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Seamus woke to the familiar sound of dripping water, his muscles stiff from the cold stone beneath him. His back ached, and the roughly spun tunic clung uncomfortably to his skin, still damp from the night’s humidity. For a moment, he stayed still, blinking in the eerie light of the moss-covered walls, trying to shake the last remnants of sleep from his mind.
The alcove had provided some shelter, but not much. His body was sore, his mouth dry, and his thoughts a jumble of confused exhaustion. The events of the previous day—if it could even be called that—still lingered in the back of his mind. The Guardian, the tunnel, the flickering UI—it all felt surreal, like a dream he hadn’t fully woken from.
Complete: Evade the Guardian
New Objective: Escape the Spawning Grounds
He pushed himself up slowly, his limbs protesting as he stretched, feeling the strain of tight muscles. His hand instinctively went to the small knife at his belt, a meager tool, but it gave him some comfort. He wasn’t entirely helpless at least. Not yet.
The tunnel ahead beckoned him, the walls curving gently as the path sloped still further downward. It had been winding down for what felt like hours, but there was a shift now—something subtle in the air. The claustrophobic closeness of the stone walls seemed to be loosening, the ceiling rising higher, the space around him expanding just enough for him to breathe easier.
Seamus jumped down from the alcove and set off. His footsteps echoed faintly in the tunnel, but there was something else now—an unfamiliar sound carried on the air. It was faint, barely perceptible over the dripping of water and the scrape of his boots, but it was there: the soft rustling of wind through leaves.
He paused, listening.
Wind. He hadn’t felt it since waking in this strange, airless place.
As he continued, the smooth, curved walls that had hemmed him in began to give way again to rougher stone, cracks and crevices spreading over the seamless surface. The moss that had clung so ubiquitously to the interior was now thinning, its glow fading as another light—a soft, muted gold—began to filter in from somewhere ahead.
The tunnel wound a little further, and soon Seamus found himself standing at it’s mouth, blinking against an overwhelming and sudden brightness. His heart raced as he stepped forward, the oppressive weight of the enclosed space falling away with each step.
The sight before him wasn’t at all what he had expected.
Area Discovered: The Hearthlands
A wide, open landscape, the air diffused with a pale, warm grey that seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. He paused, taking it in. Before him stretched rolling hills dotted with forested groves of curious plant life, tall grasses swaying gently in the wind. It was funny. Despite the expansiveness, Seamus couldn’t shift the awareness that he was still enclosed, still buried somewhere deep in the earth, as impossible as it now seemed, taking in the sheer breadth of this environment.
And in the midst of it all, nestled between the hills, was a sizeable hamlet. Rooftops of slate and thatch, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. The buildings appeared a mix of timber and stone, with narrow streets and open squares filling the spaces between. Around the town, smaller homesteads were scattered—farms, cottages, a couple of mills. All surrounded by patches of tilled earth, hedgerows and grazing animals.
Further off, tall mountains rose, stretching beyond sight into the cavernous expanse above, occluded by soft haze of pale miasma permeating the air.
It felt…well, safe.
Complete: Escape the Spawning Grounds
New Objective: Reach the Settlement
Seamus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He hadn’t known what to expect upon seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but the sight of this place filled him with an overwhelming sense of relief. The danger he had faced was becoming increasingly distant now, the open air and the town promising safety, a refuge from the claustrophobic tunnels and its lurking threats.
He took a step forward, scanning the landscape. The path leading to the town was well-worn; clearly it had been here a long time. A few small carts meandered along the dirt roads, and even from this distance, he could see figures moving about—people going about their daily affairs, tending to livestock, carrying bundles of firewood, and talking in groups by the market square. People. Civilization. So, there was life down here after all.
Seamus adjusted the knife at his side, more out of habit than necessity, and began walking.
***
As he approached on the muddy track, the sounds of the town began to fill his ears—a steady buzz of voices, the creak of wagon wheels, the soft clattering of tools.
The airborne display shimmered to life again:
Settlement Discovered: Hearthhaven
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Complete: Reach the Settlement
New Objective: Find the Guildhall
The entire town was bristling with activity. People moved with purpose, but without rush or panic. It was a far cry from the tunnels. A further cry from the urban chaos he had known in the real world. The real world, what did he mean by that? Already, a fog was beginning to settle upon his memory of a time before now.
He wandered unhurriedly through the narrow cobblestone streets, taking in the sights and sounds, a smile creeping over his face. It was like something from a storybook. A true starter town. The warmth of baked bread wafted from an open window, mingling with the scent of woodsmoke pouring from the chimneys above. In the town square, stalls were set up, decked out in heavy canopies painted in vivid tones of ochre and emerald green, some striped, others gingham. Each decked with an abundant array of goods—vegetables, freshly caught fish in wooden creates of ice, handcrafted tools, equipment and clothes of simple but well-cut designs. The shopkeepers called out prices and enthusiastic greetings to passersby.
No one seemed to notice Seamus at first, and he was grateful for it. He wasn’t ready to explain himself—wasn’t even sure he could. Instead, he kept moving, drawn deeper into the town as he attempted to get his bearings. Every corner and each side street seemed to offer something new: a gaggle of small children running past with wooden swords and shields; a huddle of farmers sharing a laugh as they unloaded a cart of vegetables, covered with dark earth; the constant humming of conversation drifting from the imposing tavern on the corner.
The town wasn’t large. It was a place that had grown organically over time, to accommodate for growing needs. There was a warmth to it, a sense of community that seemed to permeate the air itself. It wasn’t just the homey buildings or the bustling market—the people themselves exuded a feeling of settledness. Everyone seemed to know each other, their interactions easy and familiar as they went about their business. To Seamus it was an oasis, a sanctuary from the dangers and the isolation he’d endured mere hours before.
Seamus’ attention was drawn to a low stone wall, where a group of what appeared to be explorers were leaning, chatting casually. They were dressed a little differently the regular townsfolk, wearing in light leather gear and dark cloaks. One of them—a woman, tall and athletic, with a short bow slung over her shoulder and the unmistakable hilt of a short blade at her hip—glanced his way. For a moment, their eyes met, and she gave him a brief, curious look before turning back to her companions.
He continued walking, feeling now a little self-conscious. He hadn’t spoken to anyone since arriving here, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to yet. Instead, he let his feet carry him further into the town, no doubt winding back on himself at times, such was its jumbled layout, his gaze wandering over a row of small cottages with their weathered roofs and kitchen gardens. He felt a warmth fill him at the sight of such picture-perfect quaintness.
Eventually, Seamus found himself near a corner of a smaller square, standing in front of a small smithy. The sound of hammering rang out from within, a rhythmic clanging of metal on metal. He hesitated, eyes drifting toward the open door. Inside, he could see a burly figure, a face streaked with soot and illuminated by the open forge, working at an anvil.
The figure paused, wiping sweat from their brow, and noticed Seamus standing there. There was a nod of greeting, the voice gruff but not unfriendly. “Looking for something, lad?”
Seamus opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the sound of footsteps approached. It was the woman with the bow, and she was walking toward him with that same curious, though not unkind, expression.
“You’re new,” she said, more statement than question.
Seamus blinked, unsure how to respond. He nodded slightly, feeling out of place.
The woman glanced him up and down, her gaze lingering on his tattered tunic. She gave a small, knowing smile. “You look like you’ve had a rough time of it.”
He managed a weak chuckle, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease slightly. “Yeah, you could say that.”
She nodded, looking back toward the square. “We’ve all been there. But Hearthhaven’s as good a place as any to get your bearings.” She gave him a more appraising look. “Come, I’ll show you around. If you’re planning on staying for a bit, you’ll need to find a place to stay tonight. And you’ll want to meet the guild, I’m sure you have a lot of questions.”
Seamus hesitated but then nodded. There was something about her— a calm groundedness—that put him at ease. He fell into step beside her as she led him through the heart of the town.
The warmth of what Seamus knew intuitively could not be the sun filtered through the slender trees that lined some of the streets, and for the first time since waking in this strange world, Seamus felt a genuine sense of ease.
***
He followed Kara through the winding streets of Hearthhaven, the town unfolding before him in layers of quiet detail. It breathed with life—noticeboards were filled with flyers and handwritten parchment, children darted through narrow alleyways after scruffy dogs, and small bells chimed as the doors to numerous shops swung open and close with their steady flow of patrons. It was becoming impossible to believe those bleak and tortuous tunnels lay in such close proximity, and the feeling of ease developed into something more lasting.
Kara walked with a relaxed confidence, her steps light but purposeful. She moved as someone who was comfortable here, as though the town and its rhythms were as familiar to her as her own heartbeat. Seamus glanced at her, taking in her appearance more closely now the initial tension had faded.
She was tall, taller than him by a few inches, with an athletic build that suggested a life spent outdoors. Her skin was tanned from the sun, the rich tones of her hair cutting sharply against the olive complexion. The braid that hung loosely down her back was practical, not ornamental, and the short bow slung over her shoulder looked worn but well-maintained. Her outfit, though simple, had the small details of someone who knew how to live off the land—patches on the elbows, sturdy fabric reinforced at the knees. She looked every bit the capable hunter or scout, someone who had survived more than her fair share of rough nights out in the sticks.
There was something about the way she held herself—calm, observant, but not aloof. Her eyes, a striking shade of amber, moved with quiet attentiveness, taking in everything around her without the need for excessive movement. Her presence was grounded, like she had found her place in this world, her purpose.
“You’re lucky you stumbled on Hearthhaven,” Kara said, breaking the silence as they passed by a small churchlike building, faint candlelight flickering behind the jewel tones of stained glass. “The Hollows can be…unforgiving to people who don’t know how to navigate it.”
Seamus nodded, though the word Hollows meant nothing to him. He filed it away for later, too uncertain to ask outright whether that was what people called this…place.
“How long have you lived here?” he asked instead, his gaze drifting to a shopfront replete in whole animal skins and bows of various sizes and materials. A huntsman nodded as they passed, unloading a sack of antlers and furs onto the counter.
Kara glanced sideways at Seamus, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Long enough,” she said, her tone evasive but not unfriendly. “Time doesn’t really work the same down here. You’ll get used to that.”
They continued down a narrow street lined with bustling shops, each one a little different from the next—some with furniture stacked out front, others with rows of potted plants, each labelled with their names and healing properties. The air was fresh, carrying a faint scent from the herbs and their freshly turned earth, mingling with the distant aroma of woodsmoke from hearths inside.
Kara stopped in front of a larger building at the end of the street, its wooden beams dark with age but obviously well cared for. The sign hanging above the door read Guild Hall, the letters carved in simple, bold strokes.
Location Discovered: Hearthhaven Guild Hall
“This is where you’ll want to start,” she said, nodding toward the building. “The guild runs most of the trade and commerce in Hearthhaven. If you’re looking to stay—or even just pass through with a little extra in your pocket—you’ll want to introduce yourself.”
Seamus hesitated at the threshold, his gaze shifting from the wooden doors to Kara. “And what about you? Are you part of the guild?”
Kara’s smile widened, just a fraction, and she shook her head. “I’m more…freelance.” She tilted her head, motioning for him to go ahead. “Go on. You’ll need supplies, and they’ll help you get your bearings.”
Seamus nodded, though he still felt out of place. As he stepped toward the doors, the sound of laughter and conversation from inside reached his ears. The guild hall was lively, a contrast to the quietness of the town’s outer streets. He could hear the rustling of papers, the murmur of voices, the clacking of footsteps against hard floors and the occasional scrape of a chair.
Kara stayed behind, her amber eyes following him with a curious but detached interest. She wasn’t someone who hovered.