Every shadow seemed to hold a secret. Beneath the layers of Villains and natural evil, there were criminals - or even worse - just general assholes. It was slowly becoming clearer why Heroes could be the way they were. As bright as you shined, you only pushed the shadows into deeper recesses, and you couldn’t get them all.

“Father Mave,” the man nodded to us, bowing slightly. “You’re only the third group to come through since the issue started.”

He gestured for us to follow him; as Florence tied up Petal, we walked across the stone pathway toward the main building. It was imposing now that we were close to it. I had no idea what religion or deity these monks followed, but it gave me the chills.

The large wooden door was passed as he took us around the side. “Office,” he smiled to reassure us. No doubt, the main doors would take us to the main hall or place of prayers. At least, that was my assumption.

With a creak, the door swung open to reveal a small room, half dust and stacked bookshelves. In the middle, an aged table took up the majority of the space in the office, where an even older monk sat.

“This is Father Arnk; he has been our librarian for several decades.”

I narrowed my eyes, but there was nothing familiar about him. Perhaps a leap to even consider that may be the case, and humans often changed a lot over the course of fifty years. This second monk looked to be late eighties, if not older. With a polite smile and nod to him, I glanced around the room.

Six-thousand-three-hundred-seventy-two books across the shelves. Quite the collection for an out-of-the-way place.

Father Mave went around to sit beside the older man and took a deep breath. “Apologies, we don’t usually have guests - so we are short on chairs.”

“Standing is fine.” My reply came out short because something had me on edge still. Having a sixth sense for danger seemed fine until you realized that it was just frustrating if you couldn’t pinpoint what the danger was.

“Very well - thank you again for coming. Six days ago, one of our brothers reported a gloom filtering over a disused graveyard about a mile to the south. Reports of walking corpses soon followed.”

“The two groups before us?” I crossed my arms and raised an eyebrow.

“Never returned.” He shrugged apologetically. “We assumed they had a change of heart - the job is below the standard of the few adventurers remaining in the area, and we haven't been to check since.”

I let the words simmer in my brain for a moment. Change of heart. That term started to prickle against my sensibilities. Even if the job was below the desires of adventurers - it was still stable gold and a good deed. If it were truly only zombies and lower undead, then it wouldn’t have killed anyone but the greenest of adventurers.

The lack of said groups was something that had been a constant weight on my mind as well. For all that was said about how there weren’t many in the area… in my experience, adventurers were like maggots to a corpse. Wherever there was decay and evil, there would be upstarts that wanted to quell it. Even if they didn’t have the capacity to become Rankers, they still found function in the grand scheme of things.

Florence spoke up as I ruminated on the issues not quite at hand. “What are the details for the reward?”

“We understand that getting evidence from the undead can be a struggle, so we will leave that to your discretion, and we will trust that you are being honest with us.”

“They look honest,” the older man agreed, the first time he had spoken or acknowledged us.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

The Mage looked at me and shrugged. There weren’t really any more questions on the matter - it wasn’t a huge mystery on the surface, despite the back of my mind uncomfortable in this place.

“If that is all then,” I exhaled, “we will get on with it.”

“Mark on the map, please,” Jakob asked awkwardly, unraveling the scroll and placing it on the table.

Father Mave did so, retrieving a quill from the corner of the table and drawing a small circle.

“It’ll be obvious as you get closer - you’ll be able to see it from a while off after you crest the next hill.” He gave a warm smile and bow. “We honestly thank you.”

With a trio of returned half-bows, we turned and exited back into the day. The Ranger pulled the door closed behind him and turned to us with a grimace.

I nodded, but we held our tongues until we had retrieved the wagon and left back onto the road.

“Religious types give me the creeps,” Jakob eventually shuddered.

Florence grunted in agreement but had nothing to add.

“I think there is more to them than it seems,” I rubbed my hand across my stubbled head. “Unless their apparent holiness just causes my existence some degree of discomfort.”

“We are cursed, so maybe that’s why we could feel it too?” The Ranger screwed his face up.

I looked back at the building as it began to recede from our view, obscured by the trees and our path taking us at a slight decline. It was hard to tell whether I was reacting to something overtly bad - or just divine. Fogvale had the same effect on me, and there was a point to be made that perhaps I just didn’t like being around humans. Present company excepted, of course.

That didn’t sit well with me, though. This didn’t feel like disgust or disdain. It was clearly danger - but in the least clear way. Something insidious and hiding beneath a shadowed faux normality. I appreciated the irony.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” I ran my finger along the pommel of my sword. All that mattered to start with was we had some zombies to kill.

“Do you need inviting into buildings?” A question jabbed out from beneath Jakob’s hood.

“Not until I’m a full vampire. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to enter the Guild or Inn.”

He gave a grunt of acknowledgment.

Being a true vampire had some downsides to make up for the additional strengths it gave. Villains didn’t have a Guild to assign Ranks; there was something more primal to it. I hadn’t even really thought to question it, assuming that Heroes had the same thing, but having to earn Badges to gain skills seemed… fake.

Perhaps I didn’t fully understand it still - more the fool me for allowing this gap in my knowledge when I had all the time in the world to fully understand the power systems at play. There was a clear difference between learned skills and the abilities granted to us, but where did the power come from? Florence had the ability to call upon fireballs naturally - would she have been able to learn how to create Fire Walls without needing the Guild's intervention?

Why couldn’t Heroes earn power through doing good acts, as Villains earned them through acts of evil? There was something broken about it - askew as though a finger was pushing on one side of the scales. I tried to scour my mind, had it always been like this?

“You okay, Victor?” Jakob had lifted his hood to observe me.

“Getting used to the new life still. There are some things that seem very…”

“Unfair?” He smiled and allowed the hood to fall back over his face.

“Perhaps,” I sighed. I didn’t know what I had hoped to achieve by overworking my brain. As I ascended the Ranks, I may learn more about how the system worked and the greater picture of good vs evil. For now, I had enemies to slay.

After a few more minutes of silence, Florence spoke up. “You can see it now; they were right - it is pretty obvious.”

Against the overbearing light of the mid-morning, a rough patch of darkened cloud hung over an area ahead of us. Casting the below terrain into gloom and shadow. It was as if a heavy rain had come to pass, and one part of the clouds had become stuck in mid-air.

“Bets on who kills the most?” Jakob leaned forward as the cart rocked on the rough path. His eyes narrowed in trying to pick out details amongst the grey.

“Victor,” Florence stated bluntly. “I’d like to say me, but come on.”

“I don’t know,” I smiled, “you’re both capable, and I am getting old.”

“You’re built like you could move the monastery with your bare hands, and you’re quick as anything,” Jakob wrinkled up his nose. “I hope I age that well."

"You should just hope to age, in this profession." My own abilities had come at a cost - and one I could allow them to pay - if I were willing. Which I was not. Sometimes those of normal mortal ancestry had it nice. Although their time was brief, they lived it - made their choices, and then were done. It was neat and tidy. They didn’t need to languish on like I had.

“What are the combat rules for zombies?” I held up a hand.

“Don’t get bitten, destroy the heads, and…” Jakob yawned.

“Don’t get surrounded,” Florence finished.

“Very good. Don’t forget to look out for the source. Most likely, it will be buried underground if it is an artifact.”

Jakob began sorting through his quiver. “And if it’s a Necromancer?”

“Even easier,” I grinned, “then we just kill them.”