Silence and heavy thoughts create an air of anxiety.

Like a debuff, the effects are apparent and lingering.

But unlike a debuff, this wasn't a simple matter that could be dispelled. There was no cure for a crowded mind.

For that, there was only time.

That was the atmosphere of the wagon on the trip back to the frontlines of the raid. The bumps that previously assaulted the ride with it's tossing no longer pressed past the mind.

We all had too much on our thoughts.

I would meet my mirror, the witch had said before vanishing before us. And not just her physical form, the whole hut disappeared, leaving us to stare at the inside of a rotting cavern.

As if there was never a witches hut.

As if we had entered the marsh, inhaled its fumes, and imagined the whole ordeal.

But it was no hallucination.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

It was real and the words weighed like stones.

The only question that I had asked and had answered: Was how we knew of the hut.

To this Rose responded that a raven had appeared and told them of the location and if a cure, and seeing that they thought me dead, they took the chances with the mysterious letter from an anonymous sender.

We regrouped with the party in the annals of the lost century.

They had cleared out the trash mobs before the final cellar which would lead us to the Raid Boss.

Few men walked up and welcomed me back, this was not to say that they didn't relish my return, but their eyes held a steady unease behind their whites.

As if they feared something.

As if they didn't know what to expect.

Gathering my party I announced my return and our immediate plans to complete the raid.

As I went through the checklist procedure: asking for cooldowns, having elixirs popped, making sure everyone was well-fed and rested, things began to return to the normal flow.

I wanted them to forget what they had seen.

A piece of me wishes to forget it as well.

Everything was simply more pressure.

I felt like I was taking on too much.

Then, a hand graced my shoulder.

Turning, I saw her.

Grinning, she whispered.

You're not alone.

Relax.

Let us move things along.

Shelly and Enrich moved into their commands, the party began to march towards the cellar in lines of unbending faith.

From a raven's eye view you would see a tightly formed militia, with raised banners of the guild insignia, a rock surrounded by crushing waves.

Our tanks stalwart in their towering armor and massive weaponry that required two hands to carry let alone swing.

Our rangers and assassins in their sleek builds that cut through enemies as easily one tears paper.

Our mages, old and wise, young and fierce, who recited magical spells that enraptured forces beyond man.

Our healers, God bless our healers for keeping us alive. For the thankless job that goes under rewarded time in and time out.

We were the rock in the way of the realm.

The unmoving object that would face wrath welcoming.

Into the cellar we descended.

To fight the Necromancer Queen and her Frankensteinian Monster.

All for a drop.

For Gear and For Glory