Le Première Prologue: Attention au Balai!

The sky snarled a distant threat of rain. It was dark and overcast, hard to tell the color of stormclouds apart from more benign types. The trees shook and tossed their heads as restlessly as horses in a stable. Leaves swirled through the uneasy air. The road unspooled across the hills, a blue river cutting through the silver lawn of grass. In the far distance, the Grayflow River itself was a thread of pure darkness winding past the hill crowned by the walls of Daggerford proper. Too far to be seen, the hills chased the Grayflow all the way to the Sword Coast and the vast gulf of the sea beyond.

What could be seen were the farmsteads dotting the rolling hills and fields between the edge of the forest and the walls of Daggerford. Silver lumps of slumbering cows dotted the fields like piles of snow. Thin, pale ghosts of cookfires escaped brick chimneys. Candles winked through gaps in wicker shutters like friendly fireflies speckling the dark hills.

Up the blue river of the road strode a tall, broad figure in a dark cloak. His boots crunched along the stray rocks in the dirt of the path beneath his great weight. Above his shoulder bristled the ends of many arrows as well as the blunt haft of a shortspear. The details of the stranger’s body were indistinct beneath his dark cloak, which covered head and face alike, but it was clear enough that he would have towered over most races. In this area, the residents were mainly humans, elves, or dwarves. Rarely did they see more exotic visitors.

In addition to his weaponry, the figure carried a huge lump of blood and fur slung over each shoulder. They seemed to be deer of some sort, but each had a single, stout horn instead of branching antlers, and wickedly curved fangs. Despite the weight of these corpses, the figure was unbowed, though his tread was heavier.

The figure stomped along the road until a faint turn-off which led around a field of round hay bales to a humble farmhouse. The stranger approached and was let in by a relieved-looking farmer. Light briefly spilled across the yard from the open door before closing behind the two. A few quiet minutes passed before the hulking stranger emerged once more into the night, bereft of one of his bloody burdens. One broad, oddly-shaped gloved hand slipped a few coins into the jingling pouch at his belt. The motion briefly revealed his body beneath the cloak, illuminated by the firelight from inside the farmhouse. The broad chest was clothed in worn leather armor which bore many scrapes from previous battles. Bracers on the forearms showed that the bow and arrows on his back were not for show. The belt at his waist was braided rawhide fixed together with a decorative buckle stamped with a coat of arms. The belt fairly dripped with pouches, knives, and tools. Everything a person would need to live, carried on his body. The trousers were plain canvas and the boots plain leather, as clearly veterans of battle as the leather breastplate was.

In another moment, the door was closing behind him, leaving the stranger once more submerged in the cobalt evening. He set off once more around the field, rejoining the road and trudging towards Daggerford.

As he walked, the road took a dip between hills. The bottom of the little valley was covered in a blanket of fine, white mist. The figure descended into this mist step by step, the vapor sliding up his legs with every step until it encased his torso, then his head. The road ahead and the distant walls were lost to sight. Silver swallowed blue until all that was left was a few feet of road. The sound of the restless trees faded into silence. The road itself flattened beneath the stranger’s boots. After a few yards, the crunch of gravel gave way to the click of cobbles. The figure’s steps grew lighter and lighter, as the weight of the beast on one shoulder seemed to fade, as if the mist were swallowing it right off of his body. Eventually, he walked unhindered, the deer creature vanished.

The fog was too thick and rose too high. It swallowed the fields, the hills, the glowering sky. There was no reason for a fog like this to appear on a stormy winter evening. There was no way that the road should suddenly be flat and paved when it should be climbing towards Daggerford. The stranger slowed, unease showing in his stride. He paused, seeming to observe the unnatural fog he walked through.

Without the sound of his boots, pure silence fell.

That silence was eventually broken by the click of much lighter, daintier shoes approaching from the opposite direction. A second figure emerged from the fog. This one was a willowy woman as tall as the stranger, with hair and skin almost as pale and translucent as the mist swirling around her. Said hair was short, curling and fluffy at the tips like eagle down, revealing pointed ears. Her mouth was a slash of vivid, almost vulgar red next to the deep blue of her simple, low-cut dress. Her neck and ears flashed with what at first appeared to be silver jewelry, but was, on closer inspection, woven out of impossibly-fine birch branches which had the luster of precious metal. She held in one hand a long, wooden quarterstaff of less exquisite make. From beneath a fringe of snow-colored eyelashes, blue eyes as still and calm as lakewater regarded the hulking stranger.

“This fog is your doing?” she asked. Her voice was thick with a Northern accent.

The voice which emerged from the stranger’s hood was a bass growl. “No. Yours?”

“Also no.”

Interrupting the conversation came a scraping, clanking noise as of metal on cobbles. A third stranger approached at a sprightly gait. This one was shorter than the first two, on the edge between girl and woman. She had long, loose blonde curls that framed a heart-shaped face created by a dramatic widow’s peak and a small, pointed chin adorned with a beauty mark just beneath the swell of her lower lip. Her white dress was contained beneath a corset sewn with hundreds of glittering, armored plates, billowing out at the hips in a fringe of decorative feathers. She had a small crossbow hanging from one hip and a steel shield on one arm which was embossed with the design of a road traveling towards a rising sun.

“Hello! Are you two lost as well?” she greeted them, cheerfully.

“The fog came on suddenly,” the hulking stranger growled.

“Was in Daggerford, before,” the elegant woman added. “This does not look like Daggerford anymore.”

“I was, too.”

“I was outside of it, heading towards it,” the hulking stranger concluded. “The fog is not natural. Wherever we are now, it’s not where we were.”

“Phooey. I was really looking forward to my bed,” the blonde girl blew out her cheeks. She brightened up a moment later, eyes on the elegant woman. “Say, you look pretty nice! Do you come from money?”

“Very no,” said the woman. “I am Sveta. Yourself?”

“Valentina Delarossa,” the girl replied, holding out her hand for a clasp. Both turned to the hulking stranger.

He reached up and lowered his hood. The face that emerged from its depths was not that of a humanoid. The stranger was a tabaxi, with a broad, heavy muzzle and silver and white fur. Two rounded ears barely rose above a luxurious sweep of silver mane. The right eye was sealed shut by a puckered scar which ran from brow to cheek, the other a bright gold.

“Oskar Hill,” he said.

The attention of all three was drawn by something at last cutting through the fog. It was a light, flickering and orange. Like a will-o’-the-wisp, it approached step by step, hovering around waist-height and slowly getting brighter and brighter. Gradually, a silhouette resolved behind it. At last, the mist swirled aside to reveal a young humanoid, palm held out and cupping a handful of fire in bare fingers. It was clear immediately that this was a fire genasi.

The genasi stood barely as tall as Valentina, slender and gray-skinned. Their body was wrapped in layer after layer of brightly-colored cloth, almost every inch embroidered with geometric designs. The most typical trait of a fire genasi, that flamelike hair, was half-gathered back into a bun which stood up oblong and flickering like a candle’s flame. The rest of it licked down around the genasi’s neck and shoulders, red as sunset. At first, through the mist, it seemed as if the genasi’s eyes were reflective like a cat’s. As they drew closer, however, it became easier to see that their irises and pupils were normal and dark; it was the sclera which gave off an amber glow as if the genasi’s eyes were formed of campfire embers. The grin below full of white teeth could not have glowed brighter.

“Evenin’,” they said, in a voice that was surprisingly deep and syrupy for their otherwise delicate looks. “You folks lost as I am?”

“Looks like it,” Valentina confirmed. “I’m Valentina, this is Sveta and Oskar. We just met here. Were you walking in or around Daggerford when a weird mist swallowed you up, too?”

“Was going for a piss, me, but otherwise, yeah,” the genasi said. “Name’s Illyan Imbert.” He said it with a distinctive twang, eel-YAN eem-BEAR. “Whose children are those?”

At this indication, the others turned to find two more figures had materialized from the mist. This time, the mist itself seemed to pull back like a curtain, revealing not only the children but a bit of their surroundings as well. As if emerging from the mist, the shadows of buildings appeared to either side, like the ghost of a town street. It was clearly not Daggerford, given the state of disrepair most of the buildings seemed to be in. Directly beside the group of travelers was a tall, once-handsome townhouse of three stories which had long since fallen into decay. The front walk ran down a step or two to the street, and it was on these steps that two children stood, warily regarding the newcomers.

The larger of the two was a girl around ten, a dark-skinned humanoid with black hair pulled back in a severe braid and a red dress. The smaller was a boy with similar looks, a bit on the heavy side, around seven or eight. He wore a brown jacket and clutched in his arms a doll with a cloth body and cleverly-wrought ceramic hands, feet, and face.

“Children,” Oskar rumbled. “What are you doing outside at night?”

The girl looked nervously between the house and the strangers. It took her a few long moments to work up the courage to speak, and when she did it was in a soft voice accented by a musical lilt. “Zere’s a monster in ze ‘ouse.” The very mention sent her brother huddling into her side, his arms strangling the doll in their hold.

“A monster?” Oskar let loose a snarl which shook the bones of everyone nearby. His whiskers pulled back to show ivory teeth. The girl squeaked in fright and shrank down where she stood, clutching her brother’s shoulders and pulling him tightly against her body.

Illyan went down on one knee in between the children and the tabaxi. His diminutive height was such that this essentially put him on eye level with the children. He smiled and twirled his flame between his fingers in a distracting, showy manner.

“Oh? What kinda monster?”

“I don’t know,” the girl whispered. “Mama and Papa are keeping it in ze basement.”

“Then how…” Oskar began. The very sound of his voice sent the children flinching back once more. He immediately cut off and sent a glower in the direction of the others.

“Then how do you know there is monster?” Sveta broke in.

“We can ‘ear it. It makes noises all night.”

“Ask them what kinds of noises,” Oskar growled under his breath.

“What kinds of noises?” Illyan obligingly repeated.

The girl scrunched up her face in thought. “Like a… owwwwwwooooo.” She mimicked a tremulous kind of howl.

“Is werewolf?” Sveta guessed.

“Our informant is a child,” Illyan said. “It could be damn near anything.”

The impatience in his voice sent the girl trembling. “Please help us,” she whispered. “Our baby brother is still in zere. I don’t want to go back in. I’m scared.”

“I’ll go,” Oskar assured her, then paused. “Tell her I’ll go.”

“Think she ‘eard that one,” Illyan said, wryly. Oskar noticed that the genasi’s twang was just a little bit sideways from the girl’s. Whatever that meant, it wasn’t important right now. Not in the face of a monster to hunt. He still had no idea where he was or what was going on, but a Hill knew their duty. There was no way Oskar was going to walk away from any kind of monster threatening a child.

“I also will go,” Sveta volunteered.

“I’m sticking with you guys,” Valentina agreed.

“‘Ow about I stay out ‘ere with the children?” Illyan suggested. “I know some magic tricks that’ll keep their minds off their worries.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Sveta asked. Her tone remained even and unbothered, despite the apparent concern in the words. Her features were as serene and distant as the moon.

Illyan flapped a careless hand. “Bien sûr, bien sûr. You go on.”

“What if… the children are the monsters?” Valentina suggested.

“Child, you’d tell me if you were a wolf, wouldn’t you?” Illyan pulled an exaggeratedly worried face at the elder girl. Their accent drew each vowel out like melting molasses. Behind them, the other adults exchanged confused looks.

“A vuff?” Sveta repeated.

“A woof,” Valentina corrected.

“A wolf,” Oskar finished.

Before Illyan, the girl drew up indignantly. “I am not a wolf!” She stomped her foot.

“Well, she believes it,” Illyan concluded, with a shrug. “Good enough for me.”

Sveta and Valentina exchanged another look and shrugged.

“If you’re sure,” Oskar said.

“Find us if there is trouble,” Sveta offered. The three of them proceeded past the children on the steps and towards the house.

“I hardly knew him, but I’m gonna miss him,” Valentina commented to nobody in particular. Behind them, the mist swirled, turning the edges of Illyan’s body as transparent as a ghost’s. Before long, even the glow from his eyes and hair were all but swallowed up.

The front gate was wrought iron, leading to a little cobbled yard barely more than six feet across. There was nothing in it except a horse hitch and a broken lamp bolted to the wall. Weeds grew between the cobbles in a ragged carpet. Beyond the yard was a red-painted door. Oskar shouldered his way to the front of the group, placing a huge, gloved paw on the knob and pushing it open.

Inside, there was no light. Oskar and Sveta’s eyes could make out the outlines of shapes in the pitch blackness, but to Valentina it was impenetrable. She moved forward with a cautious hand on Sveta’s shoulder until the door swung shut behind them. At that point, she removed her hand and dipped it into a pouch at her waist instead, emerging with a pinch of faintly-glowing moss between her fingers. This she rubbed onto the surface of her shield, tracing the outline of the emblem on it as she murmured, “Sole lord am I of all this realm of sight.” The engraved outline of the sun shimmered with rosy light as if dawn really was breaking from somewhere within the shield. It lit up the room before them.

There wasn’t much room, all told. This area was a cloak or mud room of some description, tiled with slate but barely furnished. There was a boot scraper, a chest, and hooks from which rows of oiled cloaks hung ready for the rain. Spiderwebs festooned every crack and corner, hanging from the edges of the cloaks like tree moss. Like the yard, this area wasn’t more than six feet across. The door at the other end stood ajar.

When the trio stepped forward, the dawn light of Valentina’s shield slid across a humanoid shape blocking the doorway.

Valentina shrieked in surprise. Oskar and Sveta closed ranks, hands reaching for their polearms, but were forestalled by the figure stepping forward.

It was a harengon woman clad in a short, red tunic and black breeches. A longsword in a lacquered wooden sheath hung at her hip from a black sash. Her revealed arms and legs were corded with ropy muscle beneath fine gray-brown fur. The two long ears on her head were gathered back with a wooden bead into a kind of ponytail. Despite the delicacy of her whiskered, pink nose and liquid brown eyes, there was a quality of sternness to her features.

“Who are you?” the harengon woman asked.

“Another one?” Valentina said, breathless, her hand at the base of her throat.

“Do you live here?” Oskar rumbled.

The harengon tipped her head back, placid in the face of this larger, more predatory species.

“No. I wandered through the mist and found this place.”

“Us as well,” Sveta said. A round of introductions was made. The harengon woman’s name was Xiao Jinghua. She hadn’t seen the children on her way in, but had found herself wandering through mist until it receded and she was in the yard outside. She agreed quickly to go with them to see if any monsters were present.

Through the door was at last the townhouse proper. A marble-floored foyer spread out before the group, as covered in mold and dust as the mudroom had been. A fireplace took up the majority of the west wall, the east side taken up by the red risers of a broad spiral staircase. The wall panels in between were carved oak in intricate designs that were dizzying to look at in the rosy glow of Valentina’s shield. There were two doors in the north wall and one in the south, leading to a room on the other side of the mudroom’s east wall.

“I’ll look this way,” Valentina volunteered, heading for the northern doors. Sveta followed after her. Oskar grunted an acknowledgement, gesturing for Jinghua to follow him towards the other door.

The doors opened easily beneath their hands. Oskar found himself in a lightless room, the exterior windows shuttered and swirling with mist. His pupils filled his eyes, soaking up every scrap of illumination. This was some sort of den. More wood paneling and another fireplace, in addition to a proliferation of cabinets and comfortable chairs. A few animal heads snarled from where they were mounted on the walls. Nothing interesting.

Valentina, meanwhile, cooed in delight as she pushed the door open. Spread before her was the glitter of a set dining room table, five places fully appointed with cutlery, plates, and crystalware. From the ceiling hung a crystal chandelier which caught the light from Valentina’s spell and turned it into silent fireworks of gold and blue. The girl didn’t hesitate to skip towards the table and pick up the nearest knife.

“Silver is good against werewolves, right?”

“Is good against many things,” Sveta acknowledged, absently. She was studying the wood panels of the walls here. They were carved similarly to the ones in the foyer, though now that she was looking, she could see that what at first seemed to be an innocent woodland scene full of vines, fruit, and satyrs held twisted, monstrous shapes among the trees. There was another fireplace here.

Valentina eagerly began stuffing her belt pouches with as many silver forks and knives as she could. Two of the knives she offered to Sveta, who took them gingerly, as if their touch would somehow stain her fingers. She tucked them away in her own dress.

Oskar appeared in the doorway. “Anything here?”

“No.”

“Nothing over there, either.”

“The girl said her parents were in here, didn’t she?” Valentina asked. She pushed past the large tabaxi, crossing the foyer with long strides and cupping her hands around her mouth. “Yoo-hoo! Is anyone home? Are there any monsters in here?” she caroled up the stairs.

Ringing silence answered her.

“Maybe… don’t do that,” Oskar grimaced.

“Oh, sorry,” Valentina giggled.

“She said monster was in basement,” Sveta pointed out. “I see no stairs down. Up is only option.”

“Up it is, then,” Jinghua decided, stepping onto them. The rest hurried to follow, clattering loudly up the stairs as they went.

They emerged onto a second story, just as lightless and cobwebbed as the lower level. This area spread out before them, a grand hall lined with rusted suits of armor which stood sentinel from the shadows. Each one’s helm was wrought in the shape of a wolf’s head. Above the mantel at the other end of the hall was a large oil painting depicting a man and woman in rich, expensive clothing and the same kind of dark hair and eyes as the children outside. Those very children were painted in the portrait as well, in the same clothes and holding the same doll. The man in the portrait held a swaddled baby.

With a speaking glance, all agreed to continue upwards. Sveta led the way across the landing to the next flight of stairs. This they ascended quickly and noisily, emerging onto the third floor. Like the two floors below, this one was desolate. Unlike the lower two, it was cramped. There was no additional flight of stairs, only closed doors at either end of a comparatively narrow hall.

“Hello? Mama, Papa? Baby brother?” Valentina whisper-called.

Silence was the only reply.

“We must search rooms. Perhaps baby is in one of them,” Sveta decided. She stepped forward ahead of the others, crossing the hall towards a door on the other side, speaking over her shoulder as she went. “Or perhaps nobody is in house at all.”

As Valentina stepped forward to follow, the light from her shield shifted, sliding over something humanoid standing against the wall.

Because the light was moving, it wasn’t movement which alerted the group to the imminent danger, but a spine-chilling shriek of metal and a clattering explosion. Sveta danced back just in time as something crashed to the floor before her, sending up a choking cloud of cobwebs and dust. Valentina planted her feet and raised her shield, steadying the light. Before them stood an ancient set of decorative black iron armor, draped in white strings of spiderwebs like a bridal veil. It was posed in an attitude of having just finished clapping its gauntlets together in the space Sveta’s head had been occupying only moments ago. As they watched, the helmet creaked around until its wolf-shaped visor faced them.

“Magic armor!” Valentina gasped.

“No problem,” Sveta decided. She twirled her quarterstaff into a ready position. As if spinning silk along its length, the dawn light of Valentina’s spell was gathered along the staff, turning silver-white as it did so. When Sveta raised it, both woman and staff alike were lit as if by strong moonlight.

The strike she aimed at the armor clanged horribly, but did very little in the way of visible damage. Behind her, Oskar and Jinghua readied their own weapons, charging in. The tabaxi’s spear and the harengon’s sword similarly created an awful racket and many scratches, but seemed to do very little to the armor’s ability to fight back. Indeed, it swiped back at Jinghua with both hands. The harengon ducked nimbly beneath the first blow, insubstantial as the breeze. The second caught her around the midriff, driving the air from her body with a huff.

Valentina aimed a hand from behind her shield, pointing at the armor as she recited, “Flaming arches ring and blare!”

A spark of flame shot from her fingertips, slipping into the gap in the armor’s visor. A burst of light sparkled from within, escaping through every joint and gap of the armor’s form. A massive groan filled the air, punctuated by a sharp crackle as fissures ran across the armor’s breastplate.

The armor lunged for her, but Sveta interposed herself. The gauntlets slammed into her jaw and collarbone, sending the woman stumbling almost to the ground. She only barely caught herself, planting her feet and swinging her quarterstaff with both hands. The moonlit head of her weapon slammed squarely into the armor’s cracked breastplate.

With a sound like an avalanche, the suit of armor sifted apart. Rust showered down as the component parts of the enchanted construct disintegrated. By the time it hit the polished wood of the landing, it was nothing more than a pile of red dust.

For a moment, everybody stood silently in place, catching their breath.

Sveta ran a hand through her bangs. The livid red of a fresh bruise was smeared across her jaw and cheek. “...We go more slowly, yes?” She worked her mouth a few times as she spoke, wincing delicately. Oskar had to admit that for such a delicate-looking woman, she was certainly tough.

Valentina crept up behind her and half-lifted her hand, like a tentative schoolchild. “Are you very hurt? I could heal that with my magic.”

“I would appreciate it,” Sveta admitted.

“How many times can you do that?” Oskar asked.

“Um, I can cast a healing spell around twice,” Valentina calculated. “I’d rather save them for when we really need them.”

“I as well. Can heal twice,” Sveta added. “Would be more, but powers… they are sealed right now.”

“As in, you normally have more powers?” Valentina confirmed. Sveta nodded. Thoughtfully, the girl persisted, “Would you also happen to have sealed wealth by any chance?”

“Nyet, only powers.”

Oskar looked between their two hurt members. Sveta was difficult to read. Judging by her face alone, she hardly seemed bothered by the hit. The fact that she’d asked for a healing spell was the only clue that she was hiding deeper pain. Meanwhile, Jinghua was lingering near the back of the group. She’d sheathed her sword and straightened up. There was no visible sign she was hurt, either. The harengon shook her head when her eyes met Oskar’s.

“I am fine for now,” she declared.

Oskar grunted acknowledgment. “I can cast a healing spell as well, but only once. We can save that one for an emergency.”

“Okey-dokey.” Valentina stepped forward and laid her hand along Sveta’s injured jaw. Her eyes fluttered closed briefly, lips framing a beaming, gentle smile. Despite the darkness and decay which surrounded them, her demeanor suggested instead that Valentina was basking in warm sunlight. She said, as if sharing this unseen sunlight with Sveta, “Mine to receive, and happily mine to give!” When she removed her hand, the darkening bruise along the bone had vanished, leaving behind flawless skin.

Sveta worked her jaw again, then nodded in thanks.

“Slowly,” Oskar reiterated.

“Slowly,” Sveta, Jinghua, and Valentina agreed.

On this, the third floor, there were doors in every direction off of the cramped landing where the magic armor had lurked. Cautious now that there was finally proof of danger here, the group moved in a unified clump towards the northern set of double doors set with stained glass in designs that resembled windmills. Valentina went first this time, pulling one leaf open ever-so-slowly, revealing a darkened room beyond.

The first thing that hit as the door opened was a powerful odor of rot. This had clearly once been the house’s main bedroom. A huge bed crouched in the corner, fuzzy on every side with years of dust and splotched with dark mold. Spread across the floor beside the bed was the skin of a tiger, its head lifted in a defiant snarl at the darkness. This seemed most responsible for the pervasive stench. Oskar wasn’t squeamish when it came to animals or monsters in any state of life or death, in general, but that didn’t mean he had any desire to closely examine the matching fuzz and splotches on that tiger skin.

“Is it rotting?” Valentina gasped, cupping her hands over her nose.

“Should not be,” Sveta frowned.

“Not if it was properly preserved,” Oskar agreed.

Valentina puffed up, fairly outraged by this information. “So, what, I guess they’re just pretending to have money? Nouveau riche? Can’t even pay to get an actually preserved skin rug? Cutting corners on the cost?!” She lightly kicked a toe at the rug, endeavoring to keep the rest of her body leaned as far back as possible. The motion sent her wobbling and nearly falling, catching herself at the last second. The other three spread out to search the room, examining the polished mirror on the wall and the empty wardrobe. There seemed to be very little of interest in such a large room. Certainly, there was no sign of a baby.

“If they’re nouveau riche,” Jinghua began, thoughtfully, “they probably pay a nurse.”

This sounded as likely to Oskar as anything, who had no idea what went on in townhouses. He was rarely hired by city folk. This was the longest time he’d ever spent in a house like this. Valentina, on the other hand, nodded furiously. Given her earlier outburst, she probably knew her stuff.

The only other thing in this room was a set of windowed doors in an exterior wall. When Oskar pushed these open, he found himself on a tiled balcony lined with wrought iron rails, looking down on a soup of mist. Just barely, he could make out a tangle of weeds and overgrown vegetation. This was likely the back of the house.

When Oskar stepped back inside, the others had vacated the room. In the hallway, the women were crowded around the opened door of a tiny bathroom. It was hardly big enough to even hold them, and a quick look from the doorway seemed to reveal nothing of interest. A stove, a claw-footed tub, and a cistern. Certainly no monster or imperiled baby.

Oskar moved past all of them to the next door in the hall. It led into a storage closet for linens. The shelved walls were piled with musty, rat-eaten sheets and boxes of cleaning supplies. It was narrow, dark, and long. Oskar’s shoulders brushed either wall as he took a single step in, squinting at the back to make sure no secret dangers lurked. All that was there was an old, wooden broom leaned in the far corner. Satisfied, Oskar turned to leave.

Pain exploded across his shoulders. With a snarl, Oskar whirled.

No foe appeared. The wooden broom hovered in the air behind him, animated by magic just as the armor had been. It was the broom which had whacked him.

It attempted to do so again. Oskar hastily brought up his spear, hampered by the close quarters of the linen closet. The point of his spear futilely sought to land a hit on the thin, wooden shaft of the broom. Blows rained down on Oskar, solid and stinging, to the jaw, the collar, the wrist, and the shoulder. Linens flew and cascades of boxed soap rained from the shelves overhead, pelting the combatants. Overwhelmed and furious, the tabaxi let rip a roar of fury.

The roar was cut off as a final blow landed on Oskar’s knee. The joint buckled, and the tabaxi’s head smashed against the edge of the nearest shelf. Oskar collapsed in an unconscious heap to the floor.

Brought by the sounds of smashing and roaring, the three women came running from where they had been scattered throughout the hall. They crammed themselves in the doorway of the closet, unable to push past Oskar who took up the entire frame.

Valentina shrieked, “What? What hit him?”

“The broom!” Jinghua barked.

“Hit it!”

“I can’t reach it!”

Sveta fumbled in her bodice, bringing out the silver knife she had taken from downstairs. She flung it like a dart through the doorframe. Though the knife was dull, her aim was true, and splinters flew from the dented shaft of the broom handle. This seemed to draw its attention.

The broom charged out of the closet, flying over Oskar’s unconscious body, aimed for Valentina’s face. The girl shrieked, falling backwards.

“Wake!” For an instant, the silhouette of her body was replaced with searing, burning white light. The light gathered and burst from her like the reactive flare of a pufferfish’s spikes. Any being with eyes looking at her would have been blinded by the intense dazzle and the after-shadow of green and black spots. A living, sighted attacker would have certainly been at a disadvantage.

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This, however, was a broom.

Whack!

There was a great crack as the wooden broom slammed into Valentina’s armored bodice. She was more startled than hurt. Now, the broom was in the hall with them. Sveta again flung a knife. This one clattered off into the darkness, unable to hit the rapidly-moving target now that it had a larger space to move. Jinghua lunged, her reach still too short to reach the broom past Sveta with her sword.

Valentina, meanwhile, dropped to hands and knees on the ground and scooted beneath the melee and confusion overhead until she reached the unmoving bulk of Oskar. A hand lightly touched at his temple.

“Mine to receive, and happily mine to give!” she whispered.

Oskar came roaring back up and awake. The look in his eyes was wild, the whites showing around the green to match his flashing fangs, nose crinkled in a great bunch. One silver temple was darkened with blood, the wound sealed into a thin white line of scar tissue beneath the fur. Blind with fury, the tabaxi lunged with both hands.

Incredibly, he caught it. The broom between his palms was as slender as a matchstick. He snapped it cleanly in two. The halves clattered lifelessly to the floor.

For just a moment, everybody stood in stunned silence, breathing hard. Oskar’s low-grade growling subsided slowly, his eyes returning to their normal size and intensity. Sveta retrieved both of her thrown cutlery knives, tucking them back into her bodice. The experience settled over them like a heavy wool blanket, itching with the knowledge that they had just seriously struggled to defeat a broomstick.

Oskar sighed. “No baby in there. Continue?”

“We’re running low on healing spells,” Valentina observed, morosely. “I’m all out.”

“We still have a few,” he replied.

“We have to find the child,” Jinghua insisted.

Oskar shook himself out, mane rippling, and stepped towards the last room they had yet to explore. The door opened easily beneath his push, revealing a second bedroom similar to the one across the hall. There was no rotting rug here, only a bed festooned in cobwebs, a large, wall-hung silver mirror with a frame carved to resemble ivy and berries, and a shadowed nook off to the side. The motion of the door sent the cobwebs fluttering and dust floating into gentle spirals lit by the dawn of Valentina’s shield. Those gentle spirals would normally have settled after only a second.

Instead, they spun faster, coalescing in the center of the room. The dust and cobwebs came together to form the silhouette of a woman in a fluttering dress, her hair a wild halo of tangles around her skeletal face. Her jaw sagged open, a dark pit which matched her hollow eye sockets and the half-dozen gaping holes dotting her torso. From the pit of her mouth emerged a thin scream of terror which scraped along the roots of the teeth.

The group just had enough time to bring up their weapons before the spectral woman swooped towards them.

Oskar’s spear traced a line straight through the specter's body, parting her like mist. She re-formed on the other side, barely perturbed. She threw both hands forward, fingers sculpted into claws. The insubstantial fingertips sank past Oskar’s leather breastplate, past the flesh and bone beneath, and into the meat of his chest. A freezing bolt of pain spread from where they were joined, aching and burning and biting through Oskar. The agony built and built until it exceeded the limits of his consciousness. For the second time, his eyes rolled back into his skull and the tabaxi fell senseless to the floor.

This time, at least the enemy looked like an enemy.

The ghost advanced past the fallen Oskar, right into the teeth of the others. Jinghua’s sword did almost as little as the tabaxi’s spear had, but now that she faced her enemy squarely, she was able to let loose with a combo of slashes and kicks. It was obvious at a glance that her martial arts were trained. The style was tailored for harengon, both hands occupied with the longsword, body twisting and dancing so that the long feet could use the momentum of the slashes to kick and hook. Each movement flowed easily to the next. Without the resistance of a substantial body, it almost seemed as if the harengon were dancing in place.

Valentina, on the other hand, did not keep her place. The girl wheeled backwards across the small landing, hand and shield up as if to ward off a blow. These hands shimmered with the pink light of her sacred flame, boiling forwards to lash at the specter in ringing arches. Unlike the others’ edged weapons, the magic seemed to hurt the ghostly woman severely. The burn of the magic left patches through her form that did not fill back in, the ghost resembling an old, worn portrait. Her screech drilled right into the soft center of the eardrum, spiking pain through everyone’s temples. Even unconscious, Oskar moaned and pinned his ears back. Valentina alone had free hands to clap over her ears, though this was of precious little help.

Sveta’s hands were both now full of her quarterstaff, held vertically in front of her. Her chest heaved softly with deep, slow breaths. The wood between her hands pulsed with faint, white light which grew with every moment until woman and staff alike seemed lit by the full moon. Unlike Valentina’s spell, it was a diffuse rather than concentrated light, which made the woman seem to exist just slightly out-of-step with her surroundings.

That moonlight left a white trail in the air as Sveta brought her staff around to strike at the specter. The unearthly shriek cut off in a pained burble as the staff slammed into the ghostly woman’s midriff. She bent backwards beneath the blow in an entirely mortal way, the breath seemingly driven from her breathless body. The moonlight stuck to the ghost like the negative of a smudge of blood, shimmering pale and luminous against her abdomen. The shining patch ate away at the ghostly substance of her body, leaving behind dark spots that spread across the fabric of her dress and the flesh of her skin until she was tattered as a scrap of lace. Even so, what remained of her maliciously clawed fingers reached for Sveta. Having seen what they did to Oskar, her breath caught in fear even before the chill touch of them spread across her chest like spilled ice water. The pain clutched stiffly along the muscles of her chest, reaching for her heart. Sveta pressed her lips together to hold back a groan and ripped herself away before it could mount to the point that she passed out as well.

Another shot of fire, another sweep of moonlight, and the specter let out a soft, pitiful moan. This one sank deep, below the boundaries of human hearing until it hummed desolately in the marrow of their bones before finally trailing off beyond perception. The dark stains, blood and wear alike, spilled across the remaining outline of her body until the woman was only a pale wisp among the darkness. Even this dissolved in silent misery.

Sveta panted harshly in the dim hallway, swallowing unevenly as if to gulp the pain in her chest back down into her belly. It wasn’t getting any worse, but it was lingering like an ache far too close to the heart for comfort. Jinghua approached, examining her chest with concerned eyes. The angle was too awkward for Sveta to see, but Jinghua had a good look at the six scarlet red marks visible above the neckline of her blue dress. The other four, she had no doubt, were just hidden beneath the fabric. Against Sveta’s pale skin, they showed up like stab wounds, the dark centers starting to bloom out as the broken capillaries spilled blood beneath the skin. In no time at all, she would be bruised from throat to breast.

In seconds, her moment of discomposure was over. As if she simply did not notice the horror her clavicles were becoming, she glided forward along the beam of light from Valentina’s shield. She dropped to one knee, one hand hanging on to her planted staff for balance, the other reaching down until her fingertips sank into silver fur.

“Byloye nado razlyubit’,” her voice murmured, musically. For just a moment, below the fringe of her lowered eyelashes, her blue eyes sparked with light like stars. The soothing cool of moonlight flooded throughout the tabaxi’s body. Oskar groaned and stirred. He levered himself up on one elbow, the other hand going automatically to the upper lip of his leather breastplate. He was able to pry it and the shirt beneath away from his chest just enough to peer beneath. Where Sveta had livid bruises, Oskar had ten evenly-spaced, circular scars like little moons on each silver-furred pectoral.

“You’re getting sexier than all of us,” Valentina said in an encouraging tone but a weak voice, as approached, her shield held centered before her with both hands, in case the room held any other ghostly dangers.

“Already was,” Oskar grunted, letting the breastplate go. He climbed heavily to his feet, shedding dust with every movement.

Sveta scoffed as she smoothly rose beside him. “In dreams, kotyonok.”

Back on their feet, only slightly shaken, the group proceeded into the room to poke around. It wasn’t long before they converged on the nook built into the side of the room. There was no door, only an empty frame leading into a space hardly large enough for a single person to stand in. Occupying that space was a sturdy, wooden crib draped in black fabric like a shroud. The group hung back from it, wary.

Sveta stepped forward. “Let Grandma handle this.” She held her quarterstaff by the end of it and extended the shaft. With the tip, she parted the shrouding fabric above the crib.

In the rosy light swirling with dust, a small bundle of swaddling fabric sat in the center of the crib mattress.

Sveta extended her staff, ever-so-gently, to prod this bundle.

Valentina hissed in chastisement.

There was no reaction from the bundle.

Oskar stepped forward. He seized the corner of the swaddling cloth and threw it backwards. There was a sharp, sobbing cry like that of an infant. The cloth collapsed in limp strips across the crib. There was no baby within. They had been wrapped around nothing but air.

“Well, nuts,” Valentina said.

“Is ghost baby?” Sveta suggested.

Oskar patted around on the bed. “There’s nothing here.”

“I wonder if there’s anything in this house at all,” Jinghua said.

“Then what was that ghost lady guarding? There has to be something in here,” Valentina insisted.

“She was in here for some reason,” Sveta agreed.

“I think that she was haunting more than guarding,” Oskar said to her back as the girl marched away from the alcove to poke with determination around the room. “You make it sound like she was on the payroll,” he further appealed. He was addressing nobody. Sveta and Jinghua had left the bedroom entirely, combing back over the other rooms for any clues they had missed. Oskar heaved a deep sigh and eventually followed. As he passed back through the bedroom, he noticed another set of stained glass exterior doors, like he had found in the main bedroom. Allowing the others to proceed ahead of him, he pushed these open. Sure enough, they led out onto an even larger balcony with the same kind of stone tiles and iron railing. The pervading mist surrounded the townhouse like a wall, concealing sky and scenery alike. It was as if the house was adrift in a dream. Logically, however, if the balcony in the southeast corner had overlooked the rear yard, then this one in the northwest corner ought to look down on the front path they had all arrived in on.

Leaning over, Oskar indeed caught sight of several dark, darting figures through the mist below. One burned through the mist with a constant, low light.

“Illyan!” Oskar called, waving.

The burning silhouette paused and looked up, then waved back.

“Everything alright?” Oskar asked.

“Not et yet!” Illyan shouted back. “Just playing tag!”

“We’re searching the upper floors. No sign of the family or monster yet.”

“D’ac. Good luck.”

At least it was good to know that Valentina’s fears for the genasi were unfounded. So far. Oskar stepped back into the secondary bedroom, quickly crossing back to the balcony to catch up with the others. He passed Valentina crawling around on all fours, craning awkwardly in an attempt to shine her shield’s light beneath the bed. He caught Jinghua where she was staring down at the broken broomstick in the hallway. Gently, he touched her elbow to get her attention.

“Would you like to check the second floor with me? We skipped that one on the way up.”

Jinghua considered this before nodding. “Yes. Better if we go together.”

In tacit agreement, both kept their weapons at the ready as they moved down the red stairway. Without the light from Valentina’s shield, the second floor was a pit of darkness. Jinghua stuck close to Oskar’s side, her nose working rapidly at the air and bound-back ears twitching. Unseen cobwebs brushed against her face and limbs as she moved through the larger space of the second-floor landing. A very small amount of light filtered through a dust-caked window at the far end of the hall, giving the harengon just enough light to see Oskar’s head swinging back and forth as he surveyed their surroundings.

“Armor here,” he rumbled. “It’s not moving like the others. Two doors, one east, one west.”

“I will look in the east room,” Jinghua offered.

Oskar nodded, moving to the western door. Both doors opened easily beneath their hands, unlocked and unguarded. Oskar found himself in a disused conservatory, large and airy and lined with more than enough windows to illuminate the ghostly, abandoned shapes within. From the ceiling, a brass-plated chandelier bloomed with petals of hanging spiderwebs. A standing harp lurked beneath a dust cover, a harpsichord and bench crouched in the corner, and crumbling sheet music lay scattered across the floor. The walls were decorated with what looked like stained glass, somehow, depicting joyful scenes of music. The fireplace at the far end of the room was lined with alabaster figurines of dancing humanoids. Nothing moved within, living or dead.

Jinghua found another room with a powerful odor, though this one was far more pleasant. She hardly needed the scant light that filtered through the mist outside of the velvet-curtained windows. This musty, mildewed scent of paper and ink could only belong to a library. She stood in the doorway for almost a full minute, waiting for her eyes to adjust. At last, she conceded that this was probably as good as her sight was going to get, under the circumstances, and headed in to search the room.

For her entire life, Xiao Jinghua had studied her family’s martial arts. She was no genius, but she was diligent and thoughtful and had achieved breakthroughs some disciples took years to accomplish in only a few months. Compared to most beings of any race, she was light on her toes and moved with the grace and agileness of the wind among the fields.

None of it availed her. Jinghua banged her toes into every single chair, desk corner, and bookshelf in the entire room over the course of her sweep of the perimeter. The warding hand held before her at hip-height somehow managed to skim just above every obstacle, allowing the furnishings to sneak in under her guard and catch her flat-footed with their attacks. By the time she returned to the doorway, she was empty-handed and sore-footed. Alone and in the darkness, the harengon shed her habitual dignity for just a moment to hop on her good foot, shaking the injured one furiously to relieve the pain.

The instant the dark shape of Oskar’s bulk appeared before her, she was back to balancing on both feet, as if the moment had never happened. She and the tabaxi converged in the foyer, trading grim shakes of the head.

“Check the first floor again?” Jinghua suggested. Oskar grumpily agreed.

Their trip back to the first floor availed them very little. No part of the kitchen or the den on this level looked strange. The only place they had yet to poke their noses in was the locked wardrobe in the den. Oskar applied his strength to the flimsy wooden doors, wrenching them into splinters. The only thing they found was a series of crossbows, which he dutifully hooked onto his belt. They’d been starving for ranged combat options during that broom fight. Jinghua accepted one for herself. The duo moved back up to the second floor with their bounty. As Oskar’s heavy tread surmounted the staircase, dainty clicks heralded Sveta’s descent to meet them. In one hand, she lifted a silver-embossed wooden box hardly big enough to hold a loaf of bread.

“Found jewelry in main bedroom,” she reported.

“And we’re just taking it?” Oskar asked, unimpressed.

“We may have crossed the line from robbery to archeology by now,” Jinghua observed. “This place has been abandoned for a very long time.”

“Yes, they are not using. May as well hold on to.” Sveta disappeared the box into the slim, almost-unnoticeable bag which hung at her hip.

“Do you want a crossbow?” Oskar offered, gesturing to the three bulky weapons clanging at his hip.

Sveta arched one pale eyebrow. “We are just taking?”

“Weapons are different.”

“Da, well, I cannot use. If I hold metal, all powers become sealed.”

Oskar conceded with a grunt. For a moment, the conversation stalled.

“Where else haven’t we looked?” A slight edge of frustration colored Jinghua’s stoicism.

“The girl said the monster was in the basement,” Oskar remembered. “I didn’t see any way to go down. Maybe Sveta and Valentina should look at the first floor, too.”

“No harm,” Sveta agreed.

“Hold on,” Jinghua interrupted. “We should first look at this library. I am sure we could find something important.” If only I could see enough to read, she finished purely through force of tone.

Sveta perked up, lips unsmiling but eyes crinkling just slightly at the corners. “A library? Is very good! Libraries always have hidden room.”

“Isn’t that just a story?” Oskar asked. Even as he did, Sveta was brushing past him, and he was falling into line behind her. The three filed into the library, where Oskar wasted no time rustling up the oil lamps which had been left on table and desk. The oil within them was mostly congealed around the edges, but Oskar was able to scrape enough liquid oil together from the three he had found to light just one. The dull flame of it flickered through smudged glass, allowing Jinghua at last to make out the majority of the room.

The drapes, she could now see, were crimson red. The south wall of the room was entirely filled with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A rolling ladder attached to the shelves allowed access to the higher shelves. There was another fireplace in this room, and another oil painting. This one depicted a windmill perched atop a rocky crag.

With supreme confidence, Sveta plucked a book off of a head-height shelf and let it flutter messily to the rug. At the others’ looks, she gave an elegant shrug.

“Hidden room is always behind books, yes?”

“In stories,” Oskar repeated. He heaved a great sigh and grabbed a book of his own. Jinghua wordlessly scurried up the rolling ladder to begin from the top. There were hundreds of the things. It was immediately clear that this was going to take some work.

Hardly a minute had passed before there was a mighty clatter from the direction of the stairs. The three whirled around, hands going to their weapons, only to relax as the bouncing, rosy light in the hall gave away the noise-maker’s identity. Valentina appeared in the doorway with a clamor of boots on hardwood, catching herself on the frame before the transition to rug could trip her on her face. Her hair was mussed and fluffed with little tufts of dust bunnies, but her lips were stretched in a triumphant grin.

“Found it!” She crowed. “A secret passage behind the mirror in the secondary bedroom! I saw it was open just a crack while I was searching under the bed. It has to lead to the basement!”

“Good work,” Oskar rumbled.

“I haven’t opened it yet. I didn’t want to go in alone, in case there was another ghost. Or a broom.”

“Help us with books,” Sveta directed. “We can check secret passage when we have finished. Is not going anywhere.”

Valentina obeyed with a shrug, plopping down in a billow of white skirt in order to start from the bottom.

The pile of books across the rug grew and grew. Spines snapped, pages folded and tore, and dust flew up with every impact. It took a tedious amount of time, but required hardly any thought or effort. So it was that the group spent a single hour dedicated to utterly wrecking the library shelves, heaping their contents every which way and scanning the bare shelves for secret switches.

In the end, Sveta did eventually pull a red-bound book with a blank spine which only came partway free before it clicked in place. The momentum of her tug swung the shelf it was on slightly open with a rusty groan of hidden hinges.

“Finally!” Valentina threw aside the book she had been idly inspecting. Jinghua hopped off the ladder to land among the books with a thwump and a small geyser of dust. Oskar’s large arm reached over Sveta’s head to grip the edge of the shelf and pry it all the way open. Hidden springs resisted the motion, trying to swing the shelf closed again. The tabaxi planted himself in the way, holding it open so that the other three could enter the secret room.

The room was very narrow, decorated much like a natural extension of the library it was attached to. Shelves crowded with books lined the walls. These books were bound in leather and dark colors, many bearing gilt inscriptions and arcane symbols. At the far end of the room was a claw-footed, wooden chest whose lid was partially wedged open. This was because the skeleton of a long-dead humanoid was trapped draped over the lip, legs and one arm sticking out into the room, head, torso, and opposite arm swallowed by the chest. Three darts stuck out of the underside of his torso, giving a clue as to the manner in which he had been deceased. The visible, bony hand clutched a tightly-rolled letter with a red, wax seal.

“Oh no,” Valentina said. “They left the surprise stripper in there!”

“Or it’s trapped,” Oskar suggested, snorting.

“Can any of us disable traps?” Sveta asked. In response, everyone shook their heads. “...Valentina, why do not you go look first.”

“Me?” the girl squeaked.

“Yes. You found secret passage. You have keen eye. And no injuries.”

“That’s true, but…”

“Here.” Sveta held out her quarterstaff. “Poke with this.”

Valentina strapped her shield to her forearm, freeing both hands to accept the offering. “Um, okay, if you say so. I’ll give it a shot.”

Holding the staff in the manner of a child about to prod a beehive, the girl inched forward. The tip of the staff slipped past the unmoving skeleton, knocking against the lid and the body of the chest shakily before wedging itself into the gap. Valentina sucked in a breath through her teeth and looked over her shoulder to meet Sveta’s eyes. The woman nodded encouragement. Behind her, Jinghua and Oskar offered their own deep nods of support.

The girl bit her lower lip, distending the beauty mark beneath as she chewed. Her own returning nod was hesitant at best, faint and shallow. She turned her eyes back to the chest, angling the staff upwards and sliding the tip deeply into the chest. Her eyes slid closed briefly, teeth releasing her lips to whisper a prayer with no more magic than simple faith. “Oh Sun of righteousness, Thou glorious One, Lord of Morning…”

With a great heave, she wrenched the staff downwards. The tip sprang upwards, lifting the lid of the chest off of the skeleton and open wide.

There was a twang and a dry click. Valentina had let go of the staff, letting it and the lid clatter back down, fumbling to turn her shield forward in an instant. Nothing more happened as the skeleton crumbled beneath the blow from the lid. Bones and staff rolled across the floor. Nothing else moved once they had settled.

Valentina emerged from behind her shield. More confident now, she stepped forward, grabbing the chest lid and lifting it just a single inch. Not a sound or movement was heard. Another inch up produced the same lack of reaction. At last, she threw the lid all the way open.

At the back of the chest, an iron mechanism rested on the hinges. It seemed to be comprised of springs leading into a small box, perforated with holes. This, Valentina surmised, would discharge poisoned darts at anyone who opened the chest… when it had been loaded. Currently, the mechanism was empty, its entire payload in the chest of the unfortunate skeleton now in pieces across the floor.

The bottom of the chest was filled with papers, both loose and bound. Valentina scooped out several leather-bound journals with blank pages, setting these aside. Beneath were a stack of papers which she rifled through quickly. A few seemed to be spell scrolls, one a blessing, one protection from poison, one to summon a spiritual weapon. Two more were deeds, one to a house in the name of Guillame and Elizabeth Deniau (assumedly the one they were in) and one to a windmill property apparently located in a place called Vallakie. Underneath all of it was a last will and testament signed also by Guillame and Elizabeth, leaving all of these properties to a Rosette and an Epinéthée Deniau.

“You know,” Valentina realized, “we never asked those kids their names.”

“So?” Sveta was rising from retrieving her staff, brushing it off.

“So nothing, I guess. I think I just found them.” One could assume based on the shared surname and will that the creepy children were Rosette and Epinéthée, son and daughter of Guillame and Elizabeth. It was odd that there was no mention of a third child. Was the will too old to include them?

Thoughtfully, Valentina gathered all of her spoils, folding the papers and tucking them away in the components pouch on her belt. The journals she handed to Sveta to store in her satchel. Finally, Valentina stooped to pry the sealed letter from the skeleton’s hands.

She examined the seal. Pressed into the red wax were two flowing initials. S.V. It wasn’t a seal she recognized. She slid her fingernail beneath the wax to pry it up without damaging it just in case. The letter within was written in similar flowing script.

My most pathetic servant,

I am not a messiah sent to you by the Dark Powers of this land. I have not come to lead you on a path to immortality. However many souls you have bled on your hidden altar, however many visitors you have tortured in your dungeon, know that you are not the ones who brought me to this beautiful land. You are but worms writhing in my earth.

You say that you are cursed, your fortunes spent. You abandoned love for madness, took solace in the bosom of another woman, and sired a stillborn son. Cursed by darkness? Of that, I have no doubt. Save you from your wretchedness? I think not. I much prefer you as you are.

Your dread lord and master,

Strahd de Varius.

That was… a whole lot.

“What does it say?” Oskar questioned.

“Um, it says ‘Stop calling me’, basically.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What?” Oskar repeated, flatly.

“I don’t know, the whole thing is about how the family here has been ritually sacrificing people in their basement but the man who wrote the letter is just kind of making fun of them for having a stillborn bastard child and for trying to get his attention. He’s very catty about it.”

“So… is no monster.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. The howls were probably from people being ritually sacrificed.”

“Does that change our intention?” Jinghua wondered. The tone in her voice very clearly implied that it changed nothing about her own. The other three shook their heads. For Oskar, a monster he was hunting was a monster he was hunting. Humanoid shape or not meant nothing to him. Sveta was thinking something similar. Whatever Valentina thought, she kept it held behind her pursed lips, her distant eyes still imagining those property deeds now stowed in her pocket.

In her distraction, she didn’t notice Oskar moving forward, allowing the shelf door to partially close. He craned over the heads of the others at the letter in the girl’s hand.

“Who were they calling?”

Valentina shook herself back to the present. “I don’t know. Some guy named Strahd.”

For the first moment after she spoke, there was no reaction to this. In the second moment, a jagged snarl ripped through the air like a lightning strike. Like lightning, it lifted all the hairs on the ladies’ arms, sending gooseflesh rippling down their spines. A very primal part of all of them pointed out with no small amount of fear that they were trapped in a tiny room with a very large hunter with sharp teeth and claws. Oskar was showing these off to full effect, his snout crinkled up to reveal every inch of white fang.

“Strahd?” he repeated. His voice dipped almost below hearing, a bass rumble that shook in their guts. He drew the vowel of the name out into a long growl.

“Y-Yes?” Valentina squeaked. “Do you know him?”

“Yes,” Oskar growled, lingering on the word. Valentina and Sveta shared a look. Valentina was just opening her mouth to ask for further clarification when he added, in a voice that rose to a half-roar, “He is my enemy!”

The mood had turned very quickly. The look in the tabaxi’s eyes was similar to the one he’d had when he’d been revived from unconsciousness. Blank fury, bloodlust, all senses bent on seeking out his prey. Valentina’s breath caught, sure that any unwary motion would cause him to lash out blindly. Sveta and Jinghua observed his sudden rage with calm readiness.

In truth, the four of them were still strangers. United by a strange journey and a common willingness to help, but ultimately unknown to one another. Their alliance so far had been a still puddle, shallow but cohesive at the surface. This sudden burst of strong emotion was a rock thrown into the center of that puddle, causing its surface to buckle and fly apart in droplets. Whether it could come back together was a matter of the size and force of the throw. The fact that this was no straightforward monster hunt was already quite a hurdle for four, un-united strangers to overcome. Now, it was even more clear that their individual goals were anything but. Whoever this Strahd was or however he factored into things… may be the final rock which shattered their alliance for good.

Slowly, Valentina said, “Okay. Good to know. It sounds like he’s not a great guy, if he’s asking for ritual sacrifices.”

“I am thinking sacrifices were unsolicited, actually,” Sveta noted.

“Still, he’s the kind of guy who these people thought might like them, right?”

“That is making sense.”

“If we find the couple in the basement, we may learn more about what’s going on,” Jinghua suggested.

Oskar rumbled agreement. “Yes. If they know where to find Strahd, I must find them.”

Valentina nodded rapidly. “Good. Good. Okay. Well, the secret passage should still be there. It’s got to lead to the basement, somehow. We should look there next.”

Sveta made a very unladylike noise through her nose. “Who puts basement entrance on third floor?”

As it turned out, not the Deniau family. When the group returned to the secondary bedroom and pried open the mirror to reveal the secret passageway, the wooden stairway within ran upwards rather than down. The passage was barely wide enough to accommodate a human’s shoulders, chokingly narrow and full of dust, cobwebs, and mouse droppings. Each riser was hardly wide enough for a single foot, and more than a foot higher than the one beneath it. Oskar went first, just in case he got stuck and trapped everyone above him on an upper floor. He turned his feet sideways and hunched in, trying to make his shoulders narrower. With every slow step, his mane and face gathered more spiderwebs. The others, following with a bit more ease, were perfectly comfortable with this arrangement, though everyone got at least a little of the stuff in their hair. They spilled out of the door at the top with deep gratitude.

As soon as he had the room to do so, Oskar shook himself. It did little for the filth now caked in his fur. The others slipped past him into the narrow space of the landing.

This floor was some sort of attic space. Though the word “attic” normally evoked a larger, open space for storage, this one was nearly like a fourth floor. There were four visible doors leading off of the landing area into closed rooms. The main difference between this one and the lower floors was the cramped quarters and the way the walls and floor alike were made of barely-sanded wood. Gone were the decoratively carved panels and luxurious rugs. If those lower floors had seemed dirty and dank, they were practically clean enough to eat off of in comparison to this floor.

Notably, one of the door was sealed with a thick chain and iron padlock. The light from Valentina’s shield slid over it ominously. The very sight struck Oskar as deeply wrong in a way he could not describe. Perhaps because it was the first locked door they had come across in this house.

Wordlessly, the group scattered in many directions. Valentina paced across the landing towards the west door. Sveta approached the eastern one, while Jinghua approached the north. Oskar alone moved towards the locked eastern door. He went to work attempting to pry the whole locking mechanism out of the wood while the women explored.

Valentina found herself in a spare bedroom containing a single bed and a filth-caked exterior window. On the sill of this window sat a porcelain doll in a yellow dress, grinning emptily at her. The girl spent a moment considering this doll with a deep frown.

“Flaming arches ring and blare,” she decided, snapping in its direction. A bolt of sacred flame lit the toy up like a torch. She backed out of the room while it burned, closing the door behind her. She turned back to the others, finding Sveta backing out of her own room and shaking her head. It was another spare bedroom. Oskar, meanwhile, grunted with effort, resorting to slamming his elbow into the door. Neither it nor the lock budged in the slightest.

Sveta was opening her mouth to speak when there was a low cry from the final room. Immediately, the three pelted for the doorway. They squeezed through and spilled out into a wide room that looked more like a typical attic space. It was filled end to end with piles of the kind of junk which accumulated in well-off households—slightly broken objects, trunks of outgrown clothes, seasonal decorations, furniture put aside for a child’s eventual marriage. Much of it was hidden beneath draped, formerly-white dustcloths, identifiable only by shape. Against the north wall was a wooden chest with its lid flung open. Jinghua stood above it, observing the contents with one hand on her longsword. The alarm in her eyes was settling back beneath their usual placid surface.

Stepping forward, it was clear at once what had caused that alarm. Within the chest was a humanoid body. The trunk was just slightly shorter than the woman was tall; her legs and neck had both been contorted unnaturally to fit. A tangle of hair was spread across her face and upper chest, obscuring her features. What wasn’t obscured were the half-dozen stab wounds in her torso, staining her white dress with dried black flowers. These wounds alone were immediately recognizable as the ones which had decorated the specter on the lower floor.

“The nurse,” Jinghua guessed.

“The man of the house had an affair then killed her, right?” Valentina confirmed.

“That is what was in letter,” Sveta nodded.

“There’s something behind her…” Jinghua leaned across the chest carefully, reaching out to touch the wall behind it. Her eyes scanned across a faint, hairline crack in the wood panelling. Sure enough, at the lightest touch, it swung open. Behind the panel was a steep staircase almost identical to the one which had led them up into this attic. The only difference was that this staircase went down, down, into pure darkness far beyond sight.

“Looks like we found our way to the basement,” Oskar noted.

“Shall we go down?” Jinghua asked.

“We’re very low on spells,” Valentina fretted. “I’m out of anything except my sacred flame.”

“I can do one more,” Sveta offered.

“I, as well,” Oskar added.

“We can always pull back if we’re in danger,” Jinghua said. “I think we need to go. To save anyone who may be down there.”

“Not to mention we have no idea how to leave,” Valentina muttered.

The four of them shared a look of tacit agreement. They were descending. The way to escape from this place was unclear, just like the way they’d arrived. It all felt strangely dreamlike and unreal. At the same time, nobody here was willing to leave now that they’d heard there may be human sacrifices in need of rescue. Everyone could tell after his earlier outburst that Oskar in particular was itching to find out if this Strahd individual was in the basement as well.

“Then, after you,” Valentina swept a gallant hand towards the spider-filled stairway.

With a deep sigh, Oskar obliged.

The descent was much the same as the ascent into the attic had been, except much, much longer. Valentina’s light spell was hampered by the cramped quarters and steep angle. For much of the descent, the others were completely blind, feeling with their feet for the next riser down and simply trusting it to be there. It felt once or twice like they were being buried alive. The constricting feeling of the tight walls and the darkness made the breath come harsher, faster, just in case there would be less of it on the next inhale.

Then, midway down the stairs, the chanting began.

For a moment, Oskar paused. His ears tilted forward. The sounds were muffled by distance and the walls. It was impossible to pinpoint a more precise origin than “below them”. Equally impossible to make out the exact words being chanted or the type of being doing the chanting. It was just a faintly musical rise and fall of living voice.

With nothing else to go on, they cautiously continued downwards. The chanting grew slightly louder, but no clearer for that. After what felt like hours, Oskar’s boot at last found solid stone. He had never put the limits of his ability to see in the dark to such a test before, but he found it more or less equal. The ghostly, black-and-white shapes around him formed the outlines of narrow, stone corridors with many visible offshoots. Just like above, the place was filthy with dirt, spiders, and spreading mold. Unlike above, there was no sign of luxury beneath the decay. This was no basement, but a catacomb.

He scooted forward just enough for the others to stand on level ground around him as they exited the staircase. The light of Valentina’s shield was like a pick directly to Oskar’s eye. He hissed as it passed over him, then blinked against the sickening play of too-vivid color against his ghostly vision. At the very least, there was little color to reveal. Everything was shades of mud brown or gray.

“Can anyone tell where that sound is coming from?” the tabaxi whispered.

There was a general shake of the head, even from Jinghua.

“Then… I suppose we check everywhere,” he concluded.

“Let’s split up for these little ones. It doesn’t look like they go far in,” Valentina suggested.

Each one took their own offshoot corridor. Sure enough, each one was barely a few feet long before they widened into a tiny room. Oskar made out the dim outline of a tomb, inscribed with the words Epinéthée Deniau. The lid of the coffin within the tomb was lying off to the side, revealing an empty space. At the same time, Sveta brushed her fingers over a similar tomb labelled Rosette Deniau, with its lid similarly disarrayed over an empty coffin. The light from Valentina’s shield slid across a tomb engraved with the legend Guillame Deniau. This one’s lid was shut tightly across the top of the tomb.

Alone in the tiny space, Jinghua alone had no way of observing her surroundings. Undeterred, she reached out with her hands to feel across the stone shape before her. It had some words carved in which she couldn’t make out with her fingertips alone. Testingly, she gave the shape a nudge, finding that part of it gave way with a deep, grinding noise. Encouraged, she shoved again.

A brief tickle across her knuckles was Jinghua’s first and only warning. Before she had time to jerk away, the tickle had intensified and moved rapidly up her arm. Pinpricks of pain dappled her skin from wrist to shoulder, spreading and deepening from a prick to an itch to a searing burn. Jinghua lashed out blindly with her sword, but whatever was attacking her seemed unfazed. More pricks, more burn, spreading across her whole torso. The harengon reeled backwards, unable to escape the onslaught. The pain grew and grew. Her knees buckled, sending her crashing to the damp ground. Jinghua barely held on enough to croak out a wordless cry for help before a final stab of white-hot pain took all awareness away from her. The whole thing happened in a matter of seconds.

In a matter of instants, the other three were crowding into the entryway. The dawnlight revealed the crumpled body of Xiao Jinghua beneath a carpet of massive, biting centipedes. Their bulbous shells gleamed deep crimson in the light. Their mandibles snapped and buried themselves into gray fur over and over, fairly chewing her up. Valentina could not hold back a squeal of disgust.

Sveta lashed out, hardly pausing long enough to summon the moonlight to cover her staff. She swept a large portion of centipedes away from her fallen friend, a few of them partially dissolving at the touch of the gentle, white aura of light. Oskar jabbed past her with his spear, managing to skewer a couple more. Valentina dropped to one knee behind her shield and closed one eye, aiming carefully with her free hand. With a snap and a bark, an arch of sacred flame swept across Jinghua’s prone form. The centipedes atop her writhed as they burned into hollow husks, the tips of her fur just barely singed. Somehow, with great precision, she had managed to burn only the centipedes while leaving her companion completely unharmed.

The few, barely-wiggling centipedes left were easily dispatched under Oskar’s bootheels. Sveta ran a soothing hand across Jinghua’s unconscious brow.

“Byloye nado razlyubit’.”

The red bites across her skin smoothed over like poured water, leaving only a few areas where the bites were particularly deep snowflaked with tiny, white scars. The skin across Jinghua’s shoulder and upper arm slightly resembled the negative pelt of a snow leopard, now. Her big eyes fluttered open, squinting against the moving shield-light.

“What…?”

“Centipedes in the tomb,” Oskar said.

“Elizabeth Deniau,” Valentina tried, reading off of the tomb. In her mouth, the th was a voiced dental fricative and the iau a mush of contradictory short and long vowels.

“Thank you.” The harengon propped herself upright by degrees, first on her elbows, then knees, then toes. She resettled her sword at her hip and briefly inspected the new mark on her arm.

“We are very low on healing, now,” Sveta noted. “Many of us injured. If anything goes wrong… we are fucking.”

“Fucked,” Valentina corrected.

“Da, this.”

“What other choice do we have?” Oskar asked.

Nobody was able to muster an answer before their attention was drawn by something moving in the dim outskirts of Valentina’s light. Far from a shadowy shape, this was a shape which gave off its own light, warmer and yellower than Valentina’s spell. The group bunched together, wary of any new threat now that they were so vulnerable.

“Who’s there?” Oskar growled.

A humanoid shape stepped away from the staircase. Black and red eyes grinned beneath a crown of fire.

“Finally caught up,” Illyan said.