Chapter 20: Chapter 20.

Dandee and Summer were asleep when we returned. Smell of fresh bread hung in the air. A floury mess coated the table. Arina and I sat down to have a meal of cheese, dried meats, fish and bread. A chill wind gusted in from the windows. Bells tolled out in the distance.

I scanned out the window. “Did something happen?”

“What do you mean?” Arina asked.

“That noise.”

“The three moon toll? What city did you say you were from?”

“Oh.” I pretended to chuckle. “Of course, I thought … I thought I heard something else.”

Three moon toll? It probably had something to do with the coming night. Maybe they rang them to remind people to pack their stuff and to get moving. I wondered how many people got stranded and frozen to death every time they had to portal over. Any time some disaster hit, like a hurricane, there was always some stubborn, slow, or simply stupid bunch that would cause problems. They’d get stranded in the most dumbest possible way.

“Do you have any family yourself?” Arina asked.

I winced. “I do, just … not in this realm. Maybe I’ll meet them again someday. You know?”

I couldn’t believe I was saying that, but recent events had made me question the very nature of reality. I wondered if any of this was even real, or perhaps some kind of a mental illness? A simulation? Some authority, divinity, or a system kept track of everyone and what they did. It had to be omniscient, powerful. But who controlled it? Or what?

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that,” Arina said.

I tried not to think back to the night they died, but it didn’t matter. I felt a lump growing in my throat. My hands trembled. Even if the culprits faced justice, it did little to stem the pain.

“It’s alright,” I said. “I should get some sleep, I’m exhausted.”

I forced myself to think to the future. I looked forward to waking up, and going to collect the 80 crown bounty. With that much cash I would buy a whole lot of steel, boots, and of course, cream and coffee. It was the only way my beloved had drank it.

*** Commander Brent ***

Commander Brent had sent out a lieutenant to the Hillside Butcher’s place. He had found and brought back the skulls that were hidden under the floorboards. Just as told, all of them belonged to young women. He had checked and confirmed their killer with his abilities. Everyone of the victims pointed to the severed head in the crate.

Brent prided himself in his ability to discern a killer from a murderer. It came naturally after decades of work in the Brotherhood. His gut feeling has yet to fail him even once.

An hour later, commander was still leafing through the pages of a tome. The list of five names laid next to it. He should have been sleeping, but this task wouldn’t let him rest. It nagged at him without end. He knew these names from somewhere, but where?

He moved the third tome aside. Placed another one down. It listed people that had gone missing – sadly, a frequent occurrence. He started from the most recent and moved back, carefully turning the pages. Moved his finger from the top and down, checking and checking. His eyes had grown dry and tired. He turned the page and smiled.

There they are.

All five, and then a six even. A party? Brent scratched his head. But the sixth wasn’t on the list with the others. Interesting. A reward was out for the location of the sixth. Ten crowns offered by the family of Grana.

The five weren’t missing. They were dead. And the commander had a good feeling that Stefan wasn’t alive either. What could it mean? There was one person who’d know, and the brotherhood would have a serious conversation with him.

*** Stefan ***

Stefan panicked. Darkness surrounded him. He pushed and pushed. Something heavy was lying on top of him. He couldn’t see it. He tried to feel it out. It was a body, cold to the touch. Something slippery coated his hands. He tried to wipe his hands against the sides of a box with stone walls that he found himself in.

He twisted and turned, managed to slide the body aside. He fumbled around looking for a way out. He banged on the sides, and one clattered. He pushed against it with all his strength. It gave way, slid aside a tad. He reached through the crack and shoved it aside. Something loud crashed to the floor. Dim light entered his confinement.

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He tried sitting up, but something was wrong. He twisted himself from side to side, yet it felt like he hadn’t moved at all. Something was seriously wrong.

Something hit him at the side of this head. Then again. It was at the same time when he moved his foot. Odd. He reached out looking for whatever it was at his foot. His hands grabbed at the object. Hands grabbed at his face. He recoiled and dropped it.

His head banged hard, jolted him. He rolled from side to side. Memories flooded back. He screamed. He roared. He remembered now. He seethed. With trembling hands he reached out and picked himself up. He moved his head from side to side in his hands.

The light of his status filled his sight.

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Name: Stefan Grata; Race: [Human:Undead]

Age: 28; Height: 6’1”; Weight: 190lb

Essence: 150,729

HP: 1880/1880; HP Regen: 38/hour

MP: 1670/1670; MP Regen: 137/hour

Strength: 145

Agility: 131

Constitution: 188

Focus: 203

Spirit: 167

---

Profession: [Acolyte of the Damned (3)]

Class: [Death Lord (4)]

Active Spells (6/6): [Raise the Dead] [Festering Plague] [Dark Ritual] [Unholy Aura] [Vile Swarm] [Stitch Flesh]

Passives (2/3): [Ravenous] [Darksight]

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It wasn’t the same. Nothing was. It was different. He was different now. He was hungry.

So, so very hungry.

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