Private - Shelter//Snare

A flash of light through the premature of night, and the thundercracks began, earth-rattling cacophony consuming the soundscape of the heavens. Thick raindrops fell down instantaneously, a million watery darts lashing downwards at those unfortunate enough to be caught outside. It was a calamity of a storm, the banshee winds slamming into anything left out in the open, gale force storms causing the trees themselves to creak and bend. A dozen bolts continued to cross from one cloud to the other, continuous thunder creating the unending roar of a divine beast. It was as if nature itself was establishing dominance once more, intent on unleashing a torrent that would cleanse the planet of the parasites that clung on the surface.

Caught outside while the storm raged on, Cain was both resigned and excited, one arm raised up to shield his face from the heavy rain, while another gripped tightly onto the rickety rope bridge that swung to and fro in the wild weather. His luck was always terrible when it came to the outdoors, and the perilous drop below him caused his heart to leap up to his throat, but, more than anything else, the midnight-haired muse was excited. The fear was there, but so was the adrenaline, the virtual dopamine that made him feel alive even though at any time, lightning could strike and send him back to the morgue.

Shelter was in sight though, on the other end of the swaying bridge. Light up by continuous lightning flash, the multi-story mansion was both imposing and relieving. Dilapidated as it was, it still exuded a certain safety from the storm. Strong timbers groaned but did not visibly bend. All windows were already shuttered. And, most of all, there were no trees close by. Isolated from the rest of the forest of Brisshal, the lonely house was, if nothing else, safe from any tree that may be blown onto it. It would be a good enough place to wait out the storm, if nothing else. Maybe find something interesting. Maybe even get spooked a bit! Struggling through the wind and the rain, Cain pushed on until his feet finally hit solid ground, the mud beneath his shoes squelching unpleasantly. There was just twenty paces left before he reached the porch.

And then, he noticed it. Muddy footprints on wood, still-wet marks that glistened in the lightning flash. No light shone from within the abandoned building, but it was clear as day that someone else had gotten there before him. Ruffians? No, singular, only one other person judging by the prints. Dangerous? Unlikely. Life was short and much too cheap. Even if they killed him, it wouldn’t be all that bad. No need to fear then. He nodded to himself, absorbed in his own thoughts. Wet enough to no longer care about avoiding the streams of water rushing off the roof, the midnight haired muse stomped up towards the mahogany door. Straining water out of his hair before smoothing it back and tying it into a ponytail, Cain let out a deep breath, before placing his hand on the copper knob.

Gooseflesh broke out, a sub zero chill crystallizing on his spine as his heart burst, trepidation and anticipation blooming like nightmare flowers.

And, just as suddenly, that foreboding sensation vanished, like the afterimage of a scorched sky.

Cain blinked, smiled it off, and pulled open the door as rain hammered above him.

“Anyone home?”

Darkness stretched out before him, shrouding the form of the other within the decrepit building.

 

Of course Mother Nature waited until she was crossing the bridge.

She could have made her move in the hours prior, when Magdalyn had been wandering the country-side, with no real destination in mind, content to simply enjoy the scenery. She could have acted when Magdalyn spotted the old house, looming proudly in a small meadow, flanked on three sides by massive timbers. She could have even done it when the spear-wilder decided that exploring the abandoned mansion, alone, was a really fantastic idea. But no. Mother Nature waited until Magdalyn was halfway across the ramshackle rope bridge to part the heavens, and release her full wrath on the world below.

The girl was reduced to wet-rat status, her blue hair plastered to her face, her vanity clothes left clinging to her thin frame. She shuddered violently, both from cold, and from the fear; it dug its talons deeper with each whip-crack of thunder, each brilliant fork of lightning. The wind howled, and sent the trees to rustling like mad whispers of warning. Hurry, they seemed to cry. Get to the other side. It's dangerous.

Yeah, Mag thought with disgust. She white-knuckled the guide-ropes, and shuffled so carefully that the soles of her boots hardly lifted from the plank walkway. No shit. When she finally reached the other side, she might have crouched to kiss the ground, were it not for the rain.

Her footfalls made unpleasant squishing noises as she raced across wet grass for the small covered porch. It provided little shelter, considering that the rain was being blown sideways by the unrelenting wind, so she wasted no time bursting inside. Only after she was safely tucked away, the heavy door shut, and standing between her and the storm, did she pause to consider the consequences.

Whose house was this? What if it belonged to another player, and she was trespassing? Or a NPC, and she was still trespassing. Was this the start of some new quest? Or, she thought with a shudder entirely unrelated to the cold, was the building haunted? She violently shoved the thought aside, striding forward with too much swagger to compensate for her lack of confidence. "Hello?" She called out, and flinched when her own voice echoed back to her. But that was all - no response, paranormal or otherwise. It seemed that she was alone. And cold.

There was nothing she could do about the first problem, but she went about correcting the second. On the far end of the room she found herself in, a gaping fireplace stood abandoned. She ventured over, then stood in front of it, hands on hips, peering into the darkness. "Well," she said to no one, "how do I make this work?"

This time, her question was answered, with the bang of the opening door. The phrase 'jumping out of your skin' had never been so real as it was to Magdalyn when an accompanying boom of thunder announced the man's arrival. When he asked if anyone was home, it took her a full five seconds to find her voice.

"Uh, yeah, hi," was all she could manage.

 

Within that dim, eerie house, howling winds and heavy rain ushering him inside, Cain wasn’t certain whether or not he was relieved or disappointed when his question was answered by an equally hesitant voice. Female, adult. Blue hair that looked electrifying when the windows flashed with light. And, most importantly…not a creepy little girl with an impossibly frilly dress and eyes that sucked your soul out. Not anyone other than a fellow adventurer taking shelter from the rain then. Relieving and boring. No ghosties, no vampires, no monsters. Just…

Naw, there was no need to go down that path when he knew he wouldn’t be able to maintain his persona during a truly scary situation. Extending one hand palm up, Cain felt that curious, familiar tingling sensation race down his arm as violet light exuded from his palms, bringing an arcane illumination over what looked to be the entrance lobby of the impressively large but notoriously rickety building. Above, a chandelier swayed dangerously, no clear indication of how rusted the chain connecting it to the ceiling was, while before them, a hallway smelling of mold and dew lead to what appeared to be a living room.

The walls shuddered as another gale force wind slammed against the side of the building, but with another person to share his misfortune, perhaps it wasn’t all that bad. If this wasn’t such a horror movie set up, and if they were sharing a gazebo instead, and if the storm outside was just heavy rain instead of thunder and lightning, wouldn’t this be one of those ‘meet cute’ moments revered within Bollywood romance films? Yeah, he may as well take it in stride, right?

“Well, hello to you too, young lady,” Cain said, dipping his head down. Rainwater flowed down his face and he awkwardly wiped it with his damp sleeve, forcing an awkward smile after that unintentional gaff. “Taking shelter from this dreadful storm as well, I presume? It’s quite misfortunate, being unable to conveniently teleport back to town, but I suppose Terrasphere can be annoyingly realistic at times.”

He extended a hand and a smile, hoping to start things off right even amidst the flurry of lightning bolts streaking just outside.


“I’m Cain Darlite, Flagbearer of Miracles, Storm Dancer and Wordsmith. And you?”

 

"Oh!"

Her expression was mixed parts surprise and delight as the man's palm burst into a ball of radiant color. The purple was magnificent, slicing through the suffocating darkness as if it hardly existed at all. The light danced in her wide, awe-struck eyes. Most likely, it was a low-level trick that required little skill or energy to accomplish. But to the brand new and easily excitable Magdalyn, it was spectacular. Just incredible, came her first thought. Her second was, I wonder if that could light a fire.

With each step she took, the chandelier swung precariously on its old chain, the creak accompanying the sharp clip-clop of her boots on the wood floor. His magic bathed the room in a light purple that reminded her of the lilacs on Mackinac Island. She thought of that, and him, as she took his hand her own.

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Darlite." She gave his hand a firm shake, then released it. With her now-freed hand, she motioned to herself. "I"m Magdalyn Rose, but most people call me Mags. I don't really have any other titles yet, I guess. I was in a storm, though I definitely wasn't dancing in it. Storm Runner?" The smile she offered him was crooked, and she could hold it for only a beat before shaking her head. On a laugh, she admitted, "Wow, bad joke."

She was not mocking his name, by any stretch of the imagination, and she hoped that was understood. On the contrary, she was quite charmed by the man's theatrics. He oozed drama, from his gestures to his introduction. A beam of white light in the very real, very literal, stormy darkness.

"And I am, yeah. I'd say it was a bad day to go adventuring, but I'm not too upset by the storm. Kind of adds some excitement, truthfully, and I've always been fond of bad weather."

Thunder cracked, then, an explosion of sound, followed by a more muted rumble. It was as if even the storm itself was offering its approval of her take on the situation. Lena or Mags, real -life or virtual, the woman found herself drifting toward the glass-half-empty line of thinking more often than not.

"It's a bit cold," she confessed, looking the man up and down. Though he was soaked-through as well, he appeared better equipped for the cold in more than one layer. She, on the other hand, still wore only her vanity shirt and pants. Thank god the shirt isn't white, some part of her mused, humorlessly. "But at least we're dry. And as long as there are no monsters lurking, and whatever ghosts we have are friendly, I'm sure we'll be alright."

 

Madgalyn Rose, hm? A fair name befitting of a warrior woman.

“To outpace a storm is no easy feat though,” Cain replied, falling into the old game of mixing flattery with fantasy, “After all, you’re many degrees less drenched than a dancer such as myself, implying legs that are swifter than the cacophony of the lightning clad heavens.”

The midnight haired muse paused for a moment, stroking his smooth chin, before nodding, satisfied with whatever internal decision had come to mind.

“Thunder Runner may be more apt though, for a lady whose legs carry her like lightning through these gale force winds.” Regardless of whether or not it was a bad joke on her part, Cain was fine with pushing things further. This wasn’t nearly as bad as acting ‘seriously’ during the triplet male undead pregnancy twist of the Great Carbuncle, after all, and after the watery hell of the storm, he was happy to shoot the breeze with a good hearted stranger. “Dramatic weather does make for a wonderful experience, indeed. The legends of dragon slaying heroes rarely mention brilliantly sunny days, after all…but hopefully, this mansion isn’t the home of one such beast.”

Hopefully not? Upon second thought, Cain would have been overjoyed if there was a dragon hatchling within the walls of this abandoned building. Compared to the alternative of serial killers, cultists, or other ghastly creatures lurking within the stark shadows of this lightning lit estate, a cute widdle dwagon was an infinitely better option.

“Dry may not be an apt descriptor for what we currently are,” he remarked with a chuckle, “But not having a waterfall pour down my back constantly is indeed nice. Would you happen to have a change of clothes, Magdalyn? Unfortunately, Terrasphere is a realistic enough game that sickness and disease are debuffs that can only be removed with time, not with magic.”

He shrugged off his own waterlogged coat and poured a half cup of water out of his boots as he removed them. A fire wasn’t possible with Arcanamancy, which was just a heatless, destructive force, but that was why every adventurer carried a fire starting kit with them, wasn’t it?

“Had the bad luck of discovering that myself a couple weeks after playing the game myself. You see a hearth down the hallway?”

 

The man certainly had a way with words, that much she realized right away. Not only did he have knowledge of some very flowery phrases, but he spoke with such a flourish, such a flair for the dramatic, that she could not help but take a step beyond charmed. She flat-out liked the guy. "If I'm to be honest with you," she began, her smile bordering on sly, "I have never been called swift-legged before. I sort of fancy the idea." Oh yes, the man's words would be just as deadly as whatever weapon he brandished, and his vocabulary as extensive as his armory.

"If there is a dragon here," she told him, "I suspect it's a very small one. Or maybe the basement is quite large, and it is down there, guarding its treasure." Only a heartbeat after the words left her lips, there came a creak from directly above her head. It was the unmistakable sound of a wooden board protesting underfoot, and it seemed to boom with more force than the thunder that shook the whole house.

The color drained away from her face, and at the same time, she wish for Cain's light to be both brighter and dimmer. Brighter, to reveal the monsters lurking in the shadows. Dimmer, to hide her body's involuntary reaction to what was surely just an old house settling.

"Well," she continued, her voice shakier than she would like, "I suppose the dragon is upstairs then." She attempted a smile, but what she managed did not reach her eyes. So she turned from him, motioning toward an edge of the room still cloaked in shadow, just outside his ring of light. "There's one over here," she explained. "I don't have anything to light it with, and I was messing around with it when you walked in. I guess it's wishful thinking to hope it came with some sort of switch, huh?" She shrugged feebly, then added, "no, these are the only clothes I own here. I'm still very new to the game."

 

His eyes followed Magdalyn’s own as the creak sounded, rising upwards to the ceiling above. Oh, was there an unknown third within this destitute mansion after all, a serial killer hiding out only to realize that two precocious adventurers have stumbled upon his secret base? Involuntary goosebumps rose up the back of his neck as Cain entertained such dreadful but thematically fitting idea. There was both anticipation and fear, and ultimately, anticipation won out, that cheerful, energetic smile bursting out as thunder clapped, snapping both of them out of their respective thoughts.

“A dragon upstairs and a demon downstairs, perhaps?” Cain joked, before walking over to the fireplace that the Thunder Runner had pointed out. Leaning over the long-cold hearth, the midnight haired muse scratched his chin before pulling out his tinder box. Some charcoal was already within to act as a fire starter, and without thinking about it too much, he pulled over a rotting stool as well. The arcane orb flared with added intensity and smashed into the piece of furniture, wood splintering and cracking into a manageable size.

That would be enough to warn whatever lurked above that they weren’t just a bunch of weaklings cowering down below.

Tossing the pieces into the bundle that was already there, Cain removed a tinderbox from his inventory, before striking off sparks with flint and steel. The tinder caught flame immediately, no doubt due to the assistance of in game mechanics, and after tossing to brightly burning bundle into the hearth, the midnight haired man stood up once more. Mmm, the sound of crackling was pretty pleasant, wasn’t it? And the blessed warmth was wonderful too.

“An adventurer should always have an extra set of clothes prepared,” Cain chided lightly, “It wouldn’t do well for beautiful people like us to walk into town drenched in blood and gore, after all. Perhaps you can find something usable in a wardrobe, Lady Magdalyn? Or if you’re feeling particularly adventurous, fashion something out of these dreary curtains?”

The muse patted the dusty drapes with a laugh, as the hearth crackled and pop, fat sizzling as the smell of meat wafted into t-

Meat?

A flash of concern emerged on Cain’s expression as he turned to the hearth once more, dark eyes narrowing as he looked into the flames. Looked and looked and…

It wasn’t charcoal that he saw, gathered at the hearth.

It was bone.

Above, there was another creak, hesitant, testing, as if someone was striding about carefully, even if stealth was an impossibility in such dilapidated circumstances. The windows rattled as winds pounded, a dozen lightning bolts flashing across the unseen heavens. The muse narrowed his eyes, before taking a few steps away from the fireplace.

“Hm…feel like some more Thunder Running, friend?”

 

The moment the fire burst to life, Magdalyn felt some of the weight sliding from her chest like water off a rooftop. Some of the shadows fled from the room, and while it made the outer corners appear even darker, the woman chose not to dwell on that fact. Instead, she let her gaze drift over the newly-illuminated space. The hall was sparsely furnished, the two remaining stools as rotted-through as the first had been. A handful of paintings hung crooked on their nails, but they were too dusted-over to view properly. Bright squares stood out from the faded and peeling wallpaper, a tell-tale sign that other paintings had once been there. Mags studied one of these squares with great interest, an enormous rectangular blotch which faced toward the front windows. What had hung there? she mused. A giant map, or an ornate mirror? She focused on these thoughts, rather than her companion's mention of demons, or the incessant footsteps overhead.

"Turn the curtains into clothes?" she echoed, smiling despite herself. She looked the ratty grey drapes up and down, then added, "I'm not the Scarlett O'Hara type, unfortunately. Besides, I left my needle and thread at home." She paused, then gave a short laugh. "I say that, but I bet you have a sewing kit in your inventory, considering how prepared you seem to be."

The notion of dry clothes was almost enough to drive her upstairs, and she imagined she would already be there, were it not for the ghostly pacing. So instead, she pressed closer to the flames, relishing in the warmth that spread through her. Her damp clothes sizzled a bit as she hovered directly before the fireplace, but it was not the mildew scent of drying clothes that hung as heavy as the dust in the old house. Was Cain cooking something?

Magdalyn glanced down to check, and made the same realization that he had made only a split second before. At the same time as Cain moved, Mags did as well, scooting away from the fireplace that had brought her such joy a moment earlier. "Running doesn't sound so bad," she answered. She was half-tempted to log out of the game all together, and snuggle into a bed towering with plush pillows, warm blankets, and a soft kitty. In a place like that, demons, footsteps, and bones-in-fireplaces just simply did not exist.

A sudden knock at the wall nearly tore a startled scream out of her. Once, and then again, an unseen hand pounded against the wall to the left of the fireplace. The small frame that hung there bounced helplessly, smacking against the wallpaper as it was settled, then unsettled again. When the force was finally too great with the third pound, it fell to the floor, glass shattering, then skittering across her boots. No longer held in place, a picture drifted, then came to rest between her feet. Magdalyn looked down, horrified, as two small boys stared up from a black and white photograph. They were dressed in period clothes, the frilly collars of their shirts nearly covering the lower half of their faces. But the slack-lipped expression was still impossible to miss. And those eyes. She hoped to every god she could think of that the lifeless look was simply a trick of the old-time photograph.

A string of colorful curse words spilled from her lips as Magdalyn began to lose her hold on her fraying sanity. The first sentence she managed that was not just noises or swear words was, "This is seriously messed up."

 

“Hahaha…”

Nope nope NOPE. Fuck this shit, this really was ten different types of fucked up. The ‘aroma’ of cooking flesh and bones was already enough to make his stomach churn, but now that walls were pounding, some unseen phantom stomping against the side of the building, the goosebumps were truly out at full force. The numbness reached the very top of his head as Cain’s eyes widened, flickering from one place to another, searching for more irregularities, the sign of a monster that he could actually hit. But the world was not kind enough to provide such options, not least to a pair of adventurers that had cracked open the proverbial Pandora’s Box. He took one step away from the fireplace. Another step away from the creepy photograph that couldn’t even exist in the strictly medieval fantasy world of Terrasphere. And, as the shadows cast by firelight exposed the presence of a third humanoid shadow within the that room, slinking up the ceiling above the two, Cain decided to stop ignoring the message that the fibers of his virtual body screamed.

Taking Magdalyn by the hand, the midnight haired muse immediately stormed out, as the creaking floorboards above them followed, a stalker up above. Had to hurry up. Had to speed up! Without even thinking about it, Cain gathered a fist full of light and drove an arcane pillar through the door, wind and rain blasting into the haunted mansion. Flashing lightning blinded him for a moment, blue-white burning afterimages into his vision, but as it cleared, as the darkness and the thunder of a stormy night became adapted to, he let out another mental curse. The rope bridge was gone, fresh claw marks where connecting rope once had been. On the other side of the vast expanse, the remnants of the destroyed bridge hung like a man condemned to be hanged.

Icy needles struck him, but he could hardly feel it through the numbness of his mind now. Gods above, this was hella fucked up. He had signed up for high fantasy adventure with the occasional cultist or demon to up the spooky spectrum, not a scene from an absolutely DIFFERENT genre. Oh, but those fucking ghost shitters made a mistake there. He still had his powers, ten times more potent than any firearm in the extermination of ghastly freaks that didn’t pass onto the Afterlife once Death beheaded them. Purple tinged light burst from his hand once more, a sphere that doubled, tripled, quadrupled in size as Cain targeted the mansion. A final resting place? A goddamn special dungeon?

“Magdalyn, get behind me!” the muse shouted, a magical circle projecting itself before him. “This is gonna be a big one!”

Defying genre expectations and giving generally no fucks at all now that he had been properly spooked, Cain did what any hero of a scary movie should have done: if there’s a spooky haunted shit out there, then nuke the hell out of everything in there, from stupid scary letters to edgy creepy amulets to living yet decaying mummies.

“EAT SHIT!”

A torrent of arcane power flooded from his veins into his spell and then outwards as a prismatic beam, drowning out all else in a display of awe-inspiring overkill.

 

There was no time to argue, no opportunity to interject, as Cain plucked her free hand from the air. With it held firmly in his own, he stomped through the open door way, nearly dragging her behind. She scampered to keep up, the soles of her boots slipping on the slick porch as they burst back into the storm. A crash of thunder announced their arrival, the forks of lightning that electrified the sky made it feel more like day than night. In the sickly yellowish-green tinge of the mounting storm, she could see where the rope bridge should have been. All that remained was in tatters, and somewhere in the depth of her panicked despair, she realized that she was not all that surprised. Of course their only means of escape was gone. It could not be a true horror movie without that little motif.

But for all of the fear in her heart, it paled in comparison to what she saw in Cain's pale face, his dark eyes. There was madness there, as pure and unbridled as any she had ever seen in her lifetime. When he extended his hand, and purple light illuminated his twisted expression, she already knew what he intended to do. When he shouted for her to get behind him, she did so without question, eager to watch the damned house go up in flame.

Then, there was a moment of stunning clarity. They needed the house. Not only would it provide shelter from the storm, it also contained the next step in whatever twisted story line they followed. If Cain destroyed it, what would happen? At best, they would be stranded, cold, wet, and miserable. At worst... well, what if the game glitched? What if they broke some unwritten rule, and trapped themselves in this hell?

"Wait!" she cried out, though the howling wind tore the words from her. She grabbed for his arm, her hands snaking around the crook of his elbow, and then yanking downward to get his attention. She had hoped to, at the very least, throw off his aim. But he was strong, and the fear strengthened him even further; the blast struck the house squarely above the front door.

The house exploded. There was no fire, no light, no sound. Instead, the house simply seemed to shred beneath the force of the blow, wood shattering soundlessly, then flying off in every direction. Mags turned her face into Cain's shoulder, a feeble attempt to shield herself from the debris. Small pieces pelted her mercilessly, before coming to rest at her feet. When the player finally glanced up, the house simply... wasn't, anymore.

"Well," she breathed, unable to conjure anything more intelligent. Magdalyn chewed at her bottom lip, dropping her eyes to the ground while she looked for the words to say. What she found instead, however, was movement. The pieces of wood that had rained down on her and her companion were beginning to tremble, bouncing up and down like pebbles beside a heavy foot-fall. She had flashbacks of approaching dinosaurs and massive monsters, but what happened next was far worse. The debris was suddenly snatched backward, flying through the air toward the house's foundation.

Magdalyn watched the house slowly rebuild itself, awe and fear both battling for control on her face and in her chest. Every piece slid perfectly into place, as if she were watching the explosion in reverse. It was every bit as hypnotizing as it was horrifying, and though she knew she should look away, she could not bring herself to.

 

There was catharsis in utter destruction, and there was despair in seeing all signs of that utter destruction vanish, his greatest efforts nulled by the strange force that acted within this land. Before their eyes, the out of place mansion rebuilt itself to dilapidated perfection, as if a giant beam of magic hadn’t just torn it into shreds. A splinter of wood spun past his cheek, splitting it open as it moved join its brethren within the building, but the midnight haired muse moved not, dark eyes studying the restored mansion with a more restrained hatred now. Was this bullshit? Oh yes, this was totally bullshit. Railroaded horror story events were the truest bullshit in the kingdom of bullshit, a bullshit idea that could only be spawned by the High Priest of Blasted Bullshit themselves, completely invalidating player decisions in favor of some stupid, clichéd spooky story that they definitely, totally, absolutely weren’t scared of.

Cain had half the mind to just teleport then and there, or even risk a plunge into the storming river below, but no matter the choice, he’d be more or less abandoning Magdalyn, wouldn’t he? What sort of impression would he be giving off as a more experienced player if he was so willing to run in the face of stupid automatically generated quest content like this? No retreat. No backpedalling. If this particular scenario wasn’t going to encourage ‘cheating’ such as using superior firepower to mow down the spooky ghost freak that lurked within the upper floors of the building, then fine. He’ll play along and make sure his new friend didn’t get her soul stolen by that dumb edgelord partying in the attic. The flame continued to rage in the pit of his stomach, his immaculate skin flush with furious emotion as he fed more kindling into the heart, pulling out more light to burn away the darkness of fear. As long as he was more angry than afraid, he could persevere. That was the decision that Cain had come to.

One hand raised outwards towards the second floor window of the haunted mansion, slowly twisting around as his middle finger extended, a snarling sneer etched onto Cain’s face as he issued his symbolic challenge towards the unnatural resident of the mansion.

Bring it on. I’ll tear the mysteries off your goddamn face and purge you in the light of the heavens, you freak of nature.

The oath was made, the declaration sent. As the storm raged around the two, Cain let out a long breath, internalizing the smouldering hatred that enabled him to continuously act, continuously advance, before saying, with refreshing levity, “Well, that didn’t work. Guess we have to do this the proper way after all, eh, Thunder Runner? Let’s clear this ‘dungeon’, beat the ‘boss’, and maybe by then the bridge would have fixed itself and the storm would have cleared!”

Within the estate, the decrepit phantom stalked, and without the estate, the storm-drenched duo steeled themselves, the curtains splitting apart with the crack of lightning as the game truly began.

 

'Thunder Runner' shook her head, an act that worked in direct opposition to the powerful nickname he had bestowed upon her. "If only it were that easy," she told him. There was no sarcasm or mockery in her tone. Rather, her voice, and her expression, remained thoughtful. She released his arm, unfurling from him as she took a long step toward the house. In an absent gesture, she wiped at the water that slicked her flushed cheeks, then planted both hands on her hips. "I've played a lot of creative quests, in both Terra and other games." With her wide blue eyes narrowed against the sheets of rain, she glared at the house, daring it to make another move. "This one takes the cake, for creativity, and creepiness."

Recalling the way her companion had given the mansion the middle finger, she smiled despite herself. "I suppose we should be thankful for that," she commented, turning to look over her shoulder at him. "Quests like this keep things fresh, even if they scare the absolute hell out of me in the process."

Magdalyn could both see and feel the tension leaving Cain, until it was only the electric sting of lightning that hampered the space between them. And as he found renewed humor in the situation, she found her own fear to be fleeting. It did not leave her all at once, like the popping of a balloon, but rather, like a slow leak of air. A fist still clenched around her heart when she thought too hard about what they had experience... so she would simply avoid doing so.

A more logical approach would be best, she decided. "So what clues have we got so far?" she asked the performer, rocking back on her heels as she surveyed the house. "Something pacing upstairs, a nasty smell in the fireplace, and -"

Her voice hitched, caught in her throat as their newest clue rolled into view. Three tricycles, identical in all but color, paraded around the opposite side of the house. In fire engine red, electric yellow, and cool blue, they seemed to glow against the darkness as they parked beside the porch steps.

"- And the tricycles," she finished. Then she swore. Pausing for a moment to grab at that suddenly elusive good mood, she inhaled deeply through her nose. Then, blinking back tears and fear, she spoke again. "Three of them. How many kids were there in that picture we saw?"

 

“Nasty smell was bones,” Cain explained, unbothered by the heavy downpour now that he was once again soaked through like a sponge, “Fresh enough that it had raw flesh clinging to it. With the setting as it is, I can totally see how it’s hurrdurr demonic ghost cannibals.”

The storm truly was their ally in this case, the heavy rain muting darker thoughts, chilling their bodies fully and cooling their heads. The continuous thunder and lightning, terrifying as it once was, had now become only white noise, drowning out any ghostly wail that may have sounded from the sin drenched mansion. If it was outside, if they didn't mind their teeth chattering and their blood freezing, they could take their time and puzzle it out i-

OH. GUESS NOT. FINE. FUCKING HOUSE GHOSTS.

“Gee,” he laughed, slapping Magdalyn on the back, “So much for a mystery, eh? Looks like the phantom of this particular plot thinks the two of us are too pea brained to figure out the nefarious story behind this mansion, and has taken to slamming our heads inwards with hint upon obvious hint. Almost makes me want to blow up their shitty hovel up again, to be honest.”

Three tricycles. Children. A photo of only two. Bones. Think. A connection. It would be…

Thunder clapped above, the heavens raging against this betrayal of the natural progression of life and death as Cain’s angular face was illuminated by divine brilliance, the stark shadows as strong as the blinding light. Bringing one large hand over his forehead to push drenched strands out of his face, the midnight haired muse smiled that familiarly fierce grin, before turning to his companions. Like a true thespian, he bowed once to her, sweeping his lanky arms to the side.

“Now, allow me to illustrate the tragic story of the Mansion of the Moat,” Cain began, his voice smooth and distinct above stormy cacophony, “Of the triplets that became a couplet due to a godless tragedy, of the missed connection that continued to pull and pull at the survivors’ minds. It teased at their minds, you see, the soul of their lost sibling, the third to the pair, bringing them further and further to madness. Until finally, they crossed the forbidden taboo, calling into the depths of the Shadow Lands to grant them a dark miracle. An unholy one. With the lives of their parents as the offering, they bargained with the Soulforger, to grant them their brother’s soul. And, the exchange complete, they returned to their Mansion, satisfied, happy.”

A pause, a sneer. Pure, unadulterated bullshit, in truth.

“But compared to the eternity of a bound soul, the flesh is oh so transient. As decades flew by in bliss, the living aged and died, leaving their ghostly brother behind. Alone for a tragic eternity, it should be clear what any mad spirit bound to the mortal realm would do, no?”

He bowed once more, rivers of water streaming down his still smiling face.

“To prey on the living for the sake of the companionship of the dead. How absolutely abhorrent.”

 

Magdalyn's mouth opened, then closed, then repeated the process once more. It was fitting, her bumbling like a fish out of water, considering the sheer amount of rain that pelted them from the heavens. More than once during his performance, she had had to wipe at her eyes, keeping them clear so she did not miss anything. That would be a shame, considering how entertaining Cain was. Despite the macabre story he wove, and the situation the pair found themselves in, she allowed herself to play along.

"You know," she said finally, deciding on her choice of words. "I think you're on to something there. I came to about the same conclusion. I couldn't have explained it with as much pizzaz, of course." She flashed him a grin as the water streaked down her cheeks, a sign meant to demonstrate her sincerity. Mags was not mocking the man with her words. Rather, she was truly enjoying her time with him. Again, despite the circumstances.

"There's just one thing that to consider." She held up one finger to emphasize the point. "I'm thinking that, maybe, it was two children who died. Remember the picture we saw, with the two dead bodies? What if it was actually two-thirds of the triplets who died?" Pausing to mull over it, Mags absently rubbed at her chin. It was the cliched, universal sign of thought - if she realized she was doing it, she might even laugh at her own foolishness. But it simply seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

When she spoke again, she had turned back to the house. The tricycles stood like stoic guardians beside the steps to the front door. "Everything else you suggested still fits. Actually makes the whole thing even creepier. The third triplet, gone mad with misery, needs two unsuspecting souls to fill the voids left by his brothers." Glancing toward Cain, she quirked a single eyebrow, and asked, "Guess who the lucky pair is?"

 

“Oof,” he replied, suppressing a sneeze, “I sure do feel lucky right now. Super lucky, even. Shoulda bought a lottery ticket today, if I knew I was going to be this lucky…though I wish the only third had simply asked us to play with him, instead of, you know…”

The midnight haired muse gestured towards the house, the eerily glowing windows, the innocuously placed tricycles, the phantom stomper that still partied too hard on the creaking floorboards.

“…all this spooky shit.”

Still, it was definitely something to consider, moving forward, and he mirrored Magdalyn’s chin rubbing, the cogs in his head turning towards the next answer. If the story that they pulled out of their collective asses was correct, what exactly was the answer here? The magic that breathed beneath his own skin was only harmonic or destructive, not spiritual in the slightest, unsuitable for doing anything kind like ‘help a spirit bound to the mortal plane by past regrets ascend to the afterlife’. No, in the end, what were they supposed to do? Just beat the shit out of that triplet boy in person?

He said as much.

“Well, ultimately, it’s nice and all to have a hypothesis so we can check our answers afterwards, but…” Cain narrowed his eyes. “What’s our plan from here? Don’t suppose you’re hiding some awe inspiring spiritual power that allows you to purify evil spirits with a quick chant, Magdalyn?”

Would be a shame if the answer to their problems laid in the depths of their mansion. A reallllll shame.