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"We enter now?" urged the borman.

The shaman turned. One arm rose in a fluid gesture towards the guild entrance. And again, her body smiled. Not her mask, but her body; the subtle tilt of the shoulders, the inviting wave of her hand. The gestures of welcome that wanted to be seen.

And just like that — it was over.

Yu tore his gaze away from her. Away from the door. Onto the platform's edge. The path, the steps, the downward trail that led back into wind and dark and storm. Away. He needed to leave. He really, really needed to leave, as soon as possible, and never again set talon on this his horror-infused mountain with all its beasts and witches and voices and things that wore faces but were not people.

What was wrong with these guards? This was supposed to be a place of —

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Yu screamed. Not aloud. Not through his beak. Inside. He screamed into his skull. He screamed and screamed and screamed to drown it out, the horrible hunger-voice, but the Mountain King roared louder. The hunger spread in his chest, in his spine, in the sockets of his eyes. It pressed in until sound became pressure, a pressure that made his thoughts bleed until Yu could no longer tell where his own inner voice ended and the Mountain King began.

He spun, bolted —

and ran into Tirran.

Tirran stood between him and the door.

Yu had not seen him move. He was just suddenly there.

Blocking the way inside.

No posture of threat. Claws not extended. No focus in his eyes.

Just standing.

Then the shaman's voice slid across the platform again. "I understand your urgency," she said. To the borman. "The krynn and you may enter. But your two companions must also prove to be unmarked by witches."

The borman shifted his weight.

It was the ker who answered, still three or four steps below the platform. "That condition was not previously demanded. They cannot consent to something so invasive."

Yu knew. He knew. She had been ready to let them in. Before the voice. Which was still, suddenly, again roaring, demanding more.

The shaman made no acknowledgement of the protest. "It is necessary to honour those who came before and safeguard those who follow," she said. "To ensure they are untouched, not only by witches, but by any affliction, latent spell, or dormant influence that could endanger those within."

She turned from the ker to the borman. "As your companions, they entrusted their lives to you. This is the cost of such trust."

The ker moved up the stairs.

Tirran stepped forward towards him.

The krynn shifted in response, stepping sideways, in line with the ker, as if to shield him.

Then —

"Just make," the borman growled.

Everyone stopped.

And so, the shaman did.

She turned to the borman and opened another case, this one rose-gold, smaller than the first. From where he now stood behind her, Yu could not see the instruments inside, but he had no doubt that they were anything but more needles.

Yu tried to track her fingers, but her back and the borman's massive arms blocked the view. Still carrying the unconscious pair, the borman adjusted his hold so she could reach where needed. She peeled back folds of fabric, exposing skin just long enough to insert the needles. From behind, Yu saw her shoulders shift, her form distort and her blades move, and he knew that she again ate the needles, one after the other. He knew, because it finally appeased the Mountain King's hunger.

During the first reading, Yu had been fully absorbed by the shaman. Now, he looked at the others also, and saw his own horror reflected in the krynn's face. He was the only one who looked equally disturbed.

And as Yu's eyes flickered from him back to that essence-devouring mouth-monster, and from there to the fina-eating assassin, and then to whatever the fuck Estingar was, something hard and cold locked into place in Yu's chest. He would not stay. No. No matter what. No matter the cost, he would not remain here, under no circumstances.

The Albweiss Guild was not merely strange people. It was not a home for powerful misfits or mountain-bound recluses with weird rituals and too many secrets. It was infested. Infested with monsters. Some hid their nature and pretended to be people. Some did not even bother to —

It hit him.

A thought, full-force. No lead-up. Just impact, like a stone falling straight into the pit of his gut, so hard it made his stomach heave.

This place is a trap.

Not just dangerous.

A lie. -

Because — where was -the -proof?

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. - - How did he know they were the real deal? How did he know any of these people were actually real guild guards?

A liar omira outcast leading the welcome? A borman who volunteered to protect others? A self-proclaimed shaman who ate essence??? Two avian eldritch horrors with names like Deltington and Estingar????? And an arsehole like Bubs, of all things, in charge of taking care of everyone??????

None of this made sense???????????

None of it held together?????????????

What if they were not guards at all??????????????????

What if they were — raiders !

Slaughterers who had overrun the guild, got rid of the real guild members, and cobbled together this grotesque performance to trick whoever wandered in next?

There would be plenty worth stealing; weapons, crystals, artefacts, surely all manner of rare spoils.

And then — oh god. Oh fuck. Oh fuck no. There -was- more. -

The Watch-Captain.

- He was "out on patrol", they had said.

Of course. Of course he was.

That should have been the first clue.

Yes, guards come and go. They come and go all the time, right? But not the captain. A guild captain is a constant, surely, just like a habitat director. Everyone would know his name. Travellers would expect him, especially those who visit regularly. Even others. Even Yu, since Tria had written to him personally about his placement. He needed to be there for contracts, reports, inspections, assignments and whatever else.

So maybe you can explain away a few missing guards. Say they were killed by witches or beasts, or vanished in a storm, or they just left, like those many guys who found random treasure on the trail, but you could not do that with the watch-captain. Not with him. Kill him, yes, but not have him disappear without a trace and consequences. There would be procedures. Reports. Signatures. A reassignment of title or at least some official notice. Maybe even a formal delegation to investigate and appoint a new one.

So of course, that one singular guy who cannot go amiss is not dead. No, he is just not present, not currently. But, well now, that is nothing to worry about, nothing suspicious at all. He is just out and about. Conveniently.

"On patrol".

Alone. In a storm. Up and down a mountain path crawling with orks and witches and god-knows-what-else.

As if that were in any way reasonable. As if that could ever be protocol. As if any sane captain would actually do that. As if that did not scream set-up. As if they thought everyone was too stupid to notice.

But now that Yu had noticed, it was such an obvious lie.

How? How the fuck did no one else notice that?

Because they all had arrived not a day ago. Exhausted. Cold. Grateful to have survived the trek at all. Eager for warmth, for food, for a bed to collapse in. Eager to overlook anything they did not want to see. At least Yu had been.

Now he looked around, on the platform — but the other travellers were inside. All except Imbiad, who stood near the edge, staring out into the white. Still. Like he had not notice a thing of what had just happened. Not the reading. Not the monster-wearing-shaman. Not the invitation. Yu followed his gaze. Out, down the steps. Toward the shape in the snow. The witch. Still there. Unmoving.

Imbiad had wanted to kill her. Yu still did not know what had broken his ice magic.

And just then —

It stopped.

Truly stopped.

The shaman's reading was over.

The Listener withdrew, and with him, the final traces of the hunger within Yu. Yu made sure. This time, he really followed and focussed as the voice withdrew within him, until he heard its absence in the ensuing silence, deeper than quiet. A hollowness with shape. He had never been this relieved in his life. -

The shaman stepped back toward the entrance and with one hand gestured to the door.

"Welcome, dear guests," she said to the borman and the krynn, her tone smoothed once again into that glacial civility. "Please say your farewells and follow me."

The storm resumed its breath. Air surged between the platform pillars, like water through stone teeth.

The borman stepped forward to follow. The krynn looked back at the ker.

"Go now," the ker said. "Meet us here at sunrise."

"The witch is not to come within sight of the gates again," said Tirran.

"I understand," the ker replied. "Is there a place where we may settle for the night?"

The guards gave no answer.

"There are caves," it was the shaman who replied. "Twelve hundred steps westward, along the trail. You must have passed them. Look for an overhang, three meters above the path. It was once a guild outpost."

The ker inclined his head.

"I will find you there at noon," the krynn told him.

"Rest well," the ker answered. Then he turned to the witch. "Go," he said, quietly.

She stepped back, descending the stairs in silence. The orblight left her, and the storm took her, one gust at a time, until the last traces of her angered expression were just another blur in the night snows.

The ker followed, vanishing into the dark, after her.

The shaman turned again. She motioned once more, and led the borman and the krynn inside.

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