Stars shone through the arched windows of the bell tower’s cramped room. A candle flickered in the wrinkly hands of Saint Goblin, who stood in front of the bell. The inn’s staff encircled her. And they looked up and down, with disgust, at the heaving Adria and La’Var trying to find their place in the ritual, blood flowing from their clothes, the stench of a dead Groundshaker suffocating everyone in the room.

No one wanted to hold the hands of the crimson-soaked arrivers.

We’ll… Explain ourselves… Hopefully. Adria’s face heated up and she looked at the ground.

La’Var grumbled and pushed a pair of goblins aside, making himself a spot in between Ba’Gan and a witless. Adria pulled down her sleeves to cover her hands. A place appeared for her. She slid into the circle.

Slowly, the strange looks of the little green ones turned away from her and La’Var, and they turned to Saint Goblin, who stared at the two with a twisted expression.

“All these years, those scathing summers and shivering winters… I’d never have thought it would come to this.” She shook her head. Still, a faint smile slipped through. Her age hadn’t entirely taken away the mischief-loving young goblin from her heart. “My children, luckily for you, there isn’t a rule forbidding wandering the inn’s halls drenched in blood.”

Saint Goblin cleared her throat. She held a cross in between her skeletal index finger and thumb, and she raised it up to her forehead. The prayer began slithering out of her lips.

Along with the crowd, Adria chanted.

Quickly, worries escaped her mind. A sense of unity with the goblins took over. The flickering of the candles along with the rhythm of prayer soothed her. She was lulled into a blissful trance and her vision blurred like she was about to fall asleep.

In the blur, figures appeared: tall, slender silhouettes with silvery auras flowing around them. Claws rested in place of their hands. One swiped and a soft wind touched Adria’s cheek. Another picked up a witless’ hat and threw it to the other end of the chamber. A third grabbed Saint Goblin’s candle and shook it in her hands.

That’s how possession works, Adria thought. But why can I see this? Can… anyone else?

She looked around: the goblins who’d kept their eyes open saw past the spirits. Once Adria returned her gaze to the hallows, they were gone.

I can’t wait to return down there, but… I won’t be able to just exorcize them -- we need answers too!

The prayer finished. A comforting silence came over the bell tower. One by one, goblins opened their eyes and smiled at each other. The weight of the world rolled off of Adria’s shoulders: a ritual could end peacefully. She let go of goblins on either side of her, turned and…

Saint Goblin clutched her crosses. Green faces soured.

The ground began to rumble.

Here it comes again. Adria braced, closing her eyes. The gods listened. And now they have something to say back.

The wail of a witless brought Adria’s eyes back open.

Through a fresh crack in the stone floor tiles, jutted out a silvery hand, enveloped in a haze. Staring at it, the witless gasped and jumped around in disbelief, their brains, surely, overheating from such a sight. Then Saint Goblin dropped to the floor and kissed the hand of the gods. All over the bell tower, floor tiles cracked open and hands emerged. Momentarily, the witless froze and silenced. They all bent down and did as the head of their inn.

A single ghastly hand slithered around the neck of a witless… And choked it. And pulled it down, beneath the floor of the bell tower.

The little green one screamed a heartbreaking shout -- the sound of someone who’d been betrayed by the one they trusted the most.

Adria broke out of the chains of shock and reached for the witless.

She didn’t make it in time.

Around her, other witless met the same fate.

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Adria, La’Var and Ba’Gan scurried around the bell tower, pulling the little green ones out of the gods’ hands. Adria grabbed a witless and pushed it to the wall, and she yelled for it to stay in one place. Shaking, the goblin nodded, and she turned around. Her jaw dropped.

U’lis’ eyes were still closed. With the biggest smile, she bent down and kissed a hand that broke through the floor. Adria shook her head. U’lis, you idiot, open your eyes! Listen to the screaming witless around you! And like Adria thought, the hand gripped the master chef’s neck and choked her.

She tried to shout, but only a whimper left her mouth. Kicking and scratching at the hand of god didn’t help. Her hands weaved sorcerous patterns, but she couldn’t speak the words, and the gods began to drag her down.

Adria couldn’t make it in time.

La’Var and Ba’Gan were helping a pair of witless break free.

Adria closed her eyes: making her fingers dance, she whispered a spell.

“Oh creature, thou grand hunt is finished and plenty a meal is awaiting your pack. Enough with the light -- embrace your slumber.”

Adria took a deep breath and felt the magic within. Alongside it, something else flowed in her blood. The desire that, no matter what, U’lis couldn’t die now. The feeling poured fuel on the flames of the magic.

The ghastly hand choking the master chef went limp and she broke free. A moment later, the wails of the witless faded and they broke out of the gods’ hands’ grips. Those silvery hands slithered back under the floors of the bell tower.

An empty hole spawned within her and fatigue came over her.

She had enough power to put manifestations of the gods to sleep.

“This can’t be their doing,” Adria whispered. “We couldn’t ever worship something so evil and… corrupt.”

Maybe this is happening because I cursed the gods to save those ghouls, a thought passed her by.

U’lis limped over to Adria and fell into her arms. The master chef looked beat.

“You can do a lot of good and a lot of bad with sorcery, and the gods work the same way.” She shook her head. “But if they want to do one, they have to do a little of the other too. Same with sorcery, really.”

“They’re the Twenty Gods, though…”

“Do you think they give strength and answers from the power of the skies? Nope. Sacrifices. Lots and lots of sacrifices give them their power. Though you never think you’ll end up one of those.”

Adria sighed.

What sort of gods are they then…

Saint Goblin struggled to her feet. A few shellshocked witless rushed to help her up. Once the old head of the inn found her balance, she looked at the crowd.

“You may believe this was a test of our endurance. A sacrifice to the glory of the Twenty Gods. In truth, it couldn’t be farther from that. This was but a simple glimpse into our future if we do not break our backs and save the inn; if we give in to the temptations of The Liar.”

“But those witless… The ones we couldn’t get to in time… They’re gone, right?” Adria’s throat seized up.

“It was the will of the Twenty Gods. I might’ve missed darkness in the hearts of those witless and the gods took them away before they could do more harm… Or they died innocent for greater reasons, beyond our simple minds' understanding.”

Then Saint Goblin’s crosses sparkled. From the cracks in the floor, light shone and mist flowed in. The hands returned. Chills crept up Adria's spine. There was a different feeling in the air now. This wasn't the gods. This was the work of...

The hands grabbed one goblin: the witless, in white kitchen clothes and a chef’s hat, who’d found the cracked bell.

Crying out, the goblin jumped. It raved in early goblin and broke through the door, scurrying down the stairs of the bell tower. The cracks of stone tiles echoed from below. More hands. Adria and La’Var looked at each other and dashed after the witless.

What did you do? Why do these hands want you? she thought.

Adria and La’Var reached the first floor and ran through the dark corridors, towards the dining hall, where the wails of the witless came from. She missed one of the fresh cracks in the floor and tripped. A yelp left her lips. Ahead, in one swift move, La’Var spun, caught her and returned to running.

They made it to the dining hall.

A circle of hands trapped the witless in a corner of the room, over the entrance to the underlayer. The little green one paced and muttered, trying to kick at the hands to drive them away. As Adria and La’Var dashed to break it free, one of its kicks was caught. The goblin’s eyes widened.

The stone floor cracked and splintered and vanished from under the witless' feet. Darkness swallowed the kitchen goblin and it screams grew more and more muffled.

They're taking it to the catacombs, Adria thought.

La’Var growled.

“You know, before you showed up, you had to leave the inn and go to the most crooked parts of the woods to experience stuff like this,” he said, looking into the pit. “One day, I'll toss my swords and bows, and I'll use your luck as my weapon.”

“Oh, I know. It’s in my blood. If I tripped at the wrong time, I could accidentally start the Elder Hunt.”

“No, no, no -- don't think about stumbling anywhere, Hah'Dria! You might actually fall and end up in that pit with a cracked skull. Any other day, I wouldn't mind that, but now I desperately need your help getting that damn fool of a goblin out of the catacombs.”

La’Var flashed a grin, snatched a saltshaker from one of the hall's tables and jumped after the witless.