Chapter 52: Snug as a Bug

“Spinemess, stop it!” I screamed. “Don’t let it get to my Core!”

Needles instantly grew out of Spinemess’s bark-skin body. They took position before the hearth–arms and stance wide–like a cactus trying to be a soccer goalie.

The domovoy yelped and diverted course. The creature somehow dived under the couch–an impossible feat for something of that size–disappearing from view, as if it was shrinking down to fit the enclosed space. Half a second later it emerged from beneath the couch as a fuzzy blur, then immediately dived under the rug next to the hearth. A bulge in the material the size of a cat slithered between the dryad's feet. The creature sprung up from beneath the rug, right in front of my Core.

There was nothing I could do to stop it.

I hadn’t even had time to pull up my menu to toggle on my Aura.

Tiptap and both her copycats were suddenly there, singing a beautiful hissing chorus and swiping at the domovoy.

The creature yelped. “NO NO NO,” it screamed. “DON’T SEE ME!”

I heard you the first time, lady! What do you want me to do?

The domovoy changed course. It scampered up the brick hearth like an oversized rat, then leapt into the ceiling rafters.

I could hardly see it. It was too fast; too insubstantial at times.

All I could see was a vaguely humanoid shape. Which promptly dive bombed into the kitchen.

All the cupboards banged open in sequence. Dishes went flying. Various pots and pans fell from their hooks in the kitchen, clashing and banging loudly. Then all the cupboard doors slammed shut simultaneously.

There was a brief second of silence.

Which Jimbo-no broke without hesitation. “What the FUCK was that, Granny?”

“NO SWEARING!” A muffled voice rang out from the pantry. “NO SHOES INSIDE!”

“A domovoy,” I said.

“A… what?” Spinemess asked.

“Fuck you, ya ratty ass bastard! I’ll speak however I damn well please!”

The creature screeched horribly. Then a shape launched itself from the cupboard.

“It’s coming your way, Jimbo-no!” I yelled. “Catch it!”

“Got it! Ah, fuck, no I don’t.”

It latched onto Jimbo-no’s leg.

“GIVE ME. YOUR. SHOE,” the creature cried.

“Ah fuck! Let go! No!” Jimbo-no leapt forward, hand reaching out towards the retreating domovoy. Stumbling forward on only one leg, he crashed to the floor. “No! Come back! BRING ME BACK MY PEGLEG!”

The domovoy disappeared under the rug again. My rocking chair tipped to the side as it passed underneath.

Mischief went into hot pursuit. The cat followed after, slashing up the rug with shadowy claws. But the domovoy was moving too fast even for her.

“It’s coming back to the Core!” Spinemess raised all four hands. Thin needles shot out of their palms.

Somehow the creature dodged the barrage and popped out from under the rug. Only to immediately clamber up the hearth again. It threw Jimbo-no’s peg into the fireplace, before jumping into the rafters again.

“What the fuck!” Jimbo-no yelled. “WHY?”

“NO SHOES INDOORS!” It shouted as it shook the rafters. Bits of thatching fell.

“I needed that, asshole!”

“NO SWEARING!”

The System sent me another alert.

Can’t you see that I’m trying, lady? Stop yelling at me!

Why was this creature so hard for me to see?

“It’s runnin’ circles ‘round us!”

“It’s got a pot,” Spinemess commented. “And a pan…”

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The domovoy began banging a pot and pan together. “NO HEARTH? NO OVEN? BAD. BAD. ALL OF YOU. BAD CHILDREN!”

“What do you want?” I demanded. I couldn’t hear myself think over the racket it was making and the System notifications blasting through my brain like a fire alarm.

“OVEN. HEARTH.” The creature replied. "HOME!”

“We don’t have an oven, dipshit.” Jimbo-no said.

It screeched. It continued banging the cookware together.

Well, that didn’t sound good.

“Stop swearing, Jimbo-no. You’re making it angry,” I said.

“It was already angry!”

“Can you see it, Spinemess?” I asked.

“No. But Rinafen can.”

“Really? That’s … oh!”

What did the description for the Kikimora say? That she was some sort of domestic swamp spirit?

That explained it! That was why it was so hard to see! The domovoy could become ethereal at will. I was only able to spot it when it was directly interacting with its environment, like a poltergeist in a horror movie. Or more specifically…

A type of fae house spirit.

And the spirit was obviously not happy because this house had not been prepared for it.

We had done all the preparations we needed for its arrival, except making sure it had a place to live. I quickly scrolled through my Gardencrafting Skill list and found the first suitable choice: a wood burning stove.

That ought to do it! I’m good with wood! I’ll be able to afford this!

I quickly finagled the ethereal blueprint of the oven right up against the wall in the kitchen. I ignored the Gamblecraft prompt and confirmed the placement.

The stove grew into place with a powerful flood of air and a metallic groan. A ventilating stove pipe popped out of the top, followed by a long metal chimney flue tube that pierced straight through the roof.

“Ah, fiddlesticks,” I said. “Ethel, you idiot…”

“I’d say. I just fixed that,” Jimbo-no said.

How could I forget? Wood burning stoves aren’t made of wood. They burn wood. And this solid chunk of cast iron was mighty expensive to make.

My Mana drained down to zero. Then ticked over into the negative. My Soul Stroll automatically winked out of existence.

As my Core’s omniscient vision began to fade, I briefly saw the domovoy drop from the rafters and squeeze itself between the oven and the wall.

A new notification arrived.

Then everything went black.

****

I dreamed.

For the first time since I had been reborn as a Dungeon, being knocked out wasn't just darkness that passed by in a blink of the eye.

Instead, frightful visions of destruction filled my mind.

Endless rows of the undead.

A town up in flames.

I was no longer a rock, but back to being a human with a physical form. The brief moment of relief I felt quickly dissolved into a nightmare. My flesh melted away, leaving behind the only two things that remained after death: Bones and paperwork.

The visions became a collage of snapshots. An eternal life where every image was the same with slight variations–filled with meaningless drudgery–cubicles or battlefields, always spilling with ink or blood. The images blurred together.

The worst was the silence. Within each vision there was a sense of peace and quiet. An acceptance, at first. Then the silence became awkward. The peace became boredom.

Where were all the songs? The laughter? The chaos of a full and happy life?

My soul yearned to toss and turn in my sleep, to lash out and pull myself awake, but I knew I could not. I knew this was a dream and that I had no form capable of moving. I had to endure until my Mana recharged.

The dystopian nightmare stretched on.

Mere minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Days into years.

I could hear voices through the mist, but they weren’t able to reach me.

I felt my soul succumbing to the corporate and authoritarian abyss. I felt my identity drifting away, becoming lost to the tide. I felt myself giving in to embracing… nothing.

Then, finally, a song broke through.

A repetitive, electronic beat.

And I hated it.

My Soul took a Stroll through the dream.

I walked away from the paperwork and weapons. I found the nearest exit. My avatar’s eyes opened.

And I woke up to yell at my neighbor.

“Turn that racket off!”

My Minions looked at one another.

“You alright, Granny?” Jellybee asked.

I was back in the cottage.

I was alive. I was safe. I was… home?

Yes, this was my home.

The three undead were all seated on the rug before my Core. It looked like they had been quietly playing some sort of card game.

“Told ya she’s nuts.”

“Shut up, Jimmy,” Spinemess slapped him. “Ethel clearly woke up from a bad dream.”

“I didn’t know Dungeons could dream,” he replied.

“I bet they dream of really scary sheep,” Jellybee said.

The neighboring Dungeon was louder now. I was surprised my Minions couldn’t hear it by this point. The rave was drawing closer.

My anxiety spiked. I looked through each floor.

“How long was I out? Bonny? Where’s Bonny?”

Jellybee scratched the top of his mushroom hat. “A while. Like, three? At least four, maybe?” He answered.

“Days?” I asked, aghast.

“Hours,” Spinemess corrected. “It’s been five hours.”

“The lass is ‘running errands.’ We figured she’d be safer outside the Dungeon anyways,” Jimbo-no replied. He pointed to his leg, still missing a peg. “We’re doing just fine, by the way, thanks for asking.”

“And the domovoy?” I asked. I dreaded the answer.

“Still behind-” Spinemess started to say.

Jimbo-no interjected. “Hey, asshole! How ya feelin’?”

A voice rang out from behind the freshly Gardencrafted oven. “NO SWEARING!”

I could see the creature there, not just in the space between the oven and the wall, but also hunkering between the borders of this reality and the next.

As snug as a bug.

It was the same way I had found Rinafen, but she had been much more willing to be found. The domovoy, on the other hand, didn’t ever want to be seen. The fae was supposed to be a spirit guardian over hearth and home.

Unfortunately, I had already taken up residence in the hearth.

“He refuses to leave now,” Spinemess said. “Says he won’t even come out until no one is watching. Which is why we’ve kept watch the whole time.”

“He keeps asking me to leave out a bowl of milk tonight,” Jellybee said.

“Like a creepy fuckin’ cat.”

“A PLAGUE UPON YOU!”

Jimbo-no shrugged. “I’d say he's feeling peachy keen.”