The fire had burned low, leaving behind little more than glowing embers, their faint light flickering against the surrounding trees. Most of the camp had long since drifted into sleep, but Geschicht lay awake, staring up at the shifting patterns of leaves overhead.

Sleep eluded him, as it often did when the world was too still. The sounds of nocturnal creatures rustling in the underbrush, the distant hoot of an owl, and the quiet breathing of his companions should have been comforting, but his mind refused to settle.

"You’re restless."

Geschicht turned his head and found Jelle standing nearby, arms crossed. Even in the dim light, her emerald-tinged skin reflected the moon’s glow in a way that made her seem almost unreal. She tilted her head slightly, studying him.

Geschicht blinked. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Jelle took another exaggerated chomp on the twig, then spat a piece of bark into the fire. “Hah. Figures. You got that look.”

“What look?”

“The ‘I’m thinking too hard and making myself miserable’ look.” She jabbed a finger at him. “Dangerous condition. Very tragic. Might turn you into an old man before your time.”

Geschicht let out a short laugh. “That bad, huh?”

Jelle nodded sagely, plopping down cross-legged beside him. “Absolutely. We’ll have to take drastic measures.”

He eyed her warily. “Like what?”

Without a word, Jelle reached into her sleeve and pulled out… a single mushroom. She held it up like it was some grand treasure.

“…What.”

She grinned. “Eat this.”

“Why?”

“It’ll help.”

“You just pulled it out of your sleeve.”

“Yeah.”

“How long has it been in there?”

Jelle tilted her head, considering. “…Don’t know.”

Geschicht squinted at the mushroom, then at her. “That’s not reassuring.”

Jelle snorted and popped the mushroom into her own mouth instead, chewing with great enthusiasm. “See? Perfectly safe.” She swallowed dramatically. “Unless I start seeing colors that aren’t real. Then we might have a problem.”

Geschicht shook his head with a chuckle. “You’re… unique.”

“Thank you,” she said, wiping her hands on her pants before stretching her arms behind her head. “Anyway, if you can’t sleep, do something. Run around the camp, recite weird poems, poke Hauke with a stick—”

“Why would I do that?”

Jelle smirked. “To see how long it takes him to notice.”

Geschicht snorted, shaking his head. “I’ll pass.”

She sighed. “Your loss.” Then, as if suddenly remembering something, she leaned in and whispered, “But seriously, try not to overthink things. You’re not gonna solve life’s mysteries by staring at the stars all night.”

Geschicht glanced up at the sky again, the weight on his chest feeling just a little lighter. “…Yeah. You’re right.”

Jelle clapped him on the back—hard enough to make him jolt. “Of course I am! Now, if you’re still up in an hour, I’m throwing my boot at you.”

“That’s violent.”

She grinned, wiggling her fingers like some mischievous trickster. “Only out of love.”

And with that, she flopped onto her bedroll, mumbling something about “perfectly normal mushrooms” as she drifted off.

Geschicht chuckled to himself, shaking his head. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should just get up and do something instead of wrestling with his thoughts.

“May I ask something?” he said, his voice breaking the comfortable silence.

Jelle, who had been idly twirling a twig between her fingers, looked up. “Sure, go ahead.”

Geschicht hesitated for a moment before asking, “How did you and your team meet?”

Jelle smirked, tilting her head towards Hauke, who sat a short distance away, sharpening his sword with practiced ease. “That one? I met him when he was just seven. Stoic then, stoic now.”

She chuckled to herself, leaning back on her palms as she recalled the memory. “I found him in the backstreets of a poor town, during a mission to help cultivate the fields and clear out some monsters. Scrawny kid, covered in dirt, but gripping a sword like his life depended on it.” She motioned toward Hauke’s weapon. “The same one you saw him use to kill that owlbear.”

Geschicht raised a brow. “That was his sword even back then?”

Jelle nodded. “A fine blade, much too grand for a kid dressed in rags. I figured he must’ve stolen it, but when I asked, he just looked at me—silent, stubborn. And then he followed me.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “No words, no questions—just kept walking behind me like a shadow. At first, I thought he was just curious. Then a day passed. Then two. I kept expecting him to disappear, but he never did.”

Jelle leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Now that I think about it… he’s been following me for twenty-five years.”

Geschicht glanced at Hauke, who continued sharpening his sword as if he hadn’t heard a single word. The firelight reflected off the blade’s edge, catching in the night air.

“…And he never told you why?” Geschicht asked.

Jelle grinned. “Not in words, no.”

Hauke finally spoke, his voice even, calm. “I had nowhere else to go.”

Jelle’s grin widened. “See? Stoic then, stoic now.”

Hauke, ever the man of few words, simply lay down and turned away, drifting off to sleep without another word. The rhythmic sound of his steady breathing soon joined the crackling of the campfire.

Jelle, still grinning, shifted her attention toward Uwe, who was sprawled out near the fire, snoring lightly. She pointed at him with a lazy flick of her wrist. “Now, that one is special in a different way.”

Geschicht raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh?”

Jelle leaned forward with a smirk. “The first time I met Uwe, he was making a complete fool of himself in front of The Jester Association’s Section 4 headquarters. He thought he had the perfect plan to get himself hired—by loudly spilling sensitive information about the people working there. He stood in front of their building, just ranting away, listing off names, affiliations, personal details... Thought it would impress them somehow.”

Geschicht blinked. “He… what?”

Jelle laughed, covering her mouth. “I know, right? He actually believed that uncovering their secrets would make them want to take him in. But, as you can guess, it didn’t exactly work out in his favor. Instead of getting recruited, he nearly got himself thrown into a ditch.”

She glanced at Uwe’s sleeping form with amusement. “I had no intention of stepping in at first—I was just there to deliver a report—but he was making such a mess of things that I couldn’t help myself. So I pulled him out of the mess before he got himself into real trouble.”

Geschicht tilted his head. “And you just took him in?”

Jelle stretched her arms with a satisfied sigh. “Why not? He was reckless, loud, and completely out of his mind… but he was also clever in his own strange way. He made me laugh, and I figured, if nothing else, it’d be fun having him around.”

She chuckled, watching as Uwe shifted in his sleep, mumbling something incoherent. “And honestly? I wasn’t wrong.”

Jelle pointed a finger toward Liselotte, who was curled up in her blanket, her face peaceful in sleep. A mischievous glint sparked in Jelle’s eyes as she smirked.

“And then there’s our little Liselotte,” she mused. “Uwe picked her up off the streets like a drenched cat in the rain. One day, he just strolled into our [House] building with her in tow, acting like he’d found some lost pet and was waiting for someone to adopt her.”

Geschicht’s lips twitched. “And you just… let him bring in strays?”

Jelle chuckled. “Well, it wasn’t like we were going to toss her back out. She was quiet, nervous, barely able to look anyone in the eye, but there was something about her... something Uwe must have noticed before any of us did.” She glanced at Liselotte’s sleeping form with a small, fond smile.

“It’s only been a few weeks since she joined us, but she’s already proved herself. She’s got talent, no doubt about it. Quick on her feet, sharp instincts—when it comes to battle, she doesn’t hesitate. But outside of a fight?” Jelle let out a light laugh. “Her shyness gets in the way more often than not. Poor thing trips over her own words like a toddler learning to walk.”

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Geschicht looked over at Liselotte, watching the soft rise and fall of her breathing. “She doesn’t seem like the type to be a fighter.”

Jelle shrugged. “Most people wouldn’t think so at first glance. But looks can be deceiving. Give her a reason to stand her ground, and she’s a force to be reckoned with.” She smirked. “Just don’t expect her to get through a full sentence without mixing up her words at least once.”

As the embers of the fire dimmed, Jelle let out a long yawn and stretched, her arms reaching toward the night sky. "Well, that's enough reminiscing for one night," she murmured, lying back onto the ground. "Try to get some sleep, Geschicht. Morning comes faster than you think."

Geschicht nodded, though he remained seated for a while longer, watching the flickering remains of the campfire. Eventually, he lay down, staring up at the stars until sleep finally took him.

Morning arrived with the chirping of birds and the golden light of dawn filtering through the trees. The camp stirred to life, with Uwe groggily rubbing his eyes and Liselotte quietly tending to the fire, summoning her tiny flames to warm what little remained of their rations.

Jelle stood. "Alright, everyone up! We’ve got a long way to go before reaching Dämmerburg, and I’d rather not crawl into the city by nightfall.”

Hauke was already strapping his sword to his side, while Geschicht and Harriet packed up their belongings. Soon, the group was back on the road, their boots crunching against the dirt path as they moved forward, the morning air crisp with the scent of damp earth and fresh leaves.

"Another day, another road," Uwe sighed dramatically, throwing an arm over Liselotte’s shoulder. She promptly ducked out from under it, her face flushing as she hurried ahead, much to Uwe’s amusement.

Jelle smirked as she glanced back at Geschicht and Harriet. "Hope you two don’t mind sticking with us a little longer. Dämmerburg’s still a few days away”

With that, the group continued down the road, the rising sun casting their shadows long across the path ahead.

The morning mist had begun to lift, leaving behind a fresh scent of earth and dew. The group walked in easy silence, their steps steady, save for Uwe, who occasionally kicked a loose pebble just to hear it skitter along the path.

Jelle walked at the front, humming a tune under her breath, while Hauke kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings. Geschicht and Harriet trailed slightly behind, the former adjusting his satchel while the latter flexed his unseen spectral hands beneath his gloves.

“So, what’s Dämmerburg like?” Harriet finally broke the silence, glancing toward Jelle.

The Eldruun woman slowed her pace slightly, as if weighing her answer. “It’s a fortress city, built along the edge of a great river. The walls are old but strong, and the people are just as resilient. There’s a large market square, always bustling with traders from different regions.” She smirked. “And a tavern with the best honey mead you’ll ever taste.”

“You would mention that first,” Hauke muttered.

“Of course,” Jelle grinned. “A place is only as good as its drinks.”

“I heard Dämmerburg’s got a lot of underground tunnels,” Uwe chimed in, stretching his arms behind his head. “Some say there’s an entire city beneath the city, a whole labyrinth of forgotten passageways.”

"That’s not just a rumor," Jelle said, glancing back at him. “Most of those tunnels were built ages ago as escape routes and storage spaces. But over time, well… things got lost down there. Old things. Dangerous things.”

Liselotte shivered slightly. “Monsters?”

Jelle waved a hand dismissively. “Not the kind you think. More like… remnants. Magic gone wild, artifacts that shouldn’t be disturbed. Most people don’t go poking around down there unless they’ve got a death wish.”

“That just makes it sound more interesting,” Geschicht spoke with great interest.

Jelle chuckled. “Spoken like a true fool.”

The conversation continued, shifting from stories of Dämmerburg to idle chatter about past travels. By midday, the sun hung high in the sky, and the road ahead stretched onward, disappearing into the horizon.

“Let’s stop soon and rest,” Hauke suggested, adjusting his sword. “No point in pushing ourselves too hard before we reach the city.”

Jelle nodded. “Agreed. We’ll find a good spot to set up, then move again once we’re ready.”

With that, the group pressed on, the journey to Dämmerburg still unfolding ahead of them.

____________

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting long shadows over the road, the towering walls of Dämmerburg finally came into view. The fortress city stood proud against the landscape, its stone barriers weathered but unwavering. The river that ran alongside it shimmered under the afternoon light, its waters reflecting the city’s many spires and turrets.

“Finally,” Uwe groaned, rolling his shoulders. “I was starting to think this road had no end.”

“It’s only been a few days,” Hauke replied dryly.

“Exactly! Days.”

As they neared the city gates, the hum of activity grew louder. Merchants guided wagons loaded with goods, travelers lined up to enter, and guards clad in steel stood watch, their eyes sweeping over the new arrivals.

Jelle, as usual, led the way, striding forward with the ease of someone who had done this countless times before. “Keep close. The guards can be a little strict, but as long as we don’t look suspicious, we won’t have trouble.”

“Great,” Harriet muttered. “I definitely don’t look suspicious at all.” He adjusted his sleeves and gloves subtly, ensuring the illusion of arms remained intact.

When they reached the gate, one of the guards stepped forward. He was a burly man with a trimmed beard and a sharp gaze. “State your business in Dämmerburg.”

Jelle handed over a set of documents, neatly rolled and sealed with the insignia of [The Innocent Association]. The guard took them, breaking the seal before scanning the contents. His brow furrowed slightly as he flipped through the parchment.

"The Kopflos, under The Innocent Association..." he muttered, his eyes flicking toward the group. After a moment, he looked at Geschicht and Harriet, his expression shifting into something more inquisitive. "And these two? They’re not listed as part of your House."

Geschicht opened his mouth to answer, but before he could get a word out, Jelle casually stepped forward with a disarming smile.

"They’re traveling with us," she said smoothly. "New recruits, you could say. We're taking them under our wing for now."

The guard eyed them both for a long moment, his gaze lingering on Harriet’s gloves and long sleeves. He seemed to consider pressing further but ultimately let out a breath and nodded. "Very well. Keep them out of trouble."

"Wouldn’t dream of it," Jelle replied, retrieving the papers as she led the group past the gate.

As they stepped into the city, the scent of fresh bread, roasting meat, and the faint tang of metal from a blacksmith’s forge filled the air. The streets bustled with merchants, travelers, and townsfolk, their voices blending into a lively hum. Stone buildings, some old and worn, others newer but steeped in history, lined the winding roads.

“So,” Geschicht said, taking in the scene, “where to first?”

Jelle grinned, stretching her arms. “First, we find an inn. Then, we eat.”

No one argued with that.

As they wove through the busy streets of Dämmerburg, the group’s pace naturally slowed. The scent of spiced meats and freshly baked bread led them to a cozy-looking inn tucked between two taller buildings. A wooden sign creaked above the entrance, displaying the name The Resting Hart alongside a faded carving of a reclining deer.

Inside, the warmth of a crackling hearth greeted them, along with the low hum of conversation from scattered patrons. They found a large table near the back, settling in as a server arrived with a welcoming smile.

"House special today is roasted boar with root vegetables," she said. "Or if you're looking for something lighter, we've got fresh bread, cheese, and stew."

Jelle leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands. “Boar sounds good. Enough for the whole table, please.”

Harriet tapped his gloved fingers against the wooden surface. “And something sweet if you’ve got it.”

“Apple tarts just came out of the oven,” the server offered.

Harriet nodded, clearly pleased. “Then I’ll take two.”

As the server left, there was a moment of comfortable silence before Hauke exhaled, shaking his head. “I swear, getting through the city gates is the worst part of arriving anywhere.”

“Annoying, isn’t it?” Jelle said with a knowing smirk.

“Beyond annoying,” Hauke muttered. “Papers, questioning, inspections—if you’re not with a recognized group, they’ll wring you out with a hundred useless questions.” He glanced at Geschicht and Harriet. “Honestly, you two got lucky with Jelle stepping in. Would’ve taken you twice as long if you had to explain yourselves properly.”

Geschicht blinked. “Really?”

“Trust me,” Hauke said, leaning back in his chair. “Guards love making lone travelers sweat.”

“Sounds like a pain,” Harriet commented, idly adjusting his sleeve. “Guess we owe you one, Jelle.”

Jelle waved him off. “Don’t worry about it. Consider it a parting gift.”

Uwe stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh. “Been a while since we had a proper meal in a proper town, huh?”

“Not that long,” Hauke replied, resting his arms on the table. “We ate well enough on the road.”

“Yeah, but it’s different,” Uwe countered. “Food always tastes better when you don’t have to make it yourself.”

Geschicht chuckled. “You didn’t even cook. Hauke and I did.”

“Exactly my point,” Uwe said with a grin.

The laughter faded into a more contemplative quiet, and after a moment, Jelle leaned back in her chair, exhaling. “Well, I suppose this is where we part ways.”

Harriet, who had been focused on adjusting his sleeves, looked up. “Already?”

Jelle nodded. “We have business here in Dämmerburg, and I’m guessing you two have your own plans.”

Geschicht hesitated. “I suppose so...” He glanced at Harriet, who simply shrugged.

Liselotte, who had been quiet up until now, fiddled with the hem of her sleeve before speaking up. “It was nice traveling together.”

Harriet smirked. “You’re not getting rid of us that easily. We’ll probably run into each other again.”

Jelle grinned. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Just then, the food arrived, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics—stories about past travels, odd encounters on the road, and, of course, Uwe's exaggerated story of drinks. It was a warm, easy moment, the kind that made parting feel a little less final.

For now, they would eat, rest, and go their separate ways. But in a world as vast and unpredictable as theirs, who knew when their paths would cross again?

Geschicht and Harriet settled into their room for the night. The small wooden inn was cozy, if a bit cramped, with a single flickering lantern casting long shadows on the walls. Harriet, already half-buried in the blankets, let out a sigh.

“This bed’s nice,” he mumbled sleepily. “Better than the ground.”

Geschicht chuckled, sitting on the edge of his own bed. “You say that every time we sleep indoors.”

“Because it’s true.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence, save for the muffled sounds of the city nightlife beyond the window. Harriet was the first to drift off, his steady breathing filling the space. Geschicht lay awake for a while longer, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Eventually, sleep claimed him as well.

Beneath the bustling streets of Dämmerburg, in the labyrinthine tunnels of the city’s underground, a dimly lit chamber echoed with hushed voices. The air was damp, thick with the scent of stone and something metallic—blood.

A group of figures stood around a massive wooden table, its surface covered in parchment, strange symbols, and maps marked with crimson ink. A single candle flickered, casting eerie shadows on their faces.

“The preparations are nearly complete,” one of them said, their voice smooth but laced with cold certainty. “The city won’t even realize what’s happening until it’s too late.”

Another figure scoffed. “We shouldn’t waste time. The longer we wait, the more unpredictable things become.”

A hand slammed onto the table, silencing the discussion. The leader’s voice cut through the darkness.

“This is not impatience. This is precision. And soon, Dämmerburg will be exactly as it should be.”

Their eyes shifted toward the far end of the chamber, where a circular stone slab lay embedded in the ground, etched with ancient markings. Dust and time had buried its true purpose, but they knew better.

One of them stepped closer, tracing the runes with gloved fingers. “The ruin must be reactivated if we are to claim a piece of the Great Artist’s Corpse.”

Another figure muttered, adjusting their stance as if the weight of their ambition pressed down on them. “A single piece… and we will ascend beyond our limits. But this city stands in our way.”

“The city is nothing,” the leader replied. “The ruin is all that matters. Once awakened, the Great Artist’s Corpse will grant us what we seek—power beyond names, beyond fate.”

The leader’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile as they stepped closer to the ruin. Their fingers traced the ancient markings with reverence, as if feeling the weight of history pressing against their skin.

"23rd Finger will be pleased with this gift," they murmured, their voice carrying a mix of devotion and anticipation.

The others stiffened at the name, their eyes dark with fervor. One by one, they pressed their hands to their chests, heads bowing slightly.

Then, in perfect unison, they spoke—no, they chanted, their voices weaving together like a solemn hymn whispered through time.

"Let the finger of obsession guide us, for it is the will of the unseen!"

The cavern walls seemed to tremble at their declaration, the flickering candlelight stretching their shadows into twisted shapes along the stone.

The ruin, silent for centuries, pulsed once more.