Tower

A Day in the Forest (I)

You see the pale blue glow shining through the trees. You hear the soft rustling of the leaves. You smell the damp, earthen soil. You taste the slight bitterness in your mouth. You feel the rough wood of the bow in your hand.

The mild breeze changes its direction, and with it, comes the time to act.

Your quarry firmly in your eyes, you lift the bow and draw it in a practiced movement. It comes as second nature to you by now. For as long as you could remember, your master had drilled into you how to hunt beasts in the wilds. How to follow their tracks, how to lie in wait without making a sound, and how to bring them down. And that was all you learnt. At the age of ten, where other children would be indulging in learning and playing, you know of nothing but the hunt. Not that you can say you are particularly good at it, at least compared to your master.

But that is fine. There’s no need for you to think about anything else in life. Your master tells you to hunt, and you hunt.

You take in a deep breath and hold it. Your fingers tighten around the bowstring ever so briefly as your focus sharpens. Then, you let the arrow fly.

It lands in the deer’s gut, not exactly where you had aimed it; you had been hoping for the lungs. The animal thrashes about and begins to flee. You follow after it deeper into the forest, keeping your eyes on the trail of blood and maintaining the proper distance as your master taught.

As you continue to stalk your wounded quarry, the trail of blood becomes harder to follow. Hitting the gut means that the deer isn’t bleeding that much. You quicken your pace, hoping to catch up so that you can land a follow-up shot.

The trail leads you to a clearing, and that is when you hear a scream.

Not that of the deer, or any other animal you know of. It takes you a while to realize that it could be a human scream.

Probably. You can’t be sure; you haven’t spoken to any other human besides your master in what must be years, and even then he barely offers you a word or two on his better days.

You hear the scream again, more desperate this time. Whoever it is seems to be screaming a word. Help? Is that it?

***

You decide to:

A. Ignore the scream. Your job today, as it is every day, is to hunt. You don’t need to bother yourself with anything else. If you stop tracking the deer now you might not ever find it again, and that would be rather unwise.

B. Investigate the scream. For the first time in a very long time, a small ember of curiosity stirs in your heart. You want to see what is going on.

A Day in the Forest (II)

Your master will be angry if you go home empty-handed today, but then again, he gets angry for many other reasons, most of which you don’t really understand. Shine or rain earns you a backhand, and you have had your fair share of lashings even if you bring back prey. So, you decide to indulge your curiosity for once. It might be just a small spark of rebellion, though you know that you will pay for it later.

Abandoning the trail, you move to investigate the strange screaming. It grows more and more desperate, and almost subconsciously, you quicken your footsteps. The air seems to thicken as you proceed. You are approaching a part of the forest that you rarely visit – animals steer clear of this region of the woods for some reason.

The screams stop shortly after, but you have already tracked the source down. The familiar stench of blood is in the air. Hiding in the undergrowth, you peek out at the scene before you. You almost let out a scream. Not because of the bloodied body on the ground. No, that would be… normal in comparison to what was responsible for it.

In front of you is a beast unlike anything you have ever seen, and you had thought you saw every type of animal there was to see in this forest. It was black, as if darkness had come alive. Perhaps the size of a bear, glowing streaks of red pulsed along its huge body like blood through veins. The head had a distinctly canine look, reminding you of a wolf, but no wolf you know has that many eyes. Bulging and strange, the yellow eyes swivel around madly. The beast’s mouth hangs open, a leathery, purplish tongue stretching out and darting around in the air, as if having a life of its own. Completing the wolf-like look, it has four legs and a tail, each ending in a sharp set of claws. Even the tail, waving menacingly in the air like a fifth limb. The blood dripping from the tail’s claws tells you all you need to know about how lethal it is.

You might have only been hunting for the better part of a decade, but your instincts tell you that this isn’t prey. Not for you, at any rate.

The body twitches, not quite dead. It seems to be a woman, if you are not mistaken. You are not sure, since you have not seen one in… well, you are not entirely sure how long. Your master forbids you from going down to the village.

She mumbles, jerks and begins screaming again as the beast claws at her. Yet she continues to hold something close to her body, as if trying to protect it from harm. You focus your sight and see what it is: a child. Far younger and smaller than you are, perhaps no more than a baby.

The woman screams for help again, blood streaming down her face. The beast tears into her back even as she attempts to crawl away. You remain silent, fear numbing your limbs. That… thing… is dangerous, and you have not hunted anything of its sort before. You have some pitfalls dug lying in wait in the direction you came, sure, but getting involved in this situation would still be highly risky.

***

A. You decide to try and hunt the beast. Not to save the child, but because it is a beast in your forest, and you are a hunter; hunting is what you do. You will make the first shot with your bow, then herd it towards a pit should that be insufficient.
1. You act only after the beast has had its fill of attacking the woman and child. From what you know, animals get complacent after feeding. The same should hold true here, maybe.
2. You act as quickly as you can. The longer you wait, the more likely it is the beast will catch your presence. You should strike while it is preoccupied.


B. You decide to distract the beast in order to save its victims. You are under no impression that it will be easy to take down, but you know the lay of the land and you might be able to get away safely without having to fight the beast directly.
1. You distract it by tossing a stone at it from where you are hidden. You’ll lead it to your traps and hope that does the trick.
2. You quickly spark a fire from the tinder box you carry around on your belt. The wood around here is dry; it’ll burn quickly. Fire might just chase it away, like it does other animals.


C. You do nothing. This is none of your business.
1. You decide to leave immediately, not wanting to get involved at all with this. You go back to your hut.
2. You decide to lurk around and wait until the beast is finished and departs the area, before approaching the corpses afterwards to see if there is anything of interest.

A Day in the Forest (III)

You strike the flint. Sparks fly and within moments a small fire has started burning on the bed of hastily gathered twigs and leaves. As white smoke rises into the air, the beast turns in your direction. A low, guttural burbling floats out from its open mouth. If you wanted a distraction, this has worked wonders – the beast has shifted its attention away from the woman even before the fire has grown to any appreciable size. Was it sensitive to the smoke or the fire? You have no idea, just as you have no idea why you are suddenly flying through the air.

Your flight is brought to a sudden stop by a tree, sending waves of pain rippling up and down your spine. Scrambling to your feet unsteadily, you look up to see the beast padding towards you, stopping short of the fire which lies between you and it. Glistening saliva drips off the yellow fangs in its maw. Its many, many eyes are all focused upon a single target. Namely, you.

The beast’s tail waves about in the air threateningly, and then, with little warning, it appears to extend and swing towards you. You have never seen any animal capable of making its tail longer on demand in such a manner, but this is no time to be impressed. You barely manage to roll under the swing, your reflexes bailing you out. The elongated tail slams into the tree behind you. The tree makes a loud crack as the wood splinters on impact. Had you taken that attack head on, it would probably have hurt a lot. A lot more than your master’s blows, that is for sure.

The tail retracts, and then whips towards you yet again, with the beast itself seeming to have no intention of stepping beyond the fire. You barely avoid that attack too, stumbling around desperately in your attempt. Embers are sent flying by the force of the tail’s swing, landing and sparking small fires wherever they land.

The pulsating red streaks across its body glow brightly. It howls. Raising its head up to the skies, it lets out a high-pitched howl. As if in answer, the small fires roar to life, forming a ring of flames around you and the monstrous beast. You have heard from your master, in passing, of the soul instruments which people named Astras. Your master happens to be the owner of a simple bow Astra, which enhanced the flight of arrows with the power of the wind. He would use it to hunt on his own, and guarded it jealously even from you, his apprentice. You find yourself briefly wondering if this beast is using an Astra, although you dismiss the notion just as quickly. It’s an animal. How would it be using a tool?

But there is no more time to think about such things. The tail comes about once more, aiming for your head. You duck this one with more composure. The tail attacks are very fast, but also rather monotonous, and always come from the same angle. If that is all it is going to do, you might be able to survive this.

You consider your options. Your bow is ruined, having been slung from your back – smashing into a tree back-first didn’t do it any favours. You have a dagger, and… nothing else. Turning your back to the beast now that you have its attention, in such close proximity, would be dangerous. And so, you suppose that you don’t really have any options. You draw your dagger and glare at it, trying to muster up enough courage and bravado to fight for your survival.

Just for an instant, the snout of the beast wrinkles, the maw widening almost imperceptibly, as if in a grin. The tail comes for the fourth time. You dodge… and are promptly blindsided by another blow, sending you tumbling across the ground like a ragdoll. You feel a sharp, biting pain, and clutch your sides. It feels like you have been cut up by something sharp. Blood seeps from between your fingers. Gritting your teeth and enduring the agony, you glance up at the beast. You see that it now has two tails. If you were not convinced before, you are now. This thing is far beyond your comprehension, beyond any of your expectations.

But then, the beast does something that surprises you. As if it had suddenly lost all interest in you, it turns away from you, back towards the woman that it attacked.

***

Your plan hadn’t worked as you expected. Now, with no idea at all of what might happen next, against an overwhelmingly powerful foe, you find a singular emotion rising to the fore, driving your next action.

A. Regretting your decision to get involved, you take this chance to crawl away. This was never your fight, and you have no real reason to stick around. In the end, self-preservation wins out; your life is worth much more to you than saving some stranger.

B. Perhaps it is just childish stubbornness, but you can still endure the pain. You get back on your feet and decide to make it regret turning its back. You have lived life with little thought of what it meant to you so far, and though you might be too young to truly understand at the moment, you might be able to find some meaning in saving others.

C. You succumb to the fear, and stop thinking. Your mind goes blank, and you leave to your body to handle whatever comes next.

D. You pray. Curled up on the ground, you are plunged into despair, causing you to seek aid from some higher power, whatever there is, hoping it will resolve everything.

A Day in the Forest (IV)

You tighten your grip around the dagger and spit out the blood in your mouth. You know what you need to do. And then, you launch yourself at the beast. It whirls around, claws slicing through the air to meet you. You manage a near miraculous dodge, ducking under the swipe, and cling onto the black limb. Letting out a hoarse cry, you stab at the limb furiously with the dagger. Again and again you desperately drive the blade into its flesh. Glowing red blood spurts forth, and the beast makes a screeching squeal.

It smashes you into the ground, almost knocking you out from the impact, but you refuse to let go, continuing to stab away as if you were possessed. The beast slams you against the dirt, against the trees, over and over, but you do not stop. You stab, and then you hack, and when its paw is half severed, hanging limply from the main limb by black tendrils stained with red, the beast raises you high into the air, its maw gaping wide. You swing your body around to try and avoid its jaws. But to no avail. The beast’s fangs close around your lower left leg, biting through flesh and bone. It tries to pull you away from its limb – feeling the strain on your leg, you have no choice but to let go.

You hang limply by your leg, blood trickling over your face, gasping for breath. Your helplessness causes the beast to pause for a while. Its many eyes are all focused on you, and you can feel a dark malice in them. It is considering how best to kill you. For some reason, you feel that is what it is thinking.

Letting out another scream, you bend your body upwards, and sink your dagger into one of its eyes. The beast squeals again, letting your leg fall free… and then, it explodes. It becomes a formless shadow, a mass of writhing black tendrils and countless eyes, shrieking cacophonously as if there were dozens if not hundreds of it, screaming all at the same time in jangled, discordant screeches, so loudly that it almost drives you insane. Pain, confusion, and anger not of your own fill your mind. The tendrils swarm towards you mindlessly, and you hack away at it with your dagger, screaming back at the beast with equal ferocity. Tendrils wrap around your dagger arm and you bite into them, tearing away with your teeth. You drive your blade into an eye and sink your fingers into another, as if plucking them all out will end this nightmare.

You have no idea how long you fought, but the fight ends as suddenly as it had begun. The darkness flattens, becoming a shadow on the ground, and it recedes away into the forest. You stand alone amidst the subsiding flames, soaked in blood. The end of the battle brings with it relief, and you cannot help but to succumb to it. Strength leaves your body and you crumple to the ground.

But you only allow yourself a few moments of respite before you crawl back up. You haven’t forgotten why you did this. Grimacing and groaning, you stumble forward on your hands and knees. Your left leg is ruined and you’re unable to stand. Slowly, but surely, you fight through the pain and exhaustion to reach the fallen woman. She’s lying face down, still cradling the child beneath her.

You turn her over, and gasp. Her pale, bloodless face is possessed of an ethereal beauty that you have never known, never imagined could exist. The sight burns itself into your young heart. The woman had long, golden hair, matted with blood, and was dressed in fine – if bloodied – robes smoother than any fabric you have ever felt. Her beauty aside, however, the strangest thing about her had to be her ears. They were rather long, and pointed, compared to your own. As if entranced, you reach out to touch them.

A small moan makes you pause. The woman’s eyes flutter open – they are a brilliant blue – and her lips part. She begins speaking haltingly in a language that you have never heard, and she grabs your sleeves. She turns her gaze towards the child she had been protecting, muttering some word that sounds like “rain” to you. Then, her eyes glaze over. You know the look – you have seen it before on countless deer as they bed down to die, bleeding out from your arrows. The woman takes a deep breath, then a second. And she moves no more.

You have no idea exactly how old the baby is, but it is looking up at you with clear green eyes. Short blonde locks cover the top of its head, and its ears are just as pointed as the dead woman’s. The last baby you had seen up close was… it would have been before your parents died. Before your younger sister died. How long ago was that? Your memories are vague – you cannot even remember their faces; only that they existed.

The baby waves its stubby little hands in the air. You extend a hand, and reflexively, it grabs onto your blood-stained little finger. And even though you must look like a ghastly mess right now, it smiles at you.

***

A. A new feeling wells up within you. It is indescribable to you right now, but you allow yourself to express it freely. You can’t help but smile, despite your current condition.

B. You begin to feel something new that you cannot describe, but you resist the urge to let that feeling show on your face. You keep your expression impassive.

C. You feel nothing. Despite attempting to save the woman and this child, you feel nothing but emptiness at its touch.

***

After some time, you get around to digging a grave for the woman. Despite your busted leg, you make decent progress, and manage to get to a good depth just as the sun reaches its zenith. All the while, the baby has been looking at you without making a sound. You slowly roll the woman inside, being unable to lift her in your injured state. Then, you get to filling in the grave. There was nothing to identify the woman or the child, except for a silver pendant that had been hanging around the baby’s neck. It was intricately decorated with the crest of a stylized tree, though you have no idea what that meant.

Your work doesn’t end there, however. By the time you have fashioned a make-shift crutch and laid down a marker for the dead, the sun is on its way down. It’s about time you headed back too. Your master will not be pleased.

You pick up the baby gingerly, cradling it in one arm. It clings on to you, making what seems to be a satisfied noise. Leaning on your crutch in the other arm, you begin the long trek home.

***

As you reach the shack where you have been living for years, you see your master sitting outside the door – his usual hangout when he bothers to be here. He has another hut down in the village, where he spends much of his time. A few empty bottles are scattered in front of him; he has been drinking again.

Upon seeing you, he stands, the furs wrapped around him swaying. His grizzled old countenance is, as usual, extremely displeased. Perhaps a lot more than usual this time, seeing as you have come back injured and without any prey.

“Where’s your animals, boy?” he grunts, glaring at you.

“Not today.” You look down guiltily.

Your master casts an eye over your wounds without a word, before his gaze settles on the baby. Without asking, he grabs the baby from you. It begins to cry as soon as it leaves you.

“What’s this? You went playing around instead of doing your fucking work?”

“No, I…” The words don’t come to your mouth easily. After all, your master is right. He sent you into the forest to work and you didn’t. You can hardly justify yourself.

He snorts. “Hmph. Maybe I can sell the kid and this bauble for something, at least.” His eyes glint greedily as he spots the silver pendant. “Stay put, boy. I’ll be back tomorrow once I check about a buyer for this little shit. It’s a pretty little thing and those weird pointy ears might go for a higher price.”

“But-“

You should not have said that. You know how much he hates that word. The moment it leaves your mouth, you are met with a backhand, sending you crashing to the ground.

“But fucking shut up. I didn’t raise you to say buts,” he growls. “Who fed and clothed you for the past five years? Just do what I tell you to do.”

Your master sets out for the village grumpily, leaving you alone with the baby. It calms down as soon as he leaves and you have taken it back into your arms.

***

A. You do not want the baby to be sold. You decide to take a stand and argue with your master when he returns, probably the next morning. You have never asked him for anything in your life – surely if you are serious enough, he will understand.

B. You decide to take matters into your own hands. He might have raised you, but you do not feel like you owe him much of anything. You escape with the baby tonight. There is another village a day’s trek away. Once you get some food for the baby, you will begin your journey.

C. You cannot refuse your master. He saved you, raised you, fed you and clothed you. You owe him your current life and if he decides to sell the baby, that is his prerogative. After all, you returned without prey. He has the right to claim his due from you for today’s fiasco.

A Day in the Forest (V)

You remember the day you were first handed a bow. It was perhaps a week after your master had told you to live in this little hut from now on. The burns scarring half of your body still hurt, the raw, pink skin oozing clear liquid. Yet, he had thrown the small wooden bow at you, and told you to hunt. If you did not hunt, then you would not eat.

At the time, you were confused but grateful, thinking that he had made the tool for you by hand. He had even picked you out of the ashes of your former home, after all, and dug a grave for your family. Expecting boundless charity just because you are a child would be too much to ask. It was not until later that you learnt the bow was just something he picked up in the trash.

Do you owe your master? Maybe. If he had not picked you up, perhaps someone else would have. Your life might have been better. It might have been worse. But who you are now is a product of how he raised you. The way he taught you to hunt was to tell you to watch and give you a slap or two when you failed to imitate him; sure, he might not have truly taught you anything like a proper teacher would, but undoubtedly, you still learnt from him. At the very least, you quickly learnt how to be independent, and not to rely on him for anything.

Which is why you swaddle the little blond child in cloth right now, tying it to your chest. If it was just you alone, you might have continued to put up with your master. But you can make a difference for the baby’s life – whatever you owe your master is your debt to pay. The baby has nothing to do with him, and if he’s insisting… well, in all honesty, you think that a little selfishness of your own isn’t unfair, given that half of what he sells to the village is usually your prey, passed off as his.

After checking the lantern to ensure it has enough oil, you proceed to gather whatever rations you can scrounge up from the hut. The moon is high in the sky, its light illuminating the path you must take even in this dark, cloudy night. The baby is sleeping contentedly, nestled against your chest, little fingers clutching your bloodied and dirty tunic. You look up at the moon, then at the hut.

You set fire to the hut, not allowing a single expression to show on your face. As the flames rage behind you, you take the first step of your new life.

It’s a long journey ahead, but at least you won’t be alone.


---CHAPTER END---

Boy in the Village (I)

The dirt path winds across the gently rolling hills. You had spent the night on the road, and the moon above you had now become the sun. The glowing orb in the sky rose and lowered, brightening and dimming according to the time of the day but never truly going away. But your master had called it a sun when it was at its brightest, and a moon when it was dim. And so that is what you call it too.

The baby woke up crying once in the middle of the night, only settling down after you had dipped your finger in honey and allowed it to suck away. It was a strange, ticklish feeling, although not entirely unpleasant. Right now, it was sleeping soundly once more.

You look at the path before you. There is a signpost directing you to the next village. Scotsfield, 5 kilometres, it read. At your slight elevation, you can spot where it is. It looks to be much bigger than the one near your forest, which was nothing more than a collection of ramshackle huts. There were more buildings and houses at the village center, and numerous farms dot the surrounding land.

And far beyond the village, so far in the distance that it is tinged with blue, a long, white strand stands tall, disappearing into a hole in the sky.

A sense of adventure and awe fills your heart. The past day has shown you things you have never seen before during your life in the forest, and this sight whispers to you that you can see many more, should you wish it.

***

Carried away by the mood, you allow yourself to dream just for a while about the far future, of the better things to come.

A. You dream of exploring the world. Your curiosity and desire for adventure has been sparked by your recent escapade, and you would like to know more about, well, everything.

B. You dream of settling down with the baby and raising it as well as you can. After years of scrounging up all you can in the forest just to stay alive, you would appreciate it if you could retire to a more stable and quiet lifestyle.

***

As you near the village, you spot an old man sitting in a chair near the fence. There is a bottle in his hand, and you become instantly wary. Has he been drinking? You clutch the baby tighter to your chest and your feet slow down to a halt. The old man looks up and spots you, his whiskered cheeks slightly ruddy.

“Hm? Hey, laddie, haven’t seen ye around before,” he calls out, scratching his bald head. “Did’ye have something to do in our fair village of Scotsfield?”

“Oh, I…” Your response is slow and halting. Speech is a rare event as far as you are concerned. “I am looking for… help.” Still, you needed help with the baby. You might be older, but you are still well aware you are a child too, and you can’t take care of it alone.

“Help? What kinda help do ye want? Where are yer parents…” The old man’s voice trails off as he catches sight of the scars across half of your face. You flinch and draw your hood lower.

“Och! Dinnae mean tae gawk, laddie! Sorry!” Flustered and looking ashamed, he gets up, hobbling over to you. It looks like he has one lame leg, just like you do. “And ye’ve got a wee one right there, do ye!”

The old man raises his hand and you gird yourself instinctively, but instead of a slap or a punch, he pats your shoulder firmly, as if in encouragement. “A’right, I won’t be asking ye too many questions. Let’s get ye and the wee one to the church, Father McClellan should know what tae do with the both of ye. Come on now.”

Before you can muster up any complaint, the old man herds you along towards the center of the village. You cannot help but marvel at how many people and buildings there are – it looks a lot more crowded than you could have realized from afar. Along the way, you can feel the curious eyes of others upon you, but the old man just waves them off cheerfully, telling them to mind their own business in a light-hearted manner.

“Here we are, boyo.” He stops in front of a large, white building. A big cross is placed right on the top of the building. “Don’ye worry, Father McClellan is a good man. He’ll do right by ye, whatever ye need.”

The aged, wooden doors make a heavy creak as the old man pushes them open. He limps into the dark building, and seeing little other choice left to you, you follow nervously.

“Oh, if it isn’t old man Addair? What’s the matter? Sunday is tomorrow, and I don’t remember you being the sort to hang around the church more than necessary.” A tall man with dark brown hair cut short is standing at the altar, a broom in his hands. A small pair of round spectacles is perched on his nose, and he is clothed in black.

“Father, I’ve got a lad here that needs ye help. Found him standing around near tae outskirts of the village, my sweet spot, ye ken? I thought ye’d be the best person to help ‘im out, what with ye being a man of God and all,” replies Addair.

Father McClellan’s eyebrows rise quizzically. “A young visitor? Well then, let me take a look.”

Addair gives you an encouraging push. “Go on, laddie. He won’t bite.”

You frown, and take a cautious step forward, head bowed low. McClellan looks at you and the child in your arms. “Where are your parents, my child?” he asks, gently.

“They’re dead.” Your reply is curt and to the point.

“Oh dear.” He sets the broom aside and walks to you, kneeling down. “I see. It must have been hard. What is your name?”

You… do not know. Your parents had a name for you, but you do not remember it now, after years of being called nothing kinder than boy. You shake your head.

“I see.” The priest responds calmly. “And what about the baby? Is there a name?”

“Rain,” you blurt out. That had been one of the last things that the woman had said. Although you do not know what the word meant in that foreign language, you felt that it could have been the baby’s name. It was a guess without evidence, of course.

“So the baby is Rain, while you have no name, for now?” McClellan smiles, and pats your head. He glances at your clothes, which are stained with blood from yesterday’s battle, but he does not bring up the matter. “Far be it from me to question a boy in help whom God has guided to His house. I’ll take it from here, Mr. Addair. Thank you for bringing them here.”

“Och, no thanks needed, Father! I know ye’ll do right by them. Just let me ken if there’s anything I can dae.” The old man waves to you, wishing you well.

Bowing to him, you stutter out your thanks awkwardly. “T-Thank you, Mister.”

As Addair limps off, McClellan calls out for someone. “Sophie, are you there? Could you come in for a second, please?”

“Yes, father. Is there anything you need?” A pretty girl all in white enters the church’s hall from . Her hair is tied up in a bun, and she seems a bit older than you are. The girl looks at you and freezes for a second, clearly taken aback by the burns on your face. “Oh!” she cries out.

“Don’t be rude, Sophie,” warns McClellan. “We should have some bread and milk leftover at home from this morning’s breakfast. Be a dear and fetch those for this boy and the baby, would you?”

Backing away, her expression uneasy as she glances at you again, Sophie nods and says “Yes, father, right away,” before leaving.

After she is gone, McClellan chuckles. “Forgive my daughter. She’s still young, still immature. Unlike you, I would say.”

“…What do you mean?”

“You must have lived a really rough life,” he says sadly. “And yet I can see that you are a very calm and very resolute boy. Truly, God gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless. Now, while we wait for Sophie to return, perhaps you can take a seat, and we can talk about how Scotsfield can offer you some respite?”

You give him a silent nod and sit down on one of the pews. McClellan sits down some distance away, giving you enough space to be comfortable with.

“If you would like to stay in Scotsfield, I am sure I can find a suitable family. There are many farms in the area who would love a hardworking and honest boy to help with the work. Alternatively, well…” He adjusts his spectacles, and continues carefully. “If you would prefer it, I have also been looking for someone to help me out with keeping both the church and the school building tidy.”

“What’s a school?” you ask. For that matter, you don’t know what this place called a church is either.

“Oh, have you never been to one? Well, a school is a place for learning,” replies the priest calmly without looking particularly shocked. “I think it would do you good to attend it too, although you might find that none of the other children in this village are particularly studious or obedient, haha. I and Sister Angela teach classes every Sunday afternoon.”

***

You decide to:

A. Stay with a farming family recommended by Father McClellan, and help out with their work in return.

B. Accept Father McClellan’s hospitality and stay with him while helping out with church and school.

C. Find a place to live on your own instead, without relying on other people.

D. Leave the village after replenishing your supplies. You do not intend to stay here for long.

***

McClellan claps his hands, saying, “Well, that would be a decision left to you. On the other hand, there is also Rain to think about. You are no more than a child yourself, though you must be well aware of that. It would be quite the task for you to take care of Rain while doing your own growing up. I can find a suitable family who would be delighted to raise the baby too… it would be better for both you and the little one, I am sure.”

***

A. You decide to give the baby up for adoption. Deep within, you are loathe to do so, but the priest is right: you are too young to take care of a baby on your own. This will be better for the baby and for you in the long run.

B. You do not want to be parted from Rain. You might be too young to take care of a baby, but you can always get help with that without giving Rain up. Besides, you have a niggling suspicion that you would be considered too young to hunt on your own either, if it comes to that. Age doesn’t determine everything.

Boy in the Village (II)

As you finish discussing your future with Father McClellan, his daughter returns with the bread and milk that you were promised. She gives you a noticeable berth as she passes the food to her father, who then hands it to you. After making sure that Rain drinks some of the milk, you chow down on the bread hungrily.

McClellan chuckles, “No need to rush, the bread’s not running anywhere. While you’re at it, shall we let Sophie clean Rain up?”

After thinking for a while, you nod and hold Rain out to Sophie. However, the moment your fingers leave Rain, the baby begins to cry.

“Oh dear,” mutters Sophie, perplexed. “I guess the baby doesn’t like me.”

“The baby doesn’t seem to like anyone besides our wandering boy here,” says McClellan in good humour. “I think it’ll be enough if you prepare some warm water in the bath chamber at the back, Sophie. You can teach the boy to clean up his ward.”

“Fine, father.” Sophie seems to be slightly disgruntled as she marches off again without so much as a second look at you.

“Now, we can’t be calling you boy forever, can we? If you wouldn’t mind, how about I give you a name? You can always change it for something else later if you don’t like it, it’s not like the census takers come around here all that often, haha,” suggests McClellan. “I’d say… you look like a Jack to me. How does that sound? Jack?”

***

A. You like the sound of ‘Jack’, and adopt it as your new name.

B. You would prefer to come up with your own name. Since Rain is Rain, perhaps you can call yourself… Cloud.

C. You decide to forgo having a name for now. ‘Boy’ will do.

***

As Sophie leads you to the bathtub, she doesn’t make any effort to start a conversation. Neither do you, and so the both of you walk in silence. She only speaks once she reaches the room. “I’ve made sure the water isn’t too hot. You do know how to wipe down a baby at least, right?”

You nod, choosing your words carefully. “I should be able to do that, yes.”

“The washing cloth is over there, so let’s get Rain out of those rags,” says Sophie briskly. She eyes the blood on your clothes briefly but makes no mention of it. With her help, you manage to get Rain stripped. The baby remains strangely calm throughout it all, its eyes fixed on you.

“Oh, Rain’s a girl, I see. Well, I did think she looked pretty. And those ears of hers… I’ve never seen ears so pointy on anyone before. Where is she from?”

“I… don’t know.” You shake your head, telling the truth. So Rain’s a girl. You are not sure how to tell gender with a baby, but you will take Sophie’s word for it. She probably knows what she is talking about, being a girl herself.

“Well, never mind that, then,” replies Sophie in not a particularly friendly way.

You get the feeling that she doesn’t really seem to believe you. Still, with her help, you manage to get Rain cleaned up, scrubbing the days’ worth of grime and blood away. Next would be your turn. Sophie leaves the room quickly and you set Rain down in a cot that she had prepared. Stripping, you catch sight of the large mirror at the sink. You know what it is, but you had not the occasion to own one before.

Standing before it, you take a good look at yourself. Half of your body remains disfigured by burns. Your brown hair is long and unkempt, hanging over most of your burnt face on one end. Fresh scars still line your body from the battle with the shadow beast the other day; though the bleeding has already stopped, they seem liable to open up anew if you exert yourself too much. It might take a couple more days to heal even with your hardy constitution. Slowly, you wipe down your body, taking care to be tender around your injuries. All this while, Rain doesn’t take her eyes off of you. You wonder if she’s still hungry.

***

After you are finished, McClellan shows you to your new room – it is located at the back of the church. You will be staying here with Rain. The priest has insisted that you allow someone to help with Rain’s care; he claims to know a trustworthy elderly lady who will teach you how to look after a baby and assist where she can.

And after you have settled in, your new life in Scotsfield will finally begin.

***

In the coming weeks, you decide to try your hand at a couple of activities (choose two):

I. Learning arithmetic from Father McClellan.

II. Learning the basics of alchemy from the local apothecary.

III. Trying your best to get to know the villagers in the local pub.

IV. Studying religious art in church.

V. Practice your meagre trapping skills.

***

Besides that, you also have something you want to focus on:

A. You focus on studying and making up for your lack of education. The ease at which you take to your diligent study suggests intelligence which has been neglected thus far.

B. You focus on getting your body back to proper condition and then some more. Instead of concentrating on your studies, you decide to train your strength instead.

C. You focus on being able to talk to people better, practicing by talking more with Rain and Father McClellan. It will be a long and arduous path, but it is a small first step you can take.

***

A Brief History of the Tower

1492: Christopher Columbus first discovers the Tower while on searching for a new route to the Far East. The explorers establish a base camp on the ground floor. Knocking down the spires of gold found there, they send back a ship laden with the gold to report their finding, as well as procure more supplies.

1493: The second expedition arrives at the Tower, only to find that the Columbus expeditionary force has gone missing. Their camp remains intact with no signs of struggle. A note stating: “This Tower is of God, I am sure. I shall reach the top and gain His blessing” is the only clue to the fate of Christopher Columbus and his men. Expeditions continue to take place, in hopes of finding more gold.

1494: Arable land is discovered on the second floor of the Tower. There, the Spaniards establish the first colony in the Tower, Espanola.

1495: The Spanish and the Portuguese sign the Treaty of Tordesillas, dividing the Tower into east and west between themselves.

1499: Spices are found to grow well in Tower soil. Farming efforts intensify.

1500: The first expedition to reach the fifth floor of the Tower is led by John Cabot, an Italian-born explorer working for England. In the same year, Amerigo Vespucci’s expeditionary fleet launched from the Tower discovers the northern reaches of the New World.

1502: Legendary Italian genius Leonardo Da Vinci moves to the Tower with a contingent of Milanese explorers, his scientific interest piqued by the mysterious construct. He would stay there until the end of his days.

1503: The first coal mines are constructed on the mountainous sixth floor. The search for gold continues.

1510: Mapping of the New World coastline continues with efforts based out of Tower colonies. Pope Julius II declares the Tower to be “Land granted by God, for the shared prosperity of Christendom”.

1519: Ferdinand Magellan’s fleet berths at the Tower, resupplying on its way to attempt circumnavigating the globe.

1520: Spanish and Portuguese tussles in the Tower intensify despite the Treaty of Tordesillas. The two nations and their conquistadores are bogged down in skirmishes.

1527: Holy Roman Emperor Charles V makes the first of his three visits to the Tower together with his Queen, Isabella of Portugal. Their union puts to rest the bickering between Spanish and Portuguese governors in the Tower for some time.

1540: Lope de Aguirre is the first man to reach the tenth floor of the Tower. The vastness of the Tower’s interior has stretched supply lines so much that vertical progress has slowed down until enough of the Tower is settled to support further exploration.

1545: Lope de Aguirre declares his own personal kingdom on the tenth floor. Other conquistadores are soon tempted to follow suit, establishing independent fiefdoms of their own throughout the Tower.

1548: The Spanish and Portuguese Empires sign the Treaty of Zaragoza to affirm the division made during Tordesillas, and attempt to get their wayward territories under control. This marks the beginning of the Conquistadore Conflict.

1560: John Dee, advisor to Queen Elizabeth of England, pushes for greater English presence in the Tower. He claims to have had premonitions of the Tower being vital for the formation of a ‘British Empire’. The English begin a campaign of aggressive naval expansion while the Spanish Habsburgs are pre-occupied with machinations on the European mainland.

1563: Francis Drake makes the first of his many visits to the Tower. He discovers ancient ruins on the eighth floor and excavates the first Astra there. Later, he performs a daring escape with just a single ship against Spanish and Portuguese fleets.

1564: John Dee pens the Monas Astrologica, based on his research on the Astra retrieved by Francis Drake. This seminal work would serve as the foundation of Astra research for many centuries to come. It is rumoured that parts of the Monas Astrologica are cribbed from the Voynich Manuscript.

1566: The Eighty Years’ War begins in Europe.

1570: Ivan the Terrible launches the first Russian expedition to the Tower, claiming that the Voice of God spoke to him about the importance of reaching the top. The expedition fails to get past the tenth floor.

1580: The crowns of Spain and Portugal are united, and so are their territories in the Tower.

1588: The first usage of Astras in warfare is recorded, as both the English and Spanish fleets utilize the instruments in their sea battle at the English Channel. Francis Drake sinks the Spanish Armada, ending the battle with a victory for England.

1590: Azteca Confederation boats arrive at the Tower. The predominant power throughout the entire New World, the Azteca regard the Tower as a pillar of teotl, a divine entity in its own right, and see the European powers as heathens for attempting to explore it. However, that does not prevent trade from occurring, and the Azteca begin to do business with the conquistadores, trading slaves for Astras.

1592: War breaks out between the Azteca Confederation and the Conquistadore Kingdoms. Demonstrating an innate aptitude for Astra usage, the Azteca’s initial disadvantage when it comes to firearms is neutralized. Battles rage throughout the Tower, as the independent Conquistadore fiefdoms are each drawn into the conflict one by one.

1595: Edward Kelley, successor of John Dee and one of the foremost Astromancers of the era, arrives at the Tower with instructions to take advantage of the chaos and carve out a domain for England. Leveraging concessions from the conquistadore kingdoms, he secures English territory spanning three floors in return for his help in repulsing the Azteca Confederacy.

1602: The ten year war between the Azteca and the Europeans end with the Espanola Agreement. Signed in the oldest colony in the Tower, the treaty allows further exploration and climbing of the Tower, with the caveat that Aztec peoples must be part of any future expeditions.

1611: Henry Hudson becomes the first person to reach the eleventh floor. His party vanishes soon after in the icy wastes.

1618: The Thirty Years’ War begins in Europe.

1625: Cardinal Richelieu orchestrates an effort to advance France’s possession and knowledge of Astras to gain an advantage against the Austro-Spanish Hapsburg, obtaining greater access to the Tower via the English and the Dutch.

1648: The Peace of Westphalia ends both the Thirty Years’ War and the Eighty Years’ War. English and French influence over the continent expand while Spain recedes, and European powers once again turn their eyes towards the Tower’s potential riches. The speed of exploration increases.

1650: The Treaty of New Aberdeen is signed between all parties in the Tower. Each floor is partitioned into spheres of influence for three nations to ensure that no one nation dominates a single floor. The Conquistadore Kingdoms scattered across the floors continue to maintain their independence.

1656: Semyon Dezhnev leads the first successful expedition to reach the twentieth floor of the Tower.

1683: The powerful Ottoman Empire invades Europe, starting the Great Turkish War.

1690: Astra wielding European armies prove to be a determining factor in breaking the invasion. The defeated Ottoman Empire signs the treaty of Karlowitz, ceding large swathes of its European territories.

1692: The inhabitants of the Puritan settlement of Salem, on the fourth floor, disappear overnight. No traces of them are ever found. For a while, Azteca pagans are suspected to be the culprits, but no accusations are ever officially made.

1699: The first steam engine is demonstrated to the Royal Society of London. It is promptly put to work in the industries sprouting up in the Tower.

1700: Republicanism begins to spread amongst the independent Conquistadore Kingdoms.

1707: The United Kingdom of Great Britain is formed with England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland.

1710: British explorers led by Henry Kelsey push through to the thirtieth floor, far beyond the reaches of any civilization within the Tower. There they are confronted by a giant white wall stretching as far as the eye can see. They end their expedition without being able to find a way around the wall.

1766: The Tower Revolutions are sparked with the death of a Conquistadore taxman. All throughout the Tower, rebellions rise up against the conquistadore kings. The Western European powers intervene on the side of the conquistadores, but the Azteca Confederacy, Russia and the Ottoman Empire throw their support behind the revolutionaries.

1776: The conflict between conquistadores and revolutionaries escalates into the War of 1776, a full war between the powers within the Tower. The English, French and Spanish begin battling the Aztecs, Russians and the Turks in a bloody war that spills over into the rest of the world when the Dutch and Prussians attempt to further their own interests by invading colonial holdings elsewhere in Asia and Africa.

1780: The War of 1776 continues in a stalemate and causes an unstabilized France due to the costs of the wars. Revolutionary fervour from the Tower spreads to France itself.

1789: The French Revolution occurs.

1792: The newly born French Republic officially forms an alliance with the Azteca Confederacy, Russia and the Ottoman Empire. Feeling threatened, the rest of Europe form a grand coalition to defeat France. The French are led to victory in battles within the Tower by a Napoleon Bonaparte, who monopolizes the excavation of Astras, and then sails his forces to the European mainland, winning decisive victories there.

1804: Napoleon crowns himself the first Emperor of France. This marks the start of the Napoleonic Wars, widely considered a continuation of the War of 1776.

1812: With the blessing of Napoleon, the independent United Republics form out of the ashes of the former conquistadore kingdoms in the Tower, allied strongly to France.

1826: Napoleon is killed in battle at Waterloo as fifty years of prolonged war are brought to an end with the 1826 Congress of New Vienna, held on the tenth floor of the Tower. The congress both reshaped the territories of Europe as well as establishing a neutral organization to administrate the Tower. Knightly and Militant Orders from each nation, which proved themselves to be crucial in ending the war, were granted equal seats on the Council of Orders. All of the Tower was declared neutral ground, and the Council was vested with the collective authority to govern movement within it. Astra excavation and allocation was officially placed under a quota system.

1863: The first railways are constructed in the Tower, in United Republics territory.

1875: The Theosophical Society for Astra Research is formed by Helena Blavatsky in Espanola, and soon becomes renowned as the foremost center of research in the field.

1880: The first electric-powered public lights are installed in New Valencia.

1897: Bram Stoker writes Dracula while residing in Neo Carpathia, and claims it to be based off a true story. It swiftly becomes the most popular novel in the Tower.

***

The State of the Tower in 1900


Measurements and Towerspace

On the outside, the Tower is a gigantic cylinder with a breadth fifty kilometres in diameter. It apparently extends down to the seabed in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, although no vessels have dived far enough to confirm it. Calculations and the use of telescopes have confirmed that the top of the tower is a staggering 100 kilometres into the sky. At present, no known vessel can reach that height, either. The surface of the tower is coated with a material unlike any in existence; all efforts to scrape away samples of it have failed, and it has proved impervious even to cannon fire or dynamite. There are no windows – no exterior light travels into the tower at all.

Towerspace is the appellation given to the unique dimensional aberration that is the Tower’s interior (e.g: “Och! Bleedin’ towerspace! I’m lost agin!”). The interior of the tower has been mapped thoroughly for the lowest 10 levels, and though the circular shape of the walls are evident, the size of the floors are each different. The ground floor is the same size as it should be on the outside, but the first floor is no more than a tenth that size, and the second floor covers an area almost equal to that of Ireland. Such variations in size persist throughout the floors that are known.


Geography of the Tower

So far, humanity has climbed 30 floors. The geography of each floor is wildly different and appears uninfluenced by any considerations of the outside world, another particular quirk attributed to towerspace. Each floor is connected by winding stairs constructed of the same indestructible material as the walls, going 1 km up to the next level; freight elevators have been built alongside these stairs up until the tenth floor. The stairs are not located at the same place on every floor – as such, travel up the Tower can take up to a week even to get to the twentieth floor, along established routes.

Some of the particularly notable floors are listed below:

Ground Floor: The foundation of the Tower. When Columbus first arrived, it was a dark cavern with rocky spires of gold. The gold is now gone and in its place is a bustling logistics hub. An extensive network of warehouses, shipyards and docks has sprouted up along the outside of the Ground Floor, where trade is conducted with the rest of the world.

First Floor: Once the site of numerous expedition base camps, it is now the residence for the workers employed on the Ground Floor. Also known as Dockers’ Ground.

Second Floor: The first farms in the Tower were founded here, as is its oldest and largest city, Espanola.

Sixth Floor: A mountainous region rich with ores. Coal and valuable mineral deposits can be found on this floor.

Eighth Floor: Evidence of an ancient civilization first discovered on this floor, in ancient ruins buried deep within a hole that should not be able to exist, considering the distance within floors.

Eleventh Floor: An icy wasteland spanning the entire floor. Few settlements can be found here.

Twelfth Floor: In sharp contrast to the previous floor, it is a sea of sand, a hot desert. Prospectors have been searching for oil on this floor in recent years.

Seventeenth Floor: A floor dominated by giant lakes. Fishery is the main activity.

Twentieth Floor: The last human settlements can be found on this floor. It is a calming place, with forests and gently rolling hills.

Twenty Sixth Floor: A humid jungle filled with dangerous beasts.

Thirtieth Floor: Where the White Wall can be found. Intrepid explorers are still attempting to scale or bypass it to this day.


Settlements & Biosphere of the Tower

The population of the Tower is estimated at around 15 million people in 1900. Most of the residents are concentrated in the first ten floors of the tower. The largest city in the Tower is also the oldest; Espanola (2nd floor). Other notable cities include Londinium (4th floor), New York (6th floor), Yankuik-Azteca (7th floor), New Madrid (9th floor) and New Vienna (10th floor). The most remote town would be Loch-Glasgow, located on the 17th floor. Agricultural settlements can be found wherever there is arable land. The frontier levels of the 15th – 20th floors see many small villages eking out a living, away from the prying eyes of authority.

Wild animals were already in the Tower from the start. Charles Darwin’s visit to the Tower resulted in the discovery that the common mammals and birds in the Tower, although common to the untrained eye, are actually of different species compared to the ones outside of it. So far, there has not been any particularly unique flora or fauna discovered in the Tower which could not have evolved from anything in the outside world.


Economy of the Tower

The Tower’s vastness has been a source of raw materials to be exported to the rest of the world. However, its most profitable industry for the past two hundred years has been the relics excavated in the ruins scattered around the floors: Astras. Besides that, there is a variety of jobs to be performed within the Tower; being as varied as dockworkers, farmers, miners, explorers and even artists or scientists.

The Tower is not entirely self-sufficient for food at the moment and relies on regular shipments of grain and livestock from the outside to supplement its food requirements. It has a burgeoning textile industry set up on the fifth floor, while its power generation is entirely self-sufficient, relying on coals from its mines on the sixth floor. Electricity is becoming more common on the first ten floors of the Tower. Furthermore, the smoke generated from coal powerplants is not an issue; it vanishes together with the clouds at the end of every day, baffling scientists as the Tower has for centuries.

The franc is the main currency in the Tower at the moment, although Azteca quachtli as well as other European currency will be accepted depending on the settlement.


Polities of the Tower

The neutral body administrating trade and movement between levels is the Council of Orders, formed at the Congress of New Vienna. The council has 11 seats, with one allocated to each representative order. The current militant orders involved are as follows:

The Order of the Holy Sepulchre

The Sovereign Military Order of Malta

The Teutonic Order

The Order of the Golden Fleece

The Royal Victorian Order

The Order of the Garter

The Order of the Gold Lion

The Order of the Star

The Order of the White Eagle

The Imperial Janissaries

The Society of the Jaguar

The head of each order is to be neutral in theory, but in practice, each will be inclined to act on behalf of the nations they belong to. They are tasked with inspecting, tallying and distributing the Astras excavated by companies and individuals alike. The knights are the only political bodies allowed to station a standing army within the Tower, and should any dispute arise amongst the Council, they are expected to put it to a vote on their own without outside influence... again, in theory.

Major cities and towns are directly governed by representatives of the nations which founded those settlements, but the further up the Tower one goes, the less beholden they are to their founding nation. Having been declared neutral ground, the Council of Order maintains general infrastructure between settlements, while the settlements are responsible for their own upkeep. Land is clearly delineated and carefully controlled on the lower levels, while up on the frontier floors, the Wild Tops, it can be anyone’s claim, as long as they can keep it.

The United Republics of the Tower is the only truly independent polity within the Tower, the remnants of the once powerful Conquistadore Kingdoms. They are a federation of five city-states concentrated around the ninth and tenth floors; New Madrid, New Valencia, Nuevo Castilia, Locoland, and Blue Rivers.


Religion and Beliefs in the Tower

The population of the tower practice myriad religious beliefs. Catholics, Protestants, Orthodox, Muslims and Azteca can all be found living in relative harmony.

Free thought and religious debates are common, particularly in the cultural centers of Espanola and New Vienna. One great difference of opinion between the religions is in how the Tower is seen. The Christians and Muslims currently believe that the Garden of Eden may be found on top of the Tower thanks to proclamations from their respective religious leaders, although whether or not they should seek to reach the top is a subject of furious debate. The Aztecs treat the Tower in its entirety as a living god, and insist that it must be worshipped to keep it happy. Child sacrifice was once the preferred method to do so, but thankfully it is not common practice nowadays, after a particularly heated religious schism in the Azteca Confederacy.

Freethinkers and occultists, of which the Theosophical Society for Astra Research and the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn have a leading role, consider the Tower to be the lost continent of Atlantis, and believe that the secrets of the universe can be unlocked by finding a way to the top of the Tower.

Boy in the Village (III)

Thump. A cloud of white chalk floats into the air as you clap the duster clean. As there are no classes this morning, you are tidying up the classroom as usual. Six months had gone by in a flash. Most of your time had been spent between learning how to take better care of Rain, and furiously absorbing the alphabet and numbers, as well as starting to learn alchemy. Your progress was astoundingly fast – you managed to pick up in only six months what most of the other children in the village needed six years to learn.

“Ah…” You hear Rain and turn around to spot her toddling towards you at high speed. She had begun to walk just a couple weeks ago, and taken to it pretty swiftly. Rain clings to your leg and you pick her up, cradling her in one arm as usual; she still seeks out your presence whenever she can. But just like how your adventurous spirit has been awakened, she has become a rather inquisitive baby in her own right, exploring her surroundings with innocent joy.

“I found her walking up and down the corridor,” says Sophie, entering the classroom. “I thought I’d bring her back here while I return my book.” Her hair is tied up in a ponytail today, and you spot a copy of a Jane Austen book in her hand. It seems like Mansfield Park today. Sophie had been reading a lot of those lately, borrowing the novels from the small shelf at the back of the class.

***

When it comes to works of fiction, you:









***

Sophie doesn’t say anything else to you as she puts Mansfield Park back on the shelf. She hasn’t warmed up to you much over the past six months. You are not too sure why yourself.

“Oh, right. Father wants me to get something from the greengrocer, and he asked for your help carrying the groceries,” she says suddenly, while averting her eyes from your face. Although Father McClellan had scolded her a few times for being rude, she still does it from time to time.

“Alright,” you reply.

“Good. Let’s be off before the day’s over, shall we?” Sophie walks out of the classroom without waiting for you. Setting down the duster, you follow after her.

As you leave the school, you spot a large, white thing soaring through the sky. Seeing you stop and gawk at it, Sophie explains what it is.

“That is an Astra airship. Only the Council of Orders are allowed to operate them within the Tower, so there must be knights on board. What are they doing all the way up here on the 20th floor?”

***

You finish getting the groceries without incident. As you are on your way back, walking quietly behind Sophie, someone calls out to her.

“Sophie! Over here!”

Sophie’s face brightens up as she sees who it is. A slight blush on her fair cheeks, she runs to meet the boy. You know him. Tall, blond and dashing for his fourteen years of age, he’s the son of the local landlord, and the undisputed leader of the children. He’s currently holding court with four other kids standing around him.

“Andrew, how has your day been?” asks Sophie animatedly. “And… oh, you are here too, Elizabeth.” Her voice takes a slightly sour tone, as if she were talking to you.

Elizabeth is a short, red-haired girl about your age. You think she is the daughter of a travelling merchant, though you can’t be sure. At least, her clothes usually look better than the other children in the village – or so she claims. Again, you can’t be sure.

Placing her hands on her hips, Elizabeth eyes Sophie, and then you. “Going on a stroll… and is that Wrinkly I see behind you? Oh, I wonder what the two of you were doing?”

Sophie flushes and protests to Andrew. “We weren’t doing anything, Andrew. My father wanted his help with the groceries. You know how my father is… he doesn’t have a bad thing to say about this boy.” That much was true; you got the impression that Father McClellan favoured you. He was always telling Sophie about how hard of a worker you are, and how seriously you take your studies.

Andrew laughs, brushing off Sophie’s protests. “No need to be so worried, Sophie. Come here. You too, Wrinkly,” he grins. “I have some fun news to share. It might interest even you.”

Staying as reticent as usual, you move closer to the circle of children, though you stand a bit further away from them. You glance at Sophie, who is looking raptly at Andrew with a silly smile on her face. Rain chooses that moment to smack you on the head with her hands, babbling her baby language. She seems displeased about something.

“Still lugging that baby around, aye?” chuckles a portly, bespectacled boy. “You’re almost a town legend, Wrinkly. The burnt boy with a baby slung over his back.”

“Don’t tease him, Scotty,” interjects Andrew calmly. “Now’s not the time for that. No, we have grander things in mind. You’ve seen the airship passing above our village earlier, haven’t you? Well, Scotty knows what they’re here for.”

“Aye. Me dad’s found some ruins, you see,” grins Scotty, adjusting his spectacles. If you remember correctly, his father is an explorer based out of the village. A Mister Nathaniel Howell, all tall and bearded with a jovial glint in his eye and a constant smile on his lips. “Well, I know where those ruins are,” Scotty continues, “and I know how to get us in without being noticed.”

“Fun, isn’t it?” adds Andrew. “We might be able to find an Astra or two on our own… we might even become knights!”

You believe that he is talking about the tradition where those who track down an Astra on their own and demonstrate the proficiency to wield it can be accepted into one of the Orders. A tall order, to be sure.

“But don’tcha already have an Astra of your own?” ventures John, and his twin, Jane, agrees. The dark-haired duo nod and point to the short sword hanging from Andrew’s belt. You know about Andrew's Astra - he is considered to be rather talented even compared to the adults in the village. There are perhaps all of three Astra in this entire village of hundreds, and Andrew is considered good enough to be granted one of them. The boy gives a self-depreciating laugh, and says, “Well, I didn’t find this one after all. My father gave it to me. Besides, none of you have one, do you? This could be your big break!”

“Isn’t it dangerous?” asks Sophie nervously.

“Not at all.” Andrew’s reply is confident. “According to Scotty, Mr. Howell found nothing particularly dangerous in those ruins. We would just have to watch our step, but it would be as easy as talking a walk through the forest. If anything does go wrong, I have my Astra. Don’t worry, Sophie. I’ll protect you.”

Sophie’s blush deepens as Elizabeth jumps in. “And me too, right? You’ll protect me, right?”

“I’ll protect all of you,” grins Andrew, full of surety. “I’ve handled wolves and the like with my Astra, you know that. Why, I dare say that I shall take to the ruins like the heroic Theseus took to the labyrinth! And we don’t have to worry about getting caught, not with Scotty around.”

“Yeah,” Scotty drawls lazily. “If the knights find us, I’ll just use me dad’s name and get us out of it. We’ll say we were lost or something. Nothing to worry about, it’s not too far. We’ll be back by dinner.”

The excited children swiftly agree to go together. As if realizing that he forgot about you, Andrew turns to face you. “You’re coming too, right, Wrinkly?”

“Why would we need him around?” mutters Elizabeth.

“Well, I’ve heard that he’s actually spent some time in the woods by himself,” Andrew explains. “I was talking with Old MacDonald and he mentioned something along those lines.”

Old MacDonald was the alchemist who had taught you a thing or two. During those lessons, he had figured out you already knew a bit of the forest and the herbs which can be found there.

“Wrinkly here might be helpful,” continues Andrew. “I don’t see why he can’t come along.”

“He’s got to take care of Rain,” says Sophie flatly. “You can take the groceries back home, Wrinkly. Tell Father that I will be home before dinner.”

***

Into the Ruins (I)

You were not aware that a baby could look betrayed, but you are now. For some reason, Rain had sensed that you were going to leave her behind, and the feeling of utter disappointment and sadness emanating from her while in Madam Daviana’s arms had almost made you change your mind. Still, she had not kicked up a fuss, against your expectations.

But you are here now, skulking through the woods once again. You had brought along some supplies that you kept packed at home, as well as a slingshot with a handful of pebbles. The others did not seem to be particularly prepared, but it was not your place to lecture them about it. Even though this particular forest was a different one from the place you spent your early childhood, you found yourself acclimatizing to it all the same. However, you did not take the lead – Andrew did, while Scotty told him where to go. All Andrew had said to you was: “Oh, just tell us if you sense anything dangerous.”

The twins are chatting animatedly, while Sophie and Elizabeth are talking – or at least, trying to talk – to Andrew. It was not going very well, not least because the two girls kept interjecting each other with pointed barbs. Not particularly ladylike behaviour, one would think. Weren’t they supposed to be fans of Jane Austen? Then again, you hadn’t been paying particular attention to the contents of those romance novels, so you wouldn’t know yourself.

“Oh, darn,” gasps Scotty. “They’re already here.”

Andrew gestures for everyone to get down. They do so, rather clumsily, while you call upon your experience and sink into the bushes. Slowly creeping forward, you peer through the leaves.

The sleek airship is floating in the skies above you, disgorging men from a large gondola that was lowered and raised repeatedly. They bore guns and swords, and were dressed in a smart, white uniform. Knights, most likely, but which Order do they belong to? None of the other children seem to know. The only clue to their identity is a double-headed eagle emblazoned on the side of the airship.

You watch as a young man in a more ornate uniform, lined with gold plaid, gives instructions to the rest. With him is an older man wearing a brown fedora – him you recognized as Scotty’s father, Nathaniel. They begin talking about something that you can’t quite make out at this distance. The men are already putting up simple tents in the small clearing.

“C’mon, no need to tarry around here,” whispers Andrew impatiently. “Scotty knows about another way in.”

“Y-Yeah,” replies Scotty nervously. “See where that little mound is in the clearing? That’s the main entrance, but I heard me dad talkin’ about another one a ways off. That’s where we’re going.”

“Then let’s get going,” says John.

“We need to be home before dinner after all,” says his twin, Jane.

Andrew and Scotty lead the way to a bare patch on the forest floor, a good ten minutes’ walk away from where the knights were. Bending down, Scotty sweeps away the dirt to reveal a large metal hatch in the ground. “There we go. That’s our ticket in,” Scotty says excitedly. “Handle’s over… here.” He points at a latch, sunken into the hatch.

“Go on, Wrinkly, pull it,” Andrew urges. You glance at him. He is older and larger than you are, so shouldn’t he be stronger? But Andrew just stands there with one hand on his sword’s hilt, keeping watch and waiting for you to get to work.

“Make yourself useful, why don’tcha?” quips John. Jane agrees with him, just like she always does. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the twins disagree on anything.

“What’s the matter, Sophie? Wrinkly can’t even open a door?” laughs Elizabeth.

“He has nothing to do with me!” huffs Sophie in return.

Without a word, you bend over the hatch, grab hold of the latch, and pull it. It takes a strong tug and you almost slip as your bum leg gives way, but you manage to pop it open. Musty air wafts out of the dark, rectangular hole. You see rungs embedded into the walls leading downwards.

Andrew steps forward, eager to be the first one in now that the way is open. As he makes to climb down, you notice that he doesn’t have any lanterns or torches with him.

“Need a light?” you ask, holding out the small lantern that you brought.

Andrew stares at you and raises an eyebrow, while Scotty chuckles loudly. “Oh boy, Andrew, why did you bring this runt along again?” Scotty laughs meanly. “He doesn’t even know the most basic thing about ruins exploring.”

“Ruins generate their own light, dummy,” remarks Jane.

“I thought he read a lot of books,” laughs Elizabeth. “Maybe you should tutor him some more, Sophie.”

“That’s right,” sighs Andrew. “I thought you would have known that. See, it lights up.” He demonstrates by beginning to climb down the rungs. The dark walls of the passageway begin emitting a dull blue glow from within as he passes through, automatically lighting his way. It is an amazing sight… but you don’t think that is any reason to not bring a light. Just in case.

“I’ll let you know if it is safe to come down after me,” he calls out gallantly as he disappears further down the shaft. “Stay cautious until then.”

The all clear comes not too long after. Scotty goes next, huffing and puffing his way down, followed by the twins. Elizabeth goes after them, leaving just you and Sophie. Sophie shakes her head, sighing. “Why do I have to be embarrassed by you?” she mutters, before going down the ladder without offering you a second glance.

You follow after them, taking the rungs a bit more slowly because of your leg. You can’t support your weight very well on the injured leg after all. When you reach the bottom, the others are nowhere to be seen – they had gone on ahead without waiting for you. You walk faster, limping to catch up. All around you, the blue glow illuminates your path. The entire corridor is made out of metal, and for some reason, the alien machines in The War of the Worlds comes to mind.

You catch up to the others while they are standing at a crossroads. There, the corridor diverges into three paths, like a forked trident. They are indistinguishable from the other, with no appreciable difference that you can notice.

“Where should we go, Andrew?” asks Sophie.

“Let us see… do you have any ideas, Scotty?” he asks.

“Uh, from what I overheard… we’ll usually find Astras further into the ruins. All three do lead further in, so…”

Click. You turn around to see Elizabeth with a sheepish expression, looking at the wall. “I’m sorry…” she mumbles. “I think… I touched something.” She raises her hands guiltily. A panel that was set in the wall now glows green.

***

At that sight, you cannot help but think to yourself:


***

There is a grinding noise above you. You look up, and see something dark lowering towards you. The light does not reach up that high, but from what you can see, it looks like the ceiling is dropping. It is not doing so at a particularly high speed so there should be plenty of time for everyone to get to safety...

“Get out of the crossroads! Run!” shouts Andrew, diving to save his own skin. In a panic, everyone follows his instructions and end up scattering in different directions.

***

You leave the crossroads too, and find yourself ending up with:

Into the Ruins (II)

You find yourself sealed off from the others together with Sophie and Elizabeth. Sophie panics, shouting while she slaps her hands against the metal wall that now separates the corridors. It does not budge in any way, of course. Meanwhile, Elizabeth is on the ground, groaning and clutching her ankle. She seems to have sprained her ankle when she fell.

You approach Elizabeth, causing her to draw back slightly. “Wh-what do you want?” she asks suspiciously.

Without answering her, you rummage around your pack and bring out a small jar. Within is a salve you’ve made during your alchemy practice. You wouldn’t call it particularly efficacious, but it should soothe her pain enough to walk. You set it on the ground in front of her and say, “Medicine for your feet.”

“Medicine? Oh, that’s right. You were loitering around Mr. MacDonald, were you not?” Elizabeth takes the jar, opens the lid, and sniffs at it. Her brows crease in a frown. “Smells bad.”

“It’ll work.”

“I shall hold you responsible if it does not.”

Elizabeth cautiously dips a finger into the jar and begins rubbing the salve over her pale ankle. Meanwhile, Sophie gets tired of calling for help, and walks wearily towards the both of you. “What shall we do now? We are stranded.”

“Should we wait for help?” asks Elizabeth.

“I wonder…” Sophie ponders. “But… if this is the other entrance, then there should be a way out, right?”

“Through the main entrance, you mean?”

“That’s right, Elizabeth. The entrances should be connected.”

Sophie seems slightly pleased with herself, but Elizabeth isn’t so sure. “What if they are only connected through one of the other corridors?” she asks.

“Oh, do not be such a wet blanket!” cries Sophie, frowning.

“We don’t have any other choice.” Elizabeth gets to her feet, before turning to you. “Oh my, that salve is quite soothing. Thank you very much!”

Her smile is bright and you look away, mumbling a brief “You’re welcome.” You don’t get a lot of heartfelt thanks from girls your age, seeing as the only girl your age around is just Sophie most of the time.

Sophie lets out an irritated sigh. “Can we move on already?”

“Sure,” you say. “I’ll lead.”

“Are you sure? I would be in for quite the lecture with Father if anything happens to you,” remarks Sophie with all the gravitas of an older sister.

You do not answer her; you only begin walking. The girls follow behind you.

***

The metal corridor is smooth and quiet. You examine the walls as you go, marvelling at how seamless it is, and how the blue light seems to float just beneath the metal’s surface. How were these ruins constructed? You cannot think of any building at all wrought by the hands of Man. Could the preachings be right? Were these ruins actually created by God?

Behind you, the girls are quiet. It seems that without Andrew around, Elizabeth has little to say to Sophie. The silence is uncomfortable and awkward, but you ignore it, choosing to focus on the path ahead. You keep your eyes and ears alert for the presence of any other beings.

“Hey, Wrinkly,” Elizabeth speaks up suddenly. “So, what exactly transpired between you and the baby? Are the stories true?”

“What stories?” you ask. You know that there were stories circulating around about how you came across Rain, but you had not bothered to pay too much attention to them, preferring to focus on your studies. But perhaps this is a good time to find out.

“Well, according to Scotty, you were a thrall to a cruel vampire, and that baby was a child you stole as an offering to your dark and terrible master. But the villagers discovered your master’s lair and set fire to it. That’s how you got your burns.”

It is a very creative story, you have to admit. “That’s not true.” You deny the story. “I picked up Rain in the woods.”

“Oh, so no vampires were involved?” presses Elizabeth.

“Do vampires actually exist?” you ask.

“Of course not,” says Sophie, uneasy with the topic. “God would not permit such things. They are just superstitious folk tales to scare the uneducated.”

“Hm?” Elizabeth seems to have found some sort of weakness, and her green eyes flash with pleasure. “Oh my, could it be that dear Sophie here is…”

“I am not anything you are thinking of, and I am sure you are thinking of some very rude things!” insists Sophie hotly.

“If you say so,” smiles Elizabeth. “By the way, have you heard of this story from John and Jane? It is about the lights in these ruins. You remember learning about Christopher Columbus, right? And how he and his men mysteriously disappeared?”

“Y-Yeah, so what of it?” Sophie gives Elizabeth a challenging response.

“Well, it is said that they died exploring the Tower… and their ghosts were trapped in its ruins.” Elizabeth’s smile widens, and she lowers her voice to a silent whisper. “And that the light under the walls… that is what they are even now. Screaming silently… calling for new souls to join them… see, right there, in the wall behind you!”

Sophie shrieks and latches on to you. You hadn’t known that girls were this soft before. You freeze up, not knowing what to do. Elizabeth just laughs, clutching her stomach. “Oh, this is precious, dear Sophie. You are such a scaredy-cat!”

“That was not funny!” complains Sophie. Realizing that she is clinging onto your arm, with your scarred face in close proximity to hers, she shrieks again from the sight and pushes you away. It takes her a second to look slightly ashamed and apologize in a low mutter. “I’m… sorry.”

You shake your head. “No problem. Let’s go.” Your heart is thumping, perhaps from the excitement of all the screaming, but you let none of your turmoil show on your face. Instead, you caution the girls to be quieter. “It might not be a good idea to make so much noise.”

“Well… I guess you’re right,” says Elizabeth primly, giving Sophie another mischievous glance. “I will try not to laugh that loud next time.”

“There won’t be a next time,” hisses Sophie under her breath.

“Anyway, if it’s not vampires,” says Elizabeth, more quietly than before, though no less irreverent. “How did you get your burns?”

“Elizabeth, that is not a polite question to ask,” Sophie says, exasperatedly.

“I was not asking you, Sophie.”

“There was a fire. My house burnt down.” Your response is simple and short.

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that,” says Elizabeth. “You know, I have heard that the cities have doctors that can do wonders with burns. Why don’t you go and get your scars healed?”

“You talk like it is easy to go to the city,” snorts Sophie.

“Well, my father has been to many cities,” grins Elizabeth, and she begins to brag about how well-travelled her merchant father is. Their quiet bickering fills your ears as you proceed… but strangely, you don’t find it uncomfortable.

***

The air grows colder as you venture deeper into the ruins. The corridor branches off at places, but you decide to follow the main trunk for now, hoping that this would have the greatest chance of leading you to the exit.

“Nothing at all indeed. I suppose Scotty was right about what he heard from his father, there is no danger at all,” says Elizabeth. She sounds a bit disappointed that this trip has been nothing but walking through dim hallways, though she had also wisely refrained from laying her hands on anything ever since that first time.

“It is better that way,” Sophie says. “We do not need you touching anything else and getting us all in trouble.”

Suddenly, you sense that something is different ahead. A subtle change in the sound that your footsteps made. You stop, and the girls behind you do too.

“What’s wrong?” Elizabeth peers over your shoulder, slightly too close for your comfort.

“I think… this corridor ends ahead,” you say slowly. And as you take a few more steps forward, allowing the wall lights to shine on a door. It is metal, just like the walls around it. You hesitate for just a moment before walking towards the door and placing your hand on it. A panel glows green.

“Hey!” shouts Sophie.

“Is the ceiling going to fall again?” Elizabeth darts her eyes upwards and around.

But all that happens is the door sliding open. You sniff the air – no signs of anything out of the ordinary. No beastly smells, no stench of blood. It should be safe… probably.

“That was rather reckless,” lectures Sophie. “What if another trap had triggered?”

“And here I thought I was careless…” mutters Elizabeth.

“Nothing to worry about, I knew it would be fine.” You pause for a while, and then add, “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Oh, bother… what a boy.”

The girls sigh in unison, but they follow you into the room anyway.

The room remains dark, unlike the hallways. Your lantern has found a use, and with a slight sense of satisfaction, you bring it out. The orange glow uncovers the sights the room has to offer; thankfully no previously hidden horrors come to light.

The room is round and not much larger than the classroom at school. Large metal blocks line it at regular intervals, circling the center of the room. There stands an ornate a dais, upon which a crystal ball rests. Catching the light of your lantern, the crystal ball’s core sparkles brilliantly with the colours of the rainbow.

“Hey, over here!” whispers Elizabeth suddenly. “We found something!”

You go over to the girls, who are looking at the base of one of the blocks. Three compartments have opened up in the blocks, revealing a trio of items.

“Could these be… Astras?” Sophie says quietly, making no move to take them. “Is it safe to take them?”

“Don’t be such a coward, explorers find and claim these things all the time. So, three of them, one for the each of us?” suggests Elizabeth.

You look at the items – there is a book, a pair of boots, and a pair of eye-glasses. None of them seem to look particularly impressive compared to the sword that Andrew had.

***

Concerning the potential Astras, you decide to:


***

The moment you finish dividing up the loot, you hear the sound of footsteps outside the door – more than one person is approaching the room. You quickly make the decision to:

Into the Ruins (III)

“Quick, hide. Someone’s coming.” You hush the girls and herd them behind the metal block, extinguishing your lantern as you do so. The room turns pitch black.

“The knights?” Sophie whispers, crouching down while still keeping a respectable distance from you.

“Most likely,” replies Elizabeth, who is instead so close that you can hear her breathing in your ear. “We’re not supposed to be here, so it’s better if they don’t find us.”

“Shh.” You remind them again to be quiet. A strange, oppressive pressure is bearing down upon you. Someone… or something… is beyond that door, and they are about to enter.

The door slides open. The dim glow from the hallway illuminates multiple figures, marching into the room in single file. The lead figure is holding a large lantern to light their way. You recognize them – the same knights in white who were in the clearing earlier on. There are four of them. Scotty’s father enters shortly after, walking besides someone who looks like he could be the leader of the knights: a young, blonde man with a more ornate uniform lined with gold trim and a short mantle swishing in his wake.

Then, the last man enters. He is tall, very tall, and very thin, dressed in a black robe that looks tattered and torn, stained with the dirt of long journeys. His cheeks are sunken and a long beard covers his chin. His black, straggly hair is parted down the centre. But despite his gaunt countenance, his eyes burn with a dark intensity.

“We’re here, monk,” says Nathaniel. “Is this the room you wanted?”

“I hope we were not dragged all the way up the Tower on a wild goose chase,” says the commander, casting a cold eye around the room. “Are you sure of this?”

The bearded man walks quietly towards the centre of the room, taking slow, measured steps. “It is as God has ordained, Alexei. This is the place.” His voice is sonorous, and you can’t help but take a deep breath at the weight of it. You do not understand why, but something feels wrong about him.

“I had thought it would look grander,” sniffs Alexei. “No matter. If you are correct, then your introduction to the Tsar is secured, strannik.”

“God is always correct, and God’s words are what I obey.” The man – apparently a monk – raises a jagged, wicked knife to his palm. The blade tears the skin with ease, drawing blood. He places the bleeding hand over the crystal orb, chanting something in a language you do not understand. The red liquid drips over the orb, and orange sparks come to life within it, dancing, joining, until they form a small flame that sparkles with all the colours of the rainbow.

There is a loud rumbling that sounds like it is coming from far, far away, and tremors shake the floor. The girls grab onto each other, stifling back a scream of surprise while you steady yourself calmly. It is as if the entire ruins is about to collapse in on itself. Thankfully, that does not happen.

“It is done,” says the monk when the rumbling subsides. “The way is open. Another of the gates will have opened. We can now come one step closer to the Throne of God… All is for the sake of our Tsar.”

“Indeed, may God bless his reign,” says Alexei solemnly. “All that is left is to witness the open gate with our own eyes. The thirtieth floor… the White Wall.”

“That is where we must go, yes.” The monk stares upwards before closing his eyes. “One step closer to God.” Suddenly, his eyes snap open, and you press yourself against the metal block, ceasing your spying. “We have visitors, it seems. There seems to be someone… hiding outside the door.”

At that exact timing, the door slides open, revealing Andrew with his sword raised, and Scotty trembling behind him.

“Scotty!” shouts Nathaniel. “What in blazes are you doing here?”

“You should have kept a tighter leash on your son, Mr. Howell,” Alexei frowns. “Bring them in.”

Two of the knights step forward to execute his orders. But then, Andrew does something panicky and probably quite foolish.

“S-Stay away!” Shouting, he raises his Astra over his head. A mild blue gleam coats the sword and he swings it at the knight approaching him. The blade flashes so fast that you can hardly see it, and then you hear a strangled scream. Blood flies through the air as the knight falls back, clutching the cut across his chest. It doesn’t seem to be deep – the knight remains on his feet, and he glares at Andrew. Angered, he whips out his revolver, pointing it at the petrified boy.

“Calm down!” shouts Nathaniel, grabbing the knight’s gun-arm. “Alexei, get your men under control! They’re just kids!”

You take another deep breath and frown. Where you are, you cannot see the monk… but you have the feeling that he is looking right at the metal block you are hiding behind.

***

Into the Ruins (IV)

You decide not to do anything, and you put a firm hand on Sophie and Elizabeth’s shoulders, shaking your head to remind them that they shouldn’t either. The two of them gaze at you and nod hesitantly. You’re not sure if they will continue to remain calm should anything untoward happen to Andrew – you will just have to pray that they have the good sense to restrain themselves.

“Stand down,” Alexei barks. His men step back, as does Nathaniel.

“Alexei, they are just children,” Nathaniel repeats again. “They won’t say a thing.”

“They will not, if they understand what is best for them.” Alexei walks up to Andrew and stops in front of the boy, towering over him. “Hm, such a pretty face. Perhaps we can ensure your tongue is tied in other ways, hm?”

Andrew continues to be on his guard, and his sword remains raised, pointing at Alexei’s chin. Alexei seems entirely unconcerned, as are his men.

“I know you are not supposed to be here, whoever you are. You are not actually a knight of the Council, are you?” says Andrew, standing his ground, seeming to have found his courage after a panicky start. “Mr. Howell, I do not know why you are helping these impostors, but if you would help us arrest them-“

“And that is what the boy says, Mr. Howell,” grins Alexei. “You had best correct his misconceptions… or shall I do the favours instead?”

“Stop this foolishness, Andrew Laird. Do you want to get your father and the entire village in trouble too?” growls Nathaniel suddenly, more angry than you have ever heard him. “And you, Scotty my boy, we will need to have words after this. What on earth possessed you to perform such witless deeds?”

“I-It’s not like we came here by ourselves, Dad!” Scotty blurts out. “Wrinkly’s in on it too!”

“Wrinkly?” Nathaniel frowns. “You mean the boy with the burns?”

“More loose ends to tie up, then,” says Alexei smoothly, his eyes still fixed on Andrew. “What will it be? Will you run like a gutless coward, or will you stay and attempt to… arrest me, as you put it? You seem quite accustomed to your sword, so perhaps you do have a chance against me.” He spreads his hands and takes one step back. “Shall we settle this with a duel? I will give you the advantage by remaining unarmed. Use your sword as you wish.”

“If I win?” asks Andrew, his eyes serious and his stance at the ready.

“I let you and your friend go, naturally,” replies Alexei with a smile. “And I will turn myself in to the Council, as you wished.”

“Sounds too good to be true. And if you win…” grumbles Andrew.

“You are mine.” Alexei’s smile broadens. “At least for the week. In truth, you can talk all you want about what you saw here… but that will only get you killed later on, and do not make the mistake of thinking me to be the one who would be that threat. I would strongly advise against it.”

Sophie and Elizabeth look particularly concerned at Alexei’s words, although you are not exactly sure why. Andrew would be spared his life either way, wouldn’t it?

“F-Fine,” replies Andrew defiantly. “We shall have that duel.”

“Excellent. Now, I shall allow you to make the first move-“

Andrew is moving as soon as the words leave Alexei’s mouth, dashing towards him with an amazing speed that belies his age. “To me, Sword of Alacrity!” His sword swings through the air, aiming for Alexei’s chest.

“Bind.” Alexei flicks his wrist lazily. In an instant, a torrent of black iron chains erupt from the ground, wrapping around Andrew and bringing him crashing down. Andrew screams in agony as the heavy chains tighten around him. The duel is over, almost as soon as it just began. “I say, a rib or two should serve as a worthwhile lesson,” laughs Alexei as he looks down on the fallen Andrew. There is a cracking noise, and the boy screams even louder. “Oh dear, I broke your arm too. That was unintended, and you have my deepest apologies.” Alexei puts his shiny black boot on his defeated foe’s head. “Worry not. I will be gentle. Bring him back to the airship. Mr. Howell, you and your son will need to come with us too.”

“I understand,” says Nathaniel, his face grim. He walks over to Scotty and gives him a hard pull by the ear. “Stop doing anything stupid for just a moment.” Scotty only nods nervously, saying nothing.

“But Captain, should we not search this ruins for some Astras, since we have come all this way?” asks one of the knights.

“Any Astras found in such defenceless structures would be but trivial trinkets,” Alexei remarks. “Hardly worth our time. Though I do find it strange indeed that such an undefended place would also harbour one of the levers for a Gate of God.” He glances at the monk, seemingly hoping to elicit a reaction.

The monk, who had closed his eyes sometime during the previous commotion, and seemed to be thinking about something, opens his eyes again, slowly. “It is not at all strange if you consider the winding path we had to walk just to reach this place. The Gates of God are a test of our faith, a puzzle to be solved rather than an obstacle to be forced. Not one lever is exactly the same, nor are they operated the same way... In the end, they are a measure of God’s blessing upon those who would walk this road. Indeed, an Angel of God told me of devils intruding onto this floor some months back… ah, but I ramble. You are correct, Captain. There is nothing left here which would interest you. We should make haste and leave.”

“If that is what the strannik says, then that is what we will do,” shrugs Alexei. “Let us depart, men! The two of you, carry that boy to my chambers about the airship. Mr. Howell and son will follow us closely, with not one step out of order. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” came the replies.

“I’ll make sure my boy doesn’t go anywhere,” agrees Nathaniel, scratching his head.

“Wait, sir, what about the other boy this Scotty spoke of? What if he’s still around here somewhere?” asks another knight.

“Ruins can have unexpected dangers. He might not make it back to the village alive, with or without our assistance,” chuckles Alexei. “We will consider that eventuality when or if we encounter that child. Regardless, it will not change what we have to do.” With that, Alexei and his men leave. Two of the knights are hauling the chained Andrew on their shoulders, while the Howells follow closely behind Alexei, sandwiched between him and his men.

The monk is the last to leave. In the darkened room, with only the light from the hallway illuminating the entrance, his features are shrouded in shadow. Yet, two silver coins gleam where his eyes should be, shining in the darkness. “Everything is a test from God,” proclaims the monk out loud, seemingly to himself. Stepping out into the corridor, he raises his hand. A high pitched keening pierces your ears, giving you a headache. Then, the door slams shut – or rather, looks like it is wrenched shut – and you hear a groaning noise coming from it.

Everything is pitch-black yet again. The girls are still quiet, breathing heavily. You fumble for your lantern, and when you finally get light back, the girls heave a big sigh of relief.

“That was scary… hey, Wrinkly, where are you going?” Elizabeth calls out to you as you immediately get up and move towards the door. You noticed something off with the way the monk shut it, and as get closer, your suspicions are confirmed. It will never open again. The door is twisted and jammed into the frame. Whatever mechanisms it opened with have been destroyed, possibly beyond repair. Not that you or the girls would have the know-how to repair it.

In short, you are stuck.

***

After the girls get over their initial panic at being locked in, the three of you begin settling down and attempting to look for another way out. The items that you had obtained attuned simultaneously after some time, without any warning. The sensation was strange – as if a piece of your self was ripped out and infused into the book.

The book’s pages were empty when you had first opened it, but now it shows a map of the room. Elizabeth says it's popularly called a Tome of Theseus – a mapping Astra whose functions are relatively common, but much sought after amongst cartographers and explorers. She had obtained for herself something she says are Boots of Free Movement, while Sophie’s eyeglasses are the Lenses of Seeing.

Examining the map while you walk around the room, you spot something strange. Behind the northern wall… there seems to be the beginnings of another hallway. You look up and down the wall for any clue as to how to get behind it, but you have no such luck.

“There,” Sophie says, pointing at a particular spot on the wall. “Just touch that.” She removes the eyeglasses and pinches the bridge of her noise. “Oh, this gives me such a headache to use.”

You do as Sophie says, and the wall slides aside, revealing your way out.

“Oh, such luck we have!” Elizabeth jumps in delight and hugs you in a decidedly unladylike manner, causing no end of exasperated yelps from Sophie. On your part, you are utterly dumbfounded that she would seem to care so little for coming into contact with your scars, when Sophie would do her utmost best to avoid even looking at them.

“Act more like a woman, Elizabeth Bathory! Please, show some decency!” lectures Sophie. “What would Andrew think if he saw you acting like this?”

“It’s Bayther! My surname is Bayther, not Bathory! Our family has nothing to do at all with the Blood Countess! How many times do I have to repeat that, Sophie McClellan?” Elizabeth protests. “Besides, we are just children, are we not? We can be friendly in a way adults cannot!”

Leaving Sophie and Elizabeth to argue it out, you investigate the corridor ahead. Unlike the hallways you traversed to reach this room, there are no automatic lights appearing here. You keep your lantern out and begin advancing… but your exploration is quickly cut short but a wall of rocks and soil barring your way. A cave-in has happened here, cutting this path off from the rest of the ruins. However, besides the cave-in you spot something most curious and interesting.

There is a giant hole in the metal wall. The metal has buckled outwards, indicating that whatever caused that hole did it from within the corridor. But what could have done such a thing? The metal corridors of the ruins were said to be as hardy as the Tower’s walls itself, reputed to be indestructible. You stand there, pondering the implications.

“W-Wow,” goes Elizabeth, shrinking back from the hole. “We’re going in there?” Her voice echoes back from the hollow emptiness.

“I don’t think we have any choice, do we?” says Sophie reluctantly. “I really don’t think anyone will come to rescue us in time.”

“Yes,” is all you say as you summon up your resolve and enter the hole. Beyond it, the floor and walls are no longer metal. Judging from the rocky surroundings, you have entered a natural cave system. You can hear the sound of water in the distance, and you follow it. It is as good a direction as any for the moment. Elizabeth and Sophie follow closely behind you in silence, more tense than they were in the ruins proper. As you wind your way past wet stalactites and stalagmites, you finally reach a branching point.

One path leads downwards, and you can tell that the sound of water is louder from that direction. The other path heads upwards towards the surface, but… you can pick up a beastly smell in that direction, and though you are not sure if you were just imagining it… a faint jangling of chains.

***

The Ancient Jungle (I)

You cough and splutter, blinking your eyes slowly. What happened? Your head is still fuzzy, but your memories come back to you soon enough. You had found a way to an underground river that coursed swiftly, but then… there had been things lurking above you, crawling on the cavern’s ceiling. Far more adept in hiding themselves than your ability to sense them, the unseen creatures attacked you and the girls the moment you got to the river. The sudden ambush forced your hand – unable to fight them in the dark, you had no choice but to grab the girls and escape into the water, letting the currents take you where they may.

It was a gamble, but it has paid off. You are no longer underground, as evidenced by the dark sky above you. You realize that you are still holding the girls tightly to you by the waist. They are still unconscious from the rapid trip down the river, but at least they are alive. Not a bad result for three people who were not all that accustomed to watery jaunts. Loosening your grip, you sit up and take the measure of your surroundings.

The trees around you are unfamiliar. That is the first thing you notice. The air is more humid, and the chirping of insects fills the night. You are on the bank of a shallow river at the moment, half-submerged in the water. Unfortunately, your bag was lost in the scuffle. There goes your supplies – hopefully you are not too far from Scotsfield, even though you are certain no such trees exist in the village’s vicinity. How well Sophie and Elizabeth would hold up in a prolonged journey through the wilderness is yet uncertain.

Resisting the urge to sigh, you drag the two unconscious girls up from the river. The wet fabric of their clothes clings to the lines of their bodies, and you do your best to avert your eyes. Not that it matters in Elizabeth’s case, as she has about as much curves as Rain would, but Sophie has started to fill out in places rather noticeably. For a second, you are rather certain that if the girls could read your mind, your reputation would plummet.

Putting thoughts of bodies and the like out of mind, you check your surroundings again. The temperature is not too cold, but it might still be a good idea to start a fire to warm the girls up. You begin looking for any wood that could burn… and then, you stop. The bushes are rustling. Keeping still, you slowly reach for the knife at your side, the only weapon you have left.

A dark shadow bursts out of the bushes, leaping at you. Without hesitation, you draw your knife and slam it into the figure’s side. Its momentum manages to knock you down, and at this distance you manage to see what your assailant looks like.

It is a lizard your size – the largest you have ever seen. It snaps at you with its jaws lined with razor-sharp teeth. Your knife is firmly embedded in its neck. As the giant lizard claws at you with its limbs and continues its attempts to chew on your face, you twist the knife and jerk it downward. Blood spatters all over your face. Leveraging yourself against the ground, you kick the lizard away. The reptile convulses on the ground, bleeding out, scrabbling in the dirt as it squeals.

You back away from it and crouch besides the girls, your dagger at the ready. The rustling has yet to stop.

There are more of these things.

Three more lizards crawl out of the bushes on all fours. You glare at them, wondering what you should do next. Taking them on all at once while still protecting the girls would be impossible. Will you go down fighting? Or…

The lizards screech and hiss, their gaping maws drooling. You can tell that they are about to attack. Your body tenses up and you tighten your grip on the knife.

Suddenly, a large, spotted cat drops down from the trees above, smashing the back of one of the lizards under its paws. It bites into the lizard’s neck and twists it hard enough to tear the head off. Before the other lizards can react, a human figure appears as if from thin air, swinging down a large club on one lizard’s head. The last lizard turns to flee, but a burning, winged snake flies from the person’s outstretched fingers, wrapping itself around the lizard and reducing it to ashes.

“Children, all the way out here?” mutters your saviour. Though obscured by the darkness, you can tell by the voice that it is an old woman. The winged snake coils in a circle on the ground, and a perfectly serviceable campfire is formed immediately. The old woman walks into the light of the flames, revealing her features. Her face is wrinkled and her hair silver, tied in a tight bun. A pair of half-moon glasses is perched on her nose. The tan colour of her skin is darker than any you have seen before.

You keep your knife up, unsure whether or not she is a threat. A ragged brown cloak covers most of her body, but at her waist you spot a slim, earthen jug, from which the smell of alcohol wafts. That alone makes you wary.

“Hah, interested in my drink? I’m not sharing,” cackles the old woman as she misinterprets your stare at the jug. She sits down on a fallen log. Underneath the cloak she is dressed lightly, and you can just make out lean, sinewy muscles on her limbs – she looks far stronger than someone of her age should be. She rests her strange club – a long, wooden affair lined with polished black stone – against the log, and rummages through her pack. Her skinny fingers produce a chocolate bar from the pack, and the old woman starts eating it. “There’s no need to be afraid of me,” she snorts. “In truth, as long as you aren’t some changeling or gremlin in disguise. Are you? If you are, I’m afraid I would have to split your head open.” She cackles again, laughing at her own joke. The spotted cat comes to her side, curling up besides the fire.

You wait in silence, as does the old woman, enjoying her chocolate bar without offering you any. Her cat purrs contentedly, its eyes closed.

“By the way, boy,” she speaks up suddenly after a while. Peering at you from behind her glasses, she asks, “Do you hunt?”

You nod. The old woman seems pleased with herself, saying, “I guess my old eyes are not totally lost. I thought you might.”

Sophie and Elizabeth decide to wake up at that time. They are flustered about their current location, but the old woman quickly cuts through their confusion by introducing herself.

“You can call me Tlalli, and I saved your lives,” she says briskly, in a manner that brooks no argument.

“I-I see,” replies Sophie nervously. “You have my thanks, Madam Tlalli. My name is Sophie. Sophie McClellan.”

“Indeed, I would thank you too,” follows Elizabeth soon after. “I am Elizabeth Bayther. Not to be confused with Bathory, do remember that, please.”

“Charmed,” grins Tlalli. “And the boy here, what is your name? Or do you have none?”

“Oh, we just call him Wrinkly,” quips Elizabeth.

“Wrinkly?” Tlalli cackles. “I can see why, but are you really fine with that?”

You shrug. “It’s just a name.”

The old woman tuts at you, shaking her head. “Names have power, boy, especially in the Tower. But, well, it is your choice. I have nothing to say about it.” She pets the large cat behind the ears before asking you another question. “So, what are you doing on the twenty-sixth floor of the Tower with two girls in tow? You are too young to be eloping with your lovers, aren’t you?”

That question is met with sputtering disbelief by Sophie. “Ma’am, that is most assuredly not the case! Why would you think that he was my lover?”

“Ah, to be young,” laughs Tlalli. “He was protecting the two of you from some rather terrible lizards, you know? What man would do that if not for someone he loved?”

“Lizards? How terrible were they? Were they really big?” Elizabeth, on the other hand, seems to be more interested in the lizards.

You decide to change the subject before things get any weirder and answer the old woman’s question. “Well… We were attacked, and we jumped into the river, and we ended up here,” you explain briefly, without giving too many details – not that you would be able to give much details about how exactly you arrived on the twenty-sixth floor, of all places. How did you jump into a river underground and end up higher than you were?

“Towerspace,” shrugs Tlalli, sensing your confusion. “These things happen from time to time. Best not to think too much about it, boy. What floor are you from?”

“The twentieth,” Sophie answers. She looks tremendously stressed, mumbling, “We’re on the… twenty-sixth floor… oh no…”

“That’s quite the way down,” she frowns, adjusting her spectacles. “It would be at least two weeks of travel without an airship, even if you knew the way. At any rate, you were attacked, you say? By what?”

She did not ask by whom, you notice. “I did not see them clearly,” you admit. “We were in a cave, and the creatures caught us by surprise.”

“Cave dwellers,” mutters the old woman under her breath. “Which stories might those be from, I wonder? Thurston will want to know of this. The twentieth floor has been of concern…”

“Stories?” you ask.

She nods. “That’s right. Stories. Tales of fancy and fiction. That is what we do, child. As the light of civilization grows within the Tower, so does its shadow. Many strange and terrible things are born in that darkness, things that bear malice towards humanity. It is our job to hunt them… well, the blasted Jesuit can explain why all this is happening better than I can, but thankfully he’s not here to bore us all with his droning exposition.” Tlalli snorts and shakes her head. “Let’s just say that I’m a monster hunter.”

“Monsters!” squeals Elizabeth. “You mean, like vampires? Werewolves?”

“I have killed a few of those in my time, yes,” says Tlalli proudly.

“So, Madam Tlalli, is that why you are here?” asks Sophie tentatively. “To hunt a monster?”

“Indeed, my quarry this time is a shapeshifter. Do you want to know more?” Tlalli leans towards the girls, grinning ferally.

“Yes!” “No!”

Elizabeth and Sophie both give different answers, causing Tlalli to be extremely amused. “The two of you couldn’t be any more different, could you? Oh, but oft times the most repressed ones turn out to be the wildest! Tough times await you, boy!”

You only give Tlalli a wry smile, not really understanding what she means. You suppose it would be a tough time attempting to mediate between the two girls, but it’s not like that’s your job.

“Anyway,” continues Tlalli, "What you need to be worried about is how you’re going to get home.” She takes out some biscuits from her pack and tosses them at you and the girls. “Eat up, and then sleep. In the morning I will have Bernard here escort you to our outpost on this level. If you wait there until I return, I’ll see if I can’t find some time to bring you three back to the twentieth floor. It’d make my drink taste bad if I just left three kids to die in the jungle.” By Bernard, it seems that she is referring to the giant cat.

“Um, pardon me, Ma’am, I do not want to be rude, but how long will it take?” asks Sophie.

“The trip to the outpost? Just a couple of hours. Bernard will keep you safe, don’t worry. If you mean how long I’ll be taking… well, I can’t say. I still need to track the thrice-damned shifter down,” shrugs Tlalli. “You don’t really have any choice in the matter, girlie.”

“N-No, I understand,” says Sophie meekly. “Thank you.”

“Or maybe we can help you instead?” offers Elizabeth. You did not peg her as the type to go exploring at first, but she seems to have quickly become more and more adventurous ever since getting a taste of it in the ruins. “We do have Astras, you know? Would things go quicker then?”

“Elizabeth,” cries out Sophie, shocked at her offer. “What can we do against monsters? We can hardly fight them, can we? I just want to go home, please.”

You can understand Sophie’s feelings – you want to go home to Rain too. On the other hand, Elizabeth might be right; Tlalli’s hunt could go quicker with your assistance.

Tlalli looks as if she is seriously considering Elizabeth’s offer. She asks about the Astras that each of you possess. When she finishes hearing your explanations, a brutal smile spreads across her lips. “Oh, that son of a bitch would be an easy mark with these. This will save me time.”

Sophie covers her ears at the sudden swearing coming out of the old woman’s mouth.

“Alright, children, if you want to help out I’m not going to say no. You certainly have the tools to be of assistance. But I’ll warn you this – leaving you to die on your own is one thing, but I won’t take any responsibility if you willingly follow me into danger and lose your life,” Tlalli says solemnly. “I’m not that kind of person. Once you embark on a hunt, there is no unfairness in death.”

“Let’s do it,” says Elizabeth. “We have Astras, so we should make full use of them.”

“But…” mutters Sophie, unconvinced.

***

You get the feeling that Elizabeth will want to go. You are not so sure about Sophie. And as for yourself:

The Ancient Jungle (II)


“The boy’s going with us. What about you then? I can still have Bernard here escort you to the outpost,” offers Tlalli.

“I…” Sophie hesitates, looking at the large cat, and then at you. “Oh, fine, I’ll come along too! It is not that I am afraid to go alone, are we clear on that?”

“As you say, Sophie, as you say,” laughs Elizabeth.

Tlalli quickly runs through the plan she thought up. It seems that the shifter is lurking in a swampy area nearby. After Sophie sets sight on the shifter, you will map the surrounding area with your book, which will help Tlalli determine where the quarry will likely flee. That is where Elizabeth will get into position, moving deeper into the swamp by using her boots; the swampy terrain meant that Tlalli wouldn’t be able to keep up easily once it decided to run. Tlalli hands Elizabeth a small bronze orb, telling her that all she needs to do is to toss it at the shifter when the monster is chased that way. It’ll weaken and slow the shifter down enough so that Tlalli can put it down for good.

“Get some rest. It’s been an eventful day for the three of you.” Having finished explaining herself, you are to set out in the morning so Tlalli urges you to sleep.

“Should I keep watch?” you offer.

“Hah! I am not yet so senile that I cannot go without sleep for a few days. Worry not about me,” she snorts, waving her hand at you dismissively. “Now go to bed like a good little boy should.”

You decide to take up her suggestion and turn in for the night. Out of habit, you clamber up the nearest tree and position yourself comfortably against a suitable branch. You had learnt to sleep like this after more than a few nights where your former master had left you lost in the woods. It was safer than sleeping on the ground, as far as you are concerned.

“Wait, are we going to just go to sleep like this?” asks Elizabeth suddenly, standing by the fire and looking at the dirt and mud that makes up the ground in this jungle.

“Is there… nothing else to sleep on?” adds Sophie.

“Sheltered little princesses,” sighs Tlalli. “Here, I’ll get out a blanket for you…”


***


In the morning, before you depart, Tlalli offers you a choice of weapons to defend yourself. “You’ve got only a dagger with you, while the girls have nothing at all. Go on, pick something, don’t be shy,” she says with all the air of a grandmother giving out lozenges to children.

You set your eyes on:



***


Everything so far had gone as Tlalli had planned – she tracked down the shifter’s general location, Sophie confirmed its exact position, and you snuck around the area, mapping possible routes. After that, Tlalli had leaped into battle – the shifter was a strange, bear-sized, reptile-headed beast with fins, changing into a monstrous hag and back again throughout the fight. In its beastly form it snapped and charged at Tlalli with brute force, while in its humanoid form it threw streams of unearthly flame.

But Tlalli handled both forms with ease, overpowering the beast with inhuman strength and intercepting the monster’s fire with her own burning winged snake. It did not take long before the shapeshifter decided to flee, herded by Tlalli towards the spot where Elizabeth and Bernard were waiting.

“A second one! Be careful!” shouts Sophie suddenly. “It’s coming from underneath!”

Another beast appears, leaping out of the swamp like a fish from water. Tlalli is already whirling around, swinging her macuahuitl at the new enemy. Her strike cleanly cleaves one of the fins, and she follows up with a kick that sends the huge beast flying. It transforms before it hits the ground; the flesh shrinks, the fur recedes into straggly black hair, the snout shortens into a more human-like visage which is still grotesque in the rows of jagged teeth lining its mouth.

The hag raises its bent and scrawny limbs and makes an ululating curse, glaring murderously at Tlalli. The water begins to rise, turning the swamp into an even worse mire.


***


While Tlalli fights the newcomer, you decide to:

The Ancient Jungle (III)

While keeping a wary eye on Tlalli’s fight against the monster, you head over to Sophie, slingshot at the ready. Sophie glances at you out of the side of her eye, frowning.

“What are you doing here?”

“Staying with you. Just in case.”

“W-Why, thank you, then,” She flushes red and gives you some reluctant gratitude. “I must admit that I was feeling rather nervous about being by myself.”

You give her a nod, not knowing what else to say and hoping that would be enough to reassure her.

“I suppose this isn’t be the best time to talk, but… I guess we don’t talk much, do we?” says Sophie after some time. She is correct about both, you think. You just nod again, affirming her statement. Sophie giggles suddenly. “You don’t talk much in the first place, so that’s not my fault.”

“Still, I say, Madam Tlalli is really quite the amazing woman, even though she is the furthest one could get from being a proper lady,” Sophie says, peering through her glasses. Tlalli has the hag in a chokehold at the moment, attempting to twist its head off. The monster shrieks and begins transforming once again, turning into a seal-like creature and slipping out of Tlalli’s grasp.

“Indeed, the Grand Old Lady of the Hunters’ Association truly lives up to her name, does she not? Why, to think that even this is not the full extent of her ability. That is truly a scary thought, hmm?”

Someone speaks up behind you. You whirl around, placing yourself between Sophie and the newcomer.

A tremendously fat man stands before you, monocle on one eye and a clownishly tall top-hat atop his head. His tailcoat is a deep blue, strained around his immense belly. It looks as if his buttons are about to pop at any time. A wide, toothy grin is spread over his face as he twirls his cane joyfully. Most of all, you can feel a wrongness about him… a wrongness you last felt with the monk in the ruins.

“Oh, pardon me for interrupting, dear children,” he says, tweaking his handlebar moustache. “I must have lost my manners somewhere in the swamp, hmm? Dear me, what a chore it would be to roll around in the mud looking for it! Thankfully, I always come prepared with an extra set of manners. My name, you see, is John Bull.” As he takes a deep bow, you sense a subtle change in your surroundings. Somehow, the world feels less real. A mist has descended around you, obscuring all visibility beyond a few meters. You back away from the man, feeling Sophie clutch onto your clothes tightly behind you.

“Marvellous instincts, little chap!” chuckles John Bull jovially as he observes your reaction. “But there is no need to be afraid –“

“Help! Help!” shouts Sophie instantly. But no help comes. It is as if her voice has been swallowed up by the mist.

The fat man laughs. “As I was saying, my dear, there is no need to be afraid, hmm? I just want to talk.” He leans over gleefully, his blue eyes almost bulging in excitement. Striking the ground with his cane, he continues talking. “I came to talk with Dame Tlalli, mind you, that dear old friend of mine. Imagine my surprise when I found such wonderful little children along with her, in such a dangerous place! How very, very risky indeed, hmm?”

“What do you want?” you ask curtly.

“Why, all I desire is but to do what any gentleman would! I cannot in good conscience ignore the plight of children lost in the woods. Indeed, I had thought better of the Grand Old Lady than to bring such delectably young, upstanding youths into the jaws of danger, tsk tsk. What would I be if I did not offer my assistance to you then? A monster, hmm?”

“And how do you plan to help?”

“I can, dear boy, get you home.” John Bull’s grin widens even further, as if to split his face apart. “And… oh, bless my old eyes and hope they may be right, but you are one who is marked, hmm?” His gaze falls upon your bad leg, twinkling with interest.

“You can… get us home?” asks Sophie, half hopeful, half afraid.

He spreads his arms and makes a pirouette, his girth belying a surprising agility. “Yes, indubitably! My Astra, the Silver Compass, lets me travel through the floors in the wink of an eye! Why, my dear, should you care to take a ride with me, I will have you home and tucked in bed before the hour is past!”

You look the fat man in the eye, and he looks back, not shying away from your gaze, grinning all the while. “It’s a very jolly good proposition, if I do say so myself, hmm? But tick, tock, time is running out!” Taking out a pocket-watch, he makes a big show of peering at it. “I am a busy, busy man, you know! Places to be, people to see!”

“What about Elizabeth?” you ask.

"Elizabeth? A beautiful name, yes?" nods John Bull. "I have no idea who Elizabeth is and where she is, but why, I suppose we could just pick her up as we go! It would be no problem at all for a gentleman of my stature, hmm?"

“W-What should we do?” whispers a nervous Sophie quietly, breathing into your ear. You are mildly surprised that she is asking for your opinion, and at such a close distance too.


***


You decide to:

The Ancient Jungle (IV)


“No.” That is all you say, shaking your head.

“No? Oh dear, oh my, is that a refusal I hear, hmm? Hmm, hmm?” The fat man’s smile appears strained. “Why on earth would you refuse such a wonderful offer, hmm? One has to wonder if your mental faculties are entirely present! Ah, no matter, perhaps the young lady over there would be more amenable to reason? What do you say, hmm?”

“I am truly sorry, but I will have to refuse too,” replies Sophie, encouraged by your refusal. ”You do not seem to be a trustworthy gentleman at all!”

“Dear me, what manner of children would be so, so… so ignorant...” The fat man gasps for his breath, smiling as he dabs at his forehead. “Tis poor times we live in, truly, truly poor times, such rudeness, such a lack of etiquette. Goodness, this distresses me so. It distresses me so, so, so, so so so so so so so so so so so so so so much, hmm? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm?”

You begin to back away as his eyes roll around madly. The air turns heavier, more oppressive, and you can feel a tight squeezing in your chest. Sophie shrieks and tears her glasses from her eyes. She falls to the ground and curls up, hands over her eyes, screaming as she does.

John Bull’s grin does not go away at all, and in fact widens even more, more, and more, until his cheeks begin to split with a raw, tearing noise. And it continues to widen, even as the top half of his head begins to tilt backwards, and his lower jaw hangs slack. He bends over, showing you the gaping cavity in that wide open mouth. Within his mouth is a huge, yellow eye where his throat should be, staring back at you.

“Sophie, run,” you say quietly and firmly. Even as sweat runs down your brow and your legs feel like giving away against this alien terror, you know that you can’t afford to buckle. “Sophie!” you call out again, a bit more urgently.

Unfortunately, whatever she had seen still assails her. All she can manage is to get her screams under control. “My… my legs can’t move…” she wails, on her hands and knees.

Suddenly, the mist turns red, and shortly after bursts into flame, burning away as suddenly as it had appeared. An intense heat suffuses the entire area.

“Get down!” You hear Tlalli roar. You drop to your knees just as fire streaks over your head. Wreathed in incandescent crimson flames, Tlalli lands a dropkick on John Bull’s exposed eye, sending him flying. Without pausing, she draws her hand back as she lands. Innumerable serpents coil around her fingers and writhe together, transforming into a spear of flame. Letting out a spirited war cry, she slings the spear at John Bull. When the fiery lance strikes the fat man’s corpulent bulk, there is a tremendous explosion, the shockwave almost blowing you off your feet. You barely manage to cover Sophie with your own body in time as heat washes over your back.

You raise your head as dried mud falls back to the earth all around you, Tlalli’s visage seared into your eyes. The old woman is dressed in fire, wearing a crimson gown with a burning butterfly emblazoned across the chest. The roaring flames adorn her head in the shape of a tall, feathered crown, tribal in design. The only part of it that is not aflame is a shining turquoise set in its center. Feathers made of fire continuously shed from the wings at her back, and she has also grown a serpentine tail, burning away as it undulates ceaselessly.

Tlalli glares at the smouldering remains of John Bull. Just as you are about to get up, she yells at you, “Stay where you are! It’s not over yet!”

Someone begins to clap. “The Eye of Cuezaltzin burns as brightly as always, like a tiger in the jungle. Oh, how marvellous, how miraculous a sight, to behold the power of one of the mightiest Astras to walk the earth! Indeed, one would never get tired of witnessing the incarnation of Xiuhtecuhtli’s divine spirit into mortal flesh, hmm? But does the same hold true for you I wonder? How many more times can you perform a miracle?”

You look up, as does Tlalli. John Bull is there, perched on top of a tree like an immense, bloated bird. He grins, as if nothing had happened at all, and the burning heap of flesh on the ground none of his business.

“Come down here and I’ll show you how tired I am,” growls Tlalli. She hefts her macuahuitl in one hand and begins approaching the tree John Bull is on. With every step she takes, she cracks the surface of the dried mud, leaving behind solid footprints from the heat.

He bounces up and down on the tree excitedly. “Oh my, oh dear, that would be vexatious indeed. I only came here to talk, Grand Old Lady. I truly mean you no harm.”

“I would be well and truly lost of my mind if I trusted the Cannibal Duke at his word,” Tlalli spits.

“Why, I never! Oh, but had you by some means been caught unawares, you could not blame me for taking a little bite out of you at such an opportunity then, hmm? All in good sport!”

“Enough out of you!” Tlalli swings her weapon – it slices clean through the thick trunk, setting it on fire. The tall tree falls with a loud crash, but John Bull is nowhere to be seen. All that remains is his disembodied voice, echoing in the air.

“Oh, such anger! Such a burning hatred you have there, madam! Thankfully, my task is done, having indeed spoken to you as requested of me. A satisfactory jaunt indeed, hmm? Our paths shall cross again some time, or in no time at all, or perhaps in a long, long time! So for now, farewell, and toodle-oo!”

Tlalli stands alert, waiting, watching. A frown set deeply on her wrinkled face, she sighs after a while. The fire disappears, turning back into the winged serpent that usually accompanies her, and the atmosphere cools down tangibly – though not by much, given the jungle that you are in. She turns to you, and says, “Boy… after this, follow Bernard. He’ll know where to go.” Then, she collapses.

“Hey, what’s going on! Why didn’t anyone come? The monster got away! It was really scary but really fun! Are we going after it again?” At that moment, Elizabeth comes bounding in like a ball full of excitement, Bernard following close behind her. She takes a look at you, and then at the shivering Sophie, and then at the fallen Tlalli, and says, “Oh no.”


***


Bernard did indeed know the way, and with the big cat’s help, you manage to haul the unconscious Tlalli all the way back to the outpost she spoke of earlier. It turns out to be a rather solidly built hut, better than the one you lived in while hunting in the forest. The inside of the hut sports a comfy fireplace and a decent bed. Books are stacked high near the walls, and there is a larder full of canned food. After Tlalli is laid out in the bed, Sophie begins cleaning up the place without being asked to. Elizabeth, on the other hand, starts rummaging through chests and drawers; when asked, she claims to be looking for things that might help Tlalli, though it’s just as likely that she’s just trying to dig out anything interesting.


***


Now that things have settled down a bit and you are not going anywhere until Tlalli wakes up, you have some time to your own.



You could invite someone along with you for this activity. You decide to try and invite:

The Sea of Sand (I)



You glance at the books scattered and piled up all over the shack. “Sophie,” you ask. “Want to take a look at these?”

“Oh, sure,” she replies. “Maybe we’ll find a copy of Bronte here.”

However, her hopes are soon dashed – the title of every book cover appears to be quite solidly non-fiction. Even so, she doesn’t go off to do something else. She opens up a book, flips through the pages slowly as she reads lightly, and closes it again, before picking up yet another book. The two of you sit there in silence, continuing to browse the books. However, where the silence would have been stifling and awkward before, somehow it feels comfortable for you now. You wonder if it is the same for her.

“Interested in books, eh?”

You are not sure how long it was that the two of you sat there, but Tlalli’s voice interrupts your browsing. You turn around and see her sitting up in bed, seemingly no worse for the wear.

“Sorry if I worried you, kids,” She smirks wryly and gets out of the bed, stretching her limbs. “Not as young as I used to be, y’see. Ain’t easy to call a god into your body… Most people would just drop dead.”

“A god?” asks Elizabeth, who’s back from poking around the chests and drawers.

Tlalli nods. “The Turquoise Lord, Xiuhtecuhtli is my protector. He is the god of fire, of light. My main Astra, the Eye of Cuezaltzin, allows the wielder to draw upon a portion of his divinity… at a cost, of course.”

“You’re not going to say it costs you your own life, are you?” says Elizabeth.

“Hah, well, that’s the thing, girl. Back, oh, maybe two hundred years ago, the holders of the Eye would empower it with sacrifices. The hearts of three strong children like yourselves would grant the wielder supreme power for thirty years.” The old lady’s eyes twinkle with amusement as she watches Sophie draw back behind you in fright. “Oh, we can’t really do that anymore nowadays, you know. Child sacrifice and all that’s old tradition, it’s behind the times for we Azteca,” chuckles Tlalli. “After so many centuries, we’ve finally understood that the gods care not what you sacrifice, only that you pay the price.”

“Gods…” mutters Sophie. “You’re not trying to say that this Azteca god is real, are you?”

“Hm? Oh, sorry,” laughs Tlalli. “You believe in only one god, don’t you?”

“And that’s the right belief,” she replies, with conviction. “There is none other but our Lord, my God.”

“Well… that’s the funny thing, isn’t it?” shrugs Tlalli. “The Christian knights have found Astras that seem shaped to fit their belief system too. We know of the Lance of Longinus, for one… and then there’s the rumoured Holy Grail, of course. And if you were to take a trip to our headquarters, the Jesuit there can tell you about the hundreds more of powerful Astras which all appear to call upon the divine or mythological might of humanity’s legends and stories of old. Me, I don’t think there’s any one right answer. In this Tower, at least.”

Sophie bites her lip, not knowing how to respond. Perhaps her father could have made a better rebuttal, but she hasn’t spent her young years immersed in the study of theology. Meanwhile, Elizabeth is giggling away.

“That’s right! Why do people get hung up on this or that god? As long as they bring you a benefit, that’s all that matters!”

“Hah, now you’re a girl that speaks my language!” snorts Tlalli as she ruffles Elizabeth’s hair before turning to you and asking: “So, you like books, don’t you? The other members of the association have a habit of dropping off books here every time they stop by the outpost. Especially Blackwood, he’s probably responsible for half of the mess in here. Why don’t you take a couple of books with you? They’re just going to rot from the humidity anyway if kept here for long.”


***


A. You accept Tlalli’s offer and pick two books.



B. You do not take any books – it would be troublesome to bring them around with you.


***


Having recovered, Tlalli is ready to do what she promised: sending you and the girls back to Scotsfield. The stairs to the lower floor are just a short distance away from the outpost, barely an hour’s hike. There is a vast hole in the ground, large enough to swallow up an airship. A stairway lines the sides of the hole, spiralling down into the depths. The stairway itself is wide enough for two carriages to pass side by side, though the steps hewn into the surface would make it difficult for wheels to travel. There are no railings and anyone who slips off would find a long drop to the bottom.

Tlalli leads the way, with the girls in the middle. As if it was your natural position, you find yourself taking up the rear. Both you and Tlalli are holding lanterns. You can hear Tlalli talk from the front of the pack: “No lights all the way up here yet, so we need our own. Things are different on the lower floors, of course.”

Perhaps half an hour into the descent, you can feel the air suddenly change. Where it was cool, yet humid, now it is suddenly dry… arid. Your feet pause for just a while at this realization, and Tlalli laughs. “Picked that up, did you? We’re at the exit soon. Take a gander down, see that?”

You peer over the edge of the stairway and see what she’s talking about: the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak. You’re almost there.

The stairway continues out of the hole and into a winding spiral walled in by nothing but empty air. It is a wonder how the structure remains intact and steady, but asking yourself too many of these questions while you are still on said structure is probably a bad idea.

You take your first steps onto the new floor, and take in the sights. Here, there is a sea of sand that goes on endlessly, as far as the eye can see.

“Welcome to the twenty-fifth floor,” grins Tlalli.


***


“You did well back when confronting the Cannibal Duke,” says Tlalli suddenly, while you are resting at the bottom of the stairs. The girls are exhausted from the trek, and Tlalli had taken the opportunity to give them a break. “You kept your calm and you didn’t give in. Not a lot of children can say that… and he has preyed on many.”

“I just did what I had to,” you say quietly.

“That’s a good way to live,” smiles the old lady gently. “You should keep doing that, especially if you have people to protect. Anyway, we still have a long journey ahead, and it’ll help me out if you get better at surviving. It won’t be easy looking after the two lil’ princesses all by myself, after all. How about it? Want an old goat to teach you a few tricks?”


***


Tlalli has offered to train you on your journey. She will teach you a little of everything, but you would like to focus on improving:



***


While being trained, you can muster up the conversational energy to ask about a single topic of Tlalli. You ask about:

***

The Sea of Sand (II)

“Water!” Elizabeth runs towards the oasis, kicking up sand in her wake. Her energy has barely ebbed, and the redhead continues to be as excitable despite the heat. Sophie sighs, fanning herself as she trudges along. By the time you arrive under the shade of the palm trees, Elizabeth is already splashing around in the water happily. Sophie can only shrug, having given up on lecturing her about being like a lady.

According to Tlalli, you are still another day away from the next set of stairs down. After pointing you towards the oasis, the old hunter had temporarily parted ways to scout out the path to the stairs, so that there were no more untoward surprises. You were told to set up camp here and wait for her return.

As you roll out the tent, you think back on the association that Tlalli belonged to. The Hunter’s Association was what she called it, but apparently it was officially known as the Association for the Hunting of Mysterious Affairs, and it was headquartered in Londinium. Formed around 200 years ago as an Enlightenment group investigating the Tower, they discovered a gradual increase in supernatural phenomena; strange beasts and monsters never before recorded began to manifest within the Tower. Their investigations of these manifestations were purely academic at first, but soon the scholars found themselves at the forefront of the resolution of these cases wherever the monsters preyed on humans. Their objectives grew – not only would they investigate these phenomena; they would also venture to protect humanity from it.

To that end, the modern day Association collaborates with various religious organizations holding sway in the Tower, and of course, the higher-ups of the Council, who have also become privy to this knowledge. However, they remain careful about their activities. Tlalli did not give you many details, but she impressed upon you that the fundamental rule that the Association follows is to conceal its actions as well as the monsters under a masquerade of sorts. It seems that the founders of the Association suspected that widespread knowledge of these monsters would, for some reason, give rise to even more of them.

At present, the Association operates in individual cells; teams scattered across the floors which keep a look out for monsters and hunt them down, especially ones which have preyed upon humans. Their main headquarters remains in Londinium, although they have branch offices in most of the large cities. When you pointed out that Tlalli is operating alone, she only snorted and said that she didn’t need a team. You get the impression that she might be unique even amongst the Hunters.

“What are you thinking about? Your little baby?”

Stirred from your thoughts, you look at Elizabeth, who is standing over you with her hands on her hips. You shake your head.

“Well, that’s surprising,” she says. “I thought you would be more worried about her.”

“I am,” you say simply. You want nothing more than to get back to Scotsfield, but you are also aware that you cannot rush things at the moment. That would only put you and everyone else in danger. After all, it is not like you know the way back from here – you have to rely solely on Tlalli, even if you do not feel easy about that.

Elizabeth catches the uneasiness you feel, and laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be fine. There’s more people in the village better at taking care of a baby than you are.”

You give her a wan smile and nod. “I guess you’re right.”

“Oh, bother, still not much for words, are you? You’d rather read those books the old missus gave you than talk to me, eh? The ones you’ve been reading every night?”

“Well…” You are not used to talking for long periods of time still, having spent most of your life without conducting a proper conversation.

“Or could it be that you want to talk, but aren’t good at it?” she asks, a finger on her chin. “If so, I don’t mind being your partner for it. As they say, practice makes perfect! We can do it while setting up camp, right?”

You can see Sophie glancing this way, frowning.

***


***

The Sea of Sand (III)

“That’s great! Now then, shall we begin?”

You nod, handing her the initiative.

“Now, the first thing to remember about talking is this,” Elizabeth says proudly. “Talk about the weather should you have nothing else to talk about!”

“I see.” Taking it seriously, you ask her, “How is the weather?”

“It’s… really hot, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“Do you prefer the weather when it’s hot, or when it’s cold?”

“…Hot is better.”

“Oh, do elaborate, please?”

“Well, you can strip if it’s hot. You need to find more clothes if it’s cold.”

“I’m afraid I don’t quite follow. What would be the problem with the latter?”

“My old master would rather sell the fur for money than give it to me for clothing.”

“I, I see… Your old master, he’s the vampire Scotty spoke of, right?”

“No, he wasn’t.”

“So who was the vampire then?”

“There’s no vampire.”

“Oh, that’s a shame.”

You’re pretty sure you have had a similar conversation with her before, and you bring that up.

“Haven’t we talked about this before?”

“Now that you mention it, I suppose you might be right. I’m sorry. Still, I just really love stories of the supernatural, or, well, just stories of any sort. My father would bring back stories from all over the floors, and I just about grew up listening to them! I find them really exciting! When I’m older, I want to travel all over the Tower too, and maybe even the world outside! I’ve never been out of the Tower before, you know. But there’s so many interesting things out there to see and it’s not like the Tower itself is any short of amazing sights, right?”

Elizabeth suddenly bursts into a string of words that overwhelms you, and you find yourself unable to do anything but nod and go along. Even though she is saying some rather amusing things, things that you think you would agree with yourself, you are unsure how to reciprocate in words.

“You know, Tlalli has been giving you some training, but do you think she’d train me too if I asked?”

“Maybe,” you reply. You can’t speak for Tlalli after all.

The conversation slows down to an awkward pause. It looks like you still need more practice at being social. Though you can think of a few topics as a continuation, you feel like you have missed the timing to bring them up.

Just then, you hear approaching footsteps, grinding the soil underfoot. Not one person, but many.

“Elizabeth, Sophie, someone’s coming,” you warn them. Sophie looks up in alarm while Elizabeth looks around curiously. They sidle closer to you out of reflex. Warily, you ready your slingshot. Tlalli had said that this place would be safe. Besides, there should be no one else on the floors above twenty… or at least, that is what the textbooks said. These could be hunters like Tlalli, or strange, suspicious people like John Bull. Either way, it would not do for you to let down your guard.

Someone calls out in an unknown language. The voice is male, a rough and deep growl that makes you flinch. The tone is unfriendly, and they know that you are here – that much you can understand.

“Who’s there?” Elizabeth responds, having come to your side together with Sophie.

The newcomers to the oasis reveal themselves. There are about twelve of them; men and women, adults and children. At least that is what their silhouettes seem to be – you cannot be sure, as all of them are cloaked in ragged clothing that reveals little of their figure. Their heads are shrouded in ragged, brown strips that leave only their eyes uncovered. What little you can see of their skin appears to be tanned. Each of them is carrying a large backpack; even the little ones.

“English, then?” says a tall man haltingly, stepping out in front of the others. You notice a spear strapped to his back, and a wickedly curved sword at his side. “This watering hole is ours. Leave.”

“What? You can’t just claim this place for yourself!” shouts Elizabeth indignantly, stamping her foot. “Besides, we were here first! And there’s plenty of space for everyone anyway!”

“We have known of this place for years. Our tribe visits regularly.”

“This is the first time I have heard of people living so high up,” says Sophie doubtfully. “Just who are you?”

“Leave now. I will not repeat myself. You do not have the right to be here.” The man is firm, and his posture threatening. You get the feeling that he would resort to violence if he has to.

“Oh, that means you have the right to be here?” asks Elizabeth.

“Yes. You do not.”

“How do we go about earning that right, then?”

The man falls quiet while his people murmur amongst themselves. One of the smaller figures, a child of about your height, steps forward with a shout, shaking their fist. The man holds the child back firmly, muttering some words in his language. Then, he speaks once more to you, with an air of finality. “We have our traditions. But I doubt ones such as you would succeed. I will say no more. Leave.”


***


A. You stay where you are. If they want you to leave, they will have to make you move.

B. You offer to earn the right to be here by following whatever tradition they have. Perhaps that will convince them more peaceably.

C. You are not about to give up your spot without a fight. You shoot at the man with your slingshot.

D. You leave as they ask, but set up camp again within sight of the oasis. Tlalli is supposed to meet back up with you here later after all.

E. You head out into the desert with Elizabeth and Sophie, trying to catch up to Tlalli. You know the general direction she went in, so you should be able to meet up with her.


***

The Sea of Sand (IV)

You step forward, looking straight at the strangers. “Let us take the trial.”

The man glares down at you; you can sense that he is perturbed. This was not within his expectations – perhaps he had expected that you would leave obediently. “Do you speak for yourself, or for your women?”

“Wait, trial? Don’t volunteer us for something we have no idea about!” protests Sophie.

“What’s the matter, is poor little Sophie too yellow?” Elizabeth is quick to mock her, flapping her hands like a bird. “Are you a chicken? Bawk?”

“I swear, Elizabeth, you have been growing terribly uncouth these past few days. Wait till your father finds out how you’ve been speaking!”

“If I ever see my dad again. Who knows what can happen tomorrow?” shrugs Elizabeth. “Anyway, I’m in. And I don’t think they’re going to let you wait here while we do whatever it is they want us to do. Well, they might, but you would be all alone anyway…”

“Oh, fine, but if anything goes wrong remember that I told you so!”

“They’ll come along,” you say to the man.

After a while, he nods. “You have courage, if nothing else. Very well.” The other tribespeople begin murmuring to one another, while the child who had spoken out earlier glares at you, saying something you don’t understand. The man barks out something to them, and then turns to you.

“Come.”

You stay where you are for a while, wary of his motives.

“If you want to follow tradition, come. If you doubt, then why did you ask?”

He is right. It would be pointless for you to challenge the trial while being suspicious of them. The nomads do not lead you far – you find yourself waiting just right outside the oasis. Having you and the girls stand close together, they draw a circle around you in the sand. Small metal braziers are placed all around you at regular intervals. While chanting, they light up the braziers. A fragrant smoke rises into the air – it is almost suffocatingly sweet, and you feel slightly faint upon inhaling it.

“What do we have to do?” you ask.

“Just wait. The trial begins soon.”

The tribe continues to perform their droning chant, dancing in circles around you.

“I suppose the trial is to resist falling asleep from boredom?” whispers Elizabeth.

“If that’s the case, you would definitely fail. I’ve never seen you keep your eyes open for even an hour during Sunday school,” retorts Sophie.

“Oh my, you paid attention to me? I’m flattered. I thought you only had eyes for Andrew. Right, Wrinkly?”

“Why are you bringing him into this?”

“I agree with Elizabeth,” you say quietly. She is, from your personal experience, correct about Sophie’s behaviour whenever Andrew is around.

“You too?” Sophie sounds rather aggrieved.

At that moment, you feel something change beneath your feet. The sand seems to be… sinking. You look down, and find that your ankles are already buried. Yet, you are unable to move. Your legs, your arms, even your neck - they are all frozen, unable to move even the barest inch. You cannot hear anything except the droning chant, which has grown gradually louder without you noticing. As your body continues to sink, deeper and deeper into the sand, your eyes meet that of the man. He looks back at you impassively, his gaze expressionless. It remains the same even when the darkness takes you, as the sand flows over your head.


***


The darkness gives way to meagre light, and you find yourself lying on cold stone. You sit up with a start, fully alert and taking the measure of your surroundings. Elizabeth and Sophie are nowhere to be seen, and you are on a platform of some sort. Peering over the side, you find nothing but endless darkness.

It seems that you are currently in a massive cavern, large enough to fit multiple Scotsfields many times over. At its centre, right in front of you, is a gigantic pyramid of black stone, connected to your platform by a single, decrepit arch. The only illumination in this place comes from cracks above where the sun’s light shines in, the beams shining across golden rivers of sand that are – somehow – flowing upwards into the ceiling. Motes of golden dust flicker across your eyes, sparkling in the light.

Opening your book, you find it blank. For some reason unbeknownst to you, the mapping Astra is not functioning. As such, you have no idea where you are in relation to where you were. For now, there is nothing to do but to advance. You begin your trek across the arch. The stones are weathered and slippery, and the path narrow. It takes you all your concentration not to slip and fall. After some slow and painstaking progress, you finally clear the arch without any mishap, and find yourself standing before the pyramid. This close, the structure is massive – you cannot even see the top from where you are.

The entrance of the pyramid is open, like the wide open maw of a beast inviting you in. Within, you can see flickering torches lining the corridor. This is unlike the ruin you explored back on the 20th floor; that much is certain.


***


As you prepare to step inside, you feel concern for:



***

The Black Pyramid of Uridimmu (I)

It is cold inside the pyramid, contrary to all your expectations. Plucking a torch from the wall, you make your way in. The narrow corridor begins to slope downward gently, forcing you to hobble more carefully. There is a light breeze blowing up from below; the torches flicker, and shadows dance wildly across the walls. With the wind comes a cloying, bestial stench. Your left leg twinges sharply as you walk, sending mild waves of pain up your body. Strange pictorials are carved into the walls – visages of fantastic and monstrous creatures and incomprehensible glyphs. Amongst these you spot a recurring figure; a black, six–eyed hound devouring limbs and organs of the fallen on a magnificent throne, with robed figures prostrated before it. A chill begins to nest in your gut, and the pain in your leg grows. At the bottom of the corridor is an archway. You stop before it, taking a deep breath. The presence of a beast is close by. If this is part of the trial, however, you have no choice but to proceed.

You step through the archway, finding yourself in a great hall held up by countless giant pillars wider than you are tall. There are no torches here save your own. You hold yours up high, a single, red flame wavering against the darkness. The floor here is polished compared to the rough-hewn corridor, but here and there you see deep claw marks that have raked apart the stone. Blood stains that have turned brown with age smear the pillars and the floor. Here and there, at the very edges of the gloom, you seem to spot scattered bones. The hall seems to have been abandoned for a long, long time, falling in to ruin and disrepair. All you can hear is the crackling of your fire, and your resounding footsteps bouncing off the distant walls.

In the quiet dark, you see in front of you a faint white light. As you approach, the light resolves itself into the figure of a girl slightly shorter than you are. Her long blonde hair is luminescent, seemingly glowing with a brilliance of its own. At that sight, a single name rises to your lips. “Rain?”

But with the child’s back to you, you are unable to see her face. Besides, she would be too old to be Rain, and so you drive that thought from your mind from now. She seems to be looking upwards, her head tilted far back, arms spread to her side as if attempting to block something with her small frame. Curious, you follow her gaze, looking up.

A low growl rumbles through the entire hall, quaking the floor and sending small streams of sand trickling down from the ceiling. In the darkness, six glowing eyes open up one by one, manifesting high in the ceiling. The eyes burn with a purple fire, and you can sense them fixate on you. Terror strikes your heart and freezes your blood, and at that moment the pain in your leg explodes, causing you to go to one knee. Suddenly, the child turns and leaps at you, pushing you down flat on the ground. A stream of flame bursts through the space where you had been. The intense heat sears your skin even without making contact, and for an instant, your mind is filled with screams and fires and laughter.

Was it your father? Was it your mother? Which of your parents was it, that threw themselves over you while you could smell the aroma of burning meat and crackling fat, while you could hear their screams and pleas of mercy, while you could see the flesh drop from their bones, while you could not even breathe, the burning air scorching your throat.

You are snapped out of it by the girl shaking you almost violently. She looks angry yet sad at the same time, her emerald green eyes slightly watery beneath her frowning brow. Giving her an apologetic nod, you look at the beast that had attacked you. The darkness seems to be solidifying, outlining a massive silhouette that towers above you; a winged shadow that is far larger than a bear, perhaps even as large as Father McClellan’s church. You can make out the faintest hints of a snout stretched in a wicked grin, and within that maw, sharp, gleaming teeth each thicker than your arm. Something about it reminds you of the shadowbeast you once fought in the forest… but you can tell that this thing is far greater, far stronger, and far more terrible.

Come you have to my throne unbidden.

You hear a deep, cruel voice in your head. It is a voice that brings to mind slaughter, a voice that evokes prey being hunted down and torn apart, a voice of blood and guts piled up in offerings.

It has been an eternity since I have had a tribute, and I HUNGER.

That last word echoes inside your skull loudly, blasting away all thought from your head. You take a step back, fear gripping your heart as adrenaline floods your body. Fight or flight. You have to make a choice…

“No.” A clear, firm voice, as beautiful as that of bells, rings out near your ear. You feel the girl clasp both hands on your cheeks as she turns your face to look at her. As she gazes straight into your eyes, a burning heat spreads across your chest. You reach into your clothes and pull out Rain’s silver pendant, now blazing with an incandescent white light.

The beast’s six eyes burn with an even greater glow of interest, and you can faintly see a giant paw move in the dark. It takes one step forward, shaking the entire hall.

Shutting her eyes tightly, the blonde girl clasps her hands over your own desperately, covering the pendant. In that instant, you know what can be done… what must be done.


***


From the pendant, you draw out the power to:



***

The Black Pyramid of Uridimmu (II)


A silvery light floods your sight, radiating from the pendant in hand. It banishes the shadows from the furthest corners of the hall, scouring every inch of its nooks and crannies, so dazzling that it temporarily robs you of your sight. When your vision returns, blurry and uncertain, you blink away the afterglow. Darkness reclaims the hall. The girl is no longer anywhere to be seen… but the monster still remains. It growls, tongues of flame leaking from its mouth. Once more, lances of fire streak through the air, aiming for you.

This time, however, they splash harmlessly against a shimmering, translucent wall, manifesting just in front of you. Inviolable, immaculate, it stands tall as part of a larger ethereal fortress that fades in and out of sight, with you at its core. Emboldened, trusting in the defences left to you by the girl, you stand up just as straight and glare back at the demon.

Hm.

A slight hum of interest from the shadow, and it rises up, standing on its hind legs. Its wings spread out to the sides, causing a gale that scatters the bones and stirs up the dust – still, you do not feel even the slightest breeze.

Uncharacteristically robust for a human soul, but…

The purple eyes blaze with excitement. Reaching towards its chest, the shadow sinks in its claws, digging around with a bloody, squishy noise. From its own body, it tears out a gigantic spear, wicked and barbed, all black and red as if stained with the viscera of countless victims. With a short, sharp bark like a laugh, the spear is casually flung into an air. A deep violet glow wraps itself around the spear, and it is launched towards you at terrifying speed. With a tremendous impact that shakes the entire hall, the spear strikes true, hitting the wall. But instead of dissipating harmlessly like the flames, or bouncing off, it sticks in the translucent stones, hanging in mid-air. A crack spreads across the point of impact; the wall yet holds, but its invincibility is now called into question.

But, yet a fledgling with no measure of his own power.

The mirth in the shadow’s words ripple across your mind. It is correct, you are vaguely aware of the new Astra you have, but you have no idea how to use it properly. You do not even know how this wall was formed. But still, you do not doubt. This power was entrusted to you by the girl; that much you know. And so it must be enough to protect you. As if responding to your unwavering will, the wall shines, and the cracks vanish. The spear falls to the floor, clattering ominously.

Now, that is interesting indeed. Why do you not fall into fear and despair like the bug that you are? Shall we put your walls to the test and see just how much you can take?

You can hear squelching, ripping noises as countless spears begin forcing themselves out of the shadow, rising into the air and pointing towards you. Despite your previous confidence, you cannot help but hold your breath. Will your defences hold out? They have to – you have to believe that they will.

The monster laughs.

That indomitable look in your eyes… yes, you are indeed a proper human soul. If so, it would be a waste to break you here and now. I must savour the first offering to enter my domain after an eternity of solitude and hunger.

At his words, you become concerned if the nomadic ritual was not some trap to feed you to this beast. As if reading your mind, the shadow shakes with mirth.

Make no mistake, you came here on your own, pulled along by the bond you have to a fragment of mine. The rituals of the weaklings who yet unknowingly search for Kadath may have opened the way to the Dreamlands, but no other mortal has made it to my halls for millennia.

“What… are you?” you mutter.

The ancients named me Uridimmu, I who was born of our Great Mother. The magicians call upon mere pieces of mine and bestow upon them the name of Marchosias, deluding themselves into believing that they have truly tapped into my insight and power. But I am and always will be the Hound, the companion to the nightmares of Man, the whisperer of violence in your hearts, the mightiest of the eleven primordial demons. And you are…

Wrinkly. What an amusing name… and what an amusing fate.

You wonder to yourself, innocuously and with genuine curiosity, why he is trapped here all alone and hungry if he is so mighty. In response, the six eyes flash in anger, purple flames blazing to the ceiling.

INSOLENCE.

If he is going to get so angry, perhaps he should stop reading your mind.

You feel your body shaking all of a sudden; an unseen force is attempting to gently drag you up into the air. You stare accusingly at Uridimmu, but he just laughs, his anger having vanished as quickly as it came.

Your ritual is about to end, little human child.

With a sudden speed belying his size, he dashes forward, claws slamming against your protective wall, raking deep furrows into the stones. The wall creaks under the force but it remains firm… for now. Up close, the shadow stinks of beast and blood and death, and your torch is extinguished, leaving nothing but your glimmering ethereal protection and the six purple eyes glowing in the darkness above your head.

Let it not be said that I am an ungracious host. As a parting gift, here is a prophecy, some words of divine insight. You will be drawn into a dangerous path that is not of this world. Not of my world and not of yours. At that time, you will have no choice but to accept my aid in desperation.

You can see the first spear that Uridimmu hurled at you floating right above your head, glowing purple. Somehow, it made its way past the wall, past all your protections.

But if you grasp that spear now, you can overcome that future before it ever comes to pass.

Uridimmu grins; the pale glinting fangs are all you can see.

But I will not lie. You may have a different regret instead.


***


Faced with the Hound’s offer, you:



***


He roars in laughter, tearing your fortress apart in a violent frenzy that threatens to collapse the great hall itself, as if demonstrating that it would have been possible for him at any moment. At the same time, you are pulled upwards quickly, swiftly, passing through the ceiling of the hall, through the stones of the giant pyramid, and find yourself floating in emptiness.

And here is one more helping hand for being an entertaining guest. You were not the only one that walked the paths of the subconscious, were you?

The voice of the Hound fades away, leaving you all alone.

In front of you, you can perceive three paths. You can feel that they each lead somewhere different; one returns you to the desert where the ritual began. One leads you to a large city, of the sort you have only read and heard about. And the last leads to a mansion on windswept moors that looks like it would be inhabited by brooding noblemen and tearful ladies.


***

The Hound seems to have left you with some choices of a path to take, and you suspect that two of the paths will lead you to Sophie or Elizabeth:



***

Manor on the Moors (I)

The strong wind causes the grass to ripple. The weather is cold, refreshingly so. You find yourself standing right in front of the mansion, already on its grounds. The building itself is three storeys high, looming over you with a foreboding presence. Ivy vines cover the trellises, reaching up the gray stone walls.

There doesn’t seem to be anyone around in the grounds. Moving closer to the mansion, you look through the window. There, to your surprise, you see Sophie in an elaborate, expensive-looking white dress. Her hair is tied up neatly and she is all dolled up, looking prettier than you have ever seen her. There appears to be a ball of some sort in the hall. There are people dancing, more food than you have ever seen, and servants are bustling to and fro, attending to the distinguished guests. You can even hear the faint strains of music coming in through the window.

Cheeks flushed red, Sophie is happily conversing with a crowd of tall, handsome gentlemen that look like they stepped right out of a romance novel. On the other hand, you also notice a group of girls staring jealously at Sophie, biting their handkerchiefs like rats gnawing away at wood. You cannot make out what any of them are saying from here, the distance and general clamor of the ball drowning out any distinguishable words.

It is a puzzling sight, for certain. Was this supposed to be the trial? It seemed... rather easy, compared to what you had encountered.

A vapid dream, but it would improve marginally if the suitors proceeded to slaughter each other for her attention. That hall would look particularly resplendent when coated with red.

For some reason, you can hear Uridimmu in your head. You ignore the voice; you probably just imagined it anyway. For now, you need to figure out what to do now that you are here, in Sophie’s dream.


***

A. You bang on the window to get Sophie's attention.

B. You launch yourself through the window, smashing your way in.

C. You try to quietly search for an entrance on the ground floor.

D. You climb up the wall and attempt to enter the mansion through the upper floors.

E. You decide to sit outside and wait until she is done.

Manor on the Moors (II)

Placing one foot on the trellis, you begin to clamber up the wall. At the end of the trellis, the stones are cold and slippery under your fingers, and the wind is strong. The nearest open window is just to your left. You stretch out, straining your short limbs to reach the window frame. Your fingers grasp hold of the wood… and you slip, your feet losing purchase.

Just in the nick of time you tighten your grip on the ledge, and you find yourself dangling in mid-air, two floors up. The wind continues to blow – you can’t stay like this for long, lest the grip of your fingers’ weakens and you fall. With some effort, you pull yourself up and over the ledge. Without wasting any more time, you slide through the opening and roll into the room beyond.

You land face first into a pile of clothing. You remove a chemise from your face – clearly women’s underwear, from all the frills and laces. It even looks like the one that Sophie owns. Not that you had purposely taken a look or anything – it was just something you picked up from helping with the laundry, since something like that couldn’t actually belong to Father McClellan. Looking around, you find yourself in a girl’s bedroom, all pink and pastel. Clothes are messily strewn all over the floor, and the closet door is open. The untidiness is rather unexpected for a mansion like this; shouldn’t they have housekeepers to keep everything spick and span?

Just then, the door opens without warning, and an elderly maid walks in, feather duster with hand. Her wrinkled eyes open wide as she sees you standing there, chemise in hand.


***


A. You attempt to convince her that you mean no harm and just entered here by accident.

B. You rush the old maid and try to punch her out before she can call for help.

C. You attempt to stuff the chemise into the old maid’s mouth so that she can’t scream.

D. You jump back out of the window, figuring that you can search for another way in.

E. You stand still and wait to see her reaction before deciding what you should do next.

Manor on the Moors (III)


“No, this is not what it seems.” You hold your hands up and attempt to explain yourself to the old lady. “I didn’t intend to take her underthings.”

The old lady’s wrinkled eyes narrow into a squint at the chemise that is still in your hand. “Hmph. You’re in the lady’s room again, Wrinkly?”

You look back at her in puzzlement. Again?

“But-“

“No matter how much you are in love with the young mistress, you can’t be stealing her clothes. There is no way the both of you can be together,” chastises the housekeeper. “You are just a poor orphan picked up by Lord McClellan, and that is all you are even if you were allowed an education alongside his daughter. Your place is as her faithful servant, nothing more. Now, if you don’t want another beating, you best drop those unmentionables and come with me. I could do with another hand cleaning up the place. Lord knows your hands would be better served doing good honest work rather than thieving around a girl’s room!”

You drop the chemise, but make no further move, mildly confused as to how the housekeeper knows you. Seeing that you are not doing anything, the old maid boldly walks up to you and whips you across the chest with her feather duster. “Get to work, boy!” Raising her voice, she pulls your ear and drags you out of the room by it.

Before you know it, you have a cloth in hand and have been tasked with wiping down the windows in the hallways. You absentmindedly polish the glass, wondering what is going on. The housekeeper is cleaning the room you were in at the moment, so there is no one watching you.


***


A. You decide to continue working honestly, cleaning the windows best as you can.

B. You attempt to sneak off and find your way to the great hall that Sophie was in.

C. You try to ditch work and explore more of the rest of the mansion.

Manor on the Moors (IV)

You reach the stairs leading to the attic undetected. The trap door opens with a low creak, resisting just a little as you push against it. The dust is thick in the air. The faint light from the small window at the furthest end of the room illuminate a dozen large chests piled high, the wood aged and black. You try to lift the lid of one of the chests, but it does not budge. They are securely locked, and you do not have the key. As you turn your head left and right, trying to find anything else of note in the room, you hear a sibilant whispering from a corner of the attic. Following the sound, you weave your way past the chests. You are unable to make out what the whispers say, but nonetheless an inexplicable, uneasy chill nests in your heart.

Reaching the corner where the whispering is loudest, you see nothing before you but a stained, wooden floor. The stains look more like spatters, and just for a while, you wonder if it is blood. The whispers persist in the emptiness… and you see that there is something after all. A faint shimmering, a silhouette of something that does not seem fully in this world, should you strain your eyes to see.

I did not expect to see it here, of all places. How disgusting. There is nothing worse in the worlds than a foe with neither flesh to tear nor blood to drink.

The hound’s voice comes faintly to your mind, and you put it out of your mind just as quickly, ignoring whatever is being said. The presence before you wavers faintly, and you can feel it reaching out. Alarmed, you pedal backwards, putting a good amount of distance between yourself and the invisible thing.

And then, with no warning, the world fades to white.

***

You open your eyes, and see a vast, bluish-black expanse. It is the night sky, and you are back in the desert. You sit up with a start. The tribespeople are some distance away, bowing before a decidedly unamused Tlalli. There is another man standing besides her, bearded, slightly plump, and dressed in black. Seeing that you have woken up, she turns her back to them and marches towards you.

“About time you got up. You’re the last to wake. The girls are already resting in the tent,” she frowns, standing over you imposingly. “Good grief, that was a risky thing to do at your age. There was no need to play along with the Al’tayyih. You could’ve died.”

“Died?”

“The Astra that they use for walking the dreamlands is facilitated by use of a particular incense. It’s safe for their people, but there are the rare outsiders who have a nasty reaction to that sort of drug,” explains Tlalli dryly. “Anyway, the trial’s over, but you won’t ever need to speak to them again. Get up and go over to the tent. We’ll rest the night, then set out for the stairs.”

You nod wordlessly and get to your feet. The newcomer comes to your side, nodding his balding head in courtesy and introducing himself with no reserve. “The name’s Papus, young man. A pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he says, offering his hand. You tentatively shake it. “I’m a colleague of Dame Tlalli, an associate in the Hunters. I specialize in the Kabbalah and the art of the tarot.”

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, and that is as much as you can offer to a stranger. To Papus’s credit, he doesn’t seem perturbed, and he waves you on towards the tent.

Inside, you find Elizabeth and Sophie eating beans from some cans.

“Oh, you’re up,” waves Elizabeth. “What took you so long? That was a pretty amazing adventure, wasn’t it?”

Sophie, on the other hand, just looks at you sullenly before turning away without a word. She seems frustrated about something.

You decide to put everything that just happened out of mind for now, and rest. You are mentally exhausted. As you sit down, Elizabeth offers you some beans, which you gladly shovel into your mouth. It is not long after that when you begin to doze off again, even if you had just awoken from what seemed to be a long slumber.

That night, no dreams visit your sleep, though there seems to be a faint howling, far, far away.

***

The following day, you prepare to set out for the stairs. It seems that Papus will be travelling with you for a while; he had business somewhere in the desert, and is now on his way back to more civilized floors. Tlalli informs you that the rest of the trip will be quite faster, as Papus has a small airship waiting on the floor below. While heading to the airship, you decide to:

A. Converse with Tlalli. You are curious about her relationship with the tribe, as you spotted them bowing to her.

B. Converse with Sophie. You are still wondering about what you saw in her mind, with the parties and all.

C. Converse with Elizabeth. You would like to know more about what she experienced in her dream.

D. Converse with Papus. He mentioned that he is a scholar of sorts when it comes to the occult; you might be able to learn a thing or two from him.

E. Keep to yourself. There is nothing you would like to talk about, for the moment. Some quiet time would do your fatigue good.

The Flight Home (I)


This is your first time on an airship. You are still not too sure about how airships work, but you vaguely remember something about Astra-powered propulsion that enables the ship to soar into the sky. According to Papus, he has named this sleek, blue airship the Zohar. While it belongs to the Hunter's Association on paper, he is responsible for its maintenance and operation, and has been allowed to take it just about anywhere he pleases as long as it is ostensibly for official duty. The airship's hull is smaller than the one which you had seen near the ruins. Papus claimed that the cabin could fit no more than ten people. As it turned out, that was not exactly the case. The cabin would be hard pressed to fit more than five, what with the amount of old books and arcane apparatus littering the floor. The musty smell of old pages fills the air.. Sophie and Elizabeth are outside on the deck, where the wind is fresh, while Tlalli is sleeping on a hammock at the back of the cabin.

"...and that is why the key to the mysteries laid out by the Tarot can be found in the arrangement of the Tetragrammaton." Papus has been lecturing you on his vision of the Kabbalah and fortune-telling with no thought given to whether or not he was talking to a child who would be unlikely to comprehend anything coming out of his mouth. You are unable to get even a word in, faced with his incomprehensible wall of words. Just as you are about to start regretting the decision to attempt talking with Papus, he makes a rather curious suggestion. "Given that we will be continuing to coast for another hour or so, how about I read your future?"

With nothing other to do and already having invested hours in listening to him talk about a subject you don't understand, you agree.

Excited, Papus clears up a small table on the cabin, brushing off papers and books to create enough of an open space for him to lay down his cards. Muttering esoteric chants, he begins to draw ornate cards from a deck, laying them face down; five cards in an upright cross, and five around them in a circle.

"Now, let us first reveal the spiritual heart of your future." Papus takes the center card, and flips it over. It shows a naked woman under a circle of stars. "The Arcana of the Star, reversed." Papus frowns, and begins to interpret what the card means. "The Star is a symbol of hope, and when reversed, the opposite holds true. In your future, there will be despair. However, the Star also serves as a guiding light, whether or not it is reversed, and thus you should not lack for a purpose when despair visits."

"The recent event that set you on this path will be illuminated by this next card." Flipping over the card on the left of the first one, Papus proceeds to call it the Eight of Swords. "This card signifies fear and caution on your part, and partial success on that of your foe. An encounter in the recent past has caused you to take a wary resolution, perhaps?"

Next, Papus flips over the card on the right of the center. "This card symbolizes what may be immediately to come. It is the Knight of Cups, which stands for changes and opportunities, particularly of a romantic nature."

The card at the bottom is subsequently flipped, showing a card with a queen on it. "The Empress, reversed. This position is the foundation of your reading, the root cause. It suggests that deep down, you feel unsatisfied yet stagnant, with a lack of growth in particular facets of your life. Perhaps you may consider yourself lacking in charm, for example." Papus eyes you, and then shrugs at your silence. "Maybe, maybe not."

He then proceeds to flip the card at the top of the central cross. "This is the resolution of your reading. This card is the Tower. The Tower signifies a great change to come. It will happen regardless of your readiness for it. Whether or not you weather that change is, of course, up to your own will."

"Now, let us look at the auxiliary readings." Papus begins flipping over the five cards on the outside circle one by one, reading them as he goes. "The reversed Knight of Wands is one possible outcome in your future. The Knight of Wands symbolizes stability, and to be more precise, it is the illustration of a family man, a father. Reversed, it may signify a loss of such a figure."

"The card which represents your fears is the Moon. This is straightforward - it tells of enemies, hidden and dangerous."

"The Four of Coins points to hindrances in your future. This card denotes the loss of wealth. Why, a surefire way to hinder a man, for sure!"

"Now, the card next to this is regarding the role and outlook of others close to you. Here we see the Two of Cups. As I must have mentioned, the Minor Arcana of the Cups are related to romance. Here, the Two of Cups means that there will be opposition to the commencement of any love affairs due to minor obstacles raised by the lover herself."

"Finally, the last card is about your own outlook. This is... the Hermit, reversed. While upright it is a card that denotes solitude in pursuit of enlightenment and spirituality, reversed, this card suggests withdrawal, loneliness, and isolation. Indeed, I would advise any who encounter the reversed Hermit to not lose themselves in thinking that they have to handle everything alone."

Finishing his reading of the cards, Papus strokes his bushy beard with a rather pompous and satisfied smile. "I would not be so boorish as to ask if I had, naturally, nailed every thought in your head. Regardless, we can narrow down the questions and make a targeted reading, should you desire. Romance? Career? Health? There are plenty of truths to uncover. We still have some time, after all."


***


You decide to:

A. Ask about romance. It is a topic you might be getting gradually more interested in.

B. Ask about career. Knowing if you will do well at earning a living might be comforting.

C. Ask about health. Between your leg and the strange dreams you had in the desert, you may be getting slightly concerned over your health.

D. Not ask anything - if this is accurate, vaguely knowing the future will not do you any good.

The Flight Home (II)

"So it is love you seek to know, eh? A very mature question for one so youthful, but far be it for me to stand and say that there is such a thing as being too young to ask of love! Very well, I shall divine your fate in the matters of romance," declares Papus. Gathering the cards from the deck, he shuffles them deftly, eyes closed shut. With an unwavering hand, he draws out five cards and lays them face down on the table once more. "I find that the number five is more suited for the nature of romantic affairs," he explains. "Chalk it up to experience and experiments alike."

Papus flips the first card over. It shows a woman with a lion. "This first card signifies your self in matters of romance. And let us see... ah, the Strength arcana, reversed. You doubt yourself severely when it comes to matters of love. Yet, should you look, there is an inner strength in you that cannot be easily drawn out, a resilience that needs to rise to the fore when romance is on the line."

"Next, we will divine the matters of your partner," Papus continues, flipping over the subsequent card. "The ten of cups. While there is uncertainty, there is also contentment in family life and peace of heart. The future is unclear, but should you commit to a relationship, your partner is someone you can ultimately have a happy family with... though you may indeed be too young to think of settling down!"

With a chortle, Papus strokes his beard and moves on to the following card. "The ace of wands tells of the commencement of an enterprise, or in this case, a relationship. It seems that the time and situation is right for one to begin... should you desire it."

"The potential of your relationship, then, is represented by the Justice arcana." Papus reveals a card where a woman is holding a sword in one hand and a pair of scales in the other. "Justice is equity, it is fairness, it is balance. To have this card define the potential of your relationship means that your partner will be someone equal to you, and it is a relationship that will thrive should you treat them as an equal in turn."

And finally, he turns over the final card. It depicts a skeleton wielding a scythe. "Death, reversed. While upright it symbolizes transformation, the end of one phase of your life and the beginning of the next, reversed it tells of stagnation, inability to change, and a lack of self-esteem in love... and ne'er will love come, should that stay the same. In this position, the appearance of this card advises you to make a change in how you see yourself should you desire a romantic relationship."

With a confident grin, Papus raises his hands and claps them. "And that is all! I hope you have been satisfied with my reading, and surely you will take it to heart, eh?"

You can only give him a quiet nod, not knowing what to make of his predictions; you are not even that sure yourself why you asked about love, although the idea does make your heart beat just a little faster. Whether or not the tarot cards are accurate will be something you have to find out for yourself in the future.

***

Before you know it, you catch sight of the familiar roofs of Scotsfield. You are back. It feels like it has been ages since you departed on that ill-advised trip to the ruins, though in actuality it had only been mere weeks... but you are back.

"This is as far as we'll take you," says Tlalli, ruffling your hair as you prepare to disembark the ship.

You give her the best smile that you can muster and say, "Thank you very much," in as polite and grateful a tone as you can.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, Gramma!" says Elizabeth excitedly.

"Thank you," repeats Sophie, bowing her head.

"Hah, no need to stand on ceremony here," snorts the old woman, slightly embarrassed at the honest display of gratitude. "Anyway, before we say goodbye... boy, there's something I want to ask you." Facing you sternly, she asks, "Would you like to be a Hunter in the future?"

"Me?"

"Yes," nods Tlalli. "You have some talent for it, and if polished I do think you might turn out to be quite the remarkable gem. Of course, at your age... how old are you at the moment?"

"Ten, eleven, maybe?" You venture. You're not fully certain, but it should be around there.

"Two more years, then. I will be swinging by around this floor in two more years... if I'm still alive, I suppose. If you still want to be a Hunter then, I'll gladly take you under my wing and bring you to one of your bases. How's that sound?"

"Wait, what? That's not fair! I want to be one too!" protests Elizabeth. "We can't let Wrinkly have all the fun and adventure now, can we?"

Tlalli laughs. "That's some spirit you have there, girlie. You're really a fiery one, aren't you? But don't you have your father's business to consider? I thought you wanted to be a merchant, hm?"

Elizabeth gives Tlalli a a smug grin, as if she has got it all figured out. "Oh, I know. There's nothing saying that I can't act as a trader while moving around as a Hunter, right? I mean, old Papus here's wandering around like a scholar while being a Hunter, so why not a merchant and a Hunter?"

"Well, you might be right. And that's really an interesting thought," smiles Tlalli, genuinely humoured. "Our association is full of nothing but muscleheaded blockheads and bookheaded blockheads, so a moneyheaded blockhead might be a fun addition to the crew. Alright, if you and your father are okay with it, you can come along in two years too."

"It's a promise, alright?" presses Elizabeth fervently.

"It's a promise," nods Tlalli.

"Hah! Well then, Wrinkly, I'm not going to lose to you!" Elizabeth challenges you with a bright smile. "You'll see, I'll become an amazing explorer and adventurer too!"

Sophie remains silent throughout all this, looking over at Scotsfield. As you say your final goodbyes to Tlalli and Papus, and disembark from the ship, you see some people running out of the village to meet you. Papus does not stay around to talk; before they are here, the airship is already gone.

The old gatekeeper, Mr. Addair, some of the younger farmers with pitchforks in their hands, Elizabeth's portly father, Father McClellan, and finally, Madam Daviana, with Rain in her arms. As they reach you, and see that you and the girls are indeed who you appear to be, their tense faces relax. Daviana holds out a crying Rain, who's stretching her little stubby hands out towards you. You take the child in your arms and she clings on tightly, bawling her eyes out, as if she would never let go of you again. "How strange," murmurs the old matron. "She was quiet all this while but started crying shortly before you came back."

Meanwhile, Elizabeth's father sweeps her up in his arms, yammering panickedly about how glad he was that she was safe. Towering over you, Father McClellan sighs as he places his hand on Sophie's shoulder. "You are going to have a lot of explaining to do, children."

While telling Father McClellan about what happened, you learned in turn what happened to the other children. The twins had wandered their way out and returned safe and sound, no wiser than to what had happened in the ruins. Andrew and Scottie had returned a day later, Scottie full of tall tales about him and Andrew's heroics and how you had kidnapped the two girls. The villagers of Scotsfield did not exactly believe him, but your disappearance with two of the village's maidens didn't leave them feeling more friendly towards you either. Andrew, on the other hand, had become quiet and withdrawn, according to those who saw him. Both Andrew and Scottie left the village with Scottie's dad a week later for reasons related to his work. What that was, in particular, the villagers did not know.

Regardless, Scotsfield had seen enough excitement to last itself the year. At this point, with the girls back safe and sound, the villagers just wanted to get on with their quiet lives and not ask anymore questions.

And so, time passed...

***

After the excitement of your travels, you decide to settle down for a while and return to your daily routine. As your relationship with the villagers had cooled slightly thanks to the incident at the ruins, you wonder if you should attempt to make more of an effort to socialize with them, despite your poor talking ability.

A. You decide to spend more time socializing with the villagers and improving your relationship with them. (Allowed to pick three activities in the next choice)

B. You decide to focus more on your own pursuits. (Allowed to pick five activities in the next choice)

You begin pursuing the following activities in your own free time:

I. Increasing your proficiency with the Astras that you own
II. Practicing your hunting skills (ranged weapons, stealth, traps)
III. Practicing your combat skills (melee weapons, unarmed)
V. Learning more about alchemy
VI. Studying arithmetic
VII. Picking up art
VIII. Reading about astrology
IX. Learning sleight-of-hand
X. Taking up drinking
XI. Learning etiquette
XII. Practicing speech
XIII. Spending time playing with and taking care of Rain
XIV. Spending time with Elizabeth while she helps her father
XV. Spending time with Sophie while doing your daily duties

***

Days of Scotsfield


The days fly by in a flash as you busy yourself with your daily work. You spend your time working at the school as promised, and also going out into the woods where you practice your hunting skills. The Book of Theseus, the Astra you found in the ruins, proves to be very handy for the hunt. It is not long before you found that you had likely mastered all that you could regarding the book.

You did not bother yourself much with the rest of the village, but your diligent work and down-to-earth manner meant that they grew to accept you as part of them. It did not mean that all of them liked you or even cared about you, but if anyone were to ask any of the villagers about the scarred, wrinkled boy, the reply they got would not hesitate to refer to you as a resident of Scotsfield. That, at least, you could be certain of now.

Your little social contact was spent on playing with Rain, making up for leaving her behind during the ruins fiasco. It was an unforgettable journey, especially for someone your age, and it also seemed to leave its mark on Sophie and Elizabeth. Though Andrew and Scottie never returned to the village since, the two girls began talking to each other a little more despite Andrew's absence. You spent more time with them too, both together and separately.

Sophie started to open up to you about books and school, and at times would help you look after Rain. You would spend an hour or two every Sunday cleaning the classroom together with her - no longer did she skip off and leave all the tasks to you. The time you spent together was quiet and calming, and neither of you felt forced to talk during those little periods of peace.

Elizabeth would practice her Astra and talk to you about adventures, sometimes even coming together with you for hunts. She seemed to have gained a even greater thirst for adventure, as well as some sort of competitiveness with you on top of her existing rivalry with Sophie, which intensified for reasons you don't entirely understand. You can still remember her skipping ahead of you in the forest, her red hair bouncing, her eyes bright with the curiosity and desire to learn.

"Cloud, Cloud, are we going to visit Lizzie today?" asks Rain, tottering up to you and pulling at your sleeve. She has taken to calling you that after learning that rain falls from clouds. A strange nickname, to be sure, but you haven't decided to correct her yet. After all, the rest of the village calls you Wrinkly, and you haven't really seen the need to decide on a proper name for yourself.

"If we are, can we go get some flowers?" continues Rain. She's grown quite a bit in the past year or so - the little baby now had her beautiful blonde hair in pigtails, and stood almost up to your waist. Father McClellan had told you that you were supposed to be experiencing a growth spurt soon, too, though you're not sure if it has already started.

"I'll come along too if we're going today," says Sophie, coming into the classroom. She is definitely going through that growth spurt that Father McClellan spoke of - at times you find yourself wanting to avert your eyes from her maturing body, feeling strange whenever you see her. Today is one such day. Sophie frowns at your behaviour, folding her arms in front of her chest. "What's wrong?"

"No, nothing," you reply quietly. "Sure, let's visit Elizabeth today."


***


Rain knocks on the door politely, a basket of flowers in her other hand. As usual, Elizabeth's mother opens the door, a pretty woman with hair as red as her daughter's. "Oh my, you are here again today. Thank you for visiting Lizzie so much," she smiles kindly. "She might not admit it, but she feels lonely really easily."

You are brought to Elizabeth's room, where she is sitting on her bed as always, looking out the window. Her bright red hair has lost its luster, her cheery cheeks now gaunt, and her sparkling eyes dull and tired. It looks like her conditione has worsened again since the last time you saw her. Even so, when she sees you, she smiles.

"Oh, hey. You don't need to keep coming with flowers, mom wouldn't know where to keep all of them," Elizabeth says jokingly. She takes a few short breaths after the sentence, as if even that effort tired her out, when once she could speak on and on without ceasing.

Rain and Sophie moved forward to talk to Sophie, while you stood back and watched. Elizabeth was sick. It had started a few months back, when her legs suddenly gave way during a party for her 12th birthday. No one, not even the village doctor, could tell what was wrong with her. The sickness had only swiftly gotten worse since... and so here you are, watching someone who called you a friend waste away before your eyes, being unable to do anything about it.

The girl puts on a brave face before you, but you know, don't you?

The Hound's voice echoes in your head.

For someone like her, who wants to travel and see the world, to have adventures in places never before seen, being unable to even walk, to even breathe, to sit in bed every day of the rest of her short life, just waiting for the end...

You shake your head, but the voice continues.

But an illness can be hunted. It can be devoured.

The voice fades away with that. You know what it is offering.

"Hey, I need to tell you guys something," says Elizabeth suddenly.

"Is it another silly joke, Liz?" Sophie raises her eyebrows disapprovingly. "Your mind is healthier than your body if you can afford to think of such stupid things. Guess your body will just have to catch up soon. But there'll be no stupid jokes while Rain is here, okay?"

"That's not fair," pouts Rain. "I want to learn stupid jokes too!"

Elizabeth laughs. "No, nothing of the sort. I just wanted to let you three know before anyone else." She combs at her straggly hair with her fingers, looking at you directly. "We're leaving Scotsfield. My dad's moving us to New Vienna. He knows a doctor there, at a big hospital. Apparently they can cure me of... whatever it is I have."

"Well, at least it'll be quieter once you've left the village," says Sophie. "I'll enjoy the peace and quiet alone."

"Alone with him, you mean," grins Elizabeth, and Sophie snarls back quickly enough, refuting her words, as they begin their usual bickering.

"You're leaving, Lizzie?" asks Rain, interrupting the two. To their credit, they stop immediately and pay attention to Rain, as they usually do.

"Yes, Rain. I need to go somewhere else to get better. It's a really big city, with a lot of really smart people."

"Wow, that sounds amazing!" Rain turns to you, her eyes hopeful. "I hope Lizzie gets better soon, then she can come back. Right?"

You nod. "Yeah. That's right."

Elizabeth smiles at you, a sad look in her eyes. "It's too bad about our promise, but I don't think I can keep it now. Apologize to old Tlalli for me when she swings around, will you? Thanks for everything, really. I'm going to miss you. And Rain." She glances at Sophie and says nothing except for a cheeky grin on her face, suddenly reminiscent of how she looked before, as you remember her during your journey. Sophie looks away - her own eyes are a little red, and she bites her lip briefly.

After some more time conversing, you bid Elizabeth goodbye as evening comes. By the time you are about to leave, her eyes are barely able to stay open. She must have been pushing herself to talk to you and the others.

Once you reach home, you begin preparing Rain's dinner.

There are some things that you have to think about.

Should your life change, or should it stay the same?


***


A. You decide to uproot your life and bring Rain with you, accompanying Elizabeth and her family to New Vienna. While leaving Scotsfield is a shame, you feel it is time for new horizons, and this is as good a reason as any.

B. You decide to stay in Scotsfield for the time being. Your life here is comfortable and Rain is still young - she needs the stability. You can always visit Elizabeth later, when Rain has grown older.

C. Elizabeth doesn't need to go anywhere if you can cure her illness. And if the Hound knows how to do it, perhaps you can give in to the temptation and try to wield its power...


***

Vienna Blues (I)


In the Tower, the city of New Vienna is not the largest in size or population, nor is it the oldest, nor is it the richest, nor is it the most advanced. But when people think of culture in the Tower, of art and music, and of politics, New Vienna is second only to the olden city of Espanola. Both are centers of thought in the Tower; where the spires of Espanola are known for hosting thinkers of the Old World, the domes of New Vienna house the new-fangled ideas that have exploded onto the scene since the 19th century.

Much like its namesake in old Europe proper, New Vienna has had a long history as a cultural center. This is where maestros of music gathered, where the artists and scholars were oft one and the same. This is the city where the Congress which brought about a new order in the Tower was convened, where the various Orders have their offices, competing and bickering for influence. This is also the home of various academic and philosophical Societies, each and every one of them with their own fields of study, own expertises, and goals hushed in secrecy.

It is in such a city where you find yourself, five months after leaving Scotsfield, four months since you arrived in New Vienna along with the Baythers, who had temporarily taken up your offer to work as household help so that they could devote their time to taking care of Elizabeth. The Baythers were merchants, but they were not that rich that they would balk at saving some money by having you instead of a city maid. Ralph and Elaine Bayther had already sacrificed a good part of their wealth in moving to New Vienna and engaging the best physicians they could afford.

You knock on the door to Elizabeth's room, a bowl of liver soup in one hand and an envelope in the other. You wait for a while until you hear her weak, frail "Come in," before you open the door. Elizabeth has continued being bedridden for the past two months - whatever treatment the physicians were giving her, it does not seem like the effects will be seen that quickly. Elizabeth looks up as you enter, a wan, thin smile on her lips. Her condition hasn't improved any. You silently hand her the envelope, placing the bowl of soup on the nightstand.

"Another letter from Sophie?" she asks.

You nod. Sophie has been corresponding with Elizabeth every month or so. Before you left, she had told you that she would let Tlalli know where you were should the old Hunter ever pass by Scotsfield again.

While Elizabeth reads the letter, you busy yourself making sure her room is clean. You have had little time to yourself ever since you arrived in the city, being busy with both taking care of Rain and handling the housework for the Baythers. Your housework ability is probably at the highest it has ever been, but you are not sure if it is something you should be proud of.

"By the way, have you decided?"

"Yes?"

"About what Daddy said." Elizabeth sets the letter down and frowns at you. "You can't waste your time away in this place."

Ralph had offered you some time off to pursue your own studies. In his own words, "Young people should be striving for something more", and though he and his wife were grateful for the help, they were now looking at other options so that your workload was reduced. Speaking to some people he knew, Ralph had suggested several institutes of learning that you could work at during the day, and hopefully learn a thing or two.

"I haven't decided yet," you say, and that is the truth.

"Well, you should decide soon," sighs Elizabeth, flopping back onto the bed and staring at the ceiling lifelessly. "If you just stay here until I die I'll get really mad and haunt you for the rest of our life, you know."

"There's still Rain to think of."

"My mother can help look after her in the daytime now that she can work as a clerk from home. Besides, weren't there some places that would let you bring her in, as long as she behaved?"

You recall Ralph's list of places, thinking carefully.

There was the Institute of Karl Marx, founded after some philosopher who was apparently rather influential in politics and economics. They were looking for someone to catalogue and organize writings of their fellows, and were willing to hire anyone cheap enough. This institute was one of those which would allow you to bring a child to work.

Another was the Center for Astral Study, a gathering of astrologians and other astral researchers. They were looking for a test subject for some project or another to do with the nature of astral affinity.

There was also the New Vienna Center for Art and the Viennese Trade Guild, both of which did not allow children. Those places were looking for janitorial labour, someone to clean and tidy up the place.


***


You have decided to work at:

A. The Institute of Karl Marx

B. The Center for Astral Study

C. The New Vienna Center for Art

D. The Viennese Trade Guild

E. None of these places; you will continue as you have so far

Vienna Blues (II)

The Marx Institute is a dull, grey affair, a stark contrast to the beautiful and ornate architecture usually found in New Vienna. It used to be a warehouse in an earlier life, but its owner bequeathed the premises to the Institute, and now it serves as the headquarters of a group of supposed philosophers who discuss how the world should be governed, and how the economy should be.

You are not particularly excited about their musings, being a rural urchin more inclined to fictional adventures, and neither do they seem inclined to tone down their conversations to a level that you can understand. For the most part, you keep out of the way of the bearded men, and perform your duties best as you can.

Your duties involve the cataloguing of the Institute's inventory. For the most part, these are circulars and pamphlets, opinion pieces from the thinkers that work here. There are also theses and books, rather significantly heftier in volume. Your limited understanding of the text leaves you with the impression that this 'Marxist' system they discuss involves all people being equal, with all property being equally shared. Besides the texts directly pertaining to the Institute's core purpose, there are also large volumes of scientific and philosophical books, as well as a few moth-eaten tomes pertaining to astrology. All in all, it's a herculean task that doesn't seem like it would end anytime soon.

Today, a light shower is falling across New Vienna. The light patter of the raindrops is in perfect harmony with Rain's shallow breaths as she sleeps. As you file away another newspaper - an issue of "Iskra" - you hear footsteps approaching. Lifting your head, you see an older gentleman with a frown behind his beard. His name was... Georgi Plekhanov, if you remember correctly.

"Ah, boy, have you seen Vladimir around?" asks Plekhanov.

There are a lot of Vladimirs around here - in fact, for some reason the Institute had more people of Russian descent than any other - but you knew that Plekhanov was looking for a particular Vladimir. You have seen the both of them conversing frequently in the tea room of late. As for Plekhanov's question, you shake your head. You had not seen the man around here.

Plekhanov's frown deepens for a brief moment, but he shakes his head and shrugs it off. "Very well. How goes the work, then?"

"It's fine," you offer. "I'll try my best to finish it quickly."

"There is no rush, but it would be preferable if you could finish before the end of the year. We are planning some other activities, you see, and I would dearly like to have an index of our library before then," says Plekhanov. "Now then, I shall excuse myself, for there is something else I need to take care of..."

Giving you a nod, Plekhanov leaves, and you return to your work.

It is not long before another person interrupts you. Coughing nervously, the blonde-haired man sidles in front of you, hands in his pocket. You have seen him in the Institute before, but his name isn't something you have had the occasion to hear.

"I need you to do something," he begins. "It won't take long."

He draws out a parcel from his coat. "Could you help deliver this? I have the address on a separate piece of paper, it won't take long."

"I still have work with the catalogue," you say.

"It won't take long," he insists. "I'll pay you for your time upfront, double that of your current pay. And the parcel is nothing suspicious, it's just some papers."

As if to prove it, he waggles the parcel in front of you. It certainly doesn't look like there's anything else besides documents in there, although you can't be sure.

"Why don't you deliver it yourself?"

The man wrinkles his brow at your unexpected question. "I have a very important meeting to attend to and the destination is at the other end of the city. That should be reason enough."

You return his frown. "This isn't something dangerous, is it?"

"Of course not, it does not endanger the Institute in any way," scoffs the man.

***

You decide to:

A. Deliver the package for him, as he asked. The money is good and there's no real reason to refuse.

B. Refuse the delivery and focus on your cataloguing work. You don't want to bring Rain out into the rain, and you wouldn't want to leave her here on her own either.

Vienna Blues (III)

As the year's end approached, an unnatural tension fell across the city. There was an expectant mood that something was going to happen. What would it be? Nobody could say. Some were seized with jubilation, a strange optimism that their lives would soon change for the better. Others were paralyzed by despair, negativity flooding their minds.

Even you, buried in your work cataloguing for the Institute of Karl Marx, could notice the change. For some reason, it reminded you of your days in the forest, of how animals could sense an impending storm and changed their behaviour accordingly. Still, it was not anything you could influence. That much you knew. And so, you kept your head down and continued your work. It had taken the better part of the year, but you had finished your task and learnt a thing or two from it too. Some of the treatises were particularly interesting. Not as interesting as the fiction that you so dearly loved, but you found them enlightening none the less.

On the last day of your work, you were approached by Plekhanov's friend, a certain Vladimir Ulyanov. Impressed by your steadfast work ethic, he offered you continued employment as his aide. You would no longer be working for the Institute, but directly under him. Ulyanov had a great plan in mind for both the Tower and the world, and he was currently looking for talent to achieve that plan.

Rain looks up from her toys as you enter your room, smiling happily. Hanging up your coat, you greet her and pat her head. You haven't seen Elizabeth in weeks - she had been admitted to the hospital and from what the Baythers say, it is likely to be a long stay... perhaps permanent, if she's unlucky.

You ponder Ulyanov's offer, and then look at the letter on your desk. It arrived just yesterday, from Sophie back in Scotsfield. Tlalli had finally dropped by again, as she had promised. After finding out that you were no longer in the village, the old Hunter had asked Sophie to send something to you together with her usual letter.

It was a square piece of leather, upon which some words were inscribed.

"We hereby grant the bearer of this license the right to take the entrance test to the Grisham School for Talented Youngsters"

This school, located in New Vienna, was apparently one of a few academies which had working ties with the Hunter's Association. According to Sophie, Tlalli strongly suggested that you get some formal education, even if it was just for 3 years. Graduation from this school would help the chances of you being accepted into the Association, as it taught a variety of subjects and skills relevant to that profession.

The Baythers themselves had also informed you of another opportunity; coincidentally, this was at the hospital at which Elizabeth was warded. You would be expected to apprentice as an orderly there.


***


You decide to:

A. Take up Vladimir Ulyanov's offer to be his aide.
B. Register with the Grisham School for Talented Youngsters.
C. Accept the apprenticeship at the hospital.

Regardless of your choices, you still had Rain to think of. She is older now and practically charging everywhere like a rambunctious hurricane. Bringing her to work or study would pose some problem, though you could try and see if there were any accomodations to be made:

A. You trust Rain enough to be left to her own devices for now. She can stay in your room while you go out to work.
B. You ask Mrs. Bayther to help take care of Rain while you are out. You would owe the Baythers again for this but you don't think she will refuse.
C. You will bring Rain together with you, as always. You'll resolve any problem as it pops up.

Saint Joan Hospital (I)


Elizabeth sleeps - it is all she does lately, spending more time in slumber than awake. You tidy up the fallen petals, dutifully replenishing the vase at her bedside with a fresh supply of flowers. It has been nearly two years since you started working at the hospital. You have spent some time improving your knowledge of alchemy and arithmetic, but there has been no progress with Elizabeth's mystery illness. As she continues to waste away, all you can do is to be here by her side.

The medicines of man cannot resolve her illness. But you already know that, don't you?

You ignore the Hound, mildly irritated by the smugness in its voice.

"Done!" exclaims Rain happily as she wrings out her mop, having helped you clean the ward. She's grown fast; the girl that was once a baby is now a fast and precocious child. It won't be long before you have to consider her future too. You would like her to receive a proper education, something you had barely been able to enjoy.

"Kid, you there?" A senior orderly pops his head into the room, looking for you. "Dr. Müller wants some assistance at the amphitheater. You might want to get to it quickly."

You nod without a word, and tell Rain to stay here with Elizabeth. Grabbing your gloves, you head out into the crowded, noisy corridors of the hospital.


***


"The secrets of death lie not in the heart, but in the brain. That I shall illustrate in greater detail, as my assistant removes the top of the skull."

The portly bearded man's pompous voice resonates around the amphitheater, where nearly a hundred fresh-faced medical students are present for his lecture. This is Doctor Gustav Müller, one of the top physicians of the hospital, and renowned for his work on the brain. Arrogant yet brilliant, a man whose personality leaves much to be desired. Still, that is none of your business. You are just here to do your job. Quietly following his orders, you make an incision with a scalpel around the top of the corpse's head. Peeling back the scalp and exposing the bone, you then use a small handsaw to cut into the skull. The grinding of metal against bone causes some of the students to flinch, though Muller continues his lecture unperturbed.

"Past the membrane, we find the mundane matter of the brain. Mundane it may be, but this is the seat of the soul, not the heart as most olden cultures speculated. In fact, Astra research in recent years appears to have proven Descartes correct, for the pineal gland of Astra users has demonstrated enlargement-"

"Such drivel! Oh, just listen to yourself!"

Müller stops, and so do you. One of the students had just spoken out loudly, sneering at Muller's exposition. It was a gaunt, pale young man of around twenty, with neatly groomed hair and thick, black spectacles perched on his nose.

"The pineal gland? The soul? What baloney. While the pineal gland is known to be associated with Astra abilities, the projections of the neurons within suggest that the true soul lie elsewhere, Herr Müller!"

"Balo... what did you just say?" splutters Müller, his whiskered cheeks turning red in anger. "I suggest you hit the books, young man, and gain a firm understanding of the fundamentals of neurology before questioning the knowledge of your betters! This class appears to be beyond your level!"

"There is nothing you could teach that would be on my level, Doctor Müller," sneers the young man full of disdain. "This lecture of yours has made that evident."

Standing up, he marches out of the amphitheatre, leaving behind an apoplectic Müller and a stunned audience. At that time, you had no idea that you would encounter the young man again shortly after.


***


You had the night-shift today, and after putting Rain to bed in the orderlies break room - she had become quite a favourite of the nurses in the hospital so you had little to worry about leaving her with them - you began patrolling the deserted corridors. In the wee hours of the morning, even the patients were asleep... though Elizabeth was more likely to be awake at such nocturnal times than any other time of the day, if she was even awake at all.

As your patrol carries you towards Elizabeth's ward, you spot the student from Dr. Muller's lecture standing outside her door. He seems to be muttering something to himself.

What an unguarded man. You could do it, you know. Creep up behind him, and twist his head off. It would be exceedingly simple.

For some reason, the Hound chooses to whisper in your ear at this very moment, though you ignore it as you usually do.


***


A. You call out to him and ask him what he is doing here. You aren't about to allow him to freely enter Elizabeth's ward at this time of the night.

B. You sneak up behind him and subdue him by force - despite being an adult who is taller and older than you, he looks far frailer.

C. You wait and watch to see what he does. What he's doing is not technically against any of the hospital rules, being a medical student at this place.

Saint Joan Hospital (II)

"What are you doing?" You call out to the young man, holding your lantern up.

With a sigh, he swivels around stiffly, his dull, black eyes boring into you.

"I am about to perform an examination on the patient in here," explains the man drily, adjusting his large spectacles as he speaks. "Now, pray do not disturb me further-"

"Visiting hours are over, and if you do not leave I shall report you to Dr. Müller," you insist, moving closer to him. The swinging lantern casts dancing shadows across the hallway, light flickering across the young man's gaunt face. You see him frown, clearly frustrated.

"I will not be bound by such trifles, least of all that put in my way by that senile old fool. The girl residing in this ward is a prime sample teetering on that precarious balance between life and death. Preventing me from perusing her brain could be said to be an offense against the advancement of humanity, if I do say so myself."

"Perusing?" Your eyes narrow. Whatever he has planned, it does not seem to be anything good.

"Indeed, the rare disease that ails her lays its mark upon the very spark of life that resides within the brain, that which some call the soul. Your primitive intellect would be unable to grasp the intricacies, however, so I shall spare you the details. It should suffice to say that allowing me to explore her brain with a scalpel could be the breakthrough for humanity to finally conquer death! Now, leave me be! You are interrupting some very important work."

"You sound like nothing more than a madman. Exploring brains with scalpels, that is murder if done on the living."

"Murder? Why, but she is already both alive and dead at the same time. She would not die from something as meager as a blade digging within her cranium. Oh... could it be that you do not know the true nature of the disease that afflicts her?"

"None of the learned physicians here know that," you reply flatly. "Why should you or I know it?"

"These learned physicians you speak of," spits the young man with an air of superiority, "would not understand true science if it hit them between the eyes with a bat. They prefer to stay in their rooms and conduct their practice in their hollow minds instead instead of doing whatever it takes to learn everything they can. See, if I can just capture the secret of life within my hands, I could certainly cure the girl's disease... shake her from the balance she currently perches on and ensure she falls on the side of the living rather than the dead."

You are yet unconvinced; he seems more mad than any of the doctors in this hospital.

"Still... you are an orderly here, are you not? I might have need of a comrade-in-arms in this place, and it would not be a bad idea to act with more prudence and perform more tests on the dead before I progress to the next stage of my experiments, yes..." Muttering to himself, the young man stares at you. "Why don't we make a deal? Keep this quiet from Müller, and help me gain access to the corpses necessary for my research. In return, I will cure the girl as part of my experiments. You are protective of her, even I can see that. She is no mere stranger in a ward, is she?"

You look back at him silently.

"You do not have to take my word for it, but I can assure you that she will waste away and eventually end up in a state worse than death... and that it is something none of the supposed doctors here can prevent. I will not perform any experiments on her until we have ninety-five percent confidence in our protocols."

"Ninety five?"

"Nothing is ever guaranteed," he shrugs. "Well, in good faith I shall take my leave for now. I have a room down the street, on the corner of Altgasse and Wienziele. Feel free to drop by and give me your answer."

***

A. You decide to take up his offer for now and work with the man.

B. You reject his offer - you will just have to keep a more careful eye out for him from now on. You do not report him to Dr. Müller.

C. You reject his offer and report him to Dr. Müller. This man is dangerous and should be expelled from the hospital immediately.

Saint Joan Hospital (III)

"We have a deal, then. Excellent, then let us not waste any more time than is necessary," says the young man crisply as he shakes your hand. "My name is Harold. Harold North. And I see you are..." Peering at the nametag stitched onto your uniform, he raises an eyebrow. "Wrinkly? Well, that is inconsequential."

You are not certain if he can deliver on his promise, but desperate times call for desperate measures. You can tell, if nothing else, that the doctors in the hospital have hit a dead end in their attempts. You nod at Harold. "What do you need me to do?"

"A corpse, freshly made. Not more than 12 hours must have elapsed since the time of death. I have secured a small laboratory in the east wing of the hospital, and you merely need to transport it there. It's the place with the round windows."

You know which room he is referring to - a small basement room that was previously used for storage. "That's all you need?"

"That is all I would need from you for the night. My Astra will take care of the rest," replies Harold.

You give him a silent nod and watch as he walks off towards the east wing, leaving Elizabeth alone as he promised. You glance at the door to her ward again, sighing briefly, before heading for the mortuary.

***

Another orderly is sitting in front of the mortuary, his legs perched up on the desk. Though you have seen him around, you do not know his name - the man is one of the more recent hires. He looks to be in his late thirties, slim and wiry with a moustache thicker than his arm. The orderly is more preoccupied with reading a dime novel than with his surroundings, mumbling to himself as he stares at the pages. If you are to successfully get into the mortuary, you must first get past him somehow - and of course, bring the body out without arousing any suspicions.

You decide to:

A. Talk to him and attempt to bluff your way into the mortuary, claiming that you are here on legitimate business to transport a corpse somewhere else.

B. Knock him out cold before he realizes you are there. A well-aimed astral shield to the head should work.

C. Sneak past him while he is focused on reading the book. He appears to be extremely engrossed in it.

D. Wait and watch to see if he leaves his post. Surely he can't sit there until morning?


***

Just a quick one for the time being, let's set the vote to close at about four days from now.

Saint Joan Hospital (IV)

Even after having spent years in the city, you still remember. You remember how to slow down your breathing, to lower your profile, and to move with nary a sound. The tiles of the hospital may be trickier to navigate than the soft loam of the forest, but here there are no stray twigs or loose gravel to give you away. With the man engrossed in his book - The Dicktaculous Adventures of Dick Jones, the title proclaims - you sneak behind him with practiced ease. Placing one hand on the door, you push. Slowly, gently, so that the creak is almost inaudible amidst the orderly's low chuckles of amusement.

You slip into the mortuary, closing the door behind you with as much care as you opened it. The air in here is noticeably colder. A cloying smell hangs in the air. It's the unmistakable stench of death, slightly acrid and thick. Humans rot away just the same as animals do when they die. You ignore it and look at the three slabs in the center of the room, where the freshly dead lay. These were the guests of the day.

Each of them had a bell tied to their left thumb toe, a tradition from older times when medicine was not as advanced and misdiagnosis of death was not uncommon. A twitch of the toe and the bell would ring, warning the orderly that there was life yet in the body and to call for medical aid. Granted, there are also tales of the reanimated undead, horrors that had a thirst for the flesh of the living. In that case, would the bell be a warning to run, or at least to grab an axe and do some work on the newly arisen?

You give these questions a half-serious pondering as you pull back the shrouds of the corpses, examining them. Harold had not given you any specific requirements on the type of body that he would need - only that they should be fresh. All three here fit his requirements.

First was a bald giant of a man, who barely fit on the slab. His ebony skin was tinged dark purple in death, stretched over bulging muscles that looked like they could strangle a bear. Yet his strength does not seem to have saved him from a violent death. His neck was sliced open, a single clean cut with a razor-sharp blade. It looks like the morgue attendant had yet to get around to sewing the gaping wound shut.

Second was an old man, a peaceful look on his withered, pale face. Though his demeanor was that of a scholar even in death, tattoos ran the length of his entire body neck down. They were tattoos that looked almost familiar... the patterns reminded you of Tlalli, for some reason. Despite his age, you observe corded muscles that, while not as impressive as the first man's, gave off a clear impression of strength.

Last was a young girl around your age. Her short, black hair was messily cut, and you recognize the small tattoo on the side of her neck. It was the mark of a guild that operated in the seedier areas of New Vienna, for women who provided comforts both physical and mental to lonely men. You had been invited to those establishments on more than one occasion by the other orderlies, though you had always turned down the offer. The girl seems to have suffered the most indignities out of the three here - an ugly gash ran from chest to loin, and her limbs had been entirely severed. She had been dismembered, ripped apart as if by an animal.

You pause for a while, disquietened by the sight.

Just then, you hear the orderly outside moving around. His footsteps grow fainter, indicating that he has gone off somewhere. This is your chance.

***

A. You choose the giant.

B. You choose the old man.

C. You choose the young girl.

***

1. You place the body on a gurney and transport it that way. It would be faster, yet the gurney's squeaking wheels might give you away.

2. You attempt to carry the body by yourself. It would be a quieter yet slower way to proceed.

***

Saint Joan Hospital (V)

The old man seems to barely weigh anything. Wrapping him up in the sheet, you sling him over your shoulder and walk out of the morgue. You can hear the orderly coming back from the other direction. Time to hurry. You quicken your footsteps.

"Is someone there?" the orderly calls out, but he's too late. You leave the area and make your way over to the small laboratory where Harold is waiting with no further incidents.

Wasting no time, you lay the body out on the table, unwrapping the sheet. Harold pores over the corpse that you have procured, his lips curling upwards ever so slightly.

"Well, not the specimen I would have preferred, but it should still suffice. These tattoos are... Azteca. They are patterned to work in conjunction with an extremely rare and precious type of Astra."

"Summoning a god..." you murmur.

"Yes, exactly," beams Harold. "You are not entirely unlearned, I see. There are as many types of Astras as there are humans, but unlike us who are all equal before Death... for now, anyway, Astras can vary greatly in power. As you seem to have surmised, the strongest Astras may even command the powers of gods from mythology. How that came to be we do not know, of course, as galling as it is for me to admit it. Still, it is something I cannot deny. I have seen the Knight-Captain of the Teutonic Order wield Mjolnir with my very own eyes, and the might it grants is truly something beyond the reach of any man... and of course, anyone who dabbles in the boundaries between life and death have heard of the powers of the rumoured Longinus. But enough of this, it is time to get to work."

Reaching into his labcoat, he brings out a black scalpel. Sinister red lines are spread across the blade, like a network of veins. "This is my Astra," Harold says. "Faustus."

The veins on the scalpel leap off the blade and spread across the entire room, thickening and twisting together until they are in the form of strange, vaguely medical-like apparatuses, all needles and tubes. You look around you with slight concern, wondering what you have gotten yourself into.

Harold merely chuckles. "I understand how... disquieting this sight may seem, but worry not. My Astra is nothing but a symbol of the potential medicine has to overcome death and grant true immortality."

With a wave of his scalpel, as if a conductor directing an orchestra, a multitude of needles sink into the old man's body. The needles are attached to tubes, which are in turn have been connected to a large canister that Harold had set up on one of the benches. Catching your gaze, Harold explains. "That is the serum of immortality, still in testing, yet to be patented. It is the proper mix of components that serve to spark the formation of a new soul in the part of the brain where the previous one has vacated. You might ask, would that not be a different soul? And I would answer, no. That is the true foundation of my research. You see, the way the gray cells of the brain are wired can and do dictate the shape and form of one's soul. As long as those connections are preserved, life can be reborn. Of course, when death sets in the wiring decays, and should too much time have elapsed there would be... complications."

Harold presses the scalpel against the old man's scalp, making quick and sure incisions. The scalpel is unnaturally sharp and hardy, cutting through the thick bone of the skull more easily than a bone saw would have. He begins working on the brain, muttering beneath his breath, his hands moving so deftly that you do not understand what he is doing.

"Oh." Harold frowns, and his hands move even quicker. You see the corpse's fingers and toes begin to twitch. Whatever he is doing, it seems to be working... but the scowl on his face does not seem to agree.

"Is everything alright?" you ask.

"Yes, it's fine," he snaps. "I've got it under control."

Indeed, toying with powers beyond mortal comprehension is always fine.

You can hear Uridimmu sneering in your head, its voice laden with sarcasm. Out of the corner of your eye, you see the old man's tattoos glowing faintly.

Trust me when I say this. This will not end well... unless you add some of your blood to that canister.

You cannot help but grimace at the strange request.

***

A. You do as the demonic hound says and add your blood to the canister.

B. You refuse to trust the voice in your head, opting instead to trust Harold to know what he is doing.

C. You decide to take matters into your own hands and stop Harold's work, pulling him away bodily if you have to.

Bedlam (I)

You decide to trust the Hound. Beads of blood well forth from the wound on your thumb, and with Harold preoccupied in surgery there is nothing to stop you from approaching the canister. The lid pops off and you quickly flick your blood within. And as the red mixes with the glowing green, you can faintly hear Uridimmu's low, guttural chuckling. The liquid, now containing part of you, is drawn through the tubes and towards the old man's corpse. Harold's busy hands pause as he senses something off. He whips his head towards you, his eyes bulging.

His teeth drawn back in a rictus, he hisses. "What did you-"

The corpse's tattoos glow with a blinding red light, shifting and undulating across the wizened skin like snakes writhing in their death throes. The light fades to black, and as both you and Harold watch aghast, the tattoos reform into chains seared across the wizened flesh. The old man's eyes and mouth open wide in a soundless scream, flame bursting from his orifices. Then, the room explodes in a fiery conflagration. The shockwave throws you against the wall and you crumple to the floor senseless.

Screams amidst fire.

Your father and your mother, in agony as they lay over you, trying to protect you even unto their deaths.

The flames eating into you, devouring your flesh, ever hungry.

Pain.

The pain.

It lances into your brain, banishing the oppressive, sweltering heat fogging your mind, and you open your eyes. Groggily, you attempt to scramble to your feet. The room is still on fire, and in the midst of it you see the old man standing upright. He is holding Harold up with one hand, fingers curled tightly around the young doctor's neck. The black chains across his body seem to be smoldering, and you can see wounds across his body - punctures and slices where it seems Harold had tried to fight back with his Astra. Still, the wounds are bloodless. Noticing that you have regained consciousness, the old man grins and drops Harold to the ground unceremoniously. Harold groans, unconscious but yet alive.

He chuckles, and speaks. You hear his voice both croaking from the corpse's lips and echoing in your head.

"You have my thanks for this vessel, boy."

Grimacing, you spit at him in reply. "You lied."

Uridimmu's smile widens, showing a full array of sharp teeth that you were sure the old man did not have before. "You wound me with your words. I certainly did not. Did I not say that things would not end well if you did not add your blood to that infernal mixture?"

Things certainly did not seem well right now. Sensing your displeasure, Uridimmu howls in mirth and shakes his creaky old head. "It would have been worse if you had not intervened. This city and its inhabitants would have been no more in a matter of moments. As it is, you certainly have prevented a true disaster by allowing me the temporary use of this fine vessel instead of... something else."

From the outside, you can hear faint screams.

"Alas, there are side effects to an impromptu summoning of my mighty soul without the proper containment. Pleasing as it is to the alternative, I suppose you humans might still find it troubling. Some of the dead now walk the earth, transformed after their bestial true self and giving into their baser instincts of wanton violence."

Uridimmu turns away from you, walking away. "But that is none of my concern. Ah, to be able to stretch my limbs after millennia... such joy it is... the hunt will be marvelous..." He seems to have no interest in explaining his future plans now that he has a body in the real world to work with.

You glare at his back as you try to understand what has happened, and what you should do first...

***

A. You need to find Elizabeth in her ward and make sure she is safe. She's still in the hospital, and the hospital is the most dangerous place to be right now.

B. You have to get to Rain first. She must still be sleeping in the orderlies' room and you need to retrieve her as soon as you can.

C. You stop Uridimmu from leaving. He started this mess and he is going to help you end it. You are not sure if you can talk him into helping you, but you are sure matters will be much simpler if he does.

Bedlam (II)

The Tome of Theseus allows you to track Elizabeth on your mental map. You sigh in relief; she still remains in the same room that she has lived in for the past few years. Hurrying out into the corridors, a strange feeling comes over you. It is as if the world has thinned, like ice on a winter lake melting away enough that one might glimpse that which swum in the dark depths of the waters beneath. Like it could crack with a single misstep. Flames flicker in and out of existence along the walls, and there is a thick, cloying, bestial stench in the air. You rush towards Elizabeth's ward. Despite the howls echoing in the distance, you don't run into anyone - or anything - on your way there. You reach the ward without any further incident and throw open the doors.

Elizabeth continues to slumber inside. Yet, bathed in the silvery moonlight, she looks paler than ever, yet somehow revitalized. Though her features remain gaunt, her hair seems to have regained some of its luster. The sight is enough to give you pause, but only for a moment. There is no time to waste. As you approach her bed, she opens her eyes and turns her head towards you. A dull glint of red dances in her dark pupils as she stares at your face. Was that always there?

"You... why are you here? Wait, where am I?" mutters Elizabeth.

"You're in the hospital," you reply uncertainly, not knowing what else to say.

"Oh, that's right, I've fallen ill, haven't I?"

She struggles to get up as you tell her that the hospital is no longer safe and that it might be better to evacuate.

"Trouble? Oh, would it be of that sort?" A cheeky grin flashes briefly and you are reminded of the energetic girl she once was, and the adventures you once had. Still, she seems in much better health today compared to recent months. "Wait... where's Rain?"

"We'll go get her right after this." You make to scoop her up in your arms but she shakes her head, indicating that she might be able to walk on her own.

Just then, you hear footsteps right outside the ward, accompanied by a deep, guttural breathing almost like a growl. Almost reflexively, you call upon the Astral Amulet of Akasha. The small silver disc manifests in front of you, hovering at the ready to block any attacks that may come.

The owner of the footsteps pokes its head around the doorframe, and then crawls into full view on all four limbs. Clearly, it was once human. The nose and mouth have elongated into a snout, from which a long, red tongue lolls amidst rows of sharp teeth. Straggly blonde hair hangs over its glistening blue eyes. Its legs have distorted and twisted into the hindlegs of a beast, yet the forearms remain unnervingly human. You can tell from the remaining tatters of clothing and her pendulous breasts that she once served as a nurse at this institute. She might even be someone you knew. She howls, in pain and in hunger, as she crawls towards you.

You have hunted animals aplenty and every bit of your instincts screams at you this: naught more than a beast. The former nurse, formerly human, is now nothing more than a voracious animal seeking its next meal. Poorly armed as you are, with nothing more than a small shield to defend yourself with, you know this will not be an easy obstacle.

Do as beasts do. Prey, or be preyed upon.

You can hear the Hound laughing in your mind, wherever he is. At the same time, you can sense a dark strength welling up within you, a power that seeps out through the thinness of the world and is thick with the stench of blood and beasts, of hunger and the hunt...

***

A. You tell Elizabeth to run for the door while you distract the beast.

B. You tell Elizabeth to stay behind you while you distract the beast.

---

1. You tap into the power freely; you will need every advantage you can get not only to survive, but to keep Elizabeth and Rain safe.

2. You tap into the power reservedly; however advantageous it may be, there may be a price you are not willing to pay. All you can do is try to minimize that price.

3. You refuse to tap into that power; nothing good ever comes of dealing with such things. The Hound being freed thanks to your actions is testament to that.

Bedlam (III)

Gesturing at Elizabeth to stay back, you silently position yourself between the beast and her. The ex-nurse looks at you, again with its gaze full of hunger and of agony, and she howls. Bounding towards you on all fours, she leaps at you. With Elizabeth at your back, you cannot afford to dodge. Your eyes narrow and your senses sharpen, the call of the hunt fills your veins, rushing along with the blood pounding in your ears... and you see the stones of the black pyramid lining the hospital walls even though it cannot be. Your new-found razor focus allows you to react faster than you ever could. You call upon the shield of Akasha. Given its small size, you know it would not hold against the beast bringing her full weight onto you. Instead, you grip the shield firmly, arms lowered, and as the lunging jaws reach for your neck you drive your fists upwards sharply, smashing the silvery metal into the underside of that ghastly head. It was a forceful blow that would have stunned or even knocked out most opponents.

Yet, the beast remains on her feet, snarling and drooling. Several serrated fangs tumble out of her mouth and clatter on the ward's floor, having been knocked loose by your attack. You do not give her any time for respite. This time, you charge her instead, your hands closing around her neck. You roar, primal strength surging through your limbs as you lift the beast up into the air, slamming her into the wall. She strikes back at you, flailing with her claws. The sharp nails slice open your face and body but to no avail. It will not save her. Gathering your strength, you focus all of it into your fingers, and twist. There is a sickening, cracking noise as her neck shatters in your grip. The beast's jaw slackens, her head hangs limp, and you let her drop to the floor.

As you let out a sigh, excruciating pain lances through your head. You fall to your knees and gasp for breath - the pain is gone as quickly as it came, and for a moment you wonder if you had imagined it.

"Your... eye..." murmurs Elizabeth, her concern made very clear through the furrows on her brow. She gestures at her right eye, staring at you, then realizes that it would be faster to just show you. "Right, a mirror... Mom gave me one and I had it around here..." Fumbling around the drawer, she brings out a handmirror and turns it towards you.

You see your face, fresh wounds across your cheek. But most alarming of all is your right eye. It has turned entirely black. As you lift a finger to it, touching your eye gently, you are surprised to find that it feels hard. Like stone. Yet, your vision remains unaffected... why is that, you wonder. You wait for a second, hoping for Uridimmu to make some chiding, mocking remark or another, but not a single howl of laughter can be heard from the Hound. He appears to be occupied elsewhere.

Shaking your head, you decide that there is nothing to be done about it - you do not know why it happened and how to cure it, and so you should set your mind to doing what is more important right now: escaping the hospital with Elizabeth and Rain.

You kneel with your back to Elizabeth and she hops on without any manner of reserve. Her bony body is light enough that it would not burden you to run around with her on your back.

"Wait, have you grown bigger?" she asks, her energy seemingly returning with every passing second.

"Yes," is your only response, and she frets. "Oh, that means Sophie must have grown even more! I don't think I've grown a single inch anywhere in the past year!"

Holding back a chuckle, you step out into the corridor after making sure that there is no one around. You're heading for Rain next. Though you trusted her to be able to hide if things got rough - you rather suspected that she was wiser than you, after all - it wouldn't do to leave her alone for too long. Breaking into a run, you make your way towards the nurse's room.

"Hey," whispers Elizabeth into your ear sweetly. Her lips are so close that you can feel the warmth of her breath tickling your face. "It's weird... but I'm sorta hungry. Sorry!"

And with no warning whatsoever, she closes her mouth over the side of your neck and bites, drawing blood. You can feel her sucking on the wound, her tongue teasing the incision made with her teeth, almost like a cat.

***

A. You let her suck her fill. You have enough blood to spare and while this is strange, this isn't the strangest thing that has happened to you even today.

B. You try to push her away. She's turned into an unholy blood-sucking vampire, for God's sake! This is not right!

***

Bedlam (IV)

After a short while, Elizabeth proclaims herself satisfied. “That was great!”

She hops down from your back, apparently well enough to move on her own. While you haven’t lost enough blood to affect you, you cast her a puzzled look. She is licking her lips clean of your blood, as if there was nothing strange at all about her sucking from your neck.

“Are you alright?” you ask, slowly, not knowing how to broach the subject.

Elizabeth speeds up to match your pace, walking besides you. “Never felt better! It’s like… like I’m finally awake at long last. I feel so alive!” She makes a show of punching the air with left and right jabs, giggling.

That giggle turns into an excited peal of girlish laughter as she spots another transformed beast turning the corner in front of you. From the tattered green uniform, you can tell it used to be an orderly, someone like you. Before you or the beast can react, she streaks towards it, her red hair trailing in her wake. Elizabeth’s fingers plunge deep into the former orderly’s belly and rips it apart. Blood and viscera spatter all over her and she wrinkles her nose over the dying monster. “Okay, now this stinks. Yours was better.” She giggles again.

The last time Elizabeth was excitably violent and giggly, she was drunk at the village’s harvest festival. Granted, she was not anywhere near as violent as she is now back then, but perhaps it is only a matter of scale. Or a matter of what she imbibed. Given the timing, it almost seems as if she has gotten drunk off your blood.

She bats her eyelashes at you slowly and exaggeratedly. “Oh, would you mind if I had some more-“

“No.” You reflexively place your hand over your neck and shake your head. “We need to hurry.”

“Mm, you’re no fun. Fine, let’s go get Rain,” she sighs.

It does not take long until you reach the room where Rain usually stays while you are on the night shift. Opening the door, you are greeted with a gruesome sight.

Not all of the hospital’s inhabitants had been turned into monsters. A nurse lies dead on the floor, her face half eaten, her throat ripped out and her guts spilled. Her ribcage has been caved in and cracked open. The floor is almost black, stained with clotted blood.

“You’re late!” With that as your sole warning, Rain drops down from a cubby-hole in the ceiling and lands right in your arms. Looking at the dead nurse sadly, she says, “Lisa let me hide up there. Then, they broke in.”

You nod silently. Despite the harrowing experience, Rain doesn’t seem any worse for the wear. Just then, Rain notices Elizabeth and her face brightens up. “Lizzie!”

“Heya!” grins Elizabeth in return. Her incisors don’t seem to be any longer than usual… you think.

“You seem better now! That’s good!”

The two girls seem to be in good spirits despite the hell that must be unfolding in the rest of the hospital… better than you are, at least. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and focus. For now, your priority is to make sure they survive this. Consulting the map you have, you try to determine the next best course of action.

***

A. You try to escape through the front gates. It is the shortest and most direct path you have out of the hospital. You might run into more of the turned, but you can handle them.

B. You try to escape through the back gates. While the route is longer, you will have more cover and places to conceal yourself on the way there.

C. You bunker down in your current position. An incident like this will not stay hidden for long – there will be a response from the Hunters in the city. You just have to wait until they arrive.

Bedlam (V)

The journey to the back gates was uneventful. What you saw there, however, is not.

Dead beasts are piled up before your eyes, their twisted bodies capturing the full agony of their demise. There has to be dozens of them here, which possibly explained just why your chosen route had been so uneventful.

Atop the small hill of corpses sits a pale man carefully wiping blood off his dagger with a handkerchief. He is dressed in a noble’s attire, seemingly unsuited for battle, though what stands out the most about his outfit is the elaborate golden collar around his neck, from which an elaborate insignia of a hanging ram dangles. His hair, long and black, frames his sallow, gaunt cheeks. The sunken little black pits that are his eyes swivel to look at you. His gaze flicks over at Rain, then at Elizabeth.

“What have we here?” His voice is a sharp, sibilant whisper. “Survivors?”

You quietly nod.

“Is that so? Then I suppose our Order would have to take you into custody, and question you, but…” The man sniffs the air, his nostrils flaring. “Inhumans… you stink of them.”

“So do you, sir, and you’re practically sitting right on top of them,” retorts Liz promptly albeit politely.

Being addressed directly by Liz seems to anger the man. His features twist into a sneering scowl. He raises his dagger. Its dark, wavy blade catches the moonlight, and even as untrained as you are, the raw power emanating from it raises your hackles. It has to be an Astra.

“Manners, girl. Speak only when I tell you to speak.”

He swings his dagger casually in her direction, a black, tarlike substance spraying from the blade as he does so. Liz dodges it easily with her newfound agility, lets out an all too confident snicker, and then charges at the man before you can warn her to stop. The man grins, the point of his dagger already awaiting her arrival. He jerks his hand forward swiftly, almost imperceptibly. That is all he needs to skewer her through the chest.

“Bah, just a fledgling bloodsucker,” he spits. By the time he pulls the wicked blade out of her, you have already set Rain down and rushed to Liz’s aid, but your haste earns you nothing more than a boot to the face. You tumble backwards, sprawling to the ground. Another swift kick from the man sends Liz’s body crashing into you before you can get up.

Twirling his dagger lightly, the man approaches you slowly. “Now, I am going to have a lot of questions for you, boy.”

Mist floods in, thick enough that it is almost suffocating. Soon enough, the man disappears from your view even as he lets out an angry snarl, reaching out for you.

“I was just taking a stroll in my favourite city in the entire Tower and what do I spy, hmm? Three children, lost yet again?”

He materializes out of the mist, as if he were always it, and it were always him. That portly, stout figure, dressed to the nines with a top hat almost comical, is something you would never forget.

John Bull looks down at you, grinning so widely that his jowls seem ready to tear apart.

“Hello again,” he says. “In a pickle of a spot, or perhaps a spot of a pickle, hm? Well, that is how boys should be! Rambunctious and adventurous, why, I dare say you remind me just a bit of myself when I was but a mere stripling.”

He twirls his cane, hooks its tip under the collar of Liz’s blood-soaked hospital gown, and lifts her in the air with a single hand. She groans weakly, her head lolling side to side.

“What are you-“ You sit up with a start and try to get Liz back, but John Bull shushes you. You feel the mist wrapping itself around your body, pressing you back down.

“Now now, let us not be hasty, hmmm? I believe that when we last met, we had a most pleasant conversation… and I told you about my most precious Astra. Hm, as always, I am a friend to all children, everywhere and anywhere. This time I extend to you an invitation to a place most wonderful, a place of fun and joy.”

You can feel Rain clinging to your back, hiding from John Bull. “He’s… scary…” she mutters. You glare at John Bull and ask, “Where is that place?”

“Some place wonderful, some place fun,” he repeats jovially. “It is a place that has left no child unsatisfied, if I do say so myself! Oh, our young vampiress here would not survive the night if the knightly orders had their way, too!” He swings Liz around by his cane, dangling her before you, just out of reach. Faced with the insistence of this supernatural entity, you find yourself almost instinctively reaching out for the Hound with your mind, hoping for some way out. But no reply is forthcoming.

“Oh, that old dog is in no position to interfere right now, nor would he be inclined to, really!” John Bull guffaws, seemingly knowledgeable about whatever you’re thinking. “Well then, boy, what will you do?”


***


A. You accept John Bull’s offer to bring the three of you to wherever this safe haven he has promised is.

B. You would rather take your chances with the man, and so you reject John Bull’s offer.

Bedlam (VI)


You state your refusal firmly, leaving no room for ambiguity.

“Oh, is that so. I suppose I can’t make you change your mind, hmm? Thought so. Pity.” John Bull shrugs his wide, rounded shoulders. “Well, well, the clock is a-ticking and I am afraid I am a very, very busy man, so do excuse me. Hm, this is not a method I would like to resort to, but if it needs be done…”

He makes a dramatic show of coughing, and when he speaks next, he sounds exactly like you do.

“Come with me, Elizabeth.”

Liz stirs, barely conscious, and mutters her approval.

John Bull grins, his mouth pulled apart so wide that you can see every sharp tooth. Before you can react, both he and Liz are already vanishing into the mist. A black dagger slices at the both of them, but too late. It does nothing more than disperse their already fading images. The mist disappears, revealing the angry knight. His face red and twisted in a mask of fury, he rushes at you and aims a hard kick at your jaw.

You are instantly floored by the blow, stars bursting behind your eyes. The man straddles you and presses one hand down on your throat, hard. “An acquaintance of the Cannibal Duke, are we?” he hisses, all venom. If you thought him hostile before, he seemed downright murderous now. “I should have known, given that devil’s eye of yours.”

The dagger pierces into your blackened eye with a sickening crack. The blade pulses, as if it was a living thing, and something foul begins pouring into the eye, melting it from inside out. You struggle but in vain, as he clamps down on your throat with his free hand and chokes you into silence. You are unable to even scream from the torturous pain, nothing but a grating rattle escaping your vocal cords.

“Let him go!” Trying to save you, Rain runs at him and earns nothing more than an elbow to her head for her troubles. She tumbles to the ground, unconscious and bleeding from her nose.

“I will purge you.” There is no mercy to be found in that voice. The grip around your throat tightens, the bones of your neck creaking. All strength has left you; there is a sickening poison flowing from where your eye used to be, the remnants of the melted eye.

“Antonio, stop! What are you doing to these children?”

A shout rings out. You can feel his grip loosening, and you gasp for breath.

The man, Antonio, stands up, the dagger dangling in his grip. “Children? They are barely even human, Commander, I had just burnt a devil’s orb out of that boy’s right eye socket. You left the back gates to me, claiming that those who would sneak out the back were the most suspicious. You were right, so let me deal with this. That’s why I am here.”

He is addressing another knight, dressed in what seemed to be a set of golden armor uncharacteristic of this modern day and age. You are unable to see the commander’s face, obscured as it is behind a shining helm. Behind him were half a dozen other knights, though these were dressed more similarly to the one who had taken your eye.

“Barely human is still human,” sighs the commander. “By the Council, we may only purge them on site if they have been fully proven to be inhumans.”

“Well, funny you should mention that, Commander. There was a bloodsucker here just now, and the Cannibal Duke too.”

“John Bull? What in the Tower was he doing all the way here!?”

The man glances at you, his gaze full of scorn and hatred.

“Does the boy know?” asks the commander quickly. “What were you thinking, executing a witness before a proper interrogation has been completed?”

“I doubt he could tell us anything useful,” shrugs Antonio in return. He has calmed down and sounds almost bored right now, his cold fury disappeared as cleanly as John Bull’s mists.

“From his clothes, it seems that he might be employed at this hospital… which means that he might know something about what that man has done.” The commander turns and looks at a stretcher being guarded by his subordinate knights. There is Harold, still breathing, still unconscious, and strapped firmly to the stretcher with no room to move. “Report to me exactly what happened, Antonio. Then I shall decide.”

You feel the tiny stirrings of strength creeping back into your body, bit by bit. It seems that they have underestimated your resilience. While Antonio is talking to his commander, no one is looking at you or Rain, who is still lying out cold on the ground. If you are to attempt an escape, as unlikely as it might be, this is your chance.

***

A. You attempt to escape. This might be the only opportunity you can get, seeing as you don’t think you’ll be able to talk your way out of anything.
1. You try to grab Rain before escaping. You aren’t about to leave her here, in their hands.
2. You try to escape alone. The daunting task of escape would be even more impossible while being burdened with her. You can always try to free her later.

B. You do not try to escape, and let the knights take you into custody. Whether or not they will put you to death, it is too risky to run right now.

What Goes Around

Quietly, slowly, you inch your body towards Rain, praying that they would not notice. The ground is wet, muddy with the ichor of the malformed beasts that the knights had slain. Rain’s blonde hair is plastered to her face with sweat and blood, her eyes shut. She seems to be unconscious still. Good, that would make it easier.

You reach out for her, slowly circling your hand around her waist, and draw her close to you. The knights are still talking, their gazes elsewhere. It would be too risky to make a break for it so close to them, and so you continue to shimmy on the ground, hoping that you can put enough of a distance between you and them. With Antonio’s attention turned to the commander of the knights, the back gates are left open. If you could just manage to get there, and slip into the streets of the city…

Rain groans unconsciously, enough to draw their attention.

“And there we have it. If they’re trying to run, then they must be guilty, Commander. Do I have permission?”

Moments before you are home free, Antonio speaks up. The golden knight sighs, and answers. “Very well, clean up this mess. The augurs have sensed the Black Hound’s paw in this, and we have no more time to waste.”

You curse, scrambling to your feet, holding Rain to you. You are close, so close, and if you break into a run here, you could still lose them before they catch up to you.

“Scatter, Claw of Achlys.”

The black mud that flowed freely from his dagger swirls and scatters at his command, evaporating into a dark cloud that flies towards you faster than you can run. If they underestimated your resilience, you certainly underestimated what they were truly capable of. Your instincts warn you that the dark mist is deadly, but with it closing in around you there is nothing else you can do.

“What’s… going on?”

Rain, regaining her consciousness and still groggy, looks up at you. You look back, and not for the first time tonight, remember the fire and the flames. What your father and mother did. That you survived, and your sister died.

Your body moves by itself and you throw yourself over Rain, shielding her with your body. The mist falls upon you in its entirety. The start is gradual, a tingling, itching sensation upon your skin, but soon it turns into pure, excruciating pain. Pain enough for you to scream. The mist melts through your clothes, eats through your skin, stripping flesh from bone. Rain, nestled underneath you as you curl around her even more tightly despite the pain, is showered in your blood. Staring at your ravaged body, she shakes her head and tries to push you off her, to stop you, but you hold fast. You hold fast, even as the mist decomposes your flesh, spilling part of your guts.

In her desperation.

She screams.

And the Tower answers.

There is a great rumbling both in the ground and in the air, followed swiftly by a loud, cracking noise that splits the world.

You hear Antonio shriek in fear, and his commander shout out in disbelief.

What happens next… you are not sure. Everything spins around and crashes together. Amidst the pain your consciousness winks in and out, though there remains a single constant that sticks in your mind. Joyful, mirthful laughter. The Hound’s laughter, in the darkness. Cackling and barking, and utterly satisfied.

When the merry-go-round of destruction ceases, somehow, you are alive. Half rotten, half melted, but breathing. Yet a visage of hell greets your eyes. The once thriving city of New Vienna is ruins, as far as the eye can see. Strange, twisted structures have pierced up through the ground, pushing aside the man-made buildings that humanity has taken such pride in, even the greatest of which look puny in comparison to these thorny spires. A great, black sun hangs in crimson space, burning like a baleful dark eye. Far above it, the sky has split apart, showing the crumbling remnants of the floor above, tumbling down to this level.

In front of you, Rain floats, her eyes fixed upon the black sun. Her golden locks have been bleached silver, and they stretch out far past below her legs, waving like the tendrils of some unfathomable sea creature. The world continues to rumble, twisting and groaning. As if the Tower itself were a writhing, giant worm.

You call out to Rain, but she does not respond.

Not far away, you see the knights… or at least, what is left of them. It is an exceedingly strange sight. Parts of them are peeking out of the ruins. Here an arm buried in the wall. There, half a face embedded in a pillar. Antonio’s face was found amongst these, and he was still alive. He was screaming, struggling, but all that availed to was his skin of his face ripping away from the stone that he was buried in.

And then, there was the commander. He had somehow managed to escape the worst of it, though not unscathed. One of his arms was missing. His helmet was lost, revealing a young man with tousled black hair, who could not have been ten years older than you. His gaze was firmly fixed upon Rain, full of resolve, and he was chanting.

“Sancta Mater, istud agas.”

He places his hand on the ground, fingers firmly gripping the dirt. Then, he draws from the earth a spear. An unassuming, normal spear, of wood and iron.

“Crucifixi fige plagas.”

Yet, he chants. The chant echoes, solemn and mournful. He raises the spear high, tears of fervor streaming down his face as a pillar of divine light shrouds him.

“Cordi meo valide.”

He pulls his remaining good arm back, preparing to hurl it at Rain. Time itself seems to slow down as he does so.

And so here we are, child.

In front of you floats a black, wicked spear, glowing with a purple as vile as the commander’s spear is holy. Was it the same spear from all those years ago? It no longer mattered.

Take it, and you might just be able to return the Key to the Lock. Though do so, knowing that you will no longer be yourself.

Uridimmu chuckles.

Regardless, I have already won.

***

A. With the last of your strength, you scramble in front of Rain and shield her from the spear. The Astra of the silver shield is still with you, and it might do some good here. No matter what happens to you, you refuse to give Uridimmu the satisfaction of having his prediction come true.

B. You accept Uridimmu’s offer. Though you may no longer be yourself, if there is a chance to save Rain and survive, you will take it. As Uridimmu puts it, he has already won. Then, perhaps you should align with the winning side.

C. You do not interfere. You are already exceedingly lucky to have survived the black mist, and to push yourself here might spell your doom. You do not know what the spear would do, and who is to say it would harm Rain?

As the Long Dream Ends


Sturdy though you may be, your body is practically falling apart. You don’t even think all your organs are inside you anymore. Your sight is fading, your sensations growing numb.

Yet, you move.

You push yourself, straining your trembling limbs. As if answering to your will, the Astral Amulet shines. Countless small, silver discs begin to manifest, each the size of a coin. They swarm your body, taking the place of bone and muscle where there are now none. They cover your heart, constricting and squeezing it to force what blood you have left throughout your body. They clamber into your spine, taking the place of your nerves, conducting the bioelectricity necessary for movement. Swathed in shields, you rise.

Stubborn to the end.

So be it. That too is humanity.

I shall savour the sight of your last stand.

That is the last you hear from the Hound.

And you move.

Not in a dashing gait, nor an elegant run. You stumble awkwardly, yet speedily, propelled forward by the shields to stand between Rain and the knight commander.

“Let divine blood be spilled, O Spear of Destiny.”

As those words leave the commander’s lips, he hurls the spear. It flies straight for Rain at tremendous speed, faster than you can react. For a moment it seems that it would soar right past you, leaving you helpless to defend her. Then, the spear swerves. It slams into your side, piercing right past the numerous silver shields that coated your skin like scales, digging deep in between your ribs and lifting you off the ground with the impact. Yet it does not pierce through you. The Astral Amulet continues to draw upon your life and your desire to protect. With the spear lodged firmly in your body, you get back to your feet, glaring at the commander.

He shakes his head in disbelief. His countenance is pale, and sweat runs down his cheeks. Throwing that spear seems to have taken a lot out of him. Without saying another word, he makes a gesture. The holy spear slides out of you and back into his hands. The sudden withdrawal of the spear sends you to one knee, but no blood pours out of the gaping wound left behind. The wound has already been filled in by the little silver discs. They grow and multiply… almost as if alive. You can feel them slowly climbing up the insides of your neck, creeping towards your brain. What would happen when they reach it? You do not know. All you can do is stand your ground for as long as you can.

The commander steps forth, seemingly acknowledging you as an obstacle that needs to be removed before he can get to Rain.

“No! Let me do this!”

A sick, wet, ripping noise accompanies Antonio’s scream as he tears himself free from the pillar, leaving what seems to be most of his skin behind in tattered rags dangling from the gray stone. He staggers between you and the commander, almost as if to protect him just like you are protecting Rain.

“You’ll need to throw the Lance of Longinus once more… to get to the little devil… wouldn’t you?” Antonio breathes heavily, his eyes fixed upon you. “I’ll buy you the time you need to gather your strength…. Can’t fail here… if we do… everyone living in the Tower is as good as dead… to these damnable inhumans…”

“…Alright. I’m counting on you.” The knight commander nods.

Once again you face the wicked knight. He seems almost as dead as you are; with the amount of blood dripping from his near skinless body, it seems that likely that he would bleed out if you could hold on for long enough.

This time, there is no sneering, no murderous anger. Antonio is cold and focused, pointing his dagger ahead of him. He comes in to strike, as fast as a snake. The first jab comes from your left. You step in and knock the dagger aside with your shielded forearm, the silver scales tinkling musically as they hit against the flat of the black blade. From your right, high above, comes the second swing, in a movement as practiced and as elegant as a dancer’s. This you block rather clumsily, forced to rely upon your will to move the shields controlling your muscles rather than any reflexes of your own. The force of his attack is great enough that your blocking arm bends inward from the impact. Your shields hold, preventing his blade from taking your arm and your head off entirely. The dagger pulls away, slicing your cheek open in the process but doing no further harm. And you feel no further pain, as the silver shields reinforce your certainly broken arm and fill in the gash on your cheek.

You retaliate by throwing a punch at him, which grazes his bloody cheek and tears away even more of his face. Caught off balance by your blow, you take the opportunity to sink another punch right into his abdomen. Antonio groans in pain, stumbling. Yet he does not back away or disengage. In fact, he tumbles forward, lashing out with his dagger. It slips past your defenses and sinks into your belly, too fast for you to dodge.

“Scatter!” he hisses right in your face, as he grabs the back of your neck with his free hand to prevent you from pulling away. The black mist that had ate away you is released once again, this time directly into your body. The Astral Amulet gets to work faster than it ever has, manifesting more and more of the shields to encircle and push away the mist. For every shield eroded by the mist, another takes its place. For every shield manifested in response to this deadly mist, you can feel more and more of your body being taken away, converted into fuel for their creation. And for every piece of your body eaten away, more shields multiply, taking their place.

You slam your head into Antonio’s own, breaking his teeth. Yet he keeps his hold onto you, growling ferally. “Can you even call yourself human anymore? Looking like-”

“I don’t care.” You headbutt Antonio once more, interrupting him. His eyes roll back into his head for a moment, but his grip does not falter, and soon he recovers himself. Cruel and vicious he may be, but you have to admit that the man is driven. Deciding to take a different approach, you grab his dagger-wielding wrist with both hands. You scream, and squeeze. The discs multiply in your fingers, replacing your worn tendons with shining silver, strong enough to shatter bone. Antonio’s wrist cracks and folds like a twig.

You tear his hand from your body, with the dagger still in a death grip, and force it towards him instead. The dagger plunges into his heart.

As Antonio’s body falls to the ground, you stagger. You can’t think right anymore. What were you supposed to do here? You can’t see right anymore. What is there in front of you, that light shining through the haze? You can’t hear right anymore. Whose voice is that, and what are they saying?

The light grows stronger, seemingly closer. It is sheer power, infused with holiness that sears the scales from your body even from such distance. All you can manage to do now is to stand upright. Walking would be out of the question. In your addled, failing mind, the only thing that you understand is this: the light cannot be allowed to reach Rain.

So, you catch it. You embrace it, pulling it towards you. It lifts you off the ground once more, but this time you do not fall to the ground. The light spreads inside you, burning away everything that you are, forcing your arms outstretched and your back straight. Yet you take it in, turning over all you have to the Astral Amulet. You will let yourself be the shield, one last time.

The silver shield encloses the light, smothering it.

And then, there is nothing left.


***


You see a long, long dream. Of family, of friends, of a life that was. This you dream, as you fall ever upwards.

Past New Vienna, once bustling and full of life and now filled with nothing but the screams of the dying.

Past the peaceful fields and pastures where nothing but cows and sheep roam.

Past the small and sleepy Scotsfield, where Sophie is teaching the younger children how to read and write.

Past the scorching desert where the Al’tayyih wander.

Past the jungle, in which Tlalli is tidying up her little outpost.

Past a strange and twisted mansion, where Elizabeth slumbers.

Past gates and mountains, and more strange landscapes galore.

As you continue to fall, everything darkens, as if night has fallen.

Yet darkness is not all there is.

At the end of your fall, before you awaken from your dream and vanish into the dawn, there is a star, bright… and terrible.

It seems to be awaiting you, as it awaits the souls of all who live and die in the Tower.

It waits to judge, or perhaps to be joined.

Should Father McClellan have seen it, he would surely have fallen to his knees…

And proclaimed it to be God.



--END--