Rain drummed against the roof of the small shack as all those within, including the enigmatic entity, were illuminated by flickering candlelights, casting eerie shadows upon the walls. Strange creature, it was. Ehrwin couldn’t quite place it despite his extensive familiarity with mythical beings, acquired through his family’s private library, and his fascination with the arcane, despite his own lack of magical abilities.

The atmosphere in the room was tense and silent as Bog, a bony, charcoal-skinned creature of small stature with pointy ears and a wrinkled forehead, faced the towering figures before him, his bulging eyes darted back and forth as he nervously clasped his hands.

“Lower your weapons; I implore you,” Bog said in a nervous tone. “I come in peace and mean no harm.”

Dolly scowled, her grip tightening on the shotel as she aimed it at Bog. “Sure thing, as soon as you tell us what the fuck you are.”

Bog took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I am Bog, familiar of Mistress Othelia.”

“And who might Othelia be?” Ehrwin asked as he sheathed his sword. Monsters who spoke were rare, and monsters that spoke like noblemen were unheard of. He found the experience eerily uncomfortable.

“She is my mistress.”

“Is that the witch?” Gaul interjected, brandishing his hammer aloft with both hands. Bog was mere paces from his grasp.

“I presume those unfamiliar with her would refer to her in such a manner. Pray, if I may be so bold, what might be the purpose behind your pursuit of her?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Dolly snapped.

Bog shrank back, cringing at her harsh tone. “Of course, forgive me. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Ehrwin tapped the table, drawing attention. “If you really are her familiar, why has she kept you trapped inside a jar?”

Gaul nodded, echoing the sentiment. “Aye, what kind of witch would do that to her own familiar?”

“Well, that’s because… that’s because…because,” Bog sputtered, his eyes hung low, ears drooping as he sniffled, the tears starting to flow as he covered his eyes.

“Way to go, Gaul,” Dolly chided, sliding her blade back into its sheath.

“What are you blaming me for?” he lowered his hammer. “All I did was agree with Chief.”

“The weight of my regret crushes me like a boulder,” Bog choked out, tears streaming down his face. “I should have supported her, should have stood by her side instead of dismissing her aspirations as unrealistic. This is all my doing, my damning mistake.”

The group exchanged awkward glances, at a loss for words. It was a bizarre and surreal situation, a monster four feet tall, speaking in refined tones, bemoaning its sorrow to strangers who had just barged into its abode.

“Mistress Othelia had a desire to depart from the swamp,” he continued. “But her husband, Lord Eternus, forbade it.”

Dolly raised an eyebrow. “Eternus?”

“A serpentine deity, if I recall correctly, revered in these parts many centuries ago,” Ehrwin enlightened.

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“Indeed, Lord Eternus was once a revered deity among men, held in high esteem for decades. However, as time passed, and men began to blame their misfortunes on Lord Eternus, he grew tired of their disappointment. Then, he met the mistress, a farmer’s daughter, and was instantly smitten. He married her, secluded himself in this swamp, and granted her a life of longevity. For the first few decades, their marriage was one of unbridled happiness. Yet, even the strongest of bonds can fray, and as the mistress yearned to explore the world beyond, Lord Eternus grew resentful. His anger boiled over, and in a moment of weakness, he”— Bog hesitated—“raised a hand to her.”

The room was suddenly illuminated by a brilliant flash of lightning, casting an eerie glow over Bog’s troubled countenance. The sound of the thunderstorm raged on outside, the howling wind punctuated by the explosive claps of thunder.

Dolly, always prone to dramatics, let out a pretend gasp. “Good gracious! How dreadful!” she exclaimed, covering her mouth.

“Indeed, it is most unpardonable,” Bog replied, seeming to miss the sarcasm in Dolly’s tone.

“Mistress had confided in me her intention to ensnare Lord Eternus and flee the swamp. However, I advised against her course of action, expressing my belief that her scheme was unfeasible. Perchance, she may have suspected that I would apprise Lord Eternus of her intentions, given my misgivings. And so, she was compelled to secure my presence here prior to executing her plan. I have been awaiting her return with bated breath, hoping that she would liberate me and regale me with tales of her triumph while teasing me for my lack of confidence in her abilities. Yet, I have lost track of the number of days I have been confined here, my mind barely lucid, and she has yet to make an appearance.”

Ehrwin wasn’t sure what to make of this bizarre tale he was just told. “Is she still alive?” he queried, noting that the dwarf-like creature spoke with an archaic, centuries-old diction, rather than a contemporary one.

“Yes,” he closed his eyes. “I can sense her. She remains motionless at a specific location. I surmise that Lord Eternus has apprehended her, employing the very same snare she had intended to use against him.”

A heavy silence hung in the air as each person grappled with the weight of the information they had just received, struggling to fully comprehend its impact.

“So, what now, chief?” Dolly asked.

Ehrwin was at a loss, unsure of his next move. He felt strange about the entire situation. He couldn’t understand why the witch’s familiar wasn’t worried about their intrusion into this home. Was he telling the truth? And if he was, how could they possibly stand a chance against someone who held the power to grant immortality?

“I say we handle this Eternus bloke and rescue the witch. Piece o’ cake.”

“Did your thick head miss the part about this Eternus bloke being a literal God?” Dolly snapped.

“Bah,” Gaul spat, “we’ve faced greater foes. A mere deity won’t stop us.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Dolly shook her head, “You were almost done in by that mud-spawn. Think on it before making grand boasts.”

“Actually,” Bog cleared his throat, “although it is accurate to say that in typical circumstances, your chances of vanquishing him would be quite slim, but, if you were to avail yourselves of a certain vulnerability that I have kept discreet until this very moment, your prospects may improve significantly.”

“Well, that settles it then,” said Gaul. “Let’s go rescue the witch!”

“Hold on, why should we risk our lives to defeat Eternus for you, that too gambling on some weakness that may or may not be there?”

“Pardon me, sir," Bog began, "but you have not yet revealed the purpose of your visit. I presume it is the same as all the others who seek the secrets guarded by the esteemed Mistress Othelia for ages. I daresay, if you were to extricate her from her current predicament, she would be most grateful and willing to assist you. Furthermore, given that you have made it thus far into the swamp, which is a rare feat as outsiders are usually swiftly dealt with, I surmise that you possess a remarkable degree of strength and fortitude.”

Ehrwin pondered for a moment. What Bog said made sense, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to fully trust the bony dwarf-like creature. A knot of apprehension in his stomach urged him to flee. But, he knew running was not a viable option.

What would he say to Dolly and the rest? Express gratitude for their trust in his misguided ambition, confess his cowardice, and abandon them right after they had finally reached their destination? No, he would have to take the chance and face Eternus, knowing that the likelihood of emerging victorious and unscathed was scant. It’s either this or be buried alive by the very companions whom he tricked into believing that he was just as ruthless and hardened of a criminal as they were.

“Alright, let’s begin by having you share details of this vulnerability you speak of.”