"You alright, there, Jenna?"

"It's Gemma."

"Right, sorry." Oslo cleared his throat and tried again. "You alright, there, Gemma?"

She was far from alright. She had just led her mother to believe that she was a Chosen of Mask and that she was on a holy mission for the Church of Mask. She'd spent the entire night humoring her mother's active delusions, that Gemma didn't just sign her life away to crime at knife-point.

Gemma managed a weary smile, and that seemed to be enough for her escort. They walked in silence for the next hour and a half, until they walked through all of the entire district of Stoneport; they passed the merchants setting up their shops and the travelers complaining of the lack of fast travel.

"How long will the dragons be gone for?" screeched one woman with three infants in a hand cart.

"I don't know, you want to go and ask them?" was the snarky reply of the ticketmaster for the zephyr. The giant blue man had a point. Who in their right mind would ask a dragon about their intentions, let alone rush them for their response to whatever was going on now? No one that intended to live, that was for sure. Even though the dragons and humans had a peace treaty, it seemed like everything was different now. Maybe the dragons didn't want a treaty with all these new beings. Or maybe there were more dragons suddenly, too, that didn't agree with it.

"When's Queen Selane going to let them come back?" asked another bystander by the zephyr tower.

"I don't know, why don't you go ask the Dragon Queen, herself?"

Maybe people were a little grumpy about the lack of answers. Or maybe it was just like how people were in the wintertime: less sun made people unhappy. But if the sun wasn't going to return….

"Oslo," Gemma started, mostly to keep her mind occupied, "you said you didn't know about…um--" She whispered, "the cult--" and continued: "Does that mean the world has always been like this for you? Did you notice…an influx of people, too?" As they walked passed a group of children playing, Oslo hummed.

"I don't really know what you mean by that," came his answer. Maybe Oslo lived in those tunnels they were about to go to. Maybe they were close, and she could heave this giant backpack onto a cart for a break.

"I mean…were you always like this? Or did you look different last week?"

"I've always been me, if that's what you mean. I'm not sure where you're going with this line of questioning." Now, Oslo led them off the true road, to a dirt and gravel path at the southeastern point of Stoneport. The buildings didn't take up as much space here. They were skinnier watchtowers, small cabins. Everything was made of wood, as if it could be picked up and moved to another place. Gemma had never been this far into Stoneport. Stoneport was meant for travelers and traders, and she didn't have much to do outside of her store or their designated stall in the middle of the usual kerfuffle.

There were only a few buildings in view, now, after a few full minutes of crunching steps. Gemma could hardly see the final watch tower in the distance when Oslo slowed. Maybe if they had more than a hint of light, they could see further--but lampposts didn't go out this far, and the sun remained shy even after a week of torturing the mortals.

"Our contact should be meeting us here," said Oslo as they crept to the end of the gravel road. Maybe a hundred feet away was the very southernmost watchtower she knew existed, just beyond a small bunch of trees. Gemma kept her arms wrapped around herself and let her thoughts swirl into darker and darker possibilities.

If Brendan was staying in Wildfort, did that mean that him watching over her mother meant that he was also just…watching her? Was the reason for him being in Wildfort for protection at all? Apparently, she didn't do a good job of hiding her worries. She hadn't quite realized until Oslo watched the way she rubbed the very particular part of her skin under her dress, right beneath her collarbone.

"Something botherin' ya?" he asked finally. Gemma dropped her hands to her sides. If Brendan maybe wasn't the ally she thought he was, then she had no proof anyone else was an ally, either.

"Just wondering how you came into the picture," she answered. She maintained eye contact when Oslo stared straight into her. Maybe her devilish eyes are what made him break first. Or maybe he wanted to tell his story. But Oslo looked to the ground and shrugged.

"I dunno, little tiefling. I've gone who knows how long, feeling alone. Then, suddenly, there seemed to be some sort of movement that understood me. I met others that felt like me. So I joined in."

"What do you mean?" pressed Gemma, her curiosity getting the better of her. She hadn't really considered what drew people to the Cult of Mask before. But people weren't born evil, she didn't think. There had to be some appeal.

"I mean," he continued, "I always kind of felt like people were kind of dumb, yanno?" At first, she couldn't hide her frown, so she added a nod to make it look like she agreed. She didn't used to think people were born evil. But maybe people weren't born good, either. "Exactly. Like there were some people that were better than others. And for a while, I felt alone in that. But now I know there are people like you, people that know there is darkness and lightness for a reason. For opportunity." Gemma focused, hard, to keep her expression smooth. "Yeah, you get it. There are different calibers of people. And they're meant for different things." She shrugged and rubbed her bare arms, hopeful that Oslo would take her goosebumps to mean some sort of uncanny agreement rather than fear.

"Well," Gemma started after a moment of silence, "you never met anyone like yourself?" She gestured to him with a weak shrug. "Not before, you know, everything changed?"

"I mean to say, I didn't know there was a subsection of the Church until recently," said Oslo with a hint of annoyance. With the way his voice stretched so taut just then, Gemma could not think of any other response other than to smile and nod at him. This seemed to be enough, though; his smile seemed genuine. "It's nice to see like people in the world. There were so few of us before." Gemma took this opportunity to hum.

"What do you think caused all of this?"

"This?" Oslo shrugged to the silence around them. Maybe it was too silent, but Oslo didn't seem to mind, or find the lack of birds and bugs eerie. "The stopping of time, all the people? I don't know. But I do know of a certain God who shows us light in the dark." Again, Gemma rubbed the tender spot on her skin.

"Right." She hoped she didn't sound skeptical. In all desperate honesty, she had no idea where she fell. People of all shapes, sizes, intelligence, and wisdom were equal and deserve love. That was what her mother always said. But if her father didn't believe that, where did that leave his daughter?

"And, from what I hear, he's been guiding people and things in dark tunnels since the beginning of time. So we're all a great match, really!"

"Yeah."

"There!" called Oslo suddenly with a wave. "Jaya?"

"Right-o you are," was an amused reply in the distance. Gemma couldn't see who said it at first, let alone that odd accent. The voice didn't seem to come from any particular direction, just a singular tree Oslo stared at just at the side of the road. Gemma stared, hoping to see what he did; after only a few extra moments did she notice a woman with the same skin color of the bark she stood in front of with ears as sharp as swords.

"Oh!" sounded Gemma.

"You my wards f'the next week?" Gemma couldn't quite place the accent, but it seemed familiar enough for her to nod toward the tree. Jaya, in full brown leathers meant to hide in the shadows, walked up to the dirt pathway with an amused smile. A plume of smoke kept her at least partially obscured, a mist in the twilight. From the fog emerged a dark brown haze; sharpening at the edges, a humanoid form with pointed ears. A full form had yet to form.

"Are you to escort me to The Pass?" asked Gemma carefully. From Brendan to Oslo to Jaya….

"Right-o!" repeated the woman. She stepped closer, away from the confusing pattern of the tree bark that blended too well with her clothes. This woman of average height looked a part of nature, with golden yellow skin and red and auburn eyes and hair--like an autumn tree in humanoid form. She stepped onto the trail; it was as if her intention of being seen sharpened her image, separated her from the nature she hid in before.

Oslo seemed pleased at the sight of her, and waved again. Jaya took a moment before returning his greeting.

"Let's go, Jaya. I think on the other side of the River Palm, you'll meet a new contact for the rest of the journey." But neither party, short man or pointed eared woman, seemed eager to lead the way, turning to continue south at exactly the same time. Slow, cautious, watchful. Gemma hung in the back of the trio, silently taking note of how Jaya walked heel-to-toe, smooth and somehow without disturbing the gravel and stones. When she tried to mimic the way the woman walked, she wasn't as successful, but it was at least quieter than Oslo's stomping.

Depressed, dying grass and clumps of dirt eventually softened their trek. The final watchtower was no longer visible through the trees; it was at this point that Jaya slowed down, and eventually stopped under a tree that obscured her much like the one before did.

"This is where I believe we bid you farewell, Oslo," said Jaya. The halfling cocked his head to the side, glancing around as if to find some sort of notable landmark.

"Here? I thought I was supposed to take this one to the tunnels." He jabbed a finger at Gemma, who somehow managed to stop wringing her fingers together once they both looked at her.

"Right," said Jaya flatly. "And if you can indicate to me you know where they are, I'll let you come with us. Otherwise, your two choices are to choke on your blood or walk back that way." And although Gemma had no doubt in her mind that the woman was serious, Oslo laughed.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

"Cute. Are you trying to say you don't know where they are?" This didn't seem to be the correct answer. Jaya let out a "hmph!" and flicked open her cloak just enough to show a sort of leather belt. Gemma didn't have the best vantage point, but there was enough light from the overcast to reflect against at least two different knives. "You trying to threaten me?" Oslo twisted to face Jaya square on, and for whatever reason, this made Gemma take several steps back. Her tongue tasted like blood, though she hadn't bit herself or clenched her teeth that hard. Maybe she just knew how this was going to end.

"North, south, east, or west?" came Jaya's response. Oslo didn't seem to understand.

"What are you trying to play at, here, elf?" Gemma opted to take another step back when Oslo's hand crossed over to his left hip, touching the hilt of his shortsword. Jaya didn't even flinch or take any notice of his movement. Confidence radiated off of her so effortlessly; even Oslo's shoulders slumped just the tiniest bit.

"If you don't give me the correct direction, that's where I'll be spreading your entrails." Oh, of course that's where this was going to lead. How else did the Cult of Mask conduct business than through blood? Gemma covered her mouth with a hand to prevent any sound from escaping. "Brendan might know you, but I don't, so you could be an Enforcer for all I know."

"An Enforcer!" Oslo spat the word out like an insult. "The tunnels are south. Happy?" And just as Oslo clenched a fist to overcompensate for his furrowed brows, Jaya unsheathed a dagger in a reverse-grip and dragged the blade right across his throat. The silent, impossibly fast motion hardly registered before Gemma instinctively shut her eyes and shouted; like dots of rain, blood speckled her skin, some even flying into her mouth through the spaces of her fingers. Wet slapping watered the floor louder than Oslo's useless choking for air. Gemma didn't know that flesh being ripped open made a sound--or maybe it was the halfling's clothes that made that tearing sound--until she opened her eyes to watch Jaya pull the dagger out of another gash rising up from the halfling's stomach to his sternum.

The small, bloody man crumpled to the ground like a sack of milled grain falling off a cart. His eyes were still open, staring at the sky as his fingers uselessly scratched at his throat to try and put the blood back in. He couldn't even choke out a final plea or prayer before Jaya used her foot to twist him over. Gemma tried not to stare, but piles of grey and pink something softened the dirt before the rest of his body turned over onto it. The woman, just as covered in viscera as Gemma, wasted no further time, and crouched down to wipe her dagger on his back.

"Need a sword? I think you do. Always good to have one." Jaya began to untie the sheath from the choking man's body. "I think you guys are both a similar shoe size, if you want an extra pair." She kept rattling off casual things. Asking about what Gemma wanted from his backpack, if anything other than the missives. If she liked his cloak, or wanted to take a piece of him as a souvenir. That last question brought Gemma out of the high-pitched ringing in her ears, reminded her that there was still a crazy lady with daggers talking to her.

"I-I-I'm f-f-f-fine," she somehow managed to say. Was she breathing? It didn't feel like any air was reaching her lungs at all, no matter how much she gasped.

"Oh, now he's finally dead! Took nearly a full minute." Jaya didn't seem to hear her. Was this entire thing a ploy to get her to stay silent and obedient? Or was this just how the cult dealt with disagreements? Either case, Gemma didn't catch the towel that Jaya threw at her, just let it fall to the ground. "Hey!" she sounded. "That was a good throw!"

The laugh that came out of Gemma's mouth was unconvincing, shrill. But she tried to muster any semblance of strength and told herself to move. This woman knew Brendan. There was no chance in any of the Nine Hells that she was going to give Jaya an excuse to talk to him, if she could help it.

"It was," she squeaked as she reached down to pick up the towel. Thankfully, Jaya was too busy stuffing some of Oslo's stuff into her own backpack to see how violently Gemma trembled.

"Alright, I'm good. You sure you don't want to take a look at anything?"

"No, th-thank you." Gemma's cheeks hurt with how much straining it took to smile. But she dabbed the blood off her face and hands, and exchanged the bloody rag for the small stack of letters from Oslo's belongings. Gemma unceremoniously stuffed the papers into her backpack and hardly shut it before swinging it over her shoulder, all in an attempt to look nonchalant and at-ease.

"At least the sword," Jaya prompted, gesturing to the sheath on the floor. Gemma stared at it for a moment, as if it would jump to life and stab her like Jaya did Oslo. But it just sat there in the dirt, next to the leaking dead body of the man she just met. It wasn't that she was afraid of the body or anything, but bending down, getting closer to it, fought against her most basic instinct. And looting from him, even before his body was cold…. Did he have a family these things should go to? What if he said goodbye to someone this morning, too? What if it was as full of love and sadness like Gemma and her mother?

But it wasn't safe to consider such things now. Not when his cause of death made sure she picked it up and tied the sheath round her waist like a belt. It was kind of awkward to have this thing flinging around by her leg, and no part of it looked natural on her. But Jaya smiled at her, satisfied, and continued walking in the direction of the watch tower through the small thicket of trees.

Gemma cleared her throat. "Um, w-we are going south," she noted. Maybe if she proved herself useful somehow, Jaya would have less of a reason to…well…repeat past actions. This sword didn't exactly save Oslo just a minute ago, did it?

Jaya scoffed playfully. "No, we're going south-south east." Well, of course. How could anyone miss such an obvious difference in direction like that? Thankfully, Gemma's lips remained tight. Now was not the time for sarcasm.

"That wasn't an option that you gave…." His name died in her throat, but the elf didn't notice.

She shrugged. "Yeah, maybe I wanted him to fail. Gotta keep things fun around here." Gemma didn't have time to erase her expression of surprise when Jaya looked over and gave her a wink. "And yes, I know, before you even mention it--I spread his blood to the north, not the south. I'm normally much more precise with that sort of thing, but I strained my left shoulder playing ball with my son the other day, so I had to do it right-handed. I promise you, my sense of direction is good. You have nothing to worry about." Silence seemed the best response. There was just too much to unpack from all of that to register any of it at all.

In just a few minutes, the canopy of the trees gave way to a skinny, rickety tower only a few storeys high. The top of the tower lacked any Enforcers, unlike the ones closer to the cities. This one seemed vacant, quiet. Jaya led her to the simple door, and gestured for her to go inside.

Gemma rolled her shoulders in an unsuccessful attempt to lessen the strain of her backpack straps against her skin. She hoped there'd be a cart soon--or maybe a place to rest. Despite her tiredness, Gemma turned the rusted knob and stepped into possibly the least impressive building she'd ever been in.

This was more of a room with a bunch of ladders than anything. One ladder up, one ladder down. No windows, just a weird, blue flame in the corner that didn't burn the wood. Maybe if she saw that a few hours ago, she'd be fascinated.

"Down y'go," said Jaya. "It's about a ten minute climb down this ladder, so just keep going until you hit the bottom. Then there'll be some stairs, but we'll worry about that when we get there." Gemma bit her lips together. Nowhere to go but down, she thought. She lowered herself to the ladder and followed Jaya's instructions, only slightly comforted by the sound of the woman above her.

At first, getting her feet and hands used to the distance of the rungs took long enough for Jaya to huff every few seconds. But after a minute or so of the sound of hands against the ladder and nothing else, the women fell into a rhythm that Gemma only broke with her question.

"How far down do we go?" Her voice echoed so far down, like she dropped a copper in a dry well and counted the seconds until it clattered.

"I don't know, but deep enough things older than stories live." Now it was difficult to tell if the hair on the back of Gemma's neck rose from the chill in the stale ladder shaft or from Jaya's words.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean to ask, do you snore?"

"Excuse me?" Gemma almost missed a rung from the weird question.

"Do you snore?"

"No…."

"Then this won't be such a bad week." At this point, Gemma's foot slammed against a solid floor, sending pangs of shock up her shin.

"Oh!" she sounded before she broke away from the ladder. She touched the icy wall to keep herself oriented toward the exit. Even with her new devilish eyes that offered her better sight than others, she couldn't see down here. Not until Jaya lit a match and held it to a torch on the other side of the ladder.

This room was just as small as the rest of the tower, just made entirely of stone, with a wooden door across the way. For a brief moment, Gemma wondered if lighting a torch in such a small space was wise, but Jaya continued through the door.

She thought the hinges would squeak, but with how smoothly it swung, it must have been greased recently. Everything was so silent and stiff. No mice, no bugs. Normal breath was deafeningly loud.

"Why did you ask if I snored?" said Gemma as she followed Jaya down the stone staircase. She couldn't imagine any of the taller people like the zephyr ticketmaster or Viven walking down this infinite staircase without knocking their head against the ceiling.

"When we get down far enough, the only way to survive the rest of the journey in the tunnels is silence." How apt for a cult that liked to behead people that spoke out of turn. "There are things down there that can't see, but can hear. I'd rather not fight any of them. They can be pretty vicious."

"Things?" Gemma echoed. She tried to squint to see how far down these steps went, but it just kept going. Every step added another layer of chill into the air. Maybe she should have brought a winter coat for this journey--but it didn't seem necessary before.

"Well," Jaya said hesitantly, "I mean, if you're going to be doing jobs for us, I guess you're already a member. We're not much for ceremony when it comes to newbies." Even though the air felt sharp with how cold it was getting, Gemma's cheeks started to sweat.

"What?" she prompted.

"I guess there's no harm in telling you. I wasn't told to blindfold you, anyway." None of what Jaya said made sense. What was the use of blindfolding someone when it was this dark down here? There wasn't much to see, anyway. "So y'know those stories kids sing?" Jaya's voice dulled to a whisper, which Gemma took to mean was more for safety than secrecy. "Sometimes there's a thing that chases them, and some kids call it the 'drow.' I think that's what these things down here are. Maybe, I think." The things that scared mice and bugs away from a tunnel system that otherwise looked like a haven to creatures like that. "It's all hush-hush, so we don't talk about them."

"You've seen one?" Gemma asked. Something even the Cult of Mask feared, kept secret.

"Once. I was escorting a Sister with some friends and she went and sneezed. One weird, faceless thing just tore her limb from limb, took out two of my friends. Just me and Ivet made it out. That was a tense journey, 'cause the girl sneezed, like, day two. So Ivet and me were without any supplies, 'cause we had to run away from them for the next three days. D'you know how loud pissing is if you don't have something soft to piss on? We were lucky we kept our oatmeal in our own bags or our stomachs growling would have been the end of us." Maybe Jaya was just saying this to scare her. That sounded impossible, to be completely silent for a whole week. It was one thing to trek in darkness, without the sun or fresh air, but another to deny your body's innate functions.

"So if I have to sneeze…."

"Pinch your nose, like this." Jaya turned around to demonstrate, then spoke with a nasally voice: "I don't care if your heart explodes. Just do it quietly." The way she said it made Gemma pay more attention to the way she stepped: heel to toe, heel to toe.

"A-and for everything else?" Gemma asked.

"Oh. Um, I got supplies." Jaya gestured to what looked to be the end of the staircase. "My cart is down there. I'll show you everything about it. Then it's about a mile before the silence starts. From that door, we follow the rope until the next outpost, which is only about five days from here. One of the shorter tunnel journeys, you'll find." Gods help her, she desperately hoped not.