to speak with Engel, much like Cashew said. But it wasn¡¯t mere disappointed frustration, it was something else.


    Anger, borne from fear.


    It¡¯s something Kaz knows well, having seen it plenty during the final years of the war. Soldiers sometimes deal with their fear and stress by channeling it into anger, since it is more active instead of the reactive instinct to cower or flee. It¡¯s easier to feel in control, to feel productive, when you¡¯re angry.


    Yet, back then, it was the fear of death that made both those under her command the ranks of the enemy act in such a way. Here, now, Felix¡¯s reaction seems out of place, considering that he is in charge of the expedition, that he has pushed so hard to make it happen.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    He¡¯s afraid that we¡¯re going to actually find something, she has realized. Maybe he¡¯s not the one who truly wants to open this box of mysteries, which would make sense with the correspondence that Smalls found in his room.


    Kaz¡¯s ability to ponder this further is cut short by a sudden shout, which she realizes is coming from Dahlia, audible even over the sound of the thudding rain and crackle of thunder:


    ¡°Falling!¡± she shouts, plummeting from the top of the dead tree.


    Demy, caught off guard, can only bark out an incomprehensible garble of curse words as he stumbles forward, arms held out¨C


    And catches Dahlia easily as she plops neatly into his grasp.


    He slides a little on the mud but catches himself before pitching off the side of the mountain, eyes wide and heart pounding. ¡°Fu¨Ctch¨Cghh! You okay?!¡± he manages to stammer out.


    ¡°Thank you, Wolf Friend Demy,¡± Dahlia says and reaches up a tiny green hand to pat his cheek.


    ¡°Be more careful please,¡± Demy mumbles weakly, carefully sitting her down before sitting down on a rock himself, legs shaking.


    ¡°I did not fear. I knew you would catch me when I jumped,¡± she says.


    ¡°Well, I¨C¡¯Jump?¡¯ Wait¨C¡± he sputters, but she turns to Kaz and continues talking.


    ¡°Friend Addy¡¯s mystery voice speaks the truth. There is an entire herd of Failures in the lowland valley,¡± Dahlia explains. She thinks for a moment before saying, ¡°Would a group of Failures be called a ¡®herd?¡¯¡±


    ¡°What about a ¡®collective?¡¯¡± Wren offers with a smirk.


    ¡°¡®Collective of Failures,¡¯ not bad,¡± Cashew admits, giving a tiny clap of approval.


    ¡°Would it be if they were the only such ¡®collective¡¯ within the region,¡± Felix mutters, finally rejoining the group. He catches a few side-eyes for the comment, but ignores them. ¡°Did you get an accurate headcount of them, Dahlia?¡±


    ¡°At least two dozen, maybe a few more,¡± she says.


    ¡°Twenty-six is a good number!¡± Addy chirps.


    Felix turns to face Addy and she shrinks back slightly, smile fading. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut in the face of an oncoming headache. Not that he¡¯s not had a headache since first coming to this horrid continent.


    ¡°Seems that you did not hallucinate your conversation after all,¡± Felix says, letting his hand drop as he frowns at her.


    For a second, Addy says nothing. But then she cautiously asks, ¡°Are you mad at me, Professor?¡±


    The rest of the group tense, each one uncertain how they might react if Felix gets out of line. But, to everyone¡¯s relief, he furrows his brow a bit and shakes his head in response to her question.


    ¡°No, not at you, Professor Rhys. I am upset, but¡­ no, you¡¯ve not done anything wrong. You don¡¯t deserve what ire I may have,¡± Felix admits softly. It is indeed true that he is frustrated¨Cthis entire situation is getting out of hand, if there are actually people still living in this land that can communicate using ancient technology.


    Felix can only begin to think what such a thing might mean when Flint finds out.


    Let alone the rest of Vale.


    Memories of the Third Era, nearly two thousand years of constant war and misery between the nations of the world, are what is really bothering Felix. But that might not be the outcome at hand; at least, he has to hope that it isn¡¯t the case.


    Addy smiles a little in relief as Felix continues, ¡°Do you think that the conversation could have been pre-recorded somehow? Like some form of triggered message?¡±


    Given a topic to focus on, Addy¡¯s worries fade away quickly as she ponders this possibility. ¡°It¡¯s hard to tell, because the Monteith could have had the technology to make recordings respond actively, instead of just repeating a message,¡± she admits.


    ¡°The Engel Stranger has never been heard of before?¡± Dahlia asks suddenly.


    Addy blinks in surprise, curious as to where Dahlia is going with this train of thought. ¡°Not that I¡¯m aware of, and I would probably know,¡± she says.


    ¡°It is suspicious that the message came right after you checked your navigation tool,¡± Dahlia explains.


    Addy¡¯s eyes widen and she looks at Felix, saying, ¡°Dahlia¡¯s right. It could be responding to the fact that the device was tracking us approaching whatever it¡¯s pointing to.¡±


    ¡°That still does not tell us if Engel is a real person or just a recording,¡± Felix remarks.


    Kaz speaks up, her arms crossed. ¡°Which would be worse?¡±


    ¡°That depends,¡± Felix says.


    ¡°On?¡± Kaz pushes.


    The corner of Felix¡¯s mouth twitches in agitation, but he elaborates anyway, ¡°I can think of plenty of people that would like either option, like our Professor Rhys. Either outcome will be interesting.¡±


    ¡°And which one would you prefer?¡± Kaz asks, pushing even further.


    Felix snorts derisively and says, ¡°I don¡¯t prefer either one.¡±


    Cashew, who is already hard-pressed to trust Felix in any capacity, decides to push the point by interjecting with, ¡°For someone who set up this expedition, you sure don¡¯t seem happy to have found something.¡±


    ¡°You assume too much,¡± Felix says, narrowing his eyes at Cashew, then at the rest of the group. ¡°I will admit that I have mixed opinions on the importance of what we might find, or more specifically, what will be done with what we find. I will also concede that it is imperative that, if there is something to find on this continent, that we be the ones to find it.¡±


    ¡°Is that what you and your brothers were arguing over?¡± Cashew asks, before Kaz can tell him to let the subject drop.


    Felix raises his eyebrow, quickly working out the chain of events of how Cashew would know about the conversation. ¡°Ah, then you are already aware that I disagree with my family on how we should handle the event of finding something of import,¡± Felix says.


    Kaz puts a hand on Cashew¡¯s shoulder and pulls him back a bit, before staring evenly at Felix. ¡°We merely want to be sure that we are all on the same page, Lord Thorburn. What is your goal for all this?¡±


    Felix stares back, irritated that he has been backed into a corner like this, especially this quickly. But he has to admit that what they are asking for is fair¨Cthey just want to be sure of what they are contributing to. And, ultimately, that is all Felix wants, too.


    ¡°My goal is to find out the truth of this place before someone else can get their hands on it and to make sure it doesn¡¯t spiral us into another miserable era of killing one another,¡± he says sternly, decisively.


    The others share several glances before Kaz, finally, nods in approval. ¡°You seem to be honest about this. Is there anything else you¡¯re keeping from us?¡±


    Felix, flatly, says, ¡°Not that you need to know about at this moment, no.¡±


    Kaz frowns, but knows that this is, at least in Felix¡¯s eyes, true. ¡°Alright, but getting upset at Addy over her doing exactly what you brought her to do is not okay with us. Understand?¡±


    The rest of the group nods in agreement. Addy blushes and looks at the ground, embarrassed at being the center of any kind of issue¨Cbut also happy that her friends are standing up for her.


    Felix, to his credit, sighs and nods. ¡°You speak the truth. I am bad to misplace my anger and, as I already said, she did not deserve to bear the brunt of it. I am sorry, Professor Rhys,¡± he apologizes, looking surprisingly tired and, for the first time, vulnerable.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Professor Thorburn. I just want to find out what¡¯s going on,¡± Addy says sheepishly.


    ¡°Then we are together on this,¡± he admits. ¡°It is late, let us get some rest. Tomorrow we will make our way down this mountain and avoid those things, then move on toward our destination.¡±


    The group, exhausted from the climb and the tension of confrontation, do not argue. Everyone retires to their cots and, thanks to a small cavern, spend the night relatively dry. This will be good for morale, and come morning, spirits will be higher than since the beginning of the trip, with everyone having a clearer, if not entirely transparent, understanding of one another.


    Yet, with the morning comes another surprise.


    Waiting for Addy when she checks the coordinates on the tracker as the group prepares to descend from the mountainside is another notification.


    A new waypoint on their journey, left by Addy¡¯s new friend, Engel.


    Two days travel northward, it reads:


    City Limits.

 Chapter Twenty-Seven

    ¡°Do you really think there¡¯s a city out here in the middle of this place?¡± Wren asks Demy as the group walk through the foggy forest, continuing to follow the path set out by Addy¡¯s strange little device. Specifically, following the directions left by Engel two mornings prior.


    ¡°Back home, it wouldn¡¯t be too weird to find a town or even a city in the middle of nowhere, like this,¡± Demy replies with a shrug. ¡°The Fen was kind of like this. Just muck and fog and dead trees until suddenly you walked into the side of the tavern or tripped into the mine.¡±


    The previous day saw a break in the rain, much to everyone¡¯s relief. While the trek was still a bit muddy, it was far more comfortable without the constant deluge beating down from above. With the rain gone, a heavy fog has settled over the forest, obscuring visibility considerably¨Cwhich has put everyone on high alert, to avoid accidentally walking into a collective of Failures (Wren¡¯s suggestion for the group term has caught on, much to their amusement).


    Or, even worse, to avoid being ambushed.


    However, it seems that after skirting around the initial large group, thanks to Addy¡¯s first conversation with the mysterious Engel, there haven¡¯t been any stray Failures ambling about the path.


    Which has been far too coincidental for some of the group.


    ¡°Friend Addy, I do not trust this invisible person that lives inside your mind-eyes,¡± Dahlia says quietly, not wanting to be too loud and stand out in the strangely quiet void of mist.


    ¡°Engel?¡± Addy asks, earning a nod from her little friend. ¡°I mean, it¡¯s a little strange, but she helped us avoid that big group of meanie-heads. And she¡¯s giving us sight-seeing locations on our way to whatever!¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯re missing the bigger picture issue,¡± Cashew interjects, moving up to flank Addy on the opposite side of Dahlia.


    ¡°¡®Big picture issue?¡¯¡± Addy repeats, confused.


    From just ahead, Kaz turns her head to the side and speaks back at the trio: ¡°He means that the Failures were in a giant group in our path, specifically to stop us. That seems even more convenient than some random person telling us to avoid them.¡±


    Dahlia nods in agreement. ¡°Small Friend Cashew and Shiny Friend Kaz are correct. If someone is helping us, then someone else is trying to stop us,¡± she explains.


    ¡°That¡¯s true, but isn¡¯t that a good thing, kind of?¡± Addy asks. ¡°That means this is important somehow!¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Dahlia mutters. ¡°I do not like that we are not sure who is helping us and who is not.¡±


    ¡°¡®Shiny Friend?¡¯¡± Kaz repeats with a smile.


    ¡°¡®Short Friend?¡¯¡± Cashew also repeats, except with a frown. Though it is easy to see that he has to try to hold said frown, lest it slowly turn to a smile.


    ¡°Wait, wait,¡± Demy says from nearby, overhearing the discussion. ¡°Kaz is ¡®Shiny Friend,¡¯ Addy is just ¡®Friend,¡¯ Cash is ¡®Small Friend,¡¯ you called me ¡®Wolf Friend¡¯ the other day. What about Red over here?¡±


    Wren looks over curiously, a little worried that Dahlia has not decreed them to be worthy of such a title. Yet, their fears are assuaged as she answers:


    ¡°Soft Friend Wren.¡±


    Wren¡¯s face reddens enough that it almost glows in the fog, as the others crack up laughing, even Cashew, who forgets all about trying to be offended.


    They elbow Demy, who keeps chuckling in spite of the bone-jointed reprisal.


    ¡°Sorry Red, Dahlia¡¯s too wise,¡± Demy gets out between his laughter.


    ¡°I mean, she¡¯s right, it¡¯s just¨CI didn¡¯t expect it,¡± Wren faux-complains in a manner similar to Cashew, secretly pleased at the little Goblin¡¯s words.


    Off to the side, Felix rolls his eyes. He could be annoyed to the point of telling them to shut up, as it makes the group a sitting duck against whatever might be lurking in the fog. Yet, that is just why he holds his tongue: If something is stalking them, it will likely go for the source of the noise, which is the chortling gaggle of incompetents and decidedly not Felix.


    Which is what I am paying them for, realistically, he figures.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Dahlia says suddenly, causing everyone to freeze in place. There is no sound in the dense nothingness, no movement. The moment stretches longer and longer.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Addy asks quietly.


    Dahlia, in response, lifts one foot up and stomps down with a hollow thud.


    There is confusion at first, but Felix is the first to notice:


    ¡°We¡¯re not in the mud anymore. This is solid ground,¡± he says.


    Dahlia shakes her head as she kneels down, placing a small hand upon the cold, smooth surface beneath her. ¡°This isn¡¯t natural ground. It¡¯s not stone, either,¡± she says.


    Addy drops to her hands and knees despite the fact that, whatever it is the group are walking upon, it is still wet. ¡°Professor! This is it!¡± she says excitedly, if a bit too loudly.


    The others inspect the ground, seeing that it is vaguely stone-colored, but entirely smooth, unnaturally so, and unblemished. The trees no longer sprout randomly, but grow out of carefully-constructed square patches of ground left bare. In the distance, just barely visible as outlines in the fog, towering structures can be seen.


    ¡°What in Kel¡¯s name¡­¡± Kaz mutters in awe, staring at the looming silhouettes.


    ¡°Monteith ruins are often barely intact due to their age. Almost all of them have patches of ground like this, which Professor Rhys has affectionately dubbed¨C¡± Felix begins.


    Addy excitedly cuts him off, shouting, ¡°Monteith Streets!¡± She scrambles to her feet and takes off into the fog.


    ¡°It seems we¡¯ve found the ¡®City Limits,¡¯¡± Felix muses.


    The others shout after Addy to wait and begin moving after her, trying to keep up with the enamored Elf.


    From within the fog, the eyes of the soulless watch, seeing all.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    As the fog thins ever so slightly, the city that greets the members of the expedition is unlike anything that any of them have ever seen, even Addy, who has at least seen the barebones remnants of places that once were like this.


    It is, at least, recognizable as a city, or some form of large settlement. Concepts like streets, intersections, walking paths, buildings, and even specific districts can be gleaned at a glance. But the familiarity ends there, due to just how other and alien this place feels.


    Firstly, everything is so smooth. Whatever the construction materials that make up this place are, they are more refined, more processed than anything available to the world of Vale currently. There is no obvious presence of wood, or stone, or even metal: The surfaces are sleek, durable, and even shiny, as they glisten wetly in the overcast afternoon grayscale.


    The material that comes to their minds is ¡°glass,¡± and there are certainly clear, thin panes of glass-like material, but the buildings are made up of some other smooth, reflective material that seems metallic, but lacks the burnished qualities that the likes of iron or steel have. It is smooth and lustrous, beyond even silver or gold. The entire city could very well be made of platinum, or even some form of magical metal; it certainly feels sturdy enough to the touch, though there is a malleable quality to it that dances under gaze and palm, like quicksilver that has taken temporary form.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°This is amazing,¡± Addy says, in complete awe.


    ¡°Do you think this place was so¡­ cold, back when people lived here?¡± Wren asks, looking around curiously. There are a few buildings close by that Addy is moving toward to check; Kaz and Demy follow after her, ever watchful for signs of danger.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think anything ever lived here in the first place,¡± Dahlia mutters, her dislike of this place apparent in her tone and the scathing glare she surveys the city with.


    ¡°Well someone had to have built all this,¡± Cashew argues, though his attention never wavers from the dark alleys where danger could be lurking. ¡°The layout is really efficient, from the look of it.¡±


    Dahlia hums in disapproval, then says, ¡°Something built all this. But nothing natural did.¡±


    ¡°What makes you say that?¡± Wren asks.


    ¡°The patterns aren¡¯t natural. Nature has a lot of symmetry because it is usually most efficient,¡± she answers, eyes unblinking as they stare out into the fog. ¡°Nothing here is symmetrical.¡±


    Cashew and Wren both frown, realizing that Dahlia is right. The streets, the size of things, the building dimensions¨Ceverything is just ever so slightly off. Whoever, or whatever, made this place didn¡¯t care about completeness or symmetry, only about getting things to a functional point.


    ¡°I kind of fucking hate it,¡± Cashew grumbles, to which Wren can only silently agree.


    ¡°Why would an advanced civilization, which presumably had plenty of resources, time, and effort to expend, cut corners in such odd ways?¡± Felix asks, joining in on the conversation.


    ¡°I already told you,¡± Dahlia says, her tone having but the faintest hint of irritation creeping in. ¡°This place was not meant to be lived in. There is no joy here¨Cno pride was taken in its creation.¡±


    Nearby, Addy slides her gloves and visor on as she approaches one of the buildings. Kaz and Demy follow behind her, noting that apart from the occasional window, there doesn¡¯t seem to be any actual entry or exit point to the structure.


    ¡°Balgon¡¯s Balls!¡± Demy exclaims softly, looking the building up and down. ¡°How are you supposed to even get in?¡±


    ¡°Language,¡± Kaz whispers harshly. ¡°How is it that someone so ignorant of the Nine still knows every curse in their name?¡±


    ¡°I know the important stuff,¡± Demy grumbles in response.


    Addy lowers her visor, seeing an overlay of icons in her field of vision, attached to various aspects of the city around her. Unlike the rest of Vale, this city is built upon the assumption that all things would be linked technologically.


    ¡°The doors are controlled remotely, but they form part of the wall when not open,¡± she says, somewhat absently as she looks over every icon carefully, trying to parse all the strange terms and information that her visor translates for her. She has never been able to get the device to translate physical written text, but the virtual information seems to automatically convert on its own.


    ¡°Cool, cool,¡± Demy repeats a few times, kind of understanding what ¡®controlled remotely¡¯ means. ¡°So, you what, yell at it?¡±


    ¡°Nope! It requires an interface device, like my glovies!¡± Addy explains, moving her hands to tap at the icons. ¡°There are all kinds of invisible buttons I can press with them!¡±


    ¡°Great. ¡®Invisible buttons¡¯ that somehow impact reality,¡± Kaz mutters under her breath.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that just faith with less steps?¡± Demy wonders aloud.


    Kaz looks over at him sternly. ¡°So, that¡¯s what you want to do, today? Have an argument? Because it sounds like that¡¯s what you want: To have an argument.¡±


    Demy looks away, pouting as he says, ¡°Just sayin¡¯, damn.¡±


    Addy pecks the air with her fingers, frowning when nothing happens. Her eyes scan the air in front of her, through her visor, as she reads aloud: ¡°Auxiliary power reserves depleted, insufficient for use of menial tasks. Remaining energy routed to GIX, per protocol.¡±


    ¡°And what does that mean, Addy?¡± Kaz asks, quickly adding, ¡°Short version.¡±


    ¡°Basically that this place ran out of energy at some point, and what little is left is powering something called the GIX,¡± she explains.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that whatever your little tracker thing is taking us to?¡± Demy asks.


    ¡°That¡¯s right! If only¡­ let¡¯s see,¡± Addy mumbles. Curiously, she reaches out and pokes the word ¡°GIX,¡± which is underlined within the message bubble floating in front of her eyes.


    Another message pops up and her eyes widen.


    ¡°GIX,¡± she says, excitement in her voice. ¡°Or, the Grave of Inviolate Xeniality.¡±


    Silence.


    ¡°What the fuck does that even mean?¡± Demy asks, sounding irritated.


    ¡°I have no idea!¡± Addy answers.


    ¡°Did you find something, Professor Rhys?¡± Felix asks, as the other four finally venture over, having heard Addy¡¯s excited chattering.


    ¡°I think so, but I¡¯m not sure what it means, yet! But we¨C¡±


    Addy turns away from the building, looking back at Felix. She pauses, her eyes widening behind the opaque visor. It takes the others a few seconds to realize that she isn¡¯t staring at them, but instead past them.


    Out into the fog.


    All six turn quickly to face whatever has taken the very ability to speak from their talkative companion¨Cand see a tall, looming figure standing a short distance away, lightly obscured by the lingering fog.


    Most of the group do not recognize this person, but a few do.


    ¡°Giant Friend Kem!¡± Dahlia calls out in greeting.


    The remainder of the group see for the first time a man that is far too tall, far too lanky. Simple clothes in simple colors that fit the exaggerated frame surprisingly well seem otherwise out of place, upon one so otherwise unique. Long hair trails down and gathers around his feet, reminiscent of vines or the leaves of a willow tree in color, length, and the fact that there are vines mixed in with the long strands, like kudzu. His eyes are devoid of pupils and are merely icy blue orbs, empty of soul but not of life.


    ¡°Dahlia, hello,¡± he says, his voice a quiet rumble, like the trickle of rocks down a ravine. His teeth, triangular and pointed, with multiple rows, remind the seafarers among the group of a shark. Even his eyes, solid of color and lacking in emotion, are shark-like.


    Like a doll¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t, uh, expect to see you here,¡± Wren says hesitantly.


    ¡°Are you here to greet us?¡± Dahlia asks.


    Kem considers this as he takes a long stride toward the group, his features more defined as he comes closer. The flesh visible on his face and hands are smooth, unnaturally so, and without blemish. Much like the city that the expedition has found itself in.


    ¡°Yes, but not to invite you further,¡± he says. ¡°I greet you as a kindness, to tell you to leave.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve spent the better part of a week walking through mud and avoiding those Failures, as you call them,¡± Kaz speaks up, stepping in front of the others protectively. ¡°I believe you at least owe us an explanation, if you know anything about what this land is¨Cor, at least to tell us why we should leave.¡±


    Kem tilts his head and leans down, down, to stare Kaz in the face, his own merely a foot or so away.


    From here, she can see just how deep the voids of his eyes are. Part of her is afraid that she is going to fall into the calm waters within and drown, silently. His lips part and past the many rows of teeth, she can see mandibles deep within that shiver and twitch eagerly, a contrast from the comatose pace and barren visage of the Kem that is displayed.


    ¡°No,¡± he says simply. When he sees a spark of defiance flare up in those before him, he elaborates, but only just barely, ¡°What is here is to remain unknown.¡±


    Felix bristles as Kem¡¯s words strike a nerve deep within. He thinks of his brother, and far too many others who would converge upon this place, if they heard these words.


    ¡°No,¡± Felix says, gritting his teeth. ¡°Leaving it to be found by someone foolish is not an option.¡±


    ¡°The others agreed. It is ours, and ours alone,¡± Kem says simply. ¡°Leave.¡±


    ¡°Making us leave will only make more arrive,¡± Felix manages to say, shrinking back from the monster¡¯s cold, dead eyes.


    Despite the shudder running through them, everyone stands their ground.


    ¡°If it¡¯s that important, it should not be ignored,¡± Kaz says.


    ¡°Someone will find it, if it¡¯s that valuable,¡± Wren says.


    ¡°It is unnatural and must be dealt with,¡± Dahlia says.


    ¡°Running away solves nothing,¡± Demy says.


    ¡°You aren¡¯t the fucking police of me,¡± Cashew says.


    Addy says nothing.


    ¡°My companions are right. We are not leaving,¡± Felix agrees, his resolve bolstered as he stands firm.


    Kem straightens himself, glaring down at the seven in front of him as if they are but foolish, greedy children.


    He turns slowly, and begins striding into the fog.


    ¡°Then perish.¡±


    From all across the city, the crackling screech of the Failures echo. Two, four, a dozen¨Cenough that the inhuman cries meld together into a single deafening scream.


    The members of the expedition back toward the building, drawing weapons and casting spells, preparing for the onslaught that they all feared would come, sooner or later.


    All except Addy, who still stares at the point in the fog that Kem disappeared into.


    At the icon that has yet to disappear, the indicator that her visor detects, which has hovered above him since his appearance, that made her freeze in her tracks.


    The one that simply reads:


    Kemartirh.

 Chapter Twenty-Eight

    ¡°Addy!¡±


    The sound of the Failures screeching and getting closer, a countless horde based on the innumerable overlapping cries of the creatures, echo within Addy¡¯s ears.


    In front of her, her friends look panicked, each one of them speaking frantically. Kaz is looking at her, shouting her name. All those noises coalesce with the screeching as one giant wall of sound.


    Above, thunder rumbles. Rain droplets begin to fall once again, slow at first, but they will soon pick up and become a torrent of water. The sound of the thunder is deafening, the raindrops a percussive beat dancing over the noise already happening.


    Lightning flashes and her wide eyes are momentarily blind, seeing only searing white, hearing only cacophonous static.


    Despite the chilly rain beating down, despite the cold mist still swirling about, she feels hot. Sweat begins to roll down her arms and legs and her heart beats faster, mind racing with thoughts.


    Kaz reaches out to her and Addy¡¯s body tenses, knowing that she is going to get shaken, to get yelled at.


    Addy¡¯s mind swims with thoughts unbidden, so full that she feels like it might explode. This happened back during the first expedition when the attack happened and she didn¡¯t know what was happening. It happens sometimes when too many things go wrong back home, or when her students are just too loud, or when something suddenly changes.


    Usually it just makes everyone else upset.


    But the fact that it has happened before doesn¡¯t make it easier. Her thoughts swirl as a giant mess of images and words and sounds:


    Oh no oh no oh there are so many of those thingers and everything is so loud and things are going too fast and I can¡¯t think right calm down calm can¡¯t calm no calm please don¡¯t yell at me I¡¯m sorry I just I need to breathe what do I do can I tell them that he was the Kemartirh the actual deity maybe he wasn¡¯t maybe that¡¯s not true maybe it¡¯s a nickname or that doesn¡¯t make sense how could why is the thunder so loud I can¡¯t hear to think Kaz is going to be mad at me please don¡¯t yell¨C


    Kaz¡¯s hand gently touches her shoulder, cool and calming. Kaz doesn¡¯t yell, doesn¡¯t scream, doesn¡¯t look at her like she¡¯s crazy. Instead, she looks at Addy with understanding, with empathy, and says:


    ¡°Aderyn, it¡¯s going to be alright. But I need your help. Is that alright?¡±


    Surprised by Kaz¡¯s gentle reaction, the feelings of frantic dread balloon¨Cthen immediately begin to deflate. My help? Addy thinks, beginning to calm down. Her mind, grateful to have something to focus on, pushes back against all the overstimulation and worries.


    ¡°What can I do?¡± Addy asks, nodding a bit.


    Kaz smiles a little and explains, ¡°There are a lot of those Failures coming. We¡¯re going to have to fight. Any help you can provide is good, but more importantly, I need you to find a way to escape for everyone. You know more about this city than any of the rest of us. If you can get a building to open that we can barricade, or can find a path, or something that isn¡¯t us just standing out here in the open. Do you understand?¡±


    Addy nods more, licking her lips a little. ¡°Escape route, got it,¡± she says. She looks up, seeing that everyone is staring at her, looking a bit worried, but more resolute than anything. It is reassuring.


    ¡°Do your thing, Friend Addy; we will protect you,¡± Dahlia says.


    The others all nod in agreement.


    As the rain begins to fall, the mist dissipates slightly, showing the first of the waves of Failures inching toward the group from all sides: Humanoid bodies distended oddly, heavy claws and talons, and the same dead eyes as Kemartirh, though there is little to no life, no intelligence that shows through in these eyes. Unlike the somewhat more human-like Failures at the manor, there is no pretense with these, as their mouths are wide, chins split down the middle to open farther than is humanly possible, showing rows upon rows of serrated teeth and the barbed mandibles sticking out, glistening with black ichor as they twitch and chitter eagerly.


    ¡°Well,¡± Kaz begins as she steps forward and draws her sword. ¡°Let¡¯s earn that coin and kill some monsters.¡±


    Felix chuckles and says, ¡°If we survive, I¡¯ll consider a raise for those who persist.¡±


    Wren and Cashew glance at one another.


    ¡°Bet I live more than you do,¡± Cashew says. ¡°Hundred gold.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re on!¡± Wren calls back.


    Demy feels a tug on the leg of his pants. He looks down only to see Dahlia¡¯s eyes staring back.


    ¡°Wolf Friend Demy?¡± She begins.


    ¡°Yeah?¡± He prompts, a bit confused.


    ¡°May I ride you into battle?¡± She asks.


    He grins, canines elongating wolfishly as he eagerly agrees, ¡°Absolutely!¡±


    The creatures screech in their hideous tandem voices, human and not, the sentiment of primal hunger evident even without the power of word to enforce meaning.


    The clouds break as both deluge and violence ensues.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    They say that time waits for no man, and by the Nine, Cashew takes it to heart. As the first of the Failures charge, Cashew meets them after just a few steps in, his curved blade slicing inward and up, hitting as many organs as inhumanly possible. After all, he¡¯d picked Addy¡¯s brain¨Ca daring feat even by his standards¨Cfor the creatures¡¯ bodily makeup. Knowing where to hit is often as important as how hard one hits, but these things have strange vital areas compared to the average person.


    Still, Cashew has some theories as to what will hurt the most, and he intends to put those theories to test. And with how badly this thing is screeching as his blade pushes deeper up through its abdomen, finally pushing through the leathery skin near its shoulder, Cashew believes that he¡¯s on the right track.


    It snaps at him with its unhinged, split jaws, but he ducks between its legs, jerking the blade as he goes and using it as a fulcrum, throwing the Failure off balance. He pulls a dagger from his cloak with his free hand and begins stabbing, the lacerations rapid and deep, focused on where he knows the hidden organs are. He has to put more effort into each gank than normal due to how unnaturally thick the Failure¡¯s flesh is, but each time he jerks the blade free and sees a gout of black ichor spill out, it spurs on the next puncture.


    A few nearby Failures turn to him, moving to assist their ally¨Cor, more likely, to just mindlessly tear Cashew apart. He knows that he¡¯ll have to move soon to avoid being boxed in¨C


    That plan changes quickly as a little blue dot flies between the two creatures and erupts into a plume of blue flame in a deafening explosion. A few limbs fly past Cashew and the Failure, which is quickly bleeding out on its feet, held up by his grip on his sword. The flare of blue and white flame dissipates slightly, leaving behind two charred and still burning creatures, still partially alive but in the process of smoldering to death.


    ¡°Gotta make up for lost time at the manor!¡± Wren calls out. They stand some distance away, one hand burning with moonfire which they use to condensed orbs of explosive power into the approaching crowds of monsters. The other hand glows with an ethereal blue hue, directing the dozen or so illusory copies of Wren to spread out, confusing the monsters as they swipe and slash at the fanciful nothingness.


    ¡°Show off!¡± Cashew yells back, tearing his blades from the Failure and rolling away from a stray swipe, bouncing off toward another lone Failure to eviscerate.


    ¡°What can I say, I¡¯m a show-er!¡± Wren says with a grin. Several Failures rush them, but Wren calmly holds their hands up, both shimmering with energy, before bringing both down quickly. The Failures around them screech out and slam to the ground with deafening thuds, hard enough to shatter fortified bone, as the gravity distorts and inverse within a radius. At the same time, Wren floats above the chaos, eyes glowing as they laugh and resume raining moonfire-death from above.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Nearby, Dahlia clambers up Demy¡¯s back and wraps her arms around his neck. A half-dozen Failures barrel toward the two, scrabbling on all fours and screeching wildly.


    ¡°Hold on,¡± he tells her.


    ¡°Okay,¡± she replies, holding as tightly as her little fists can.


    Demy reaches up and touches the pendant around his neck¨Cthe twin moons, Corvega in full, Tryden in crescent. A mirror to Wren¡¯s own, that they made for him before the trip, and infused with a bit of lunar power.


    He feels the thrilling pull of the beast, and as he has learned to do as of late, he does not resist it. The transformation is quick, not nearly as violent as it used to be; it seems more fluid, more intentional now.


    When the towering, bipedal, black-furred wolf finally stands tall, its crimson eyes hold more of Demy than before. For both halves, man and beast, share a purpose now:


    Protect our friends.


    Destroy our foes.


    A deafening roar escapes Demy as he bounds forward, no longer waiting for the Failures, who had faltered slightly at the sudden change from scruffy, unarmed man to hulking wolf-beast. The first one has no time to react as Demy reaches it, massive claws tearing through the hardened flesh and fortified bone as if they are but a thin slice of meat wrapped around a twig.


    The remaining Failures nearby leap up onto the giant wolf, clinging to him as he thrashes. One unluckily finds itself too close to Demy¡¯s jaws and he chomps down, powerful jaw muscles pushing dagger-sized teeth clear through the body. He spits out the remaining chunks of the creature, tongue lolling and making a discontent whine at the taste of the black, ooze-like blood.


    A Failure reaches up, trying to get onto Demy¡¯s back, but it is greeted by the unblinking eyes of Dahlia and her small hand, which gently paps it in the face.


    The pain is immediate and excruciating. The creature shrieks out and lets go of Demy¡¯s fur, writhing in pain. Its flesh has already decayed into dust by the time it hits the smooth ground, where it continues to spasm and twitch as its body continues to rot, inch by inch.


    Another of the Failures finds itself easily grabbed by one of Demy¡¯s gargantuan claws. It screeches in protest as Demy holds onto the one leg he was able to grab with one claw, wrapping his other claw around the creature¡¯s torso. It snaps at his hand with its own jaws, but gets only a maw full of fur as he begins to pull it apart, first tearing one leg off then the other in slow, painful sequence. It is still alive when his jaws clamp down over its head, but by the time he rips its arms free and tosses them aside, it is very much already dead.


    The remaining two take their chance and dig their claws deep into Demy¡¯s thick fur. He barks out in pain, dropping to all fours as he kicks and bucks, trying to throw them off, but they hold on for literal life.


    ¡°Bad,¡± Dahlia says simply, peering through the forest of coarse hair at one of the creatures. She breathes in and then blows into its face, her breath full of yellow spores. Layers of mold and fungus immediately begin to grow across its flesh, rupturing its eyes as mushrooms claim the sockets, sheafs of mold growing across its distended jaws. It only takes a few moments for the spores to reach the Failure¡¯s brain and it stiffens, spasming frantically¨Cbefore leaping on its former companion. The two tumble off, tearing one another apart as Dahlia watches and Demy grows calm.


    ¡°Fungi may not be able to die in a way that matters, but you can,¡± she says flatly.


    She turns her attention to Demy¡¯s wounds, which are surprisingly deep from the Failures¡¯ powerful claws. ¡°I¡¯ll fix that,¡± she says gently and places her hands over the gashes; they glow faintly with a sickly green light, which causes the punctures to quickly scab over and, moments later, the scabs fall off, revealing unharmed skin beneath.


    Demy responds by looking back and licking Dahlia across the face. She smiles and, without hesitation, licks him back.


    He lets out an eager howl, which she mimics before holding on tightly to his fur once again. With speed that belies his size, he sprints on all fours toward the nearest group of Failures.


    Kaz stands her ground in front of several of the Failures, sword at the ready, shield held out. She knows that Addy, somewhere behind her, needs time, and she is going to make sure that Addy gets it.


    One of the creatures steps forward, crossing the intangible barrier of her prayer of challenge. The others start forward, but are pushed back forcefully, still held in thralled anticipation of facing down the holy warrior.


    ¡°You will fight me,¡± Kaz commands. ¡°And you will do so with honor, no matter what in the names of the Nine you are!¡±


    Her opponent, the first of many, hurls itself at her. She buffets it back with her shield, harrying it over and over. In the fractions of a second when its guard is down, her blade swings, glowing with radiant power as it takes off chunk after chunk of flesh.


    Kaz knows that this battleground will be a matter of attrition and she makes sure not to expend even one ounce of unneeded energy, to fight as cautiously and reliably as possible. No openings on her part, no risks taken, just a consistent and constant rebuttal to the monster in her personal arena. It dies gradually, efficiently, finally falling to the ground in a heap of black ichor.


    She flicks the goop off her blade and motions for the next creature.


    ¡°Next!¡± She commands.


    It charges in at her while the others just stumble back impotently as the barrier holds fast.


    This one dies the same.


    They all die the same.


    ¡°Run command prompt: Complete Global Saturation!¡± Addy suddenly shouts out from behind Kaz.


    Bolt after bolt of volatile energy shoots into the crowd of Failures, blasting off limbs and through bodies like stones through parchment. A pair of CAMs, CAM-01 and CAM-02, flank Addy and hurl explosive payloads rapidly, causing damage not only to the ranks of creatures but also to the very terrain itself, sending shrapnel and debris flying and leaving craters at the impact sites.


    A trio of UNAs zip overhead, outfitted with rapid-fire weapon attachments that pepper the crowds as they circle. Each shot has a fraction of the power of the mortar blasts, but they still pack enough power to punch holes in the hardy monstrosities.


    The creatures that remain intact enough to retaliate begin charging at Addy, who stands her ground, unafraid. Her trust is rewarded by Kaz, who slides between her and the mob, sending out her challenge aura as far as it can go, without reaching Addy and the CAMs.


    ¡°You fight me, demons!¡± Kaz growls through bared teeth.


    One at a time, they charge and break upon her armaments while the others can only wait their turn as they are slowly whittled down by Addy¡¯s artificial battalion.


    The streets of the city run black with ichor as the rain continues to fall.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Addy is focused on the five different windows displayed on her visor, watching her constructs cut down the Failures, when a small beep sounds in her ear and the chat icon pops up in the corner of her virtual screen.


    ¡°It seems you have upset them,¡± Engel says coolly in her ear.


    ¡°Miss Engel!¡± Addy says in surprise. ¡°Is miss¨C¡±


    ¡°That is fine,¡± Engel says off-handedly.


    ¡°Why did you send us here? This was a trap,¡± Addy says sadly, feeling betrayed.


    ¡°Me? My dear, I have not spoken to you since you were at the manor,¡± Engel says.


    ¡°What? But you left a new waypoint¨C¡± Addy begins.


    Engel hums in some combination of amusement and bemusement, though Addy isn¡¯t sure how much of each. ¡°Me? What makes you think I sent it?¡±


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re the only other person who knows how to use Monteith technology. I just thought¡­¡± Addy trails off, frowning as realization dawns on her. ¡°There are others?¡±


    ¡°More than a few, my dear. Less than a dozen,¡± Engel says coyly. ¡°It seems you have upset them. They will send the Failures until you are dead, you are aware.¡±


    Addy thinks of Kaz¡¯s words and shakes her head. ¡°I can¡¯t let my friends die here. What can I do? Can you help?¡±


    Engel hums, seemingly lost in thought. ¡°Near you there is a metro, though it is unpowered. You will have to figure out how to route power to it, but if you do, you and your friends will be able to escape. It should bring you directly here, as well.¡±


    ¡°Bring us where? To the GIX? Is that where you are?¡± Addy asks, intensely curious now.


    The chat ends, but Addy sees a waypoint indicator pop up in her field of vision, pointing her toward a nearby staircase leading underground.


    ¡°UNA-01, -02, -03, CAM-01, -02, engage autopilot systems,¡± Addy says quickly before bounding off toward the waypoint. With literal tunnel vision, she doesn¡¯t notice the stray Failure pouncing at her from the side until it is almost upon her.


    ¡°Horsefeathers!¡± She shouts in surprise, holding her arms up reactively to defend herself.


    There is a flash of light as an elegant-looking saber slashes through the creature¡¯s neck, lopping its head neatly off its shoulders. Felix catches it before it can fall to the ground, holding it to the side as he raises an eyebrow at Addy.


    ¡°Going somewhere, Professor Rhys?¡±


    ¡°Professor Thorburn!¡± Addy exclaims in surprised relief. ¡°Okay so Engel called and it was really her this time because I could hear her voice and she sounded like I remember so it probably was actually her I think but the waypoint that got added the other day wasn¡¯t actually from here it was from someone else which means that there is someone else who can use this technology and I have some thoughts about who that might be but for right now she said that there is a metro whatever that is that I need to get to and route the auxiliary power to so that way we can use it to escape and it¡¯s over there down those steps!¡±


    Felix stares at her for a moment. His hand holding the head glows with violet energy, which transfers to the severed cranium. He hurls it toward an incoming Failure, which it impacts and explodes upon, sending shrapnel of bone and teeth throughout the poor creature.


    ¡°Allow me to escort you, then,¡± he says, offering a wry smile.


    ¡°Well beans!¡± Addy says excitedly. She takes off once again, Felix following close behind.

 Chapter Twenty-Nine

    The steps leading into the underground area are surprisingly not slick from the rain as Addy and Felix make their way down. Whatever material the foundation of the city is made from seems almost hydroponic in how the rain rolls off of it, though it still has plenty of grip to walk on. Also a factor is the lack of fungi and mold, apart from Dahlia of course, to spread across any surfaces and make them slimy-slick.


    Not that anything could likely grow on this strange material, anyway.


    As the two reach the bottom of the stairs, faint lights flicker to life overhead, humming faintly as they cast an odd, artificial glow. Addy has become used to lights like this to a degree, but these are too bright and too loud: The buzz is distracting and the light seems weirdly sharp to her eyes. Granted, it looks like only a small number of the lights have come on, presumably due to the lack of energy.


    In the center of the large, rectangular room is a strange, sleek carriage set into a groove in the ground. In front of it is a tunnel that stretches out far past the illumination provided by the emergency lights.


    ¡°A train. Kind of,¡± Felix mumbles as he looks over the stationary box, which is composed of thick, transparent windows and some kind of shiny, durable material that feels cool to the touch.


    ¡°Oh! Those self-moving carriages that Eryndal is working on?¡± Addy asks, glancing over as he speaks.


    ¡°I doubt this one runs on steam, like the ones in Eryndal do,¡± Felix says, glancing through the car¡¯s windows. He knocks a bit on the exterior, looking for a door, but there aren¡¯t any indications of one. It must be like the buildings above, with doors that disappear seamlessly when closed.


    ¡°This one looks just big enough to move groups of people back and forth,¡± Addy muses. ¡°Well, that¡¯s what we need, so that works!¡±


    ¡°The city is out of power, though,¡± Felix says, frowning. ¡°How are we supposed to make it functional?¡±


    Addy taps on the car with her gloved finger. In her field of vision, thanks to the visor, a page full of information appears related to the train car. Her brow furrows as she reads, speaking out loud both to inform Felix and to make some of the thoughts exist outside of her head, which is already cramped for space with everything going on.


    ¡°Metro offline, locked down due to insufficient power levels. Please select an energy source to resume function,¡± Addy reads out. ¡°¡®Available energy sources: Primary Grid, Auxiliary Grid, or Emergency Grid (use only in case of emergency).¡¯¡±


    Above, the battle continues, evidenced by the explosions, thuds, and screams¨Cthe screech of the Failures, the bestial roar of Demy, and the occasional cry of one of the expedition crew. Addy flinches every time, but especially so when she hears one of her friends cry out.


    ¡°I do believe that this counts as an emergency,¡± Felix assures her.


    Addy presses a virtual button and another screen appears. ¡°Crackers!¡± She exclaims in frustration. ¡°Emergency Grid currently in use, insufficient energy reserves for operation.¡±


    She presses the ¡®Primary Grid¡¯ button next, getting a similar message. Finally, she tries the ¡®Auxiliary Grid,¡¯ and is rewarded by something other than an out-right error message:


    ¡°¡®Auxiliary Grid available. Please verify identification to perform action.¡¯ Oh no, that won¡¯t work¡­¡± Addy trails off, before noticing a button in the corner marked ¡®Password Override.¡¯


    ¡°Oh! This might work!¡± She excitedly pushes the button and a screen pops up, showing an empty entry bar and a series of buttons with odd symbols upon them. They shimmer and become common lettering; Addy realizes that these are input keys.


    And that it¡¯s asking for a word. A specific one. Yet, it provides no context, no clue, not even the number of letters. Just a blank space and a lot of letters.


    ¡°Oh no,¡± Addy mutters.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Felix asks, bracing for the bad news.


    ¡°It wants identification to route the power, which we don¡¯t have. Instead, there is an option to provide a password, but there are no hints or anything,¡± she explains.


    From the top of the stairs comes the guttural clicking of the Failures near the entrance. Both glance in that direction worriedly.


    ¡°They¡¯ll find us sooner or later, even with the others fighting. Try a word,¡± Felix says, eyes locked onto the stairs.


    Addy considers this and figures the most obvious one is best to try first: She taps at the keys, typing in the word ¡®Monteith¡¯ before hitting the submit button.


    An error message pops up and her stomach drops.


    ¡°¡®Password incorrect. Three attempts remain before temporary system lockout (24 hours),¡¯¡± she reads out shakily.


    The clacking of claws and the sounds of heavy breathing come from the stairs as a Failure¨Cor maybe more than one¨Cbegins the descent toward the two.


    ¡°Professor Rhys, I believe out of anyone, you have the knowledge to figure this out,¡± Felix says, trying to sound reassuring but outed by the falter in his voice. ¡°However, if you fail to guess the word, we will most surely die.¡±


    ¡°Neat,¡± Addy mutters, feeling far too exhausted to think suddenly and very unprepared for this little game of guesses and chance.


    ¡°I¡¯ll hold them off as long as I can,¡± Felix says, casting a worried glance back at her. ¡°You focus on figuring out what in the name of the Nine that word might be.¡±


    Addy stares at him, eyes widening a little. The Nine. Kemartirh. I can start with that, she thinks to herself. Forcing a smile, she says to Felix, ¡°I¡¯ll make you proud, Professor.¡±


    Felix stares at her, looking haggard and drenched, in this strange place. She is here because of him and, odds are looking good that she will die here, also because of him. Yet, she does her best to smile and stay positive.


    It¡¯s hard to tell if that¡¯s true bravery or sheer stupidity. Likely, it¡¯s both.


    I¡¯m often proud of you, Aderyn Rhys, he thinks, but says nothing. Instead, he merely nods to her and grips his blade as he begins making his way toward the steps, intent on giving her as much of a chance as possible to pull a miracle out of her ass.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    The numerous wounds on Demy slowly ooze blood, staining the black fur with a tinge of red. Kaz holds her hand against his large flank and a soft glow spreads out from her touch, knitting together a few of the wounds. However, the light flickers and fades before it can heal all of the gashes and Kaz pulls her hand back slowly, letting out a frustrated sigh.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯ve got,¡± she says regretfully. Out of the corner of her eye, two more Failures leap¨CDemy¡¯s claw swipes one out of the air, though his arm suffers a few more punctures for the effort. Kaz can¡¯t bring her shield up quickly enough and the other creature slams into her, adding yet another dent and a few more holes to her formerly-pristine armor. Blood spills from a few such holes as she struggles to stay on her feet against the flailing thing.


    It would succeed in knocking her off her feet, in fact, if not for Dahlia, who darts forward and grabs the creature¡¯s leg with both hands. The Failure screeches and kicks her away, but not before the outer layers of flesh on its leg peel away, the now-exposed bone and musculature softening enough to snap in multiple parts as it tries to put weight back on the limb.


    Kaz stumbles forward and stands above the creature, using the edge of her shield to bludgeon its face over and over, until the skull caves in and the screeching turns to a wet gurgle before going silent. She picks up her sword off the ground nearby, though it is chipped and dulled from overuse, largely useless. It slides back into the sheathe, where it will likely stay unless her shield breaks¨Cuntil her shield breaks, more likely.


    Dahlia groans softly as she is helped up by Wren, whose other hand is taken up by putting pressure on a nasty abdominal wound. Dark blood seeps from it, likely pouring out from a punctured organ, considering the dizzying pain (although, the dizziness could just as well be from blood loss). They hold their hand out, letting the wound flow freely for a moment while they send a meager bolt of moonfire at a charging Failure.


    It hits the creature in the face, knocking it off balance just enough for Cashew to come from low to its side, slashing and stabbing with a dagger¨Chis blade long since knocked away and lost in the pouring rain and fog¨Cas frantically and aggressively as he can. It swipes at him and he retreats quickly, his broken left arm hanging limply at his side. The Failure falls to the ground, not dead but injured enough to be out of the fight.


    Cashew returns to formation with the others, all of whom are backed up against one of the buildings to have their backs secure and to prevent being surrounded fully. There certainly are enough Failures left to do so, were it not for the group being pressed against the structure. The horde is endless, dozens still making their way from deeper in the city, crawling over countless of their dead kin that have been smeared, blasted, smashed, sliced, and scorched into sweet oblivion.


    UNA-02 hovers above the five, watching silently as the last CAM is torn apart by the monsters, officially becoming the final construct of Addy¡¯s to remain. It would like to fire a few shots at the creatures as vengeance for its fallen comrade, but its battery is diminished to the point that all it can do is survey and hover. Even then, the clock is ticking.


    ¡°We are so boned, fuck!¡± Cashew seethes, held aloft at this point primarily out of anger, which he continues to stoke. Kaz wants to chide him, but she feels much the same way.


    ¡°Where is Addy?¡± Wren asks, once again trying to staunch the flow of their wound while also holding Dahlia upright.


    ¡°She and Felix ran off earlier. I haven¡¯t seen them since,¡± Kaz admits softly.


    ¡°Think they bailed on us?¡± Cashew asks, bitterly.


    ¡°Friend Addy wouldn¡¯t do that,¡± Dahlia speaks up, only half-conscious. But enough to stand up for her friend.


    ¡°Dahlia¡¯s right. I told her to look for a way to escape, so they¡¯re either working on that, or¡­ they must be working on that,¡± she decides, refusing to even speak of the alternative.


    Demy whines, barely able to stay on all fours by this point.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan, boss?¡± Cashew asks, wincing at the pain of his shattered arm as he looks over at Kaz.


    ¡°We fight until we drop,¡± she says, taking a deep breath to steady herself, if only a little. ¡°And we pray for a miracle.¡±


    Among the five, the level of their faith is inconsistent at best. But at this moment, there is little to do but be devout and hope for something to happen.


    Anything.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Addy sits beside the underground train car, the visor flipped up so that her face can fit in her hands. The sounds of fighting above have become less intense and, through her feed from one of the remaining UNAs, she has watched as her friends have become gravely injured and worn out. They are currently on the verge of being overwhelmed, but Addy can do nothing to help them, presently, apart from what she is already doing.


    Felix has not stopped fighting off Failures, who continue to trickle down one at a time, drawn in by the very sounds of the fighting between him and their brethren. While several of the creatures are already slain, bodies laying in heaps on the stairs, still more continue to gradually descend. Much like the others up top, the wear and tear upon him is showing.


    There is only so much time left.


    Worse, there are only so many guesses left.


    One, to be precise.


    Her first guess, ¡°Monteith,¡± had been wrong. It had set off the warning that there were only three chances remaining, to guess the password needed to reroute auxiliary power to the metro system. After pondering on it for some time, she decided to try ¡°Engel.¡±


    This was incorrect.


    Becoming more stressed, she decided to think about what Felix had said, about needing a miracle. Kem¡¯s full name, from what the visor had revealed, is Kemartirh: The name of one of the Nine Deities of Vale. Whether he truly is the deity, or just named for it, or if the mythos of a deity arose because of this person¨Call that is beyond her, right now. That¡¯s something to discuss with Kaz, assuming everyone makes it out of this.


    That said, the names of the Nine. Out of them all, none are inherently tied to the concept of ¡°power.¡± Phye is tied to knowledge, which could be considered a form of power, or energy. Balgon is associated with craft and function, which might not be a bad option for a password that is gatekeeping the distribution of energy needed to function. Alternatively, Oranvil is normally tied to fashion and art, but he is also associated with patterns and connections. Like, say, the flow of energy connecting all these different functions.


    It¡¯s all tenuous, of course. Ultimately, Addy decided that the password needed to open up a transportation system would make the most sense being for the deity associated with travel: Anboshel.


    This, also, was incorrect.


    Since then, with only a single attempt left, with absolutely no idea what it could be, with the fate of her life as well as all of her friends in the balance, Addy has shut down. Curled up in a ball, mind swirling with guilt and regret and half-formed ideas, hoping for something to happen. Praying for something to happen.


    A part of her hopes for Engel to pop up again, to give some kind of cryptic hint or, criminy, just to give Addy the answer!


    But the mysterious benefactor has been silent. For whatever reason.


    Okay, okay, I have to calm down. None of their names make sense. Monteith didn¡¯t work, but I thought it would, since that¡¯s what their name is¨Cwait! Addy thinks, a realization hitting her like a ton of bricks, tangible enough to make her topple onto her side from her strange little fetal perch.


    Monteith isn¡¯t their name, it¡¯s just our name for them. I know their actual name! Kemartirh said it back when we were in the manor! She thinks, sitting upright with wide, wild eyes.


    The issue is that he said it in their language, as there is no translation that would fit it in common. Or in any language, probably.


    Addy flips her visor down and, after a few moments of trial and error, manages to figure out how to turn the keys back to the layout for the Monteith language itself, not for letters and symbols used in the common tongue.


    She licks her lips anxiously, going through everything she knows about the written form of the language. Now, with at least having heard the spoken version, she tries to decipher how to interpret the spoken sounds as the written symbols.


    And, beyond that, trying to remember just how the sound was, that Kemartirh made.


    Slowly, she thinks she starts to understand. Some of it makes sense, some of it is purely guess-work, albeit educated guess-work. She double checks herself, then triple checks. She¡¯d do more, but there isn¡¯t time.


    Addy¡¯s fingers tap the keys in order of how the sound was spoken, making sure that she doesn¡¯t accidentally hit the wrong one. With the last symbol pressed and the password complete¨Cthe actual name of the Monteith race, in the actual Monteith language¨Cshe hovers her finger over the intangible ¡°submit¡± button, floating in the air in front of her and visible only through the visor. Interactable only by the gloves. Things that she has spent years upon years of her life to figure out, to get functional.


    With as much faith in herself as possible, as much hope of her ability to save her friends as she can muster, Addy presses the button.

 Chapter Thirty

    The Failures amass around the weakened members of the expedition crew, forming a semi-circle and boxing the five against the side of one of the strange buildings within the lost city. No longer do only one or two attack at a time; the creatures are grouping up by a few dozen before charging at once to overwhelm the tired, injured companions.


    ¡°Took them long enough to figure out to come at us all at once,¡± Wren mutters, leaning against the large black wolf that is Demy. The blood loss is making it hard to focus, and unconsciousness will soon follow. Wren tries to hang on, preferring to die while still standing; adhering to the stubborn traditions of their homeland, in which it was important to show one¡¯s strength, even in defeat.


    ¡°The stupid are most dangerous in numbers,¡± Kaz says softly, leaning back against the wall in order to stay upright.


    ¡°That was our problem, fam. Just the two of us for too long,¡± Cashew jokes as he pats Demy¡¯s snout. The wolf snorts in understanding, though he is too exhausted to do much beyond stand guard menacingly.


    Dahlia, only half-conscious, wants to say something but she is too tired. What will happen to the farm? She wonders to herself silently.


    Her thoughts are interrupted, however, by a faint sound somewhere nearby. A faint rumble, the sound of metal, of movement. Her large ears twitch and she pushes herself up off Demy¡¯s back, using the last bit of her strength to do so.


    ¡°I hear something,¡± she says, trying to pinpoint the direction of the sound.


    Demy¡¯s ears twitch as he hears the same thing. He glances off in the direction that Addy ran off toward some time ago.


    Kaz notices this and feels a twinge of hope. ¡°Addy went that direction earlier,¡± she says.


    Above the group, UNA-02, who has been sitting perched on one of the windowsills in order to preserve energy, suddenly takes to the air. Its mechanical eye shifts, zooming in on the crowd around the group¨Cwho also seem to notice the shift in the air. The Failures glance around, trying to figure out what the sudden noise is.


    ¡°Piss off and leave my friends alone, you barmy gits!¡± Addy yells from somewhere in the fog. There is a flash of bright light and the smell of ozone as an entire section of the Failures suddenly disintegrates. The mist dissipates from the blast, revealing Addy standing at the top of a set of steps leading underground a few hundred feet away. On her shoulder is a long tube-like cannon that looks similar to her other Monteith constructs; the back end is in the process of venting some kind of energy build-up as the front of it looks to be charging up another shot.


    ¡°Friend Addy!¡± Dahlia shouts, gripping onto Demy¡¯s fur.


    ¡°Come on! Our ride¡¯s ready!¡± Addy shouts, waving her hand in the air. Beside her stands a haggard-looking Felix, sword still held at the ready as he motions toward the group with his free hand.


    ¡°You heard her!¡± Kaz says as she scoops up Wren in her arms and starts running, though with a bit of difficulty, toward safety.


    ¡°S¡¯go!¡± Cashew shouts, swinging up and onto Demy¡¯s back beside Dahlia as the wolf takes off, trying his best to push through the pain of his wounds in one final burst of adrenaline.


    The Failures do not like this development.


    A communal screech pierces the reconvening blanket of fog as the creatures take off after the retreating quintet. A few bolts of moonfire from Wren, a couple tosses daggers that Cashew has no delusions of retrieving, and a bevy of poisonous thorns from Dahlia hinder the charging wave of vaguely humanoid monstrosities. Kaz and Demy focus entirely on putting one foot¨Cor paw¨Cin front of the other, carrying their companions and themselves as fast as possible toward what they hope is a way out. Felix focuses, using the last of his magical power to launch a few bolts of raw, arcane force through the air, succeeding in disrupting a few more of the creatures.


    Strange blue lights on Addy¡¯s canon begin to glow as the light from within the end of it reaches its zenith, indicating it is fully charged. Channeling her years of teaching, she yells out at the monsters in a bid to demoralize them:


    ¡°I¡¯m disappointed in all of you! You can do better!¡±


    The cannon fires, almost knocking her off her feet from the kickback. The orb of pure, destructive energy shoots into the midst of the Failures and detonates, obliterating everything, even the condensation in the air and the strange material underfoot, in a large radius.


    The others reach Addy and Felix; the latter begins to limp down the steps ahead of the group, motioning for them. ¡°This way, follow me,¡± he says.


    The group does so without argument, though they each give Addy a relieved, thankful glance as they pass by.


    Addy is sure that she¡¯s never felt quite so happy from being stared at by a group of people before.


    ¡°Time to go! Bye-bye!¡± She yells out at the Failures, who are still dozens, if not hundreds, deep as every single entity in the city scrambles toward her. ¡°Disengage safety protocols; set maximum charge parameters beyond suggested endpoint,¡± she says, causing the lights on her cannon to shift immediately to red as it begins charging.


    Addy hurls the cannon toward the incoming group before starting down the stairs, UNA-02 keeping pace right beside her. Seeing that everyone has piled into the train car, she slides inside and begins tapping at the digital screen on the front window of the vehicle.


    The doors close just as the first couple Failures slam into the sides of the car, screeching as they claw at it futilely.


    ¡°Everyone please be sure to secure your safety harnesses! Keep all hands, feet, and other appendages within the train car at all times! Thank you for not dying and please hold onto your butts!¡± Addy calls out cheerily.


    ¡°¡®Safety harnesses?¡¯¡± Kaz asks in worried confusion.


    Addy presses a few buttons and the shuttle immediately shoots down the tunnel, resulting in everyone aboard (except Felix, who is seated and secured with his safety harness per instruction) falling against the back of the tram from the inertia.


    The Failures are left behind to screech at the fleeting group as they disappear down the dark tunnel. Though, they are not left bored for long, as the cannon left by Addy reaches its threshold for maximum charge.


    The explosion levels a significant portion of that area of the city, including the metro where the group left from only minutes prior. A smoking crater is all that is left, collecting rainwater that mixes with the ashes of countless Failures.


    Somewhere, Engel cackles with glee.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    As the train car speeds down the dark tunnels that run like veins throughout the Heart of Vale, the group go about tending to their wounds with first-aid kits and small bottles of rejuvenating alchemical potions. Both had been procured en masse by Felix, who had left only a small portion of either in the event of some kind of emergency within the town during the expedition¡¯s excursion.


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    In truth, it looks like he should have bought every single one and commissioned more on top of that.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we have the resources to handle another encounter like that,¡± Felix warns as he bandages a couple of shallower gashes on his arm.


    Kaz takes a long drink of a potion, feeling the numbing, tingling effect as some of her wounds become less severe, some disappearing entirely. The concoctions are similar but distinct from her own divine healing magic, which is in itself similar but distinct from Dahlia¡¯s natural healing magic. The primary difference is that her and Dahlia are too exhausted to produce any more such effects.


    ¡°We survived a situation that, in all fairness, we shouldn¡¯t have. Let us take some joy in that, at least,¡± she says, feeling more comfortable but just as exhausted.


    ¡°Yeah, we can doom it up later. Too tired,¡± Cashew remarks, looking like a very tiny mummy with all the bandages. A potion or two mended his broken arm, but he still has it in a splint so that it doesn¡¯t break again while the bone is still brittle.


    Wren, sporting a fresh wrapping of bandages around their midsection, is in the process of similarly wrapping some of Demy¡¯s numerous wounds that are still very visible, even after a few potions¡¯ worth of physical repair. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing that we packed extra clothes for you, or else you¡¯d be running around nakey,¡± they say, smiling a little.


    Demy, who is back to his human form (and in a fresh pair of clothes, as mentioned), lets out a small snort. ¡°Yeah, you¡¯d hate that,¡± he says with a smirk. It turns into a frown of pain, however, as Wren disinfects a patch of wounds with some alcohol from Demy¡¯s personal reserves. ¡°Ow! Fuck! Don¡¯t waste my booze!¡±


    ¡°Whoops,¡± Wren says, rolling their eyes. They apologize by letting Demy take a drink before again splashing some on his wounds, rewarded by him seething through clenched teeth. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you brought so much of this hard stuff with you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, I figured I¡¯d need it. But not quite like this,¡± Demy admits, laying his head down on the cool floor of the tram.


    Dahlia empties another potion into her mouth and goes to toss the bottle in as well, but Addy catches it. ¡°Dahlia, that isn¡¯t sugar glass! You can¡¯t eat that,¡± she says before handing the little Goblin another potion.


    ¡°¡®Sugar glass?¡¯¡± Dahlia repeats, confused. She acquiesces all the same and hands Addy the bottle back after downing the liquid inside. ¡°Thank you, Friend Addy.¡±


    ¡°We should all be thanking Addy,¡± Kaz speaks up, smiling over at the Elf. ¡°You certainly did what I asked you to do.¡±


    Cashew, despite already being in the process of nodding off with his eyes closed, says, ¡°Thanks, Addy¨Cbetter late than never. What even is this thing?¡±


    Addy looks up from tying a bandage around one of Dahlia¡¯s ears and says, ¡°So, we¡¯d never found anything like this before! But from what I can tell, this is some kind of advanced version of the steam-powered trains that Eryndal uses.¡±


    Dahlia grumbles a little up at Addy, as her head is in the Elf¡¯s lap, ¡°I don¡¯t like those things. They scream randomly and bellow out smoke.¡±


    ¡°This thing doesn¡¯t do either, I don¡¯t think. But it¡¯s also a carriage that moves quickly between places. From the layout I saw from just a small portion of the tunnels, I think they run all over the Heart, underneath the ground!¡± Addy explains.


    Slowly, the other six turn to look at her.


    ¡°How far do they go? Is there something like that entrance near Tarn¡¯s Rest?¡± Felix asks, both fascinated and incensed.


    ¡°Potentially,¡± Addy says, thinking. ¡°It would probably explain both how Kem found Tarn¡¯s Manor and then how he left out so quickly.¡±


    ¡°Well it¡¯s a good thing we didn¡¯t find that, or anything,¡± Wren says, throwing up their hands. ¡°That would have saved us a lot of walking and almost-dying!¡±


    ¡°You said these tunnels go all over. Does that mean it can take us to the, uh, one place near the center of the continent?¡± Demy asks.


    ¡°The GIX? Yep! That¡¯s where I have the destination set for,¡± Addy says cheerfully.


    ¡°We could¡¯ve just rode this stupid fun bus the whole way. I¡¯m going to beat the shit out of that tall bastard for not telling us about this, and then again for trying to kill us,¡± Cashew complains loudly.


    ¡°Speaking of,¡± Kaz mutters, turning to look at Addy. ¡°You looked on the verge of a breakdown as he was leaving. What happened there?¡±


    Addy pauses, still struggling internally with whether to tell Kaz and the others. She could lie, just say that the promise of the ensuing battle made her freeze up. Lying is not something she likes to do because she rarely sees the point in it, but this might be a big deal to Kaz.


    There have been times in the past when the topic of religion has been brought up with colleagues and students; Addy learned quickly that it is a topic to tread lightly on, especially since it¡¯s something she doesn¡¯t have a lot of interest in or knowledge of. Faith has long been one of those topics that she knows results in strong opinions and, at times, outright anger. Thus, she has long since avoided talking about it as much as possible and prefers to just say that she¡¯s open-minded when pressed about it.


    But this isn¡¯t some random colleague or student. This is Kaz, her friend. These are her friends and they are all in the same situation as she is, right now. They deserve to know.


    Even if they get upset, they deserve to know the truth.


    ¡°When Kem was leaving, I put my visor back on. When I did, I saw that he had a name tag icon,¡± Addy begins to explain.


    Kaz furrows her brow. ¡°So? I think it¡¯s safe to assume that he knows something about the Monteith and their technology, by this point,¡± she says.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that he had the icon, it¡¯s what the icon said. Kem is just a short version of his full name,¡± Addy says. She takes a second, before finishing: ¡°It said ¡®Kemartirh.¡¯¡±


    The others, almost asleep due to sheer exhaustion by this point, all open their eyes and look over at her in confusion. Then look at Kaz. Then back at Addy. Felix seems as surprised as anyone as his mouth hangs open slightly in surprise, though he quickly shuts it as it is very un-noble of a look.


    Kaz stares at Addy, her eyes holding a wide array of emotions that Addy finds impossible to comprehend. She averts her eyes from Kaz¡¯s intense gaze, bracing for a possible negative, and likely very loud, reaction.


    Yet, Kaz is merely quiet for a very long time. The others say nothing, waiting for her to speak first, to set the tone of the conversation to come. Eventually, she quietly asks Addy, ¡°What do you think that means?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Addy asks, surprised. ¡°I thought you¡¯d know more of what it might mean, honestly.¡±


    ¡°I have some thoughts, but you¡¯re the Monteith expert,¡± Kaz explains. ¡°Tell me what you think, from your point of view.¡±


    Addy considers this, then replies, ¡°I think it¡¯s fair to say that Kemartirh, the one we met, is somehow connected to the Monteith. He might be a living member of that society, or just a product of it, or¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± She pauses, lost in thought. Finally, she continues, ¡°As for the name, it¡¯s kind of chicken and egg. I don¡¯t know if he took the name of the deity, or if his name survived the years and we use it for a deity, or if he¨Cwell, if he, you know.¡±


    ¡°You mean that that lanky asswipe is the actual God, that¡¯s what you¡¯re telling us,¡± Cashew says incredulously.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know! But it¡¯s possible, I guess,¡± Addy says sheepishly.


    Wren puts a hand on Kaz¡¯s shoulder, as she is currently just staring down at the floor of the train car, lost in thought. ¡°Kaz? You¡¯re the religious expert, just like Addy¡¯s the Monteith one. What do you think?¡±


    ¡°I think we need more information,¡± Kaz says. She looks up at the others, expression stern. ¡°I believe in ideals, not idols. If I have to teach the latter about the former, so be it.¡±


    Wren smiles a little and hugs their friend from behind. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be the first time,¡± they say.


    Kaz smiles slightly, with a mixture of sadness and pride. ¡°What I know for certain is that we all need to rest. We¡¯re hurt, we¡¯re hungry, we¡¯re tired. Addy, how long will it take for us to reach our destination?¡±


    ¡°A few hours,¡± Addy answers. ¡°But I have us going at about max speed. I could slow us down a little to give us more time to recuperate!¡±


    ¡°They already know we¡¯re coming, I see no need to hurry. Let¡¯s try to get a full rest in while we can,¡± Kaz says.


    ¡°Roger dodger!¡± Addy says as she turns back to the controls of the tram.


    The uncertainty and tension in the speeding box is palpable and discussing the situation or just venting their worries would probably do everyone well. Yet, after the events of the day, there is just no energy to put toward such things. Within minutes of Addy lowering the speed to allow for more time to rest, most everyone is unconscious, even Felix, splayed out among the seats and floor of the rapidly moving box.


    In spite of everything, the group have been given another day to live.


    And they intend to make it everyone¡¯s problem.

 Chapter Thirty-One

    The underground train car finally comes to the end of a line. This station is unique, as not only is it an endpoint and not a thoroughfare, but it is also illuminated by bright artificial lights, compared to the numerous dark stops that the train car had simply passed right through. Since fleeing into the dark tunnels, away from the countless Failures, nearly half a day has passed, by Addy¡¯s estimations. Unlike the rest of the group, who have slept like the dead on the journey, she has dozed on and off the entire way, checking for messages or any sudden changes to the speed or trajectory of the train.


    Based on the faint daylight drifting down into the metro station from the staircase in the corner of the square underground area, Addy believes that it¡¯s early morning. Which, if nothing else, means that the others have gotten a good night¡¯s rest, which they certainly deserve.


    It is the 6th of Valafyr, less than a week since the beginning of the expedition. The trip has been far stranger than anyone involved believed possible, especially since a few members believed, and in one case hoped, that the group would find little to nothing.


    Yet, the trip has resulted in many, many answers and infinitely more questions: A mysterious benefactor, an untouched ancient city with only monstrous Failures for residents, the potential involvement of entities long considered deities, and the discovery of an automated system for traveling across the entire continent within hours, not days nor weeks.


    Of all the mysteries, one persists, however.


    The GIX, or rather the ¡°Grave of Inviolate Xeniality,¡± whatever that means, waits for the group just up the sunlit staircase. Addy still has no idea what the place is, why it sits in the very center of the continent, or why so many things have pointed toward it and also tried to keep the group from reaching it.


    The time to find out is finally here. Even if everyone, Addy included, would likely rather sleep for another few days first.


    Regretfully, she begins to wake up the others¨Cnot a job that she is used to doing, as she is generally the one being shaken awake very last among the group. As a form of karma, perhaps, everyone is as difficult to wake up as she often is.


    ¡°I feel like I got kicked by an elephant,¡± Cashew complains as he slowly sits up, still sore from the previous day¡¯s battle.


    ¡°A what?¡± Demy asks, rubbing his aching head.


    ¡°It¡¯s when something uses its leg to impact something or someone else,¡± Kaz mutters, still holding her arm over her eyes. ¡°Usually as an act of violence.¡±


    Demy groans and says, ¡°Really? This early?¡±


    Cashew softly chuckles. ¡°Who said cops can¡¯t be funny?¡± he wonders aloud.


    ¡°You. You are the one who often says that,¡± Dahlia says, rubbing her eyes sleepily.


    ¡°Huh, sounds like you¡¯re wrong for once,¡± Wren says, smirking at Cashew.


    ¡°Nah, that can¡¯t be it,¡± he says, stretching out with a yawn. In realization, he gasps and points at Kaz as he says, ¡°I¡¯m never wrong. So that must mean¡­ Well holy shit, you aren¡¯t a cop after all!¡±


    Kaz side-eyes him and says nothing, not wanting to encourage the little bastard.


    ¡°So, have we finally made it, Addy?¡± Wren asks as they fish out some rations from their pack and hand them out amongst the group.


    ¡°I think so,¡± Addy says, taking the ration and taking a chomp out of it before she flips down her visor. As she chews, she digs out the little square tracking device and glances at it. A notification above it reads: You have arrived at your destination.


    She places it back in her pack and confirms, ¡°It says we¡¯re here!¡±


    Kaz sighs wearily and takes a bite from her rations. ¡°How is everyone doing?¡± she asks without glancing up from the floor, which seems to be the thing that requires the least amount of effort to look at, presently.


    ¡°Sore, still tired,¡± Cashew complains.


    ¡°A little gassy,¡± Wren jokes, earning a few chuckles out of the others.


    ¡°I want to go home,¡± Dahlia says. ¡°I don¡¯t like it here.¡±


    The others are silent, though not out of disagreement.


    Demy puts an arm around the little Goblin and smiles as he says, ¡°Me, too. Maybe we can ride this thing back to town.¡±


    Dahlia, who is not fond of the odd little moving box, does like the sound of getting back to the tavern as soon as possible. She misses when the group were still in Tarn¡¯s Rest, things seemed cozy and simple.


    ¡°I can surely figure out how, if that¡¯s okay with you, Professor,¡± Addy says, looking over at Felix.


    The noble stares out the window of the car at the sunlit staircase. At first he doesn¡¯t respond and Addy wonders that he didn¡¯t hear her, but he suddenly looks at the group and says, ¡°I will be candid. I want nothing more than to leave and forget about all of this.¡±


    He pauses, and the others stare, munching on their rations and gradually waking up. Finally, he continues, ¡°But at this point, there¡¯s no denying that we¡¯ve found something here upon the Heart. We should see what this place is, but after that, I am more than happy to go back with our findings.¡±


    The notion of the expedition being close to over seems to help rejuvenate the group. With the rations gone and everyone as awake as they can be, everyone grabs their gear and files out of the train car, toward the stairs and whatever waits atop them.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    After being in complete darkness for nearly twelve hours, truncated only by the occasional artificial bit of light, the actual light of the sun is blinding as the expedition crew walk out of the underground metro. Here in the very center of the Heart of Vale, the clouds have dispersed and given a reprieve from the constant rain of the past few days. The mist has mostly dissipated as well, leaving only droplets of dew that reflect the light in a myriad of colors, each globule its own little world of color.


    The GIX is not quite what the group has been expecting, which is surprising in that there have been no expectations whatsoever, apart from perhaps Addy¡¯s imaginative pondering. A large building sits nearby, composed almost entirely of a large set of doors, which leads down into the ground in the opposite direction of the underground train station. Around the perimeter of the area is a large, metallic wall, atop which sits various odd devices that look a bit like the weapon that Addy used back in the city, or like the weapon attachments on the UNAs, though much larger in scale. They move back and forth, scanning the outer area in a perpetual, endless search for any sign of life to snuff out. The interior of the area is devoid of everything¨Cjust an open killing field.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing we took the train,¡± Kaz mutters, staring up at the obscene amount of artillery, all of which is damp from the rain and morning dew, glinting invitingly in the sunlight. Though Kaz can only guess what would happen if any of the group were to actually approach from outside the wall.


    ¡°This must be why all the auxiliary energy goes here,¡± Addy says, eyes wide. ¡°It all goes to the defense systems!¡±


    ¡°Do you think you could sneak past all that, Cashew?¡± Wren asks teasingly.


    He snorts in response, shaking his head as he says, ¡°Whether or not I could, there¡¯s no fucking way I¡¯d even try. You saw what just one of those cannons did when Addy used it.¡±


    Felix frowns, eyes falling on the large, ornate gateway leading down into the ground. ¡°Must be something important down there, considering how well-defended it is,¡± he mutters.


    Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    Wren licks their lips, staring at the giant steel doors. ¡°Something valuable you mean,¡± they say eagerly.


    Dahlia frowns, staring at the door. She looks up at Demy, who has also remained silent. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, a sense of dread running through him that he can¡¯t explain, but that he feels too strongly to dismiss.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like this either,¡± Dahlia says and pats Demy on the thigh reassuringly.


    He glances down at her, nodding in agreement. ¡°There¡¯s a weird static in the air, right? Makes me uneasy,¡± he admits.


    ¡°You two worry too much,¡± Cashew says, rolling his eyes. ¡°Place like this, with this much paranoid security? This is a treasure room if I¡¯ve ever seen one.¡±


    Kaz watches as Addy stares at everything with awe. ¡°It¡¯s probably good that some of us are cautious,¡± she says.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you patronize me,¡± Cashew snips. ¡°I¡¯m usually the paranoid one, but I¡¯ve seen enough royal treasuries to know one when I see one.¡±


    ¡°Hope you¡¯re right,¡± Kaz mutters.


    Felix hums in agreement as he walks toward the heavy doors. Addy falls into step beside him as the rest of the group follow along.


    The gate is enormous and sleek, as is the rest of the building that dips down beneath the forest floor. It reminds Kaz of the bunkers back home in Zhevrun, carved out of large deposits of stone set into the ground, which acted like heavily fortified places of safety during the early years of the war, when Zhevrun first broke off from the Crown and became its own independent nation. The material and the way it is carved is very different from the bunkers she is familiar with, but the premise is very much the same.


    At first, nothing happens, even as Addy reaches out and touches the giant metal aperture. Then, a voice suddenly speaks, echoing out of a small series of slits just above a small window-like panel beside the doors:


    ¡°Well, well. Seems you have finally made it to the GIX,¡± a voice says, familiar at least to Addy, due to the odd accent that makes a ¡®v¡¯ sound in place of the ¡®w¡¯ sound, coming off as ¡°Vell, vell,¡± instead.


    ¡°Engel!¡± Addy practically shouts in surprise, moving over to the side where the voice is originating from. The others warily follow.


    ¡°Hello, Addy. I hope that all of you made it relatively unscathed, after that unfortunate meeting with the others in the city,¡± Engel says.


    ¡°Could¡¯ve used a heads-up about all that,¡± Cashew complains.


    ¡°I am sorry, but I was prevented from warning you by the others,¡± Engel explains. ¡°Yet, you were more than capable of surviving, as evidenced by you standing here.¡±


    ¡°Who are you? What are you? In fact, what is this place? Who are the ¡®others¡¯ you speak of?¡± Felix asks, not interested in mincing his words or being subtle in his want for information.


    ¡°All good questions. Sadly, you don¡¯t have the clearance to receive an answer for most of them,¡± Engel says with the hint of a chuckle.


    ¡°¡®Clearance?¡¯¡± Kaz echoes, frowning.


    ¡°A lot of Monteith technology requires a certain clearance level to activate!¡± Addy explains.


    ¡°Sure, but what does that mean?¡± Wren asks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Addy admits. ¡°I could never figure it out!¡±


    ¡°Clearance,¡± Engel begins, ¡°is a certain amount of permission assigned to a person¡¯s unique identification profile. The higher your clearance level, the more secretive, sophisticated, and important things you can access throughout our facilities.¡±


    ¡°So what can you answer, of what I asked?¡± Felix asks through gritted teeth.


    ¡°To someone with no clearance level? Absolutely nothing,¡± Engel says cheerily.


    Demy growls a little in the back of his throat. ¡°Hey Addy, can this ¡®Engel¡¯ person feel pain if we kick their stupid voice box in?¡± he asks, annoyed.


    ¡°Now, now,¡± Engel warns. ¡°I can provide all of you with a basic clearance level, which will let me answer something, at least.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Dahlia says flatly.


    Kaz glances around the group before asking, ¡°What would you need from us, to do that?¡±


    ¡°Just your names,¡± Engel answers.


    ¡°No,¡± Dahlia repeats.


    Wren crosses their arms. ¡°I mean, if we want answers, we have to, right?¡±


    ¡°Addy, is there any harm in it?¡± Felix asks, his tone serious.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Addy admits, having never encountered this information before.


    Engel lets out a sigh and explains, ¡°I add your name to our internal database and you are assigned a profile, with a clearance level of 1. All it does is allow you to interact with our facilities and technologies.¡±


    ¡°What if we don¡¯t agree to this?¡± Kaz asks.


    A brief pause, before Engel responds with, ¡°Then you can leave. Eventually, I¡¯m sure someone else will be more than happy to accept such a gift.¡±


    Felix bristles at the words and looks over at the group, seeing the conflicting opinions on their faces. ¡°It sounds harmless. We¡¯re just being registered, just like we do with newborns back in Halcyon. As the leader of this expedition, I will take responsibility for what happens.¡±


    With eagerness and/or reluctance, the group speak their names into the little holes that Engel¡¯s voice is coming through, starting with Felix himself and quickly followed by Addy. Dahlia and Demy, the two most hesitant, give their names last.


    Almost immediately, a small slot opens beneath the dark screen in front of the group. Seven small cards sit within, which Addy picks up. Each one is made from a strange material, smooth and sleek, with an odd series of symbols that seem Monteith in origin upon one side. On the other side is an image of each of the seven, along with their name and a long sequence of Monteith symbols near the bottom.


    ¡°How did¡­¡± Wren mutters in surprise, looking at a very accurate depiction of themselves upon the strange little card.


    ¡°The seven of you have been scanned and added to our database,¡± Engel explains.


    Dahlia tries to eat the little card, but whatever material it is made from is too hard for her to bite through.


    ¡°Please do not consume your identification card. You will need it to present when prompted, to access things,¡± Engel continues.


    ¡°What kind of ¡®things,¡¯ exactly?¡± Cashew asks curiously.


    Engel ignores him as she says, ¡°Now that you have Level 1 Clearance, you can access the interface for the GIX¨Cand I can explain some things.¡±


    As the group watches, the dark, smooth screen built into the wall begins to glow. Upon a white background, a figure slowly materializes: A woman, tall and curvy, wearing a strange single-piece suit with a stark white jacket. She has cascading, wavy blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, devoid of an iris, just like Kemartirh and the Failures. Her shark-like teeth are visible as she smiles broadly.


    ¡°To answer your first question, Lord Felix Thorburn, I am Angelika, though you may call me ¡®Engel¡¯ if you wish,¡± Angelika says as she waves at the group through the screen, her smile growing even wider.


    ¡°What are you?¡± Felix asks, staring at the screen.


    ¡°Is this like what you saw in Felix¡¯s room, Cash? That scroll that showed something that already happened?¡± Demy asks quietly.


    ¡°Kind of, but I think this is happening right now,¡± Cashew responds, not taking his eyes off of Angelika.


    ¡°I am a ¡®Monteith,¡¯ as your friend Addy refers to us. Specifically, I am a program made in their image, tasked with overseeing and protecting this facility, known as the GIX,¡± Angelika explains.


    ¡°That¡¯s so cool!¡± Addy says, eyes wide.


    ¡°No,¡± Dahlia repeats.


    ¡°So, this place: The GIX. What is it? And what about the ¡®others?¡¯¡± Felix demands, not letting the strangeness of the situation distract him.


    ¡°The GIX is a storage area, a vault if you will, for the ¡®Monteith¡¯ society¡¯s most important treasures. Things that would be disastrous to fall into the wrong hands, that must be protected at all costs,¡± Angelika explains.


    ¡°Can we see?!¡± Wren asks excitedly.


    Cashew¡¯s eyes sparkle. ¡°Yeah, how can we get inside?¡± He asks.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you do not have the appropriate Clearance Level to enter the GIX,¡± Angelika says, shrugging in an exaggerated, cartoonish way.


    ¡°Can we at least know what is in the GIX?¡± Addy asks, curious.


    ¡°Again, I am sorry, but you do not have the appropriate Clearance Level,¡± Angelika repeats.


    ¡°Let me guess. Information about the ¡®others¡¯ that you mentioned¡­¡± Felix begins.


    Angelika chuckles as she finishes for him, ¡°Correct. A higher Clearance Level is required for me to tell you that.¡±


    The group share glances and turn away from the screen, whispering amongst themselves. Angelika waits patiently, hearing them go from simply talking to arguing. Finally, there seems to be a consensus and they all turn back to the screen.


    Kaz is the one who speaks.


    ¡°Alright, Angelika. What do we have to do to get the Clearance required for all that?¡± She asks.


    Angelika¡¯s smile, if possible, grows even wider.

 Chapter Thirty-Two [End of Volume One]

    Throughout this world, there are seven major facilities that were the cornerstones of our civilization. The research that took place within these facilities helped power our world, offset menial labor, provide security against our enemies, and many other things. Each of these places had a ¡°Monteith,¡± as you call us, that oversaw everything: An Administrator. These seven individuals had the highest possible clearance level out of our entire society: Level 1 is a ¡°User,¡± Level 2 is a ¡°Moderator,¡± and Level 3 is an ¡°Administrator.¡±


    You all are only Users, currently.


    However, those seven facilities are still out there. Some are functional, some are hidden, some need repair. This matters to you because each one is without an active Administrator. In the event of an Administrator ceasing to be, that clearance level transfers to an active Moderator, or eventually to a User if no Moderators are left. Since you are presently the only people in this world with an active clearance level, it should be easy to gain Administrator status.


    And why does that matter? Because it takes the presence of all seven Administrators to open this vault¨Cthe GIX. If you want what is inside, you¡¯ll have to search those facilities out and upgrade your clearance levels.


    Of course, you don¡¯t have to. I am to give anyone who I encounter an active User ID, so I¡¯m sure someone will come along, sooner or later, who will want to uncover the technologies contained within those facilities to usher this world into a new age of unparalleled prosperity and understanding. Not to mention what¡¯s locked away here in the vault and the answers I can provide to someone with an Administrator ID.


    As always, thank you for visiting the GIX; we hope to see you again soon.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    The ride back to Tarn¡¯s Rest on the underground tram is quiet and more than a little awkward. Angelika¡¯s words play over and over in the minds of the group, none of whom are fully certain of how they wish to approach this new development. The expedition itself has been an undertaking, but it has led to something far bigger: Something that could impact the entire world of Vale, and involve traveling to the corner of every continent.


    There seems to be a split in the grip, in terms of who wants to go investigate these facilities and find out the secrets of the GIX and the Monteith as a whole¨Cand who wants nothing to do with these strange monsters and their technologies.


    Addy, of course, wants to proceed. She has spent her entire life studying the Monteith and for her, gaining the knowledge of the ancient civilization and sharing that with the world is the culmination of her life¡¯s work.


    Wren sees opportunity, both in material wealth to be found and, if this little box car is any indication, in making life easier for everyone, including themselves. After a difficult life, and seeing the difficult lives of others that deserve more, the idea of throwing away all that potential is absurd.


    Cashew knows a grand adventure when he hears it. Traveling across the world, uncovering ancient secrets and mysteries, sounds exciting and, more importantly, fun. Which is the entire reason he left his homeland and began traveling.


    Alternatively, Kaz is still pondering the ramifications of Kemartirh, a deity, being opposed to this¨Cand mentioning the ¡°others,¡± potentially the other deities, being the same. The urge to find out the truth behind her faith and why Kelathorne might be against her actions is strong, however.


    Dahlia dislikes everything about the Monteith and thinks that if the civilization failed, it should stay dead. Especially since their demise seems to have come from being reliant on technology and detrimental to nature. Yet the thought of recycling what remains of them is appealing on some level, as is making her friends happy, especially Addy.


    Demy has survived largely by listening to his gut, and he has had a bad feeling ever since arriving in the Monteith city. It just got worse at the GIX, when talking to Angelika. Something seems wrong and he doesn¡¯t like sticking his nose where it doesn¡¯t belong. Although, he isn¡¯t sure just who is wrong: Angelika, or Kemartirh and the ¡°Others.¡±


    It is hours into the trip that someone finally decides to say something, to breach the uncomfortable silence, because it must be done:


    ¡°When we get back to Tarn¡¯s Rest, I will send a message to my brothers and explain to them what we have found. After that, I will book passage to Kattelox and to Halcyon proper, as I¡¯m sure they will want to converse about what to do next,¡± Felix says.


    The others come out of their thoughts and give their attention to Felix, who is still their employer, at least for the remainder of the trip. While things started out rocky in many of the group¡¯s perception of him, made worse by the secret meeting with Frederik and Flint that Cashew discovered, the noble has stuck by them through everything and even fought to the verge of death in the city, protecting Addy¨Cand the group as a whole¨Cin the process.


    He has been civil, if a bit of a prick, and seems as bothered by this whole situation as everyone else. Even Cashew is willing to give him a pass, at least for the time being.


    ¡°What do you think they¡¯ll want to do?¡± Kaz asks, the tone of her voice burdened by her own struggles regarding what to do. Truthfully, she welcomes some alternative perspectives.


    ¡°I do not doubt that they will want to investigate. Though, I think there will be a difference in opinion on what we want the outcome to be,¡± Felix explains.


    ¡°What do you mean, the ¡®outcome?¡¯¡± Wren asks, idly twirling the hair of their beard¨Can anxious tic that they have never quite been able to get rid of.


    Felix leans his head back against the glass window and closes his eyes in a vain attempt to make the headache that has been lurking just behind his eye sockets stay away for a bit longer. At least until they get back to Tarn¡¯s Rest, with any luck.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that any of us will disagree on the importance of gaining the Administrator IDs from the facilities. Regardless of what we find there, or what is within the vault, or the truth of the Monteith civilization¨Cit is imperative that we have the keys to the kingdom, the power to dictate the outcome of all of this,¡± Felix begins, speaking up at the ceiling of the moving train car. In this way, he addresses everyone, not any one person in particular.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    He continues, ¡°However, I think the conversation will become heated when discussing what to do after that. We would be sitting on a mountain of knowledge concerning an ancient civilization and its advanced technology, not to mention what might be waiting in the GIX¨Cgood or bad.¡±


    ¡°Uh, so? I don¡¯t get the problem here,¡± Cashew says, raising an eyebrow. ¡°That sounds like a good thing.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like the Monteith enjoyed playing ¡®God,¡¯ with their advancements. I¡¯m not sure I agree that we, let alone anyone, should have that kind of power,¡± Felix says.


    Addy wrinkles her nose. ¡°But what if it¡¯s for the betterment of the world? What if we could use those things to bring about peace, to make life easier for everyone?¡± she asks. Wren nods in agreement.


    Felix smiles a little and opens his eyes to look over at Addy. ¡°You believe highly in people, Professor Rhys, and I respect that. But in my experience, people are greedy, foolish creatures who are not content with what they have. If we give the world those things, what is to say they will use them for those purposes? If we suddenly give people all these wonders, will they use them responsibly? I want to believe in people as much as you do, Aderyn, but I¡¯ve never known anyone to be gracious and humble when they have not earned the gift being given,¡± he argues.


    ¡°So, you¡¯d rather guard all that stuff than have it leak out and make the world a¨Cbetter place? A mess?¡± Demy asks, frowning a little.


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Felix admits.


    ¡°I don¡¯t like the idea of people relying on ancient technology, especially if it does to nature what it did on this continent,¡± Dahlia says. ¡°But I also don¡¯t think any one person should make a decision like that.¡±


    The others all mumble in agreement, at least with the last of Dahlia¡¯s words.


    ¡°I employed you for an expedition, but it has gone beyond what anyone could have dreamed. If any of you do not wish to continue on this endeavor, then I understand. I will give you our agreed-upon pay and you can go about your business,¡± Felix says, looking at everyone.


    The other six look around at one another and lean in, discussing the situation together. Felix watches with a slight smile, surprised by how much they have bonded in the past month or so. Yet, he of all people knows that adversity makes for strange bedfellows. There are soldiers that he served together with in the war for only a few months¨Cand he would trust many of them with his life, even today.


    The ones that are still alive, he thinks somberly.


    The group finally breaks apart, their attention turning back to Felix. Kaz, as is often the case, is first to speak:


    ¡°If we help, will we have a say in the ¡®outcome¡¯ as you put it?¡±


    Felix chuckles and says, ¡°Considering that there are seven facilities and seven of us? Odds are you all will be Administrators¨Cas in, you will have more than just a ¡®say¡¯ in what happens, yes.¡±


    The six consider this in silence for some time.


    ¡°All of my life, I¡¯ve been fascinated by the mysteries that this journey should help uncover,¡± Addy says. ¡°Even if it¡¯s silly of me, I believe people should have the tools and knowledge to be happy, whether they use them or not. So, I¡¯m in!¡±


    Kaz uncrosses her arms, perhaps for the first time since getting back on the train. ¡°It would be an honor to counsel on the outcome of all of this. More than that, though, I will not rest easy until I ask Kelathorne himself to enlighten me. I will go, as well,¡± she decides.


    Wren thinks back to the docks, to the children who had to choose between the joys of a simple toy or food for another night. They think back to their own childhood, spent scavenging for food¨Cand love. ¡°I¡¯m in, if it means we can help those who need it most. If I¡¯m in that group, well, all the better.¡±


    ¡°Bunch of God-cosplaying nerd motherfuckers aren¡¯t the police of me,¡± Cashew spits. ¡°I¡¯ll do it just to do it and if I get to prove them all wrong and make the world a little better, then that¡¯s fan-tastic.¡±


    Dahlia stares up at the artificial lights of the train car, irises small from the intense brightness. ¡°Mom and Dad wouldn¡¯t be happy about nature getting pillaged. Ignoring the problem and going home will not help, but staying to make sure that anything we recycle doesn¡¯t upset the balance of the world will help. I help,¡± she decides.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know which side of this is wrong, but I can damn sure tell that one of them is. I¡¯m not gonna sit around and let whichever side that is win¨CI wanna find out who is lying and make sure this turns out okay for all of us,¡± Demy concludes.


    Felix nods a little to himself. Everyone has their own motive, some of which might end up conflicting, though he hopes that by the time that becomes evident, they¡¯ll have more information. For the moment, at least, this seems the best course of action¨Cthough, he worries that his brothers might not have that same viewpoint.


    ¡°Then take the time to rest, we have a long trip ahead of us,¡± Felix says, closing his eyes once more. ¡°After we report to my brothers, I know of one of the facilities. We can begin with that one.¡±


    ¡°You do?¡± Kaz asks. Beside her, Addy practically vibrates in excitement.


    ¡°You mean the one beneath the castle! But we¡¯ve never been able to get the entrance open!¡± Addy practically shouts.


    Cashew grins and holds up his ID card. ¡°That¡¯s because you never had the key,¡± he says.


    Felix preemptively tunes out before Addy can begin ecstatically rambling, letting his thoughts wander as he tries to drift off to sleep. He knows, deep down, that any bit of technology, of ancient power, that leaks out into the world will end up causing issues. Likely far more than they will help, knowing how people are. As he told Addy, he knows how the world truly is. The nations will eat one another to get any advantage presented, because they are all foolish. Greedy. Terrible.


    With any luck, the others will listen to reason and agree with me.


    He pauses, the hint of a smile causing the corner of his mouth to turn up.


    Worst case scenario, I¡¯ll just kill them all.


    The train car slides through the dark tunnels toward lands familiar and lands unknown.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Nine figures in the void.


    Nine voices arguing.


    ¡°It will just lead to another war,¡± the first voice, old and weathered, says.


    The second voice scoffs and says eloquently, ¡°Understanding dissuades war, you know.¡±


    A third voice, bright and hopeful: ¡°They¡¯re just trying to move forward.¡±


    ¡°They haven¡¯t earned anything if they just steal it,¡± a fourth, gruff voice says.


    A sigh from the fifth voice, who says, ¡°The world will survive whatever they do.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s their fucking right to do what they want with it!¡± A sixth voice shouts.


    The seventh voice, child-like, explains, ¡°Even with everything, they will not be happy.¡±


    The eighth, voluptuous and soft, says, ¡°They deserve it after the last thousand years.¡±


    The ninth cackles and says, ¡°It¡¯ll happen sooner or later, anyway.¡±


    The tenth voice is silent, observing.


    Waiting.


    The argument goes on, as it always has, as it always will.


    And just like always, it misses the point.


    The actual issue.


    The one just waiting to happen.


    If it does, nothing will be safe.


    Not life.


    Not Vale.


    Not even the stars above.

 Chapter One [Beginning of Volume Two]

    ¡°Boats are bullshit,¡± Kaz grumbles as she lifts her pack of gear onto the back of the cart.


    It is the 13th of Valafyr. Only a week prior, the group were in the center of the continent known as the Heart of Vale, where they encountered an entity known as Angelika¨Cthe guardian of an ancient vault known as the GIX, which harbors technologies and secrets of an advanced, long-dead civilization. After being registered and given identification numbers, the group set out to reactivate the seven Monteith facilities around the world that are still intact¨Cand, in the process, gain the seven Administrator privileges with which to open the vault.


    After traveling back to the coastal town of Tarn¡¯s Rest and spending a day or two recuperating, a ship commissioned by Felix ferried the seven across the ocean to the mainland of Kattelox, the second-largest continent on Vale and the location of the capital city of Halcyon, ruled over by Frederik Thorburn¨CFelix¡¯s brother.


    Upon arriving on the coast of Kattelox, a caravan awaits to bring the group the rest of the way to the capital city, found another day or two¡¯s ride inland. It is upon this cart that Kaz, along with the others, load their belongings.


    ¡°Iunno, it was kinda nice to be back on the water,¡± Demy admits.


    ¡°Wrong,¡± Kaz responds simply.


    ¡°That¡¯s an opinion, officer. Opinions aren¡¯t right or wrong, they just are,¡± Cashew argues. ¡°Besides, I liked being back on board, too. Remember, we¡¯re sailors.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re both pirates,¡± Kaz says, casting a dirty look over at Cashew. ¡°And opinions can absolutely be wrong.¡±


    ¡°How do you figure?¡± Demy asks, frowning.


    ¡°Watch,¡± Kaz says, pointing at Dahlia, who is currently climbing up onto the back of the cart with help from Addy. ¡°Dahlia: Opinion on beans. Go.¡±


    ¡°Delicious,¡± Dahlia answers.


    Kaz turns to Demy and holds her arms out at her side.


    ¡°Okay, point made,¡± Demy admits begrudgingly.


    ¡°Opinions are okay to have, but bringing it up too much can get annoying!¡± Addy says.


    Wren snorts, almost spitting out the drink of water they were in the middle of taking.


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± Kaz asks, eyes narrowing.


    ¡°I mean, you complained every day, multiple times!¡± Addy explains. ¡°It is fair to not like it, but we couldn¡¯t have a conversation with you without you veering the topic to that.¡±


    Kaz stares at Addy flatly. Slowly, she says, ¡°Addy, I¡¯m not sure you have room to talk. No offense.¡±


    Addy blinks in confusion. ¡°What do you mean?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Shiny Friend Kaz means that you also talk a lot about certain things, Friend Addy,¡± Dahlia explains.


    ¡°Oh!¡± Addy exclaims in realization. ¡°But it¡¯s different. I talk about facts, not my opinions!¡±


    Wren, still chuckling, tries to explain, ¡°Addy, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much difference between those. It¡¯s the amount of talking, not what you¡¯re talking about.¡±


    Addy wrinkles her nose, expression uncertain. ¡°But I don¡¯t get bored hearing facts, hardly ever! Opinions make me really bored though,¡± she says.


    ¡°I feel like we¡¯ve gotten off the topic of how much I hate water and everything involved,¡± Kaz interjects.


    ¡°Welp, I¡¯m bored,¡± Addy says cheerfully as she climbs up the side of the cart, flopping down beside Dahlia. The two pick up the intense marathon of Rock, Paper, Scissors that they were in the middle of when the boat docked.


    Wren, who has some money riding on the outcome of Addy and Dahlia¡¯s epic showdown, keeps an eye on them as they ask Felix, ¡°So, how long until we get to Halcyon?¡±


    ¡°Assuming all goes well, it should only take a few days,¡± he replies as he climbs up into the wagon.


    Wren elbows Cashew before they also climb up, motioning toward Addy and Dahlia. Cashew¡¯s eyes widen and he elbows Demy in turn, whispering, ¡°They¡¯re back at it, I¡¯mma keep tabs on the outcome. C¡¯mon, spot me!¡±


    Demy rolls his eyes and picks Cashew up easily, sitting him in the back of the cart. He leans his elbows on the rail, leaning in beside Felix and speaking to him candidly, ¡°Hey, thanks for fronting for Red¡¯s Birthday back at the tavern, before we left out.¡±


    Felix smiles a little, noticing that Wren and Cashew are both too preoccupied to hear the conversation, anyway. ¡°It¡¯s important to take any opportunity to enjoy our time on this world,¡± he says. ¡°Besides, they earned it, after what happened in the Heart.¡±


    Demy nods, thinking back to the battle with those creatures, the Failures, that left the entire group on the verge of death. After all that, everyone was more than happy to have a day of food, drink, and merriment at the tavern. ¡°I just wanted to thank you, is all. I don¡¯t think Red ever got many Birthday celebrations, back home,¡± he says softly, watching Wren cheer¨Cand Cashew tantrum¨Cas the outcome of the bet is resolved.


    Felix nods but says nothing, waiting until Demy and Kaz finally get settled in the cart. The cart begins moving, leaving the docks behind as it winds its way through the port town.


    The buildings are similar to the ones in Tarn¡¯s Rest, due to the Loxians being the ones to build both that town and this one. Once the town melts away and is replaced by countryside, however, the similarities between Kattelox and the Heart become truly evident.


    Rolling hills and dense forests are punctuated by tiny farming communities and divided by the well-traveled roads of a bustling region. It is damp all year round, with mild temperatures¨Cpeople from other lands refer to Kattelox as being cold and wet, a bit morose and drab, but overall charming and livable.


    To Felix¨Cand Addy¨Cthis is home. The dour climate is comforting, cozy, and most importantly, alive. Compared to the Heart, this land might as well be exploding with life and color and excitement. Even to Cashew, who typically finds Kattelox depressing and cold, it is a massive improvement over the last couple months.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    As the cart rolls down the winding forest road, guided by a pair of horses and a driver who came from Halcyon specifically to pick up the group, Felix shifts uncomfortably in his seat. A couple of the others have dozed off to the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses¡¯ hooves and the gentle motion of the cart: Dahlia is curled up beside Addy, who is engrossed in tinkering with her Monteith visor; Wren is dozing against Demy, who sits near Felix, watching the scenery pass by with an oddly serene expression; Cashew is busy chatting up the driver about what Halcyon is like; and finally, Kaz is either asleep sitting upright or praying, it¡¯s hard to tell which.


    ¡°Demyan,¡± Felix says quietly, so as not to disturb anyone else¨Cor to bring any attention to the conversation. ¡°When is your next transformation night?¡±


    ¡°Uh, the 15th is always Corvega¡¯s night for being full,¡± Demy says. ¡°So, we got a couple nights¨Cwhy?¡±


    ¡°That should be the night before we make it to the city. I figured it would be easier for you out here, with just the others, instead of rushing to figure out a safe place in Halcyon,¡± Felix explains.


    ¡°Yeah, it will be. Would that be, uh, a problem in the city?¡± Demy asks.


    ¡°It¡¯s not looked upon highly and I have not informed my brothers, so having more than a few hours to figure out a plan is probably best,¡± Felix says.


    ¡°Good thinkin¡¯, yeah,¡± Demy mutters. ¡°I appreciate everyone being¡­ cool about it, you included.¡±


    ¡°Seeing how you handled yourself in the Heart, I believe you to be a valuable asset,¡± Felix explains with a sly smile. Seeing his opportunity, he adds, ¡°I wanted to ask you something, as well. Back in the Heart, you didn¡¯t really specify whether or not you thought that we should¡­ share whatever technology and information we find, on our venture.¡±


    ¡°Oh, uh,¡± Demy stammers, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic¨Cand the topic itself. After making it back to Tarn¡¯s Rest, the group have been quiet about discussing all of that. In truth, there¡¯s only so much to discuss until they speak to the Halcyon nobility and actually encounter one of these ¡°Facilities¡± that Angelika spoke of.


    ¡°Well, if we find out things that could help the world, why wouldn¡¯t we share it? Even Dahlia is willing to do that, if it doesn¡¯t hurt nature or whatever,¡± he says, shrugging. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m really, uh, qualified to decide that stuff. I figure we¡¯ll just end up letting you and your brothers decide.¡±


    ¡°Hm,¡± Felix says, nodding along, though his thoughts darken at Demy¡¯s words. ¡°I was merely curious. I think I, too, will enjoy our ride and have a rest.¡±


    Demy yawns and voices his agreement; within a few moments, he is dozing along with Wren.


    Felix, on the other hand, is wide awake despite his eyes being closed.


    I¡¯m sure what my foolish brothers will say. I fear that everyone will go along with their decision, he thinks, lip curling a bit unconsciously at the thought. We just achieved peace, must we give the fools another reason to fight?


    The wagon rolls on through the forest as Felix Thorburn ruminates on impending ruin.


    ~~~~~~~~~~


    Even a few hours¡¯ travel away, the city lights of Halcyon are visible through the darkness of the forest. Torches and lanterns dot the cityscape, cascading down the large hill in the middle of the valley upon which the settlement sits. At the very top is Castle Thorburn, surrounded by rings and rows of buildings and stone walls, all the way down to the farmsteads of the flat plains below, just on the outskirts of the mighty capital.


    Addy has been keen to point out all the landmarks as the group set up camp for the night, rattling off old historical facts and tidbits of information¨Cthe most dense of which revolve around the University of Halcyon, the towers of which are clearly visible just below the castle.


    Felix has spent the impromptu lecture busying himself with idle tasks, either already fully aware of the things Addy is talking about or decidedly uncaring about that which he isn¡¯t. In reality, he is merely waiting for an opportunity to present itself.


    It is only when most of the group are busy fawning over the giant, fuzzy werewolf and the fire is beginning to burn low that Kaz offers to grab some more firewood.


    The opportunity has arisen.


    ¡°I¡¯ll come with you, Kazimiera. We would do well not to go off alone in the forest, even this close to the city,¡± Felix says as he meets her at the edge of the encampment.


    Kaz nods in agreement and replies, ¡°If you think it wise, then I would certainly appreciate the company, my lord.¡±


    The two make their way into the dark forest, following the path of illumination created by the glow coming off Kaz¡¯s outstretched hand. She glances over at Felix, raising an eyebrow as she says, ¡°It does seem as if the roads around Halcyon are well-guarded, though. We¡¯ve yet to encounter any form of bandit or beast, though we have seen a few patrols.¡±


    ¡°Yes, well,¡± Felix admits. ¡°There is a reason for the patrols.¡±


    Kaz smiles a little and says, ¡°If I didn¡¯t know better by how you were laying low at camp and appeared just as I was about to go off on my own, I would say that you were wanting to speak with me about something in private.¡±


    I hate perceptive holy people, Felix thinks.


    ¡°Ah, guilty,¡± Felix admits with a feigned smile. ¡°I admit, I am curious about something related to our little quest.¡±


    ¡°I had a feeling,¡± Kaz says as she takes out a small hatchet and begins clearing some of the smaller saplings. She holds out the gathered stalks to Felix, who frowns at the notion of having to carry firewood of all things. This seems to amuse Kaz, who says, ¡°You offered to help, my lord.¡±


    ¡°Mm, that I did,¡± Felix grumbles, letting Kaz pile piece after piece upon his outstretched arms.


    ¡°I think everyone is anxious about the situation, which is why we haven¡¯t spoken about it at length,¡± Kaz says as she gathers the last few pieces that they should need for the night, carrying these last bits herself instead of piling more on Felix.


    ¡°It seems that many of us are still dealing with our own reservations, as well,¡± Felix adds.


    ¡°True, though I think the reality that we could be doing something very good for the world is setting in,¡± Kaz explains, which causes Felix to frown behind his pile of wood.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I wanted to ask about, actually,¡± he says. ¡°Before speaking to my brothers, I would like to know where we all stand on the issue¨Cwhether this is a quest to preserve these secrets, or to bring them to light.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t speak for the others, but I don¡¯t believe that it¡¯s just to hoard these secrets for a select few,¡± Kaz explains. ¡°No good can come from such greed.¡±


    ¡°What about if those secrets are dangerous? What if they will be used for ill?¡± Felix asks.


    The two begin walking back; Kaz considers this in silence for a few minutes, before answering, ¡°If people use such things for ill, it is a reflection of them, not of the secrets we find. There will always be people that will use tools for evil, just as there will be people to use those tools for good.¡±


    ¡°It is not the tools that I worry for in this situation,¡± Felix says flatly. ¡°But your point is fair.¡±


    ¡°Methinks that you have been worrying enough for all of us, my lord. Perhaps it is not wrong to believe in the good of people,¡± Kaz says with a smile.


    Felix stares at Kaz, at the former military captain, who has likely seen just as much pain and death as Felix, if not more. He can¡¯t help but feel some sense of ease, knowing that she still believes there to be good in the world in spite of all of that.


    The feeling of impending doom lessens ever so slightly.


    ¡°Perhaps you are right, Kazimiera. I cannot help but feel responsible for all of this; the thought of it being the cause of another period of fighting¡­¡± he trails off, staring up at the night sky. ¡°I am still uncertain, but I appreciate your counsel on this.¡±


    ¡°Anytime,¡± Kaz says, letting the conversation drop as the two return to the campsite.


    They have no way of knowing that the trees themselves are listening.


    And that something beyond the trees hears the uncertainty in their words.