Bodies for powers that be was nothing more than skin animals shed to keep growing. Jack stared at the bones while Hunter went through some old memories. Then, they continued on their path.

Going deeper into the chilling fog, more of the ground turned to sand and they came upon a door. Like the gates that led into the Hall of Ceremony, it had no wall around it or anything behind it. Just a door which sat in the mud.

Hunter approached its one side and pointed at the other. Jack reluctantly grasped it. Together, they lifted the thing out of the mud.

Back to following orders without a clue of their purpose.

A sudden jolt of pain rushed through Jack and he stumbled. Though he managed to regain his balance and kept it from falling.

Hunter jerked his head and they carried the door in that direction..

“Stop!”

Jack slid a few feet across the ice-like mud. His eyes widened -- he’d stopped right on a ledge. Beyond it was water.

Hunter dropped the door and--with a grunt--kicked it into the sea. A huge splash followed and drenched Jack’s dirt covered legs.

That’s… nice, he thought. I’m even more wet, but at least I’m clean..

“Good, one more step and we’ll be seaborn like captains of the ocean,” Hunter said, gesturing for Jack to follow him again.

A black rock the size of the Travelling Arena’s angry statue stood in the sand, white smoke swirling around it.

Not sure if I’ll be ever able to see white smoke without thinking it’s a servants aura trying to kill me, Jack thought.

“Sure, sure… We’re gonna have to use my Holy Water,” Hunter said. “Would be great if you hadn’t used your up.”

“Indeed,” Jack muttered. “But I was dying.”

Hunter popped the cap open and moved the liquid around.

Something whooshed in the fog like wind in a forest. The sound moved swiftly, coming from every direction, getting closer and further.

Jack reached for his dagger then scrapped that idea and grabbed his pistol.

Something red flew above him.

“Put that thing down -- everything’s alright!”

The red thing was crimson dust which circled the black rock, landed atop it and became black.

“Sure, sure… when deads die, these rocks are what they turn into.”

“Not dust that just scatters the floor?”

“It’s like that until a living being is around them. You turn away and they get moving,” Hunter explained. “We couldn’t have dust littering the Hall of Ceremony so this was the best thing we came up with.”

Jack cursed.

“That rock’s made from blood, organs and…”

“It’s made from everything, like exacoram, yet most of it is deadman,” Hunter began pouring the Holy Water.

As the water dripped down, the rock started to disintegrate. By the time Hunter threw the finished bottle away, half the rock had evaporated, revealing a bottle stuck inside.

Hunter grabbed and pulled, but the thing refused to come out. “Sure, sure… No more water so we’ll have to do it the good old way.” He crouched down and put his nails into it.

“You want us to claw that thing away?”

“As I hear, blindness hasn’t taken you yet.”

This is the only way forward, Jack convinced himself and crouched, starting to gnaw.

The disgusting process lasted a short while as the rock quickly broke apart and revealed the entirety of the bottle.

Hunter took it, shook it then put it aside for a moment, snatching the Gunpowder of the Deal and observing it. He frowned, wiped it on a page in his journal, threw the things back into a pocket and turned. Swiftly, he grabbed Jack’s finger and shoved it in the bottle.

“What damned ritual is this?!” Jack took it out and backed away.

“This damn ritual needs your blood. Don’t worry -- only a tinge.”

Jack reluctantly put the finger back in and let out a tiny drop of blood.

“Good?”

“Very good. Pure power.”

The maroon liquid inside started glowing.

Why does every bascalling thing need my blood?

Hunter closed his eyes, drank it and grunted. The the tips of his fingers became black and turned to dust

Jack took a step towards where they came from and put his hands on his weapons. He didn’t like the old man’s rituals one bit. Especially when they had awful side effects.

Hunter started glowing and pulsating with light.

“Cora dewishus!” he shouted.

In a snap, Hunter returned to normal and pointed at the water. There, a wooden boat floated beside the white door. And a black cat purred on it.

“Sure, sure… It worked, yet there’s no time to explain,” Hunter said. “It’ll make sense once we’re seaborn.”

***

The cat slowly wandered around the door chained to the back of the boat. Jack eyed the cat and oared towards the directions it turned to.

Can’t be sure if I’ve gotten an order weirder than “listen to the cat’s gaze.”

Hunter stopped staring into the fog, sat down and cleared his throat.

“Going to answer why the hell are we dragging that door around? Or will the winding journey into the Heart of the Hall of Ceremony answer that in the future as well?”

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

“Because we need the cat.”

“And why the hell do we need the cat? Why do I need to ‘listen to its gaze?’”

“Because--as you’ve probably realized--the Pathfinder served Everia. I respect that creature for doing it so well. We couldn’t even see its aura. But that’s not what this is about. See, you were foolish and the Pathfinder used its genius to steal the most important thing in the planet and disappear. That buddy is the second best thing we got. It is our new Pathfinder.”

“Why does Mr. Pathfinder need a heavy door?”

“It doesn’t need a door,” Hunter said. “We need it. I put all my honesty in when I say you don’t want to be in the same boat as that thing if you value your pitiful life.”

Shivers ran down Jack’s back.

“Alright and for how long will I be paddling through this place?”

“A while,” Hunter said. “But it’s not the distance that matters. It’s that we don’t meet any deadmen along the way.”

“They roam these waters?” Jack rubbed his arms.

“It’s not like they’re afraid of drowning.” Hunter smirked. “You know… back before the collapse, this sea was a barrier.”

Huh?

“We made sure no one would find the cemetery above by disguising it as a field of purple roses,” Hunter said. “And we hid the Hall of Ceremony behind confusing dungeons and crypts. Though we were even more careful than that.”

So that’s how not a single soul found this place in all the years.

“A lot of amazing things--so many that have been destroyed and turned to dirt--were before the sea. But beyond it… oh, beyond it lies the Grandest Chapter and the Heart.”

He’s telling me all this so I’d trust him, so he could control and deceive me once more, isn’t he?

“The Hall of Ceremony was here before humanity,” Hunter explained. “We tapped into its power and altered it as it altered us.”

“A different planet for a few it chose and turned to gods.”

“Sure, sure… It was glorious.” The old man stared off into the distance. A minute later, he shook his head and waved. “Ah, stop the oaring and get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

Jack frowned. I’d love to. But I can’t trust you. No way.

“I can--”

“Get some sleep.”

“What if… those sea deads attack?” I’d easily wake up from the tiniest sign of danger, but I can’t risk sleeping. Especially right now.

“Don’t worry and just sleep.”

Reluctantly, Jack dropped the oars, got off the captain’s seat and laid in the back as Hunter took over paddling.

“Here -- darkness for the eyes.”

Jack nodded and put Hunter’s hat over his face, leaving half an inch to peep through. The hypnotic sight of the old man oaring through the heavy fog became heavy on his eyes and he closed them to rest. Only for a moment though…

***

Jack played with Pop, talked with the muppet and brought him on adventures. Within the vastness of the woods, there wasn’t a single human soul around. Only wolves, ants and his family’s tiny hut in the middle of it all.

Jack climbed a tiny tree along with the muppet. From the branch, he could see the whole forest and the outskirts of the town outside it. The sun came down and the clouds began covering the sky. The birds and insects quieted down, letting beasts’ growls fill the silence.

Jack hopped off the tree and rolled to break his fall. He wandered past a few young oaks and big berry bushes until he reached the path. There, he froze.

Something roared.

With shaking hands, Jack put Pop on his shoulder and grabbed his wooden dagger out of his leaf-made belt.

Through the bushes, two silver wolves jumped out, one of them carrying a frantic bunny in its maw.

Jack raised his dagger, keeping eye contact with the huge beasts.

I gotta save that bunny, he thought, raising his dagger. Step by step, he got closer to the wolves, and his trembled even more.

The animals roared.

Jack couldn’t help it. He sprinted away, dashing past fallen trees and huge rocks then jumped over a stream. He ran fast, not looking back and stopped once no footfalls followed him. Then, catching a breath, he leaned on a pine beside.

The tree veered and rained down a storm of green needles.

Jack shook himself to get them off and… his heart dropped -- he’d lost Pop.

Jack backtracked, taking the risk. The sun was even farther down and the wolves could still be after him, but Jack wouldn’t lose Pop. The muppet was more than a toy to him. He was also the only thing that couldn’t hurt him.

Jack found him. He’d dropped Pop right before jumping the stream, beside a rock. Apart from a few smudges of dirt, the muppet was fine.

Jack picked the muppet up and put him on his shoulder.

A trail of ants went from where Pop had laid, past a plot of grass, over some moss and reached the straight path home.

Jack walked alongside the ants, observing them with full focus.

The little creatures carried berries and tiny goods of the forest. Working together, they managed to pick up sticks, leaves and even chipped rocks.

The trail led to a tiny hole in in front of the crooked wooden house. The place couldn’t amaze a single soul, but it was a home.

Jack and his parents had moved here for reasons he struggled to figure out. That was even harder now, consider the fact that he didn’t get to see them often anymore. They disappeared early every morning, leaving Jack to pass the time in the vast woods.

The pair of windows on the hut shined bright.

Jack slowly opened the hut’s door and froze.

The floors were stained with something red, all the things had been tossed on them and countless cracks scattered the walls.

It wasn’t like this in the morning. Jack closed the door behind himself and navigated through the mess, into the main room. Its entrance was shut, but a few holes let him see inside.

Jack’s heart began beating harder and anxiety filled him.

On the floor, his father laid, gored. Beside, two soldiers in steel pointed swords at his mother who was on her knees.

Powers that be! Jack thought and backed off. Utter fear overtook him. He knew he had to barge in and do something, but he couldn’t. The fear broke his ability to even step forth or look through those holes again. He could only back off more.

Jack hit a table with his haunches, knocking over a candle. The flames were absorbed by the carpet in a second, but the steel smashing on the ground caused a terrible sound.

Jack clenched his fists.

Then, as the door in front of him swung open, the floors started to burn. The two soldiers barged out, blood on their chests. Behind them, mother laid still.

Jack reached for his wooden dagger, but after a second whimpered and started running. He left the home of misery with tears running down his cheeks and soldiers chasing him.

Jack ran down the path then turned away from it. Pop fell off his shoulders. He stuttered for a moment, but continued forward. He couldn’t save him now.

The bloody soldiers behind neared. Jack turned to a complex part of the forest, going through small openings, gaining from the attackers. Because of the darkness, he misstepped a few times and ran himself into a corner.

On one side a vicious river flowed, on another, fields of spiky bushes grew while the soldiers came from the last one.

Jack pointed his wooden dagger at the men struggling through the dense woods then shook his head and grasped his dragger, jumping into the river.

He’d feared his whole life, feared when he needed to save his mother, whose death still felt numb in him, feared when he could save the bunny or when he could stand up for himself.

He doubted even his ability to survive the inner pain once it hits. Then, he cleared his mind: no need to worry about surviving pain when he first needed to survive the river and the mad attackers.

Jack struggled, splashed around in the water, gasped for air and cried out. As the coldness engulfed him, something warm grabbed his leg. That thing pulled him out of the water and smashed him into the shore.

The soldier slapped Jack, punched his gut and started tearing his outfit. The man shook Jack until he found a wooden medallion and a pair of coins.

“Ah, worthless trash.”

Jack began sobbing.

“Son, you never saw this and it never happened. We were ghosts, figments of your imagination.” The soldier put a sword against his neck.

“Understood?” Other man finished.

Jack nodded through the tears.

The soldiers gave him another round of beatings, before disappearing into the night forest.

Jack curled up into a fetal position, shivering and drowning in his tears. After a while, hollowness replaced all he felt. Perhaps it was worse, but it let Jack manage to move and at least roll on his back.

Then, ants started using his chest as a pathway. Though these were different. Here, most big ants carried nothing, while the small ones bore the burden of everything. And once these insects reached their destination, the big ones killed the little ones.

The world began fading in and out of darkness, lights flashed around in his vision. Loud screams sounded from every direction and a sudden falling sensation came over him.

Jack jumped out of sleep to a sight no less terrible than reexperiencing the death of his parents.