The loving glow of the midsummer's heat kissed the streets of Acranet, drowning the buildings in its amber hues. Birdsong accompanied the chatter of dozens that densely populated the market square. All around, businesses hung decorative banners and erected vibrant signs, advertising everything from poultry to vegetation, to patterned cloths and imported gemstones. Each vied for the eyes of customers more than the last—and yet one store, small in size, had no need for advertisements. Even through the crowded and lively streets, the owner worried not about the need to find his audience, for they always seemed to find him first.
Lothelle, the self-proclaimed Mysteriously Marvelous Merchant, had made a name for himself with little effort. Perhaps it was his tall stature or eccentric clothing, or his body being more porcelain than human—whatever it was, it made his life much easier. The time he would spend aggressively fighting for buyers was instead spent harvesting materials nobody else could get their hands on, carving himself a corner in the market.
“Oya, how good it is to see you again, my friend!” the man chimed as he leaned out his window, a smile crawling across his lips from pointed ear to pointed ear.
“Lothelle! I’ve been looking just about everywhere for you!” another man chimed, standing on his tippy toes to meet the windowsill. “Where in Divine’s good name have you been?”
Crimmy, a shorter lad with ruffled hair, approached the window nearly out of breath. Lothelle had met Crimmy many moons ago and knew him well—well enough to know the worry in his eyes was unusual.
“Oh, little old me? You know how it is, Crimmy. I’ve had my hands absolutely full of work these past few weeks. Gathering sweetdew when the temperatures are this high is no easy task.”
Crimmy laughed, glowing with great relief as his hands gripped the edge of the windowsill. Lothelle met his gaze, smiling just as wide, a sort of warmth mingling upon his expression. It was days like these where the streets were filled with strangers that Lothelle found exceptional peace in a familiar face.
“So, what is it you’re in the market for today? Anything I could help you get your hands on?” Lothelle said, tapping his painted nails against the windowsill.
“Actually, yeah, but it’s kind of personal—can I come in for a second?”
Lothelle’s smile faltered only slightly at Crimmy’s words, but he nodded all the same and glided away from the window to unlock and open his door. Crimmy entered with a word of thanks as he wiped his shoes off on the entry mat, releasing a great sigh when the door shut behind him. Lothelle snapped his fingers. A flicker of magic closed the windows and set a “Be right back” sign upon the glass.
The house, entirely wooden in design, was decorated in a vibrantly eclectic spread of magically charged objects. Glistening leaves and holographic plants crowded each corner, as well as teacups and pots with matching saucers, birds feathers and quills crafted from them, manuscripts unreadable and stacks of blank pages. Without rhyme or reason did everything under the sun seem to be smashed into this small, cozy wood cabin, but it did wonders for the welcoming atmosphere Lothelle tried very hard to envelop his guests in.
Lothelle’s hands busied themselves with brewing a pot of tea as Crimmy made himself at home, finding a spot on the couch and once again sinking into it with a sigh. Odd, Lothelle thought. Crimmy wasn’t usually the kind to get so worked up over anything—his mind jumped to unrealistic conclusions in an attempt to fill the anxious void in his mind.
“I’m honored you find me friend enough to trust me with a personal matter,” Lothelle said over his shoulder. “What is it I can help you with? Anything at all, just say the word.”
“Well… It’s hard to explain,” Crimmy started, shifting on the couch.
“We’re not going to get anywhere if we don’t try, hm~?”
“You won’t tell anyone, will you?”
Lothelle looked over his shoulder. They locked eyes.
“Not a soul,” Lothelle said, voice low and firm.
“Okay, thank you—really, thank you so much,” Crimmy said, pulling his eyes away to gaze at the ground. “So, before I ask, I guess let me say I’ve been trying to figure this out on my own for a while. I went to some medics and doctors and even potioneers, but nobody seems to be able to help—or, well, some don’t even really want to help,” Crimmy started, clearing his throat. “I have a friend, someone I’m very close to—”
“Julianne?” Lothelle said.
“I knew you’d remember. It’s Julianne, yeah.”
“Is something the matter with her?”
“Well… Yes and no? She’s been acting weird these past few weeks, and just recently she’s started refusing to eat…”
“Odd, given I recall her interests in baking?” Lothelle said, and Crimmy nodded.
“Exactly. She’s never been one to skip a meal, especially if it means she can make it herself. I thought at first she just got a bug from somewhere, but it’s been a few days and she’s drinking less, too,” Crimmy said, his shoulders falling slack. “Medics keep telling me it’s just a severe stomach flu, but I know that’s not what’s going on—and with the Lost Century Games coming up, the city’s been more swamped than usual, so nobody’s willing to come out and check on her…”
“Well… You know I’m not a medic, Crimmy,” Lothelle said softly, carrying over two cups of tea.
“I-I know—I’m not asking you to come out, or anything,” Crimmy replied, taking a saucer in his hands. “I just know you’re really good at finding a lot of really weird things, so I thought maybe you’d have something crazy… I don’t know. I’m just worried about her.”
Lothelle pulled a chair over with thin wisps of soft green magic, seating himself across from Crimmy. He placed his teacup and saucer down, staring into the tea inside. There Lothelle stayed silent for a few moments in thought, hands folded on his lap. It wasn’t like a medic to turn down visiting a patient if the concern was serious enough, even if the city was busier than usual. Lothelle’s brows furrowed softly, breaths slow and steady, thoughtful.
“Okay, how about this? I’ve got more than a few fauna with extremely potent earth magic inside them, so what I could do is whip you up a healing elixir of a most incredible strength. You’d have to use it very carefully, and I may not be around to assist if something goes wrong—”
“I’ll take anything at this point, Lothelle—really,” Crimmy said with worried, pleading eyes.
Lothelle paused for a moment. “Alright. If you’re sure you’d be able to deal with the consequences, may there be any, then I’d be more than happy to help.” A small smile returned to Lothelle’s lips. “I could do it right now, even, if you’d have the time to stick around?”
“Oh, really? You wouldn’t need to get back to your other customers?” Crimmy replied.
“Most days I wouldn’t be able to stop and brew something up, but I’ll tell you, business has been slower than normal over the past handful of weeks.” Lothelle sipped his tea before standing from his chair. “A blessing in disguise, no?”
“Well, I mean, as long as you’re not poor or anything—”
“Oh, please, worry not about my well-being, Crimmy. Tomorrow has enough worry for you, does it not~?”
“Yeah, but, you’ve been helping me out since I moved into Acranet—you can’t expect me to not be worried when I hear business’s been slow for almost a month, Lothelle…”
Lothelle chuckled in reply as he walked over to the other side of the first floor, where a cauldron sat in wait atop a robust fireplace. He smiled, soft and tender, as his fingers lit the flame—but it warmed the porcelain of his skin all too fast, and he had to be careful not to seriously burn himself in the process. His jointed knees clicked as he stood up straight again, perusing a wall of potion ingredients.
“Even if the world stood still for a few months, there’d be a way to survive. There’s a whole world out there, after all—I’m sure even if all of Acranet up and disappeared one day, I’d be able to find a soul in need elsewhere.”
Lothelle hummed, fingers grazing over vials, each containing one individual glowing leaf. He plucked one from the wall, nails tapping against the glass. “So erase those thoughts from your head! Lothelle, the Mysteriously Marvelous Merchant, shall worry not about his well-being, and so neither shall you! Do I make myself clear~?”
“...I guess there’s no fighting with you anyway, is there?” Crimmy replied with a sigh, a soft laugh bubbling from his chest. “I guess I won’t worry too much—”
“Ah, you won’t worry a single hair on your head,” Lothelle said.
His feet carried him from wall to wall, moving back and forth as he gathered the ingredients needed to make the healing potion. As Lothelle went about his craft, Crimmy watched with thoughtful eyes. Out of everyone he could have managed to find when he first moved into the world’s biggest city, it was Lothelle.
When they first met, Crimmy crammed questions down his throat, like what it was like to be a living doll, and how he managed to keep track of knowing so many people in so many different places. Now that they were friends—and good ones at that—Crimmy could come over whenever he pleased for any reason at all. And for that, he was so incredibly thankful. That’s why Crimmy’d been so worried when one day Lothelle was nowhere to be seen, nor the day after that, or the day after that. He was gone for nearly two weeks—it wasn’t like him to up and leave without a message, so Crimmy chalked it down to being something important or spontaneous. Though, none of that mattered now that he was back.
The cauldron bubbled and boiled, tendrils of shimmering smoke flowing up and filling the room with an earthy scent. Lothelle hummed as he worked, adding in precise measurements of a variety of ingredients, dropping in the single leaf he’d pried from his wall last. When the glistening leaf fell into the pot, a burst of earth magic resonated around the room, filling the air with a sense of peace and warmth.
Lothelle dipped a thick glass bottle into the cauldron, filling it to the brim with the semi-translucent green liquid. It shimmered as if it’d been brewed with finely crushed gemstones, reflecting the light off the liquid’s surface. Lothelle corked the top before applying a dark blue wax seal to secure it in place, then he returned to the table. The fire beneath the cauldron went out on its own, but the potion’s relaxing scent remained in the room.
“This should do the trick,” Lothelle said as he pushed the bottle across the table. “But be seriously careful with it—mix a drop with water in order to dilute the potion before you have Julianna drink it.”
“Got it,” Crimmy said, marveling at the bottle in his hands. “Anything else?”
“Don’t use more than one drop per 12 hours, and if it has any seriously adverse side effects, please stop using it immediately.”
“Sounds easy enough,” Crimmy said. “What do I owe you?”
“Owe me?” Lothelle replied with surprise. “Oh, Crimmy, it’s nothing. You’re in need of help, not of a robbery.”
“I-I’m not asking to be robbed, and didn’t you just say business’s been slow for a month? Let me give you some gold, anything, even if you don’t charge me the full price.”
Lothelle hummed in thought, curling a jointed finger against his chin. His other hand brought his teacup up and he sipped, long and slow, before placing it back down on the saucer. Crimmy grew a little more nervous at the total cost the longer Lothelle stayed silent.
“500 gold will do, if that’s good with you,” Lothelle finally said.
“That’s it?” Crimmy sighed with relief, “All that for the price of some apples? I thought it was going to be a lot more…”
“It can be, if you’d like~” Lothelle sipped his tea.
“No, no—500 gold works, but I’ll get you more next week.” Crimmy replied, shaking his head with a smile as he fetched a wallet out of his bag.
“Oh, and if something goes wrong, should I just bring Julianna to you, or…?” Crimmy said, sliding a golden bill across the table.
“Yes, bring her straight here—but I won’t be available for the rest of today. I have an important meeting in a few hours,” Lothelle replied, taking the bill and folding it up.
“With a client?”
“I wouldn’t say a client,” Lothelle mused, a smile wrapping across his lips. “More like a good friend of mine.”
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“Would you like some more tea, sir?”
“Yes, with two cubes of sugar this time.”
From the teapot’s spout poured a deep, crimson tea—steaming hot, a perfectly unbroken stream. It filled the shallow cup nearly to the brim, solid in its vibrant color. Into the cup fell two cubes of sugar, which floated at the top before melting under the heat. There was the sound of footsteps, then the door sliding open and closed, then echoing as they walked down the hall. A man’s hand extended outwards to grab the teacup's handle as he sighed—low, irritated, bothered.
“How hard is it to remember two cubes of sugar?”
There sat Julius Osmium of the Osmium family, renowned for their writing, which had strangely addictive properties. They were also known for their immaculate penmanship among calligraphists. Each member excelled in their craft, penning gorgeous novels that wove intricate and lively stories onto mere paper—and not one single book penned by the family fell short of their financial goals. Eventually the Osmium family found a place in the government of Acranet, where they expanded into writing more than just novels. Some called their newer works manipulative propaganda, but that hasn’t stopped a soul from having at least heard the title of the Osmium family’s newest release.
Julius, youngest and heir to the family’s throne, sat with one leg crossed over the other as he sipped the deep red tea. It was fruity, an intricate hibiscus flavor mingling with a melody of berries—he wouldn’t settle for anything less, and certainly not anything bitter. His eyes found purchase on the partially opened window, gazing past glass to stare at the crowds filling the streets.
“They’re pathetic,” he murmured under his breath. “They call themselves free thinkers, and yet they’d probably die at the idea of missing the games. What fools.”
The sound of footsteps took him from his thoughts as he sipped, and soon enough the doors to his room opened once again. A secretary entered, glasses low on her nose, and gave a deep bow before closing the doors behind her. She walked with an anxious, almost hurried gait, avoiding eye contact all the while, and held a clipboard tightly to her chest.
“Master Osmium,” she began, “may I have a moment of your time?”
“You’ve already interrupted my thoughts, haven’t you?” Julius narrowed his eyes.
“My apologies,” she replied, bowing deeply once more. “Then I will make this quick. Your 4 o’clock has been canceled, as has the client you had scheduled for later tonight. Your schedule has been cleared, save for your meeting with the merchant.”
“Hm,” Julius hummed, his eyes falling back to the window. “Why is it that we’ve been receiving so many cancellations recently?”
“We aren’t quite sure, Master Osmium. The decline in our clientele has been—”
“It’s Julius,” he intercepted, “and it’s been occurring for many months, I’m aware. You don’t have to tell me this every time, especially when there still isn’t a reason as to why.” Julius sighed, pressing his fingers against his temple. Week after week he’d been losing tens of thousands of gold. It didn’t matter how much he pushed the government to assist; they brushed it under the rug every time. “Are there any similarities among the clients that have canceled on us suddenly?"
“Not many. All of them refused to respond to any of our messages—some of them have even gone missing. We can not be sure as to why, but they came from all different walks of life. We’ve been able to rule out some sort of assassin, but only due to the fact that it would be illogical to remove such an unrelated group of individuals…”
Julius’s eyes narrowed further, and he took another silent sip from his teacup. Despite his outward indifference, the disappearance of his clientele had been seriously bothering him. It didn’t particularly affect him outside of giving him more free time, which he actually enjoyed—but what concerned him was the fact that nobody seemed to know why it was happening. It seemed as if everyone involved in looking into the case was utterly useless, but really, what could he expect from those working with the Acranet government?
“What about the other project I assigned you to?” Julius finally replied, glancing up at the secretary.
She looked around the room before snapping her fingers, shutting both the curtains and the door in reply. Only after a few moments of pure silence did she regain her position beside Julius and continue to speak.
“There has been… resistance. We haven’t been able to make very much progress.”
“Who would give someone working under me resistance?” Julius replied with a light growl.
“They seem hesitant to let anybody near the site—we have been doing all that we can outside of breaking and entering, Master Osmium.”
Julius sighed as he placed the teacup down and stood from his chair, towering over the secretary. He walked over to an ornate wooden desk, unlocked a drawer with a click, and slipped out a leather bound book. Julius leafed through the pages as he paced around the room, his slow, heavy steps resonating against the quartz tiles beneath his feet. “What do you think about the situation? Be honest with me.”
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
The secretary thought for a moment, finger curled against her chin. “There could very well be a relation, Master Osmium. If you were to ask my personal opinion, I am of the belief that the events line up too conveniently with one another.”
“That’s what I thought,” Julius hummed in reply. “Keep pushing. Apply pressure to those wimpish fools until they break—tell them I’m interested in writing a piece on it, if you need to. I’m aware I’ve told you to avoid bringing me up by name, but if that’s what needs to be done, then so be it.”
“Yes, Master Osmium. We will put in another formal visitation request to the ACGB.”
The secretary bowed to Julius, who waved her off with a flick of his wrist. She left the room, locking the door behind her, leaving Julius to stare down at his diary in what was almost complete darkness. It was hard to talk about anything here, given the fact that Julius felt like those old men in power were constantly listening, but in writing his thoughts would always be safe. So he took to his desk and dipped a fine quill into a deep crimson ink, taking it over to a new entry.
There he stayed for what felt like hours embracing the darkness, simply organizing and writing all of his thoughts. His tea had grown cold by the time he’d gotten through the things he needed to write down, so he dried off his ink pen and whispered something beneath his breath. Fire burst to life at the tip of the quill, and there he held his teacup until the tea inside it danced from the heat. Satisfied, Julius let the magic fade away and he polished off the warm liquid inside.
They have to be hiding something, Julius thought, leaning his chin down to rest on folded hands. There’s no other reason they’d be so reluctant to work with my family, not with all the money we make them.
Another sigh followed his words as he slid the journal into his drawer and magically sealed it once more. It wasn’t worth thinking about anymore, Julius thought, and so he pulled himself from his desk to once again draw back the curtains, unlock the window, and prop it open. He took a deep breath of the fresh summer’s air, something warm, something refreshing.
He hated this time of year, for Acranet was always filled with tourists from other regions that mindlessly followed some idiotic ‘god.’ Each region outside of Acranet was run by a supernatural being known as a Divine, and with that came rules and imposed beliefs, bringing nonsense into the capital—a land ruled only by its people. It made for busier days and louder nights, for moments of peace were much harder to come by—but maybe, with the increasing number of clients going MIA, this year would be different.
“Master Osmium,” the secretary called from the door with a firm knock. “The merchant is here to see you.”
“Let him in,” Julius replied.
The doors unlocked with a click, followed by the sound of high heels clacking over quartz tiles. Julius sighed, readying himself readying himself for a draining experience, and took himself away from the window to sit down at the table. The secretary returned with a warm pot of tea, setting it in the center of the table along with a pair of cups.
“How have you been, my good friend?” Lothelle cooed as he sat at the table across from Julius.
“Must we make small talk, merchant?”
“Merchant? Oh, my, how you hurt my heart so!”
“You don’t have a heart.”
“Well, if I did, it would be aching from your cold demeanor, Sir Osmium!”
Julius sighed, pouring himself another cup of tea. The moon was hugging the horizon’s edge now, sunset dousing the room in gorgeous hues of amber and gold.
“Can we get to the point, Lothelle? I really, truly do not have the energy to deal with you right now.”
“Well, if you insist—I know how busy you must be with all your clientele,” Lothelle said.
“I wish. I’ve had five cancellations this week alone,” Julius said, almost mindlessly.
“One for small talk now, are we?” Lothelle replied, hoisting his bag onto the table.
“I apologize.” Julius held back anger. “I’ve been overcome with stress. Continue.”
“Well, actually, now that we’ve started this conversation, dear Julius… I myself have been lacking in clientele. Where I would usually have tens of sales every day, I’m experiencing regular customers only once or twice a week.”
Julius didn’t reply immediately, simply looking over at Lothelle with curiosity in his eyes. He watched the way the doll fished through his bag for glass bottles of handmade ink, dyed the perfect hue of crimson, placing them onto the table one at a time. He knew Lothelle crafted them himself using an artificial blood so magic could be imbued into the words—it was a lengthy, costly process, but one Lothelle had never gotten wrong in his time working with the Osmium family.
“Lothelle,” Julius started, placing his teacup down. “I would like to shift the topic of conversation.”
“Oh, really~? You’re truly opening up today, My Lord!” Lothelle laughed softly, clinking the fourth container of ink onto the table. Julius only stood and walked to his desk in response.
He soon returned with his journal, placing it down before unwinding its bindings. Lothelle watched out of the corner of his eye as Julius flipped through thick pages of absolutely stunning script. Julius stopped on a page, sat in his chair, and slid the diary across the table. He pointed to a specific line, underlined and in quotations.
“Don’t read it aloud, but do you remember this?” Julius tapped the page.
…Lab explosion in western Acranet leaves 8 dead and 24 injured… Reports show some individuals feeling the effects of a strange strain of magic… There have been positive reports of magical fallout affecting the lab… Area has been quarantined… Under no circumstances shall there be any contact with the site… If you notice anything strange, report to your nearest AGS immediately…
Lothelle’s brows furrowed as he read the words. He looked at Julius like a lost puppy. As though to be sure he was reading them right, he read them once more, this time tilting his head to the side.
“Of course I remember this,” Lothelle said cautiously. “Who wouldn’t, when it was the only thing anyone was able to talk about for weeks? Why do you ask?”
“I am only trusting you with this information because I know where you live, and would gladly shatter your body to pieces if you shared this with anyone,” Julius started, and Lothelle smiled nervously. Julius continued, “I believe something is wrong and that this isn’t all there is to it.”
Lothelle’s eyes widened slightly, blinking in surprise.
“Are you saying they’re hiding something?” Lothelle whispered. Julius nodded.
“I don’t know what, but think about it for a moment—this happens, and then a few mere weeks later, things go missing?” Julius tapped a word on the page, clients.
“Well, I can’t say I’ve ever considered it before… But honestly, you may be onto something, My Lord—” Lothelle started, before cutting himself off with a different thought. “Oh, I’m feeling quite hungry. How about we continue this conversation on the way to get something to eat?”
Lothelle nodded his head as he spoke, and Julius caught onto the hint, standing up from the table without another word. Lothelle gathered the ink bottles back into his bag, and Julius held his diary firmly beneath his arm, ensuring his desk, windows, and doors were magically sealed before the two exited the room. They said nothing more for the entirety of their time walking through the halls.
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The alleyways were cold this time of night, and thankfully with that chill came less passersby. They walked nearly alone as the moonlight basked them in soft blue hues, Julius’s breath fogging in the air—here they could talk freely.
“I simply refuse to believe the disappearance of many of my clients right after some odd lab explosion is mere coincidence,” Julius spoke.
“But what would the government want with your clients?” Lothelle said.
“I can’t be sure, but it could be many things. Maybe they had tried to investigate the situation and the government didn’t like where they were going.”
“My, oddly conspiratorial of you, isn’t it, My Lord?”
“I would believe a lying snake before I believed a word from the government’s mouth. That’s all.” Julius shook his head in frustration.
“Oh, I agree with you, I wasn’t saying I don’t—I simply find it funny that someone working so closely with the ACGB would be so critical of them.”
The ACGB, or rather, the Acranet Council of Governing Bodies, were essentially Julius's bosses. If he wanted to do most anything it was them he had to go through, and conveniently enough, they took a cut of every commission he made. Julius thought their lack of income through himself would be grounds enough for a search warrant, but apparently not.
“I usually wouldn’t put any energy into caring, but whatever happened is affecting my commissions, so they’ve made it personal,” Julius said.
Lothelle chuckled, and Julius glared daggers into the side of his skull.
“It seems like money really is the way to a rich man’s heart after all~” Lothelle replied.
“Are you going to be constructive with your words, merchant, or should I walk away from this conversation and spend my precious breath elsewhere?”
“I apologize, My Lord—to make it up to you, let us exchange all that we know about our missing clientele~?”
Julius nodded his head, taking out his diary and thumbing through the pages before landing on a list of names. He read them all aloud with no care for their privacy, telling Lothelle their full names, ages, and last known locations—as well as their business transactions with Julius. As he went through the list, it became more and more apparent that there were almost no connections between the lot of them, and whatever connections did exist were passing trends.
“Not only are we unable to locate the clients, but the ACGB refuses to let us enter the site of the incident.” Julius slammed his diary shut. “If they’re refusing even my family entry, then something has to be amiss.”
“Now that I think about it… I have a close friend of mine who came to Acranet before the incident. The lab explosion did quite a lot of physical damage to the surrounding area, and she had volunteered to help clean. I haven’t heard from her since, and she would have told me if she left, so I can only assume she’s still staying within the city,” Lothelle said, words slow and thoughtful.
“Let’s meet her at once then,” Julius said, stopping at once. “Where is she?”
“Well, her last known location would’ve been a hotel quite close—paying her a visit sounds like a wonderful idea. If anyone would be able to help, it would be her~”
They walked together, footsteps accompanied only by their banter. Lothelle rambled about everything from how the weather this time of year affected the juniper trees’ growth, to how good sweetdew was for crafting a healing potion, to how much he enjoyed the architecture out south. Julius met his ramblings with disinterested grunts or aggravated glances, tuning him out as best he could.
The surrounding summer heat had cooled down as moonlight dyed their clothes, and a few handfuls of stars sat nestled between expanses of dark sky. As they got closer to the heart of the city, music could be heard blasting from a variety of locations—some paired with the vibrant, egregious flashing of multicolored lights. Teenagers drinking and slinging spells occasionally passed them by, and Julius grimaced at each one.
When they arrived at the hotel, Lothelle entered first, with Julius in tow. The entryway was peaceful, quiet, devoid of any chaotic partygoers or drunken teenagers. Julius sighed with relief, taking the time to finally be able to re-center his thoughts. This was absolutely miserable, he thought—he never wanted to enter the commoners sphere again.
“Hello there~” Lothelle started as he approached the hotel clerk, placing his hands down on the counter. “I’m looking for a friend of mine, Miss Shortcake?”
“Room 34,” the clerk replied.
“...Oh, just like that? You’re not going to ask me who I am, or my relationship with her?”
“No,” the clerk replied.
Lothelle blinked, and the clerk stared forward, uncaring.
“Well then, thank you kindly—enjoy the rest of your night,” Lothelle said as he walked away. Julius followed behind with his arms crossed.
As they entered a stairwell and began to ascend, amidst the silence were their steps, their breaths, and a sort of skittering that echoed off the walls. The sound was akin to a rapid tapping, like some giant millipede was crawling around—and while it was quiet at first and easy to miss, the higher they went, the harder it became to ignore.
“What is that sound?” Julius hissed, swinging the door open to exit the stairwell.
“It almost sounds like an insect,” Lothelle hummed.
“It’s wretched—what kind of hotel has an infestation this loud?”
“It could also be some eccentric party of sorts… But the sooner we get in and out, the sooner it disappears.”
Julius nodded his head with irritated eyes, stomping down the hallway to find the room they’d been looking for. Lothelle tried his best to keep up with Julius’s pace—and with each door that ticked up to their destination, the skittering grew louder and louder.
“I can’t take that sound.” Julius stopped in his tracks. “Handle the rest on your own.”
Before Lothelle could try and stop him, Julius had turned on his heels and stomped right back down the hall with his hands covering his ears. Lothelle could tell how tense he was, with shoulders raised high and heavy steps. He’s more sensitive than I imagined, Lothelle thought, eyes lingering on the way Julius stormed off like a bratty child refusing to listen to his mother. That would’ve been cute—adorable, even—if it’d happened at any other time.
Eventually Julius stopped at the end of the hall with his back turned, flicking a hand over his shoulder to tell Lothelle to continue on.
As Lothelle turned to approach the door, he paused as a sudden wave of unease hit him like a brick. His chest was so heavy all of a sudden, and the anxiety that’d been building in the back of his mind since their conversation earlier was now tangible and palpable. Not many things made Lothelle feel anxious, and he always had reason to trust his gut, so he suddenly very much did not want to open this door.
But Shortcake was presumably on the other side. If something really was wrong—which was silly to believe, given there was no substantial evidence—would he ever forgive himself for walking away?
His hand ghosted over the doorknob, hovering there as the sounds of something clawing and skittering flooded his ears. His eyes flitted between the golden knob and Julius at the end of the hall, the dark pit in his chest only growing heavier and harder to bear.
“Well?” Julius shouted. “Get it over with already, or I’m leaving without you.”
Lothelle swallowed. It’s fine, he thought. There’s no reason for anything bad to have happened.
Lothelle gripped the doorknob and attempted to turn it—it wasn’t locked, so there wasn’t supposed to be resistance. Yet when he tried to push it open, resistance was what met him. His brows furrowed with worry. Lothelle pushed forward a second time with force, and all at once the door slammed open with a loud thud. Nothing but darkness met his gaze as he peered into the room. He swallowed, slowly retracting his hand from the doorknob.
“Shortcake? Are you in there?” Lothelle called.
No response.
“It’s your good friend, Lothelle—are you alright?” Lothelle called louder this time.
A single creature, gray and thin, skittered from the darkness of the room and disappeared into the hall. Lothelle took a step back as the creature escaped, crawling up the wall and disappearing around a corner. It was too fast for him to get a good look at, but still he knew he didn't recognize it.
“Well… Since there’s no opposition… I’m going to come in, if that’s alright with you!”
Lothelle braced himself and took a step forward to enter the darkness bleeding out from the hotel room. As his heeled shoe collided with the carpeted floor, a snap echoed from the abyss. Lothelle froze, joints clicking softly as he trembled.
One second he was staring into the void, and the next second something was staring back at him.