By the time they reached them, the narrow streets were only illuminated by the hints of light spilling out through shuttered windows. There were no more than perhaps fifty homes, but no hamlet would be complete without a tavern. It stood out like a beacon in the dark streets, the light pouring through its windows, and the faint smell of savory pork was carried aloft on the winds. No one was attending the stables when they arrived, and after a moment’s hesitation, they settled their mounts down for the night before trekking inside.

The savory smell of roasting pork and warm beer almost knocked them off their feet as they stepped through the tavern doors, the cold winds sucking out the warmth in a torrent of air until they slammed the heavy wooden doors shut. Half of the village must have gathered in the tavern that night, and almost every table was crowded with boisterous patrons, the conversation so loud that it drowned out the man half-heartedly playing a lute by the fire. Unlike the small taverns he had been in before, the villagers largely ignored them, aside from a few friendly nods that were cast their way.

Jasper walked up to the barkeep. He was a tall man with a large drooping mustache and a bit of a pot belly; if it weren't for the two small horns whose tips peaked up through his thinning hair, Jasper thought he'd look like a middle-aged accountant in medieval cosplay. His skin was pale, and as Jasper glanced around the room, he was surprised to realize that, once again, he was the only one with red skin. I’m starting to think Kas̆dael underplayed the significance of my red skin. Or, maybe a goddess just isn't a good barometer for "normal."

The man finished rubbing dry one of his glasses before greeting them. “What can I get for you? I haven’t see you around before? Are you here to hunt the kalmû? You should really check in with the head of the village first. He’s not here tonight, but you can catch him in the morning. You need a room, right?”

The man chattered on, barely stopping breath, while Jasper and the rest stripped some of their layers off. As Jasper unwrapped the scarf that covered up his face, the barkeep suddenly fell silent. “My lord, I apologize - I meant no disrespect.”

Jasper waved him off, feeling uncomfortable. “You were saying something about a room?”

“Of course, you’re welcome to any of the rooms in my inn.” The man hesitated, “Perhaps it would be more appropriate for you to stay with the head of the village - I can send one to fetch him.”

“No, no-” Jasper hastily cut him off. “I'm happy to stay here.”

The djinn looked uncertain but bowed his head. “Very well, my lord.”

Jasper sat down at the bar with his two partners, and fished in his bag for some change, dragging out a gold coin, which he set in front of the barkeep. “Three of whatever you got to eat and drink. Oh - we also put our mounts in your stables.” The man quickly swept the coin up and hastened out of the room.

He returned a few minutes later with steaming bowls of stew and frothy mugs of beer, setting down a handful of coins in front of Jasper. “Just let me know when you’re ready, and I’ll have someone escort you to your room.”

Jasper hesitated a moment. “Do you have three rooms available? It’s been a long trip, and a little space to ourselves would be nice.”

The man nodded. “Certainly, that can be arranged." He called over a maid, whispering in her ear quickly. Jasper didn't notice it, but a few minutes later, two sleepy men stumbled down the stairs, clutching their belongings, as the maid led them into the kitchen.

Satisfied, Jasper dug into the hearty meal, relishing the savory stew. The culinary options in Corsythia had been, thus far, rather lacking, but on a cold night like this, the stew hit the spot. As he was nearing the bottom of his bowl, he became aware of a presence standing behind him. Jasper turned to find a man waiting patiently, his hat literally in hand. the man bowed as Jasper turned to him. “My lord, will you need someone to help you hunt the kalmû? I’m one of the best hunters in the village.”

Jasper shook his head. “Thank you, but we’re not here for the kalmû.”

The man’s face fell, but he merely bowed, “Of course, my lord,” and turned to leave. What the hell are kalmû?

“Wait a moment!” Ihra interjected, and the man half-turned back, a hopeful look in his eyes. She turned her attention to Jasper and Sellâ. “Our map of this area isn’t that detailed. Maybe one of the locals could guide us to the ruins.”

Sellâ frowned. “We don’t need them-”

Jasper shrugged, cutting her off. “Do you know exactly where we’re going?”

“Well-“

“You haven’t been here before, right?” he pressed.

Sellâ ground the words out reluctantly. “No.”

Jasper turned back to the man. “Are you familiar with any ruins in this area? We’re looking for an abandoned village that once belonged to the Moon-kissed.”

The man nodded. “I know of several abandoned ruins close by; I don’t know their history, but there is one that has a statue of Damqa in it - perhaps it is the ruins you are seeking? I’d be happy to lead you to it."

Jasper looked over at the barkeep. “Is this man the skilled hunter he says he is?”

The man bowed. “Indeed, my lord. There is no one else in the village, except perhaps for the village leader’s son, who is a better hunter than he is. If you are not here to hunt the kalmû, perhaps you are unaware, but the villages along the coast get a steady stream of hunters from the south during the winter and Bā’er is one of our finest guides. You’ll be in safe hands with him.”

Perfect. Jasper turned back, grasping the confused man’s hand with a smile. “Well then, consider yourself hired.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sellâ sulking and suppressed another smile, throwing a subtle nod at Ihra.

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After a hearty breakfast - a spread that seemed truly extravagant for the humble inn - they departed with Bā’er. The snow had stopped, leaving the world covered in a spotless white coat, unmarred except by the tracks of their mounts. The beach was piled high with icy shards that washed in on the waves, slowly accumulating into oddly shaped mounds. The coastline was still free of ice, although sheets of ice floated further out on the lake, their surface crowded with the large, furry kalmû. Jasper was surprised to see a few boats leaving the dock, venturing into the icy waters.

“Aye, it’s dangerous work alright, but once falls fully slips into winter, it is our most profitable time of year,” Bā’er explained at Jasper’s query. “In the summer, the kalmû shed their coats, so we just have to rely on fishing. But their coats start to regrow once fall hits fall comes, and by winter our docks are full of hunters from the south. It’s mostly rich merchants from the cities around Lake Yarhab, but there’s a few nobles like yourself too; most of the nobles go further down the road to Ḫama or Kār Kuppû, where there’s fancier lodging, though.”

The man turned around in his settle, eyeing the three speculatively. “But you’re really not here for the kalmû? Can’t say I’ve ever noticed anything particularly special about these ruins.”

Jasper shrugged, a lie coming surprisingly easily to his lips. “I came across a reference in the family records to an ancestor of mine that joined the Moon-kissed, and ran off with her lover to a village up here, back before it was abandoned. I guess I’m just curious, really.”

Bā’er laughed. “That’s good; I was afraid you were going to be disappointed when you didn’t find anything and want your money back.”

After a few hours of steady riding, the first signs of the village appeared. Although it had been abandoned for nearly three hundred years, the harsh climate along the lake had prevented vegetation from swallowing it up. Instead, the half-frozen muck had preserved much of the ancient village. The skeletons of ruined homes, their walls built of thick stone, rose up all around them, their roofs and insides having long since succumbed to the elements.

Their travel through the village was slow and painstaking; the lake waters were slowly rising up to reclaim the boggy land, and the ground was coated in a deep layer of cold, slushy muck, which even their mounts struggled to walk through. In more than one place, the walls had collapsed on their side, the soft earth no longer able to support their weight.

Once they reached the ruined town, the group asked Bā’er to wait for them, a concession to Sellâ, who was still pouting over the guide. As Bā’er retreated back down the path with their mounts t wait for their return, Jasper turned to the fetching brunette. “Alright, Sellâ. Where is this vault?”

She peered down the trail, waiting until Bā’er had disappeared, before springing into action. “The papers I found said to start at the statue of Damqa in the city square, take a hundred strides to the left, and then fifty strides to the right. There should be a sepulcher there, and, hidden inside of it, a passage that leads down into a chamber stocked with arms and valuables.” She looked up excitedly. “Supposedly, this place served as a safe house during an extended conflict between two of the noble houses in the area.”

Jasper frowned. “Wouldn’t the nobles have already emptied it out?”

Sellâ shook her head vigorously, her stiff hair - half frozen from the cold winds and flurries - rustling noisily against her coat. “It’s unlikely. In the middle of the nobles’ little feud, Mt. Belû, a volcano on the far side of the lake, exploded. The explosion melted a glacier, releasing a vast amount of water into the lake; the waters rose dramatically, submerging the village beneath the frozen waves. The waters didn't recede enough for the village to reappear until long after the conflict had ended.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’re right.”

The three rode through the partially sunken village, finally arriving before the statue Bā’er had mentioned. The statue of Damqa was in a ruinous state, covered in lichens and moss, leaning precariously to the side as its base sunk into the muck. But it was still striking, nonetheless. A beautiful woman stared back at them, and though her hands were missing, the two wide horns that swept up from her head were still preserved, a full moon suspended in the middle. Fragments of paint still clung to the statue, testifying to the colorful presence it must have had, and a long inscription, worn with age, ran along its base. Her eyes, once no doubt made of precious gems, were empty, but a small basket sat in front of the statue, its sparse contents showing that even now there were some that visited the sunken ruins to venerate her.

Jasper bowed slightly to the statue, his eyes widening as he felt a faint tingle run down his spine. Sellâ ignored it, impatiently striding away from the statue. They trailed behind her, following the instructions in her notes, and found the sepulcher. Jasper stiffened in surprise when he saw it. The giant sepulcher looked almost like the ones in the trial when he first arrived in Corsythia. The sides were carved with images of six-winged beings, and the top was adorned by a colossal statue of a horse.

It took the full strength of all three of them to budge the top, the sepulcher firmly sealed shut with muck after decades of slumbering beneath the frozen waves, the muck further reinforced by the sheer weight of the stone horse. But they finally managed to push the lid back a few feet, creating an opening just large enough to slip through. Sellâ had been right - a ladder led into the darkness.

“After you.” Jasper waved her forward, but Sellâ shook her head. “It’s pretty dark down there, but you can set your hands on fire, right? You should go first.”

Unable to object, he crept down the ladder. The rungs bowed beneath his weight, the wood ravaged by the passage of time, and he held his breath as he descended, expecting the fragile ladder to collapse at any moment. But he made it safely to the bottom, the room plunged in almost absolute darkness. With a thought, Jasper forced the flames out through the faint tattoos on his hand. The blue light danced along the walls revealing a large room. Weapons hung on the walls, and row after row of boxes were lined up beneath them. “You were right - looks like the stuff's still down here,” he called up. “Careful, though - the ladder’s pretty rickety.”

He started to move towards the nearest weapons, but something in the shadows caught his attention. A door was partially hidden behind some boxes. Sellâ and Ihra joined him a moment later, the two sliding down the ladder’s sides rather than testing the rungs’ strength, and he waved them over. “Help me move these boxes - there’s another room."

The three swiftly cleared the door, and Jasper reached to open it, but Sellâ caught his hand. “Wait!” she warned. “This place could have booby traps.” She bent down and carefully examined the door. Finding something, she retrieved some tools from her pouch, and carefully cut away at a portion of the frame. A contraption was hidden beneath the wooden panel, and she disabled it, examining it closely. “Looks like it was so water damaged that it wouldn’t have worked, but you can’t be too careful.”

Jasper nodded gratefully. “Lead the way.”

Sellâ slowly opened the door, examining the entrance before stepping through it. A shaft plunged down into the darkness at a steep angle. “You’re going to have to stick close so I can see.” The three slowly moved down the narrow ramp, a few steps at a time, as Sellâ watched for traps. She spotted several, disabling them before they proceeded. They were all too damaged by water to work, but when they reached the bottom, another door barred the way. This door was made of metal, and although its face was covered in corrosion, it remained tightly sealed.