Waking up from his awfully uncomfortable sleep, Epim slid out of his bed gratefully. He dressed himself in his pair of clothes that had been washed and returned to him. He wrapped the cloak around him, the comforting warmth returning to him. He reassures himself the knife is on his side, and he stretches his hand, taking in the glow of his ring. He makes his scythe appear, and immediately dispels it.

He jumps up and down, testing his flexibility. He clenches each fist, and he breathes in and out. With his eyes open, he sets out to the front of the manor. He bid farewell to Elder Bayt, who bid him goodbye but would not see them out. He was contemplating the future, and while he feared for Bart’s life he also wished for an answer.

Bart, Prose, and the Shade waited for him out front. Epim knew that once he stepped out, they would go to the castle. And so he did, unsure of what was to come but knowing that the secret of the castle must be uncovered.

They made simple conversation on the way out of the village, and none of the village denizens made their way out to meet them. It was to be expected, and although Bart knew they surely did care about him, he also knew that there was far too much fear for any to be out unless they had to be.

Cutting through the forest, they found a concrete path. Overgrown, but still functional Bart told them following it would take them up to the castle. The group was ready to set off, until Epim spoke.

“Hold on. Bart, I’ve been thinking, and I need an answer before we go up.” Prose looked over quickly, his eyes quickly scanning Epim’s face. His mouth was open in a bit of admiration.

Bart looked to the ground in response. His hands clawed at it. Finally, he looked back up with sad eyes, waiting for Epim to continue.

“There’s something I'm unclear about. The mice that led us to you, you said they were your lord's eyes. But you didn’t mention it to the elder. I don’t think it’s common for that kind of thing to happen at all, is it?”

Bart nodded his head, seeming quite ashamed.

“I need to know why. Not speaking means you’re hiding something. I know it’s important.” Epim’s eyes don’t let a single action of Bart’s go unnoticed.

“Ah…” Bart opens his mouth to speak, but can barely utter anything. He makes a decision of conviction. “It’s because I’ve come to the castle once before, and I encountered him, our lord. I’ve never told anyone about it.”

Prose takes the position of investigator now. “It’s odd to me how you focus on how your lord coincides with the day. He’s awake during the day of course but aren’t we all? You said all creatures of the day were his eyes, and your elder said he knew he’d be awake during the day. If we wanted to be safe, wouldn’t we go during the night? Is your previous connection to him… a trap maybe? Are you leading us up the cliff to have our blood sucked?”

Epim shoots a look at Prose, disagreeing with the assessment immediately. “Prose that’s-”

“It’s alright.” Bart breathes deeply. “The lack of honesty is my fault. I was an adventurous pup, and I made my way down the very same path we’re taking. The gates were closed, but I saw a man standing on the castle wall. I remember his golden eyes, and his face is something I could never forget. The warmth that radiated from that simple stare is something you couldn’t describe. I felt our collective ancestry from him, he was our primordial father. But before I could garner the confidence to approach, a horrible, horrible scream echoed out from the castle. I ran, the sound struck such fear in my young heart. Since then, I’ve always had a level of faith in the lord, because his look of care in the moment of that scream was so incredibly striking. I believe… he remembered me when I was caught, and sent us help as he is such a kind man.”

Epim nods, his distrust being quickly dispelled. He was perhaps a bit too trusting, but the story he had heard of Alucire seems to match the story of Basts.

Prose tilted his head, in a sign that he wanted the answer to his question.

“The day is quite simple, and it is actually a bit of a myth. Two hundred years after our lord left, the creatures of the woods had become quite friendly. They led us to bountiful hunting grounds, led us to our wounded, and even did menial work when they could. It became a belief that although our lord stayed locked in the castle, he worked through the various wildlife in the day. And since such creatures never acted in the night, we assumed he ruled over the day. As the forest decayed and time went on, the encounters became less and less frequent, until it became the thing of legend.”

Bart sighs, shaking his head. “Can you blame me for believing it now? Your story matched up perfectly with legend.”

Prose shook his head. “No, I suppose I can’t. And as long as Epim has decided his skepticism is cured, I can’t say I care to openly continue my own. You’ve helped me understand why you and your lot decided to stick around for so long as well. You had a sliver of hope that he still cared for you.”

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Bart bowed his head. “I’m sorry, my wish to not tell the elder was my own. Undue hope can be an awful thing. It is enough for me to feel pain, with the idea that something terrible happens in the castle as we speak while that kind man lives in it.”

The Shade places his hand on Epim’s shoulder, and Epim nods. “Very well, I’m sorry to question you Bart. I’m simply frightened.” Bart shook his head in disagreement. He believed Epim to be his savior, and thought he was quite right to have the level of skepticism he did.

Resolving the brief conflict, the group of four went upwards through the path. It was steep, and the tree’s that marked the way seemed to become sicklier and sicklier the further up they went. The air tasted foul, and the Shade seemed to become agitated the further along they got. While its four extendable arms did not fully retract, they were in a state of readiness, clearly demonstrating that it believed there to be an expectant threat.

Prose was flying through the air with no care, though his wings flapped with more intensity than before. And although he did not show it openly, the additional effort he had to put in made him quite annoyed.

Finally the trees no longer existed at all, and the group stood before the large castle in front of them. Wooden gates were closed, and the brick walls that surrounded them gave them no clear access up, apart from Prose’s wings. They stood still for a moment, taking in the sight of the castle now that they were close.

Epim thought of how to get the door to open, before coming to the conclusion that it would be best to knock. Prose came to the same conclusion as well, and he spoke first.

“Well I do think the best thing to do would be to introduce ourselves with a nice hardy knock. Could you do the honor, our friend the Shade?”

The Shade had an implicit understanding from the tone of Prose’s voice, and walked forward without a second thought. The Shade stood in front of the large wooden gate. The Shade raised its right arm as far as it could go. It clenches its fist, and throws it down and forward towards the gate. Knocking with all of its strength, a sizable portion of the wooden gate bursts and creaks, wood splinters flying and the parts of the gate not destroyed creaking intensely, straining inwards as the force of the hit rippled outward.

The Shade turned back, looking its group in the eye and then turning to see the opening it made, which was much larger than any of them. It seemed upset it had overestimated, just a little.

Prose laughed, flying forwards and turning his head slightly looking at Bart. “We’ve made a market! Once we speak to your lord, he can hire contractors from the village for repairs. Already, good deeds a plenty!” The smile on his face was certainly not forced.

Epim shrugged his shoulders. The damage was excessive, but he did think things were urgent enough to the point where a little force was necessary.

Bart was dazed, and became more so when he walked through the gate, and examined the thickness of it. The gate was thicker than his body, and they had to walk through effectively a miniature tunnel to get through to the other side. The Shade defied all his expectations.

The other side was a courtyard, quite a large one. No grass, of course. Everything here was long dead, and it did not care to give the appearances that it was not, unlike the woods outside. The ground was brown dirt, though even the life of the dirt seemed to be waning as it had nearly all of its colors' vibrancy drained from it.

The group stopped, looking around for any evidence of life. There were ponds of water, though they were unbelievably still. The wind clashed off the towers and the castle walls, whistling horribly through the entirety of the castle.

Their paths were split into three, two leading towards a different tower of the castle each, and the third leading forwards, into the castle proper.

“Any objections to straight and in?” Prose laughed, and then froze as from within the castle they heard a horrible screech, and then another followed by many others in quick succession. They seemed to come from everywhere within the castle, but nowhere from outside. “Bart, was that the same sound?”

Bart quickly shook his head. “No, no. That was different. Much worse” He seemed to still be dazed, as his face scrunched while thinking about the sound.

Epim took charge now, still walking forwards. “I’d like you to stay next to the Shade, Bart. He’ll keep you safe.” Bart nodded quickly, moving over to the Shade’s side. It nodded, understanding.

Prose looks forward sighing. “I do believe it won’t be as simple as a nice discussion. We may have to be quite intense with our actions. I hope you won’t blame us, Bart.” He flies forwards, sticking close to Epim.

The castle welcomes them as they walk through the main entrance. Each looking around quickly for the source of the screams. But the main hall seems empty. The ground is broken with cracks spreading each and every way in the previously pristine marble floor. The walls were stained and there were huge chunks of them missing, seemingly having been torn out.

Alongside the walls, and even scattered against the ground, were a litany of ornamental weapons, and even some suits of armor. Prose eyed them all greedily.

Again, a screech echoed out. Bouncing off the interior walls and blaring out into the hall, quite a bit more followed after. And now the sound of footsteps, much like Bart’s but unbelievably more chaotic and less measured.

Each member of the group readied themselves for whatever seemed to be coming.

The Scythe of Epim answered his command. Prose stood in the air, arms crossed and standing arrogantly, taking stock of every odd item around them. The Shade’s extra arms unfurled completely, and Bart stood within the center of the trio.

Within the castle of Bewit, five hundred years of untapped history lie. All that the people knew down in the village was that none had returned. There were no stories of what lay inside the castle, for none who got close enough to speculate on fact instead of conjecture existed.

Bart, although ignorant, understood the meaning of the footsteps, and the screechings. “Sirs, those are the sounds my people make! Though… I’ve never heard such a terrible version.” Bart lets out a slight screech as well, demonstrating the similarity. His seemed more akin to a song, while the ones they had just heard were much like feral beasts.

In response to his song, a much angrier shriek sounded out. Loud and much deeper than the others, the castle ground began to shake, and what originally sounded like footsteps now became an angered rush, the sound of many marching in unison with others.

They prepared themselves, for whatever it was that was coming their way. If it came to it, they would defend themselves now just as they did before. Although none had made a passionate outcry of determination, they knew that they would not leave until meeting Alucire, the lord of the castle.