July 6, 2021, 3:49 pm

The hike was exhausting. How tall were these stairs, again? She was sure she'd been limbing for an hour at least... could they really be two miles? The mountain wasn't supposed to even be a quarter of that height.

Then again, the building she was climbing towards certainly did have a reputation. Nobody really knew the exact details unless they had actually visited the thing, but most seemed to agree that a building known as the "most cursed in the YWP" would probably have some sort of defense mechanism against unwanted guests.

That, and lots and lots of ghosts. Which was why she was still climbing these ridiculous stairs.

Ghosts were, more often than not, stuck. They wanted to move one way or the other, either to come back to life- which was impossible- or to move on to the afterlife, which was easy. The only problem was, almost all ghosts couldn't move on on their own. They had to be helped.

She wasn't picky about how she helped these ghosts. Either way, they'd wind up in the afterlife, much better off than their current situation, being bound to an armchair or a book in a forgotten language or something. If they cooperated, that was good. If not, she had a knife and a sizeable bag of salt at the ready. This job would be easy.

Half an hour later, she was still climbing the stairs and about ready to admit that the job was not, in fact, easy at all. Maybe she should just turn around and leave this to someone-

"Hey, now. You shouldn't be giving up all that easily. Thought you guys were all, 'send ghosts on no matter the cost' and such." Who's saying that? She looked around to find the source of the voice, but no one seemed to be around. Was it a ghost?

The voice sighed. "I'm down here. Behind you." She turned to see a figure waving from lower on the steps, so far away that all she could make out was a mass of dark clothes. This was the one who'd just spoken? But they were-

"I know, I know. 'But you're so far away, Strix! How can you sound like you're so close?' I'm actually only about twenty feet away from you. I just look farther because the stairs don't like you." The figure was moving closer at a surprisingly fast speed. In the past couple seconds, they had nearly halved the distance between them and her. "Heck, even I see you from about forty feet, and I own these stairs. Guess they're just not willing to go below a mile, no matter how much they're used to you."

"What do you mean?" she shouted back. The figure, which was now maybe a hundred feet away, winced.

"You don't need to shout. And I mean the stairs are a different distance depending on who's on them. If you come here often, it's only one mile. Most newcomers have to walk two or three. If the stairs really don't want you to get to the top, it can be up to ten miles." As they spoke, the figure had finally caught up to her, and she could get a better look at their features. They were wearing a black hoodie, with half of their curly hair pulled back into a ponytail and the other half covering one eye. In their arms was cradled a pigeon, which seemed to be unconscious. "If more than one person is on the same spot, though, the distances average out. So we've probably got, what, four-ish miles to go?"

Questions spun through her mind, but only one managed to escape her mouth. "'We?'" Then, as an afterthought, "What's the deal with the pigeon?"

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The figure laughed. "Yeah, 'we.' Not like I can avoid it now that I've caught up to you. As for the pigeon, I was detangling it from the gate. Poor thing got its leash caught flying through it and crashed into a different part of the mountainside. I'm just glad it was leaving, or else it might have gotten crushed by the package it was carrying."

"Oh." Leash? Package? Why would a pigeon need to fly through the gate? Pushing down her countless new questions, she simply said, "You're not going to tell me to leave?"

"Nah. You can come up, have a look around, whatever you like. I'm just going to have to ask you not to use those ghost-killing supplies you've got on you." Oh. "Hey, it's fine. It's just that all the ghosts here actually like living in the manor. If they ever wanted to go on to their afterlives, I'd be more than capable of sending them there, but as it is now, they stay." Oh. "By the way, I'm Strix. I'm the one who owns the manor." Oh. Oh, no. It hadn't clicked earlier, but now that the newcomer had said it, everything fell into place to form a grim picture. This was Strix Cattus Aleshe, owner of Aleshe Manor. She could probably get rid of unwanted guests in a dozen different ways if she wanted- get the stairs to throw them off, have the ghosts drag them to who knows where, bar them from leaving and force them to wander the mountainside for all eternity. Stories had been passed around the mainland of all the things she could do to trespassers. She could throw you into another realm, turn you into a book and hide you away in the library, lock you in a room that could only be opened by someone who already knew of its existence. She could-

She... was smiling. No malice behind it, no sense of anger or of I'm-going-to-turn-you-into-a-flower-and-plant-you-in-my-backyard. Strix was simply smiling a friendly smile, and when she opened her mouth, the only words that came out were, "You think we should get going? If we don't hurry, it'll be dark before we reach the top. It's bad to be on these stairs while the sun is setting."

She followed close behind Strix for the next several hours, never speaking, but never thinking to turn around and make a run for it. Against all odds, the manor's owner seemed to be welcoming, willingly opening her doors to someone who had mere minutes ago been ready to exorcise every ghost in the place.

Then again, she would never actually do that now. Not while Strix was right there.

When they reached the top, Strix only said, "Be careful with the lights," and motioned for her to enter the house. Strix removed her shoes- "Furniture ghosts," was the explanation she gave- and offered to make some tea for her and the would-be exorcist.

"Do you treat everyone who tries to sneak into here like this?" she asked as Strix set the warm tea out for both of them.

Strix shrugged. "You're the first one who's tried, so I guess I just don't know yet. Anyway, feel free to stay as long as you like. Just don't mess with the ghosts, all right?"

Thus began a friendship that lasted several years. The stairs never quite warmed up to her, and a five-mile trek wasn't something that she was willing to do often, but every now and then she would make the hike for some special occasion or another. She did keep her anti-ghost weaponry on her, in case of an emergency, but nothing of the sort ever came up.

Until one night, when Strix invited her to a tea party. "There's something I want to show everyone," she had said on one of those rare times when climbing five miles had seemed worth it. "It's actually next week. You should be getting the invitation in the mail soon."

"By pigeon?" was the reply, and Strix laughed.

The next week, she had set out two and a half hours before the designated time, knife and salt in tow. When she reached the top in less than half the usual time, Strix had failed to come up with an explanation.

"Maybe the stairs decided they needed to swallow their pride," Strix had offered. "Maybe the manor... needs you."

"Maybe." But what on earth could cause it to need me specifically? Or is everyone attending the tea party going to be needed? Strix... what are you planning?

Two hours and thirty minutes later, at a minute past midnight, she got her answer.

Unfortunately, it was not without its own host of questions.