“I have a granddaughter,” Ardler said, making smalltalk as they went. “She lives in a village just west of here, not too close, not too far.” The two had walked for a short time now, torchlight guiding their path through the fallen leaves, which was no path at all, really. The old man continued: “She was a great gal! The village of Astar. Also great, tucked under a little mountain, with a stream running through it.”

“Sounds… great,” Rafa said, unsure if the old man even needed a response to continue.

“Oh, she’s wonderful. Before Inis entered my life, her and I were best of friends.”

“And what happened after Inis—”

“My granddaughter shunned me, wanting nothing to do with my ‘heinous’ faith,” Ardler said.

Rafa felt a hint of compassion, as this man truly seemed to be lost, giving up everything for a liar—Niklas came to mind at that moment.

“I’m sorry about that,” Rafa said.

“Don’t worry your head about it, alright? We’re nearing the meeting place now.”

Passing some trees, a large cabin came into view. Rickety wooden walls, thrashed windows and broken glass created the least appealing house Rafa had the honor of beholding.

“T-this is it, then?” Rafa said, his voice falling out.

“Here it is. Beautiful.” The old man took a few more steps on the grass leading up to the cabin’s porch. He thrust a hand out sideways, stopping Rafa in his tracks. “Hold here, and do as I do.” Ardler crouched down and skulked in a diagonal line across the grass.

Rafa, confused, crouched down as well. Following behind the old man, he pondered the importance of whatever it was they were doing.

“That’s it. That’s it,” Ardler said. “Around the traps we go.”

Holding his breath, Rafa took every step even tighter together now, watching his guide’s tracks with great intent, like walking on ice that was about to break.

“Must you step on every leaf, boy?” Ardler said. He scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ve never heard someone walk so loudly, not in my lifetime.”

Rafa let an embarrassed smile show on his face. “Just stay focused on where you’re going.”

“That I am.”

Sneak to 5 - Choose a Milestone

Again, inspiration struck. Rafa felt calmed, despite the situation he was in. With death traps most likely all around him, he felt more in control. The feeling then faded, and thoughts of stepping on imminent death returned with gusto.

“Almost through,” Ardler said. The two turned again, looping toward the house. And with a final step, the old man stood up, placing his staff back down on the ground.

Rafa stood as well, traversing the stair onto the cabin’s front porch.

“They better not have started without me, dogonnit,” the old man said. He pressed forward, past Rafa. The sound of his walking stick resounded against the floorboards. Stopping just before the door, Ardler took a breath in, then let out a humming sound, an eerie melody, a passcode.

The doorknob turned a deep scarlet as Rafa came closer to look. Red dust emanated from the lock. With a crack, the door swung open, leaving a swiped trail of the powder-like substance in the air, which then trickled downward. The house seemed empty.

“Starting without me, when I’m the one bringing the appointed one! Figures.” The old man stepped through the door, huffing. “Follow me, boy.”

Rafa’s eyes were wide, witnessing a door flying open right before him. There was magic in this new world. It took time to sink in—as if what he’d seen already wasn’t enough of a clue.

The two made their way inside. Candles burned on wall mounts, illuminating bookcases filled with dusty books. It had an air of abandonment to it, yet still livable. Despite the unkept furniture, the cabin’s flooring and walls stood untouched, well made, even.

Rafa resolved to not speak any longer, as he was now in the lion’s den, with a willing spirit at that. He found new strength thinking of finding Niklas and getting back home together. There was no return now, and the only way out meant going further within.

“Over here,” Ardler said, bending down to lift a hatch in the floor. Taking hold of the metal handle, he lifted the door, revealing stairs leading down into the cabin’s basement.

A horrific smell filled the room, escaping from down below the bowels of the house.

Rafa plugged his nose without question, trying not to gag.

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“A sweet, sweet smell,” the old man said. “You will come to love it, as I have.” He gestured for Rafa to follow as he took the first step onto the staircase.

Rafa descended close behind, running through plans in his head as he walked, the smell growing stronger and stronger with every step. If the worst outcome bloomed, he would have to pose as their appointed one until he found Niklas. That wasn’t too bad? The feeble attempt at comforting himself didn’t last long at all.

Hooks hung from the ceilings of the basement, all reinforced with metal clasps and rings. Ooze flowed through little divots etched on the stone floor, forming patterns and icons in glowing green. A few alchemical workstations stood with hooded figures lining the back wall, with scattered groups around the large room.

The hatch behind him slammed. It was clear—there was no turning back.

“My people,” Ardler said. He walked up to one hooded figure, tapping them on the side. “Hello.”

“Ardler,” the figure said, not even turning to him.

“A good night to serve Inis, hm?” the old man said.

No reply.

He showed an ashamed smirk, clearing his throat. Ardler went across the room, passing over the trail of green ooze toward the center. A clumsy mistake—it stuck to his shoe and created globs as he pulled his foot upward. The substance spilled over its appointed, etched stream, pooling a little outside of it.

“Ardler, please!” Another Inis follower strode toward the old man, grabbed hold of his shirt and pulled him away from the now messy floor.

Oh, I think he messed with something—

The figure threw Ardler to the ground, causing him to yelp. His walking stick hit the ground with a thwack.

Rafa sprinted over and picked up the stick, shock on his face.

“You useless senile worm. Do not step there again,” the man said.

Ardler gave a rapid nod, his brow showing malice toward his own actions. “I-I’m so—please excuse me.”

“Why are you even here?” another hood said.

“Well, I…” Ardler said, stuttering, trying to regain control of his mind after being thrown.

“Don’t answer that,” someone across the room said. “None of us know why you’re here, or care.” The response elicited nods and smiles amongst some of the other followers as they returned to their work.

Rafa bent down, reaching out a hand to the old man, keeping his voice quiet. “You alright?”

Ardler swatted the hand away. “Stop,” he said, scrambling to his feet, “stop showing me kindness.”

Rafa stood, taken aback. He peered around the room: no one payed any mind to either of them further.

One Inis follower rushed toward the center, a small brush in hand. He kneeled down to clean up Ardler’s mistake, brushing the ooze back into its state of flow within the thin streams.

Walking over to another group, Ardler tapped one person on the side. “Would you like to meet—”

“Step away.”

The words caught in Ardler’s throat. It was clear: no one enjoyed the old man’s presence—not even one.

“We’re ready,” a low voice said. “The chosen is here.”

Ardler’s eyes widened, excitement bubbling up and out, followed by a rush of confusion over his face.

Rafa tilted his head. How could they have known he was here in their midst? A cold chill wrung through his chest—because they didn’t know. It’s impossible.

All members gathered in a circle around the etchings on the floor. A large icon stood in the center of the room, emitting green light up toward the ceiling, tinting the stone.

With great curiosity, Ardler rushed forward toward the forming group, splitting from Rafa. He now stood sandwiched between two large Inis followers.

“Tonight,” the booming voice continued, “is a night of great importance and honor. It is to us that our great one will reveal her offspring.”

Rafa’s brow caved downward, listening to the word offspring. All the while, he tried to keep his breath steady.

“Our first step toward spreading our Inis throughout the land has finally come! All will know the love that she brings, the peace.”

The group chanted a word in another language, one Rafa didn’t understand.

“We must spread our grip on those faithless heathens.”

Again, every member let out a heavy hum of the unrecognizable word. The group then yelled, all together: “Illodras!”

They all stamped their feet once and put a fist over their chest. Rafa looked left and right, hoping no one was noticing his delayed reaction to follow suit.

“The city boasts having no alignment to a god.”

The room went quiet; the tension rising. “Gathering all followers, all patrons, we would not have enough to siege their walls. But now, that will be no matter.” The hooded figure put out a hand. “Step forward.”

One in a gilded black robe stepped out from their ranks toward the glowing icon centered on the floor. Removing the large hood, he revealed his identity to the group.

Rafa attempted with all his might to contain a reaction.

It was Niklas.

“Our appointed one!” the booming voice said.

Ardler visibly reacted, but without a fitting gasp. He kept quiet, turning to Rafa. His focus wouldn’t budge an inch, only staring at the wrong one.

Rafa’s pulse was rapid as he looked from Niklas to Ardler. Would the old man say anything? And if he did, nothing but death crossed his mind—or worse, torture.

“Show them,” the leader said.

Niklas pulled out a small journal, if not the same one Rafa had in his pocket. Even its cover looked identical. His friend opened the book, then turned to the very last page, showing the inside of the back cover to the group. He presented a large, dark green symbol carved into the leather.

Ardler let out a gasp, audible to the entire group. The old man shot another glance back at Rafa, face horrified.

No one took notice.

“This man,” the group leader continued, “will bring us into a new era. One where Inis abounds. He can learn more—faster—than anyone could, even if they lived for centuries. In time, he’ll become more powerful than any of us.”

Mutters of excitement filled the room as the group heard more and more of Niklas, their savior.

Moments passed, and Ardler hadn’t said a word about Rafa—yet. Was he going to give him up? There wasn’t a reason he wouldn’t.

Niklas bowed to the group. “This is where I belong. I thank every one of you for accepting me, and allowing me such an honor.”

“Now, say it,” the leader said.

Niklas took a deep breath. “I give my life to Inis.” The green substance beneath him shone with great light, now illuminating the entire room, every dark corner. Just like the ooze, Niklas’s eyes shone a green tint for a moment, then it vanished.

“Go now, everyone. Send word to our sister clans. To the east, and to the west, spread the wonderful news that Inis’s return is nearing.”

The group dispersed. Many members headed up the stairs toward the now open hatch, leading back out onto the cabin’s ground floor. Niklas remained, as well as a few others.

Rafa tried to withhold a flinch as the leader of the faction took notice of Ardler staring at him with a preposterous expression. Although Ardler wasn’t choosing to say anything, he was giving him away anyway, by happenstance.

“You,” the leader said, pointing in Rafa’s direction. “Remove your hood.”