Chapter Fifty-Six:

“Be Our Guest”

The snow had swallowed the forest in silence.

Roland shifted the weight of his sword with a slight tilt of his back, watching as the big, slow-falling flakes tumbled from the gray sky. The air was still, unnervingly so. Not even the wind disturbed the branches. It was so quiet that he could hear the snow itself landing, soft, nearly soundless.

It had been some time since they left Emberwood Village, and so far, nothing had gone wrong. No attacks, no strange creatures lurking in the trees, no sudden shifts in the terrain. Just an endless expanse of frost-covered wilderness, their footprints the only sign of life disturbing the untouched snow. And yet, Roland couldn’t shake the feeling that something was… off.

He glanced at the compass embedded in his vision. The glowing marker pointed them forward, unwavering, keeping them on course toward their next destination. At least something in this place still followed the rules.

Chris let out a long breath, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Y’know, maybe we finally hit the winter biome. Like some kinda expansion?" His voice carried just enough humor to lighten the moment, but even he seemed unnerved by the landscape’s emptiness.

Keira slowed her pace, eyes scanning the treeline. She frowned, hesitation crept into her expression. "I don’t know… but something about this place…" She trailed off, her breath drifting in faint wisps against the chill.

Rachel, walking just ahead, stopped abruptly. "No, it’s not just you." She turned, scanning the snow-covered expanse. "I swear I’ve seen that ridge before. But that’s impossible... Right?"

Roland followed her line of sight, narrowing his eyes. The ridge she was looking at jutted out just beyond the trees, partially obscured by the falling snow. To him, it looked like any other ridge, nothing particularly distinct about it.

"Tell me I’m crazy," Keira muttered, "but doesn’t some of this look… familiar?"

Rachel exhaled slowly, her mind racing. "Wait… this layout… the ridges, the treeline… this is Massachusetts. Or at least, it's like some twisted version of it." She turned toward Keira, realization dawning. "If I’m right, and this realm is reflecting places from our reality… then I think I know where we’re headed."

Roland glanced at her, his brow furrowed. "Where exactly are we headed?"

Keira nodded, stepping closer. "Yeah, if you recognize it, spill."

Rachel inhaled, steadying herself. "If I’m right… we’re heading toward Eldoria’s version of the Bridgewater Triangle."

Chris blinked, looking between them. "Uh… what’s the Bridgewater Triangle?"

Rachel adjusted her gloves, her breath steady despite the cold. "It’s a region in Massachusetts, real-world Massachusetts, that’s been infamous for paranormal activity for centuries. Reports go way back, even before colonial times. It’s this place where everything feels... off."

Keira raised an eyebrow. "Off how?"

Rachel exhaled, thinking. "Disappearances, strange lights floating in the swamps, shadowy figures watching from the trees, animals acting like they’re possessed. It’s been linked to UFO sightings, ghostly fires appearing in the marsh, even creatures people swear they’ve seen but shouldn’t exist. Some say it’s cursed, others think it’s some kind of interdimensional weak spot. Whatever the reason, it’s one of the weirdest places in the U.S."

"Awesome!" Chris exclaimed, grinning. "I love the paranormal!"

Roland gave him a flat look, his voice dry. "Yeah? Let’s see if you still love it when it starts loving you back."

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Roland pulled his jacket tighter around him. The snow was getting deeper, their steps heavier. Whatever lay ahead, they were walking straight into it.

Keira pulled her scarf up higher over her face, her breath barely warming the fabric before the cold stole it away. She exhaled sharply, breaking the silence. "Anyone else find it weird that Gameweaver’s just... gone?"

Rachel glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, when we first got here, she wouldn’t shut up," Keira said, shaking her head. "She taunted us, laughed at us, gave her little running commentary like she was watching her own personal horror show. But now? Nothing."

Chris scrunched his face, rubbing his arms against the creeping cold. "Yeah, it’s been a while since we heard her. You think she got bored?"

"No chance," Keira muttered. "She loved this. She loved messing with us. So why the sudden radio silence?"

Roland kept his focus ahead, watching the snow continue to thicken around them. The cold was settling deeper now, seeping into muscle and bone, dragging at their steps. He flexed his fingers, feeling the sluggishness creeping into his limbs. "It doesn’t matter," he said finally. "We have bigger problems right now."

Rachel frowned. "Like what?"

He glanced at his HUD. "Our Max HP. It’s dropping."

The realization settled over them quickly. Their health bars weren’t just ticking down, they were shrinking, the cold gnawing at their very ability to endure. The longer they walked into the frozen wilderness, the worse it got.

Chris cursed under his breath. "Okay, that’s not fair."

"None of this is fair," Roland replied, "We need a fix before it gets worse."

Keira took a slow breath, rolling her shoulders. "I think I can help. Hold still."

She stepped forward, lifting her hands, and called upon the fire inside her. A soft glow pulsed to life in her palms, warmth spreading outward, steady and growing stronger. She concentrated, expanding the heat, pushing it toward the others. The warmth soaked into them, burning away the frost creeping into their bones, and as it did, their Max HP began stabilizing.

Rachel let out a relieved breath. "That’s... actually really useful."

"No kidding," Chris muttered, flexing his fingers as sensation returned. "New rule: Keira walks in the middle from now on."

Keira smirked. "You just like having your own personal heater."

"Yes. Yes, I do."

Roland exhaled, watching his own health bar settle. It wasn’t a permanent fix, but it would keep them going. And right now, that was all they needed.

The sky had turned a deep shade of royal blue by the time they reached the edge of their destination. The snowfall had slowed, but the chill remained, creeping into them despite Keira’s warmth. Ahead of them, partially obscured by the swirling snowfall, stood the hut.

It was crude, almost primal in design, its slanted roof covered in patches of frost and moss. Strange symbols were etched into the wood along its sides. The warm glow from inside barely reached beyond the threshold, as if retreating from the dark, twisted trees that surrounded it.

The group slowed their steps as movement rustled in the underbrush. Low growls echoed in the still air, and then, emerging from the shadows, a pack of wolves materialized.

Their fur blended into the dark snow, their yellow eyes fixed on their dinner. The largest of them stepped forward, its fangs bared, breath visible in the cold air. More shapes gathered behind it, a silent, intelligent coordination in their movements.

Roland drew his sword in one swift motion, blade gleaming under the faint moonlight. Chris followed suit, his stance tense but steady.

Keira pulled out her lighter, the flame igniting with a snap of her fingers before expanding into a pulsing sphere of fire. "Guess we're doing this."

Rachel took a calculated step back, assessing the wolves. "They're coordinated," she muttered. "They’re waiting for something." Her eyes narrowed as she scanned them. "They're communicating, telepathically. That’s why they move so seamlessly. They’re not just a pack, they’re coordinated hunters, signaling each other without a sound."

Roland moved his grip up on his blade, "perfect."

The wolves crouched, ready to lunge.

And then.

Light.

A piercing, blinding eruption from the hut’s doorway. It spilled out like a flood, illuminating the clearing in a way that felt unnatural, swallowing the night itself. The wolves let out startled yelps, their eyes forced shut as they scrambled into the safety of the forest, vanishing back into the shadows without a sound.

The light continued to blaze, casting long, silhouettes across the snow, brighter than anything they’d expected from such a modest hut.

Roland lowered his sword slightly, shielding his eyes. "Well. That’s one way to clear a battlefield."

Chris exhaled, loosening his grip on his weapon. "Is it too late to turn back?"

The searing brightness began to dim, receding just enough for the world to regain its shape. The hut remained bathed in an eerie glow, the light not quite extinguished, but no longer blinding.

Roland lowered his arm from his face, his vision adjusting. The outline of a man stood in the doorway, tall and imposing, a staff in one hand. His presence filled the threshold, solid and deliberate.

Then, another figure joined him, a smaller shape at his side. A girl.

The man’s voice carried through the cold air, smooth and unhurried. "Name’s Sterling. This is my daughter, Hex." He paused, letting the invitation settle. "Won’t you be our guests?"

The light at the tip of his staff pulsed, a slow, steady rhythm that sent dark shapes stretching long across the snow.

The forest, now empty of wolves, stood silent, waiting.