Bert and Bell rounded the corner, finding the front of the building dominated by a stone patio and ornate wooden columns rising to and supporting a decorative awning. The awning was made of thin wooden strips that were woven in a complex and intricate pattern.

It had a few places where the delicate wood had given way over the years, with little evidence of what had caused the collapse. A few stains suggested it might have been Shells, but it was too faded to tell for sure.

There were no windows on the ground floor; instead, there were wooden slats that seemed to have been able to open and close. It was all decorated with the flaky remains of various colors of paint. A path led away from the building and towards another sizeable covered area, now collapsed.

Bert approached a set of wide, tall wooden doors that sat on tracks in the center of the wall. Dust-covered writing over the doors was too faded to read, but it seemed familiar. He grabbed one of the doors and pulled. It ground along the track about halfway before the warped wood, and bent runners caused it to jam in place.

Bell got the other side of the door, which opened almost completely before it jammed. A dust-covered wooden floor was revealed, with a long, wide entranceway leading to a counter at the far end. A wide staircase to the higher floors was on one side, with a few large doors on the other.

Bert started to get a bad feeling as they walked into the building, and from the way Bell drew closer to him, she did as well. His boots clomped across the floor as they drew closer to the counter.

A faded book covered in leather lay on a small shelf behind the counter, and a broken quill rested in a dried-out inkwell next to it. Bert brushed the dust off the cover and heard Bell gasp.

Waystation of the Valley

Welcome Book

“Bert,” Bell said breathlessly. “I think this is….”

“A dead Waystation,” Bert finished for her. It hurt to say. His chest actually ached to be standing in this building, knowing what it once was.

“I always knew it could happen,” Bell said, her eyes filling with tears. “All those years, I worried it would happen to Way Way and me….” She sniffed. “But to actually see it.”

“I know,” Bert clenched his fist as he leaned on the counter. “It’s so much worse to see it than we could have possibly imagined.”

“We have to find them!” Bell said, her voice almost panicked. “The Spirit and the Caretaker. Put them in their rooms.”

“We’ll try.” Bert nodded. “If they are here, we’ll find them.”

“Then we burn this place to the ground,” Bell said.

“Really?” Bert asked. “I mean, is that the right thing to do?”

“It feels right,” Bell said.

“Then let’s get searching,” Bert said. “See if we can find out what happened to this place.”

They searched the staff areas on the ground floor first. It seemed the most logical place to look for people like them. Because that is what they were doing, the pair that ran this place would have been just like them.

It made Bert feel sick to imagine this end for Bell or Way Way.

The kitchens were empty, and not just empty, but barren. Every cupboard and surface was cleared out. Not even a hint of food remained. From there, they went into the pantries, also finding them cleared of every last trace of whatever had been inside.

There was no sign of whoever had occupied this place.

“Surely something this size must have had staff?” Bert asked Bell as they found yet another emptied storage room.

“Lots, probably,” Bell said sadly.

From there, they searched the rest of the ground floor. It was impressive, in a sad kind of way. They found two restaurants and what appeared to be a dance hall, complete with a stage. From what they could see, there was no sign of so much as a stick of furniture remaining.

Finally, they moved up the stairs, only to be met with some kind of improvised barricade. Chairs and tables were stacked up and jumbled together to create a wall that completely blocked off the stairway.

They took a few minutes, carefully taking it apart; for some reason, they couldn’t bring themselves to actually destroy any of it. It had been a part of the Waystation, and it still was. It would have felt like snapping the fingers off a corpse. They noticed a peculiarity here they never noticed downstairs.

The center of the building had a stone pillar that seemed to rise all the way to the top of the structure. It wasn’t structural, as the Waystations didn’t need any such reinforcement since the entire structure, no matter what it looked like, was a single fused item.

As they cleared the barricade, they found the first bodies. A couple held each other, their backs against the wall. A dust-covered glass was still clutched in their hands. Bert felt a shiver down his spine, memories of cult suicides on Earth flashing into his mind.

His fears were realized as they continued through the rooms on the floor. It had apparently been the main guest floor, and every room was occupied. Singles, couples, whole families, you name it. They all lay in their beds or sat in chairs with dusty glasses in their desiccated hands.

Bell turned back into a pixie halfway through the search, moving to sit on Bert’s shoulder and silently observe as they continued their grim task. They found a few things in their search. An ornate shield here, a heavily ornate war hammer there. They left them all where they were.

They climbed the stairs to the third floor with a heavy tread.

It was the same as the previous floor, although the rooms here were bigger. The sun had found its way through the grimy windows, which somehow worsened the grim scenes. You were supposed to find skeletons and corpses in the dark, not in the sunlight.

They still checked for any sign of the Caretaker and their Spirit. No matter how many heartbreaking scenes they found, they would not give up.

Bert lingered at one last door before they mounted the stairs to the top floor. It was an opulent room, absolutely stuffed with furniture. A huge bed dominated the room, with two bodies in it. A woman, from the clothes, cradled a child in her arms, the glass in her hand still tipped to the child's lips.

A man stood at the foot of the bed in full armor, the expensive-looking suit still keeping his long-dead body upright after all this time. He had his hands around the hilt of a sword that was resting with its tip planted in the floor of the room.

Whoever they were, their guardian had stood one last watch even as he died.

“Come on,” Bell said, her voice rough with tears, “We have to go on.”

They arrived at the top of the stairs to find a closed door marked ‘Private’ and ‘Staff Only.’

When Bert pushed it open, Bell gasped.

“It’s exactly the same as the one in the Bear’s Fall,” She said, her voice breaking.

She fluttered ahead of Bert. “This would be Lily’s room, and her sister, Rose, is here.” She pointed.

They checked the rooms, finding a pair of long-dead goblins in one and what might have been a dwarf in another. Another three rooms held a pair of humans in each.

Bell changed into human form and bowed her head before each one, thanking them for their service to their Waystation.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

Finally, Bert and Bell stood hand in hand before the final door. It would lead to the largest room.

“The Caretaker is either in there,” Bell said, “Or they abandoned this place to die.”

“If they did, and they still live… We’ll find them.” Bert heard his voice shaking and tried to calm himself.

“If they did,” Bell nodded. “They’ll scream before we are done with them.”

They pushed open the door with held breath.

“W-who’s there?” A shaky voice called in the gloom of the large room.

“A Caretaker and Spirit from another Waystation,” Bell called.

The light slowly rose in the room, and Bert stumbled to his knees as Bell began to weep.

A single bed lay on the far side of the room, facing the door. A huge figure, long dead, lay in it. Standing before it, fighting to hold a short sword before him, was an extremely ancient-looking male half-pixie.

Seeing the desolation on their faces, the old man dropped the sword and summoned an old chair with a click of his ancient fingers.

“Welcome to the Waystation of the Valley,” He said, tears rolling down his ancient cheeks. He looked out the slats at the sunlight. “Is the mist finally gone?”

“It is,” Bert said. “We found its source and closed it.”

“We made it ‘ole girl!” The man cackled, talking to the air above him. “We outlasted it in the end.” He smiled. “She can feel the sun again. She missed that.”

“We’ll get you a new Caretaker!” Bell said, running over and placing a hand gently on the half-pixie's shoulder. “We have good people with us.”

“No,” The old man smiled. “We don’t want that. Either of us”

“Please?” Bell begged.

“No, but thank you.” The elderly man shook his head with determination. “I’ll not wait another lifetime to join my Caretaker again.”

“What happened here?” Bert asked, joining Bell next to the elderly half-pixie.

“One last tale before the fire, eh?” The Spirit laughed. “A fitting way to end, yes.” He clicked his fingers, summoning a pair of large pillows. “Sorry, that is the best I can do these days.”

Bert and Bell sat on the pillows, holding hands as the old half-pixie began to talk.

“A few hundred years ago, this was mostly wilderness,” He smiled. “My caretaker’s father was a giant, an honest-to-the-gods giant. He and his tribe passed through, leaving a very pregnant village girl behind.” He gave a crooked smile. “But he also left behind a lingering area of power, and when my Caretaker was almost grown and fleeing a group of invaders from the next village, she found it!”

Bert and Bell exchanged a look.

“Yup,” He laughed. “The fear and the powerful need for safety created an instant Waystation.” He winked. “And instant pixie!” His face darkened for a moment. “It was a long, hard fight, but we won with the old girl’s help.”

He looked up at the ceiling fondly for a moment.

“Anyway,” He continued. “We started to build, and people came for shelter and protection. We were both young, and one thing led to another.” He held up his hands. “I know it’s rare, but it happened. We fell in love.”

Bert squeezed Bell’s hand.

“They found a good set of mines in the area, and over the next hundred years or so, the area became the main producer of sky metal. Everything was grand, and me and the missus got married properly.”

“She was over a hundred?” Bert asked.

“Oh yeah, her giant side gave her a very long life.” He looked over at the bed, “Or it should have.” He paused. “Anyway. A group of mages started doing some experiments on the metal, trying to find a way to improve it. Something went wrong, I guess. That is what Melissa thought, anyway.”

“Your wife?” Bell guessed.

“Yeah, she was a diamond for thinking things through,” He smiled fondly. “This place was bloody huge and constantly packed when things went bad. When the mist came, everyone from the area came here.”

“But, even a Waystation can’t fight mist,” Bell added grimly.

“Yeah,” The old Spirit sighed. “We lost ground every day until we eventually lost the ground floor. We barricaded up and kept the lights burning. The station absorbed everything from down there, and we built up.”

“The barricade was still standing when we got here,” Bert told him.

“Good, but it didn’t help. In the end, the mist got in, and we were running out of power. Those things were starting to form in the damn hallways, and we had to move the core of the Waystation higher and higher to maintain control.” The Spirit grimaced at the memory.

“The mist affected it?” Bert asked.

“Yeah, the mist was seeping into the damn ground, where the station core was, so up it went. It wasn’t long till she ended up here in the roof with the rest of us.” He looked up fondly again. “Once we started to lose control of the second floor, we held a meeting. There was almost no food left, and we were losing.”

“You gave them all a choice,” Bell said grimly.

“Exactly,” The old Spirit sighed. “Been through tough times yourself, eh?”

“I have,” Bell said. “Bert saved us.”

“More we saved each other.” Bert smiled thinly.

“Good for both of you, then.” The man smiled. “The choice was to try to make it on your own or go gently in here.” He cleared his throat. “A good number wanted to try and make it on their own, and they left to see what was left of the place. The rest, well. They all had a drink that ended it gentle and happy.”

The half-pixie stared off into the distance for a while.

“Was that when Melissa went?” Bert asked.

“No, we held on as long as we could.” He smiled. “Almost a year. Just the two of us in here. We could only control this room by then. She swore we’d make it through till someone came.”

“But no one did,” Bert said quietly.

“Not for a long time,” The Spirit said. “And one day, the station started to flicker out of mana. It kind of broke Melissa, feeling that.” He stopped. “So she did the only thing she could.”

“No!” Bell yelled in horror.

“Yes,” The Spirit said grimly. “She gave her life and all she had to the station.” A palpable wave of sadness rolled over the room, thick and heavy.

“I know. old girl, I know.” The Spirit said soothingly. “You never wanted that.”

“Fucking hell.” Bert felt like he understood what she did and why. He would have done it if he had to. “It was her responsibility, in the end.”

“Yup,” The half-pixie laughed sadly. “Her very words.” He turned to Bell, “He’s a good ‘un.”

“Thanks,” Bell said proudly.

“Anyway, I didn’t exactly love the idea, but I respected it. Watching her go, well… it damn near took me out.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “But she gave me one last order. To make it through.” He clicked his fingers again, and a kind, warm voice filled the air.

“Don’t you give in! Ever! You fight through till this ends, or I’ll never forgive you! Beat this blasted mist just like we beat everything else!” The determination in the voice was awe-inspiring. “I love you, my darling.”

“I recorded that and played it back every time I wanted to give in.” The half-pixie drew himself up. “I woke up every day in this room and fought to keep this old girl alive one more day For years. For decades, and now, at last, I am done.”

“I have to ask,” Bell said. “Why didn’t you teleport away when the mist hit?”

“Simple,” The Spirit laughed. “Can only teleport to somewhere the station or Caretaker have been before. We never went anywhere, and Melissa wouldn’t leave us, even for a day.” He sniffed. “Besides, we would have had to leave everyone behind. Abandon our guests to the mists.”

“What can we do to help?” Bert asked. “Is there anything?”

“Yes,” The old man sighed. “Witness the decommissioning of this Waystation.”

“Whatever you need,” Bell said.

“Meet me on the porch in a few minutes?” The old man asked. “I want to take one last look around first.”

“We’ll be ready and waiting,” Bell pulled Bert up and out of the room.

She explained what they needed to do for the Spirit and the Waystation as they hurried out of the building.

“I am ready. We are ready.” The old half-pixie had dressed in a faded suit and hat. He leaned heavily on a walking stick as he stood on the porch just beneath the sign above the door. He held a large silver broach in one hand.

Bert knew where it had come from, having seen it on the body in the bed. It added another crack to his broken heart.

Bert took a deep breath, steadying himself, and then nodded he was ready.

The Spirit drew himself up, standing tall once more.

“All the guests have been served! All the Travellers have been sent in merry cheer along the roads of life! Our Caretaker has passed! The Station and the Spirit agree. We seek to reunite in the next world! What say you?” The Spirit flickered, and a younger man stood in his place.

Bert stepped forward with Bell on his shoulder.

“You were the light in the darkness. The warmth in the coldness of winter! When there was nowhere to go, you offered shelter! Your last table is served now, kind heart. Your last call has sounded.” Bert swallowed hard, and Bell joined her voice with his.

“Go now, and let the warmth and love you offered others now welcome you home that you may rest. Your duty is fulfilled, good soul. Rest now, for there is no work left to be done.”

Bert and Bell stood back as a light began to flow over the Spirit and the Station itself.

“This Waystation is Closed!” They called together.

Light flashed, and the Waystation was gone. A bare space now stood behind the high walls of the fence.

“It’s done,” Bell gasped, and she and Bert hugged each other tightly. Then, they wiped their eyes and walked out of the ruined front gate.

Bert and Bell held hands as they walked back to their own Waystation, already able to see the Express rolling back into its spot.

Bert watched the faint signs of activity and smiled. It was a grim thing, finding that waystation almost dead. Closing it was almost worse in a bittersweet kind of way.

“What a day!” Bell sighed.

“Right?” Bert chuckled.

“Has to be some kind of record,” Bell said. “You get put on trial, get divorced, get a new girl, and close a Waystation, all in one day.”

“I’m a natural overachiever!” Bert winked.

“You better be,” Bell winked and giggled.

There was a moment of silence as they walked together.

“Bert?” She asked.

“Yes, Bell,” Bert replied.

“I’m still a pixie!” She tripped him and popped into pixie form, flying off laughing.

“Bell!” Bert pulled himself up and raced off after her.