Loudest Dungeon: Ch.3 - A Dance in the Dark

In the darkness something moved.

Heralded by the rattling of bones, by the clanging of rusted metal chains, by the rank odor of rot slowly suffocating the already stale air something shuffled through the black; the sound of a single, strong footstep followed by the wet slap of something heavy dragging itself across the floor echoed through the stone corridors.

It left nothing in its wake but the echoes of a deep, rheumy cough and a foreboding sense of despair, of death and decay and hatred so powerful and deep it could drown the whole of the world. Well, that and something else...

Following this noise were the uniform steps of three more sets of boots, each one in line with the other, consistent and unvarying in their stability, never once slowing down or stopping as they followed the hobbling mess. No, not followed, they were being led. A procession of the damned through Hades, not pilgrims of the dead but nonetheless denizens of this dark underworld.

Other than the sound of footfalls and the constant and repulsive noise of squelching, moist flesh as it smacked on the ground there were no sounds, no conversations were had, no words of encouragement nor orders were given. Only the boots, the flesh, and the haggard breaths of whatever was dragging itself around.

They did not travel by torchlight, they did not travel by lantern, they either had no need for light or they simply did not fear what lurked in the darkness, perhaps they were what needed to be feared? Perhaps they were worse than anything the darkness could conjure and perhaps that was why the things that skulked and skittered about out of sight and mind in the darkness and beyond the fragile veil of life and death kept their distance.

Things watched them march with eyeless sockets that saw all the same, their vision not their own but a one-sided mirror from which IT looked out and from which IT saw everything you were and would ever be and nothing escaped ITS sights, not even death would spare you.

Especially not death.

In the darkness something whispered, many somethings muttering and chanting in half-forgotten tongues as they intoned vows and curses in voices that echoed with the inflections of the dead, buried and forgotten and stolen from the Earth by things that crawled on flesh-less limbs and whispered foul things in the ears of the dead to make them walk. Bequeathing unholy life on that which should have been left behind to molder and sleep.

The whispers were cut off by the snick of a match being struck on stone and then there was light. It was a tiny, fragile thing, glowing dimly as it tried to weather the tide of darkness surrounding it, smoldering it with inky tendrils, eager to snuff out the interloper. With a brilliant flash the flame blossomed into something beautiful and dangerous in its own right as the meager flame was transferred to a torch from which it could grow and spread, banishing the hissing darkness around it to the far corners of the room; illuminating the horrors that dwelled within.

Subtly, imperceptibly, the things that marched through a domain not entirely their own flinched at the light. The Three that waited for them did not. It was a small thing, but it was a reminder to the interlopers that monsters they might be there were still creatures in the dark that ruled their own realms and though they might acquiesce to their presence such contrivances did not denote total mastery.

The room was illuminated to a degree, and the scene was almost as if from the courts of royalty. The noble guests had come to parlay with their gracious hosts, as they burst in extravagantly through enormous, ornately decorated wooden doors. Their hosts were no less regal, looking down on them impassively, haughtily even from their beautifully designed staircase, the red carpet rolled out just for them. Only, the door was rotten from a century of disuse, the carpet was no longer red but a stale rust after having been left to molder in foul conditions, and neither party present could be misconstrued as noble.

In the light they were revealed for what they were, cultists the lot of them but one noticeably cut from a different cloth than his fellows. There was one female in the group, a shapely creature adorned in black and gold robes with red sashes that concealed her flesh but not her form, even her face was hidden behind a golden mask in the shape of a skull. In her hand she tightly gripped a golden scepter with a strange metal cage adorning the tip from which a thick, black smog emanated. Flanking the woman were two hulking guards, male cultists similarly adorned but the chest and arms exposed to show off their muscles, hard as steel with glowing red veins pulsing below the skin. The males carried no staves, their weapons were of a more personal variety; huge golden claws worn on the wrists, that their shine was marred by layers of dried, red stains spoke volumes as to their effectiveness.

But leading this parade of the damned was something else entirely. It was a monster, covered head to two in the robes of its cult but in many of them stitched together to cover its pulsating, misshapen mass. It was an enormous creature, hunched as it was it was still easily the tallest figure in the room by a healthy margin. It was evident little care had gone into the creation of its cloak, as could be seen from the way it shifted as things writhed about underneath, strange bulges in the skin that pushed up at the cloth and back down in varying places that shifted constantly. The only thing that laid uncovered was the massive, slimy, protuberance that wriggled its way from underneath the robes where the right leg should have been, twitching and squirming seemingly of its own accord as it sought the warm embrace of flesh denied to it. In the light it could be seen for what it was, a throbbing mass of octopus tentacles.

By comparison the three figures that greeted the entourage could almost be seen as normal, for they were three clearly humanoid figures, each identical in every way, that concealed not only their flesh but their very existence with long, heavy red cloaks with hoods pulled up and under their heads. They had no faces, only an empty black expanse, a circle cut into the cloth covering their heads, totally devoid of all light; indeed, the light seemed to shine away from it, as if afraid. Metal chains were tightly wound around their bodies, though if they were meant to keep the robes up or if they were trying to keep what lay under the robes contained was anybody’s guess, and other strange curiosities hung from them: potions and containers carrying vial green liquid that glowed with a sickly light. Around their necks they wore heavy metal instruments, shaped not by fire but by their own bare, flesh-less hands into the holiest of symbols; an archway with intersecting diamonds piercing into it, the same symbol the cultists wore on their own skull masks.

The holy symbol of fear.

The two sides silently regarded each other, it lasted only a second, it lasted only forever, down in the deep of the Earth, in the black and in the cold grip of the grave. Slowly, the mutated behemoth moved, there was a tremor beneath its robe as the flesh sought to escape the confines of its prison and what should have been an arm but was instead a goiter-laden, spine-embedded, tentacle shot out from the confines of its robe. Fanged mouths split the flesh along its rim and they spoke of the folly of Men and whispered secrets older than the Earth. Nobody paid much attention to them as the Ascended Cultist shuffled itself before the Three on its diseased limbs and pointed its clawed tentacle at the middle figure.

“We have concerns,” it drawled in two distinct voices, one the gravelly voice of a man who had walked the harder paths in life and the other an ominous inflection that echoed with all the malice and hate IT could muster through ITS puppet. “Our kin have perished here in your own tombs, we felt it, we know it. Is this treachery,” he asked, almost clumsily as if he was unaccustomed to the forming of actual words, or perhaps just words in languages that hadn’t been buried and forgotten by people who sought not to traffic with the ruinous powers as he had. There was an undercurrent in its voice as well, a slight edge that almost seemed hopeful, hopeful that this was treachery, so that it might have excuse to partake in its preferred proclivities

If the Three took offense or even acknowledged the thinly veiled threat could not be gleaned from their reactions, for they did not protest, they did not flinch or move for their weapons, they did not even breath as they stood silent and still as statues, as the dead they resembled and by all accounts should have been. But the dead hadn’t done much resting as of late, and without word or warning they as one, as one body, as one mind, approached their guests. The stairs did not impede them for they did not seem to use them, there was no movement under their robes to signal the use of legs, they stood as stock-still and straight-backed as the moment they were received; the only one out of uniform was the one on the left, as it held the torch aloft with skeletal claws. As they floated down the stairway the cultists flinched, they could feel the power that emanated from them and it was nothing to deny, though the forces they employed were crude they were many and they could be felt in the shadows along the edges of the room, watching and waiting for their masters’ signal. The only one that made no movement, aside from the almost gentle swaying of his body as he tried to steady himself on his many moving limbs, was the leader of the cultists. He sneered at the approaching Necromancers, thoroughly unimpressed with the display of such meager powers.

He knew power, he had been touched by God.

“Concerns... unfounded.” The voice of the middle one rang out, speaking in a thousand tones and inflections, none of which were its own. The voices of soldiers and peasants and nobles, of men and women and children, broken voices stolen from the dead. “Intruders. Late Estate Master’s... progeny.”

“HIM!” The Ascended One’s roar filled the cavern with and his tentacles lashed out in all directions, fiercely whipping through the air with scything spikes and gnashing fangs and it was all the other cultists could do but trip over themselves as they backed away for their Master’s wrath was indiscriminate.

“No.” the Necromancer Lord spoke again, with a note of finality as harsh and resounding as death. “He is gone. Left this... mortal coil. His soul... lost to us. These... are new. Family. Granddaughters... perhaps.”

“Granddaughters!?” the cultists squealed, unsure whether to be infuriated or incredulous, probably both in this case, he could sense even his follower’s skepticism about this recent development. “Children impede our progress? The Almighty will not stand for this!”

“No need to worry... we will handle this. The novice alone... will suffice.”

The cultist growled and suddenly he was clambering up the stairway quicker than his bulk would suggest he was capable off. His eight eyes glowered down at the faceless one and he snarled like an animal.

“I've had enough of this, of you. Your indifference, your ways, your air of superiority. You claim to know great secrets but you know nothing for you foolishly look down on us as mere sheep, but it is you who are unaware of your own place in the Universe you old, dead thing. You are just as much pawns as we, but we are better off for we embrace our roles, and for our subservience are justly rewarded by God ITSELF! You deny your connection to THE HEART of GOD!? Your rotten carcasses only move by ITS grace and beneficence and you would do well to remember that while you stay down here in the dark and play soldiers with the dead!”

For a time, silence reigned. Not a sound was made, not by the Necromancers, not the Cultists, not the gibbering tentacle mouths, even the dead in the dark had ceased their moaning and rattling.

“Are you... done?”

The Ascended Cultist screamed and brought his tentacle arm around in a wide arc, fully intending to dash the heretics before him into splinters of bone and gibbering flesh. He didn’t get very far; his crude maneuvering had left his chest exposed and The Three brought their hands up level to his barrel. There was a brilliant flash of light that lasted for only a second but the effects were made clear as the mutated cultist was sent flying backwards down the stairs where he landed and lay in a crumpled, heaving heap.

“Yes... you’re done.”

The other cultists tensed and drew their weapons and the reaction was immediate as the dead swarmed into the room from every corner and shadow, crawling on skeletal limbs and clutching cudgels and rusted spears in their bony talons. The cultists soon found themselves surrounded by an army; outclassed they lowly lowered their arms, left to the inscrutable mercies of the dead.

“No need... for such things,” the Necromancer Lord spoke, and as one the dead lowered their arms and withdrew; but only a little. The Three resumed their march until the stood at the foot of the stairs and before the groaning mass of cultist that was already beginning to stand. “No need... for hostilities. Allies... we are. A gift... we have. Compensation... for your dead.”

“You return the bodies?”

“No. The dead... are ours. Your God... gets the souls... yes? We get... the flesh... and bones.”

“Then what could you possibly have to offer me?” The cultist looked down at The Three and seemed to be considering whether or not to go for another swipe.

“An enemy.”

There was a rattling in the shadows and two skeletons crept in from the decrepit doorway, in their claws they carried a struggling bundle. Whatever their quarry was it had yet to realize it was doomed, for the dead did not tire, they did not heed struggle or pleas for freedom and reason, and their grip did not relent. The cultists remained alert, and their leader aloof despite his stung pride, but their attention was caught as a muffled scream came from the sack. It sounded feminine, and young.

Curiosity overcame caution and the female cultist slowly approached the skeletons, wary but excited all the same as the kicking bundle redoubled its efforts to free itself from the iron grip of the skeletons. The cultist acolyte grabbed the burlap sack where it bulged out the most and tore it with one quick jerk, and a small head with a mop of jet black hair tumbled out.

She was a cute little thing, pale skin and black hair, red flushed cheeks as she gulped in the stale air of the catacombs, blue eyes wide as she looked every which way. She looked first to the witch, then up to the skeletons holding her, then back to the witch, and finally over the woman's shoulder where the other cultists and the Necromancers had gathered, glowering down at her.

“A sacrifice... as you like. The blood... of our enemy. Corrupted... bled dry... we’ll have... what’s left.”

The little girl started breathing harder, her legs and arms kicking out futile against her confines. The witch grabbed her chin and looked her in the eyes and her mouth split her head from ear to ear in a disgusting grin as the brawlers behind her sharpened their blades. The skeletons grinned down at her silently, their empty eye sockets twin portals to oblivion. The thing that was all tentacles and mouths and warped, twisted, cyst-infused flesh laughed and laughed and reached for her with its puss-engorged tentacle, the mouths lining it whispering dark secrets into her mind in words she couldn’t comprehend as they closed in over her head.

In the darkness Lucy Loud screamed.
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Leni Loud yawned, stretching her arms out as she leaned back and grunted when she heard a light crack. Smacking her lips with a dazed grin the teen rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and shook her head. That was a good sleep! Almost as good as the first night, these beds were fantastic. Still, it would’ve been better if Lori were here, years of sleeping with another person close had made Leni grown accustomed to the casual close contact, but Lori wasn’t feeling good so she chose her own room to bed for the night.

Suddenly Leni shot straight up, her eyes wide and mouth set in a tight grimace.

‘Oh yeah,’ she thought, her good mood thoroughly trashed as the memories of yesterday came rushing back. ‘Lori...

Leni’s older sisters was not having a good time. In fact, yesterday was a bit of a disaster for the oldest Loud sibling, what with the whole being trapped in an underground castle and being attacked by spooky Halloween decorations.

Leni wasn’t the smartest girl around, this was something she knew and knew and accepted, though it would no doubt shock people to learn this. Leni didn’t see the point, she had spent all her life up till very recently trying her best to improve, to get better and smarter at things, to learn the things everyone else made look so easy. But it wasn’t easy, not for her, so if this was the best she could do then this is what she’ll have to be. So smart she might not be, but Leni made up for it in her own way, where she failed in mathematics and history and language comprehension she trained to make up for in heart, in noticing how others felt and how to act around them. And Lori wasn’t feeling good, you didn’t need to be Lisa to see that.

Lisa!

Leni huffed and sat cross-legged in her bed, clenching her fists tightly as her face settled into an uncharacteristic scowl. That little missy was in trouble, big time! Her and Luna. Those two had made Lori feel so bad about herself last night that she looked ready to cry, Leni didn’t even want to hear their excuses.

Wait, no, that wasn’t fair. Leni sighed and tried to calm down, massaging her cheeks so worry lines wouldn’t show, (she didn’t have her make-up kit here so she had to be careful) no longer grimacing but still frowning. Her little sisters were being so rude lately, especially Luna with her little episode back in that pretty church with the nice priest, or back in the ruins. Leni groaned and rubbed her temples, she didn’t handle those well either, Luna told her she was looking out for her but it was just so frustrating; her head wasn’t completely full of air and she could make her own decisions just like the others. Leni was the big sister, that meant she had to be the one to look out for her little siblings, not the other way around! And yet, she couldn’t be mad at Luna, not really, after everything they’d all been through Luna perhaps had suffered the most, or at least had been the first.

And for a split-second Leni remembered that first day and the images flashed through her mind: when that bandit hurt her sister, the sight of Luna’s split chest, the blood pooling up and out of the ragged, gaping hole in her tummy, the glassy look in her dead baby sister’s eyes-

Leni screwed her eyes shut and wiped away the tears leaking from her eyes. ‘Don’t think about it,’ she thought to herself, bringing her hands up to her head and squeezing the sides until it hurt. ‘Just don’t think about it and it can’t hurt you.’

When the visions soon faded Leni moaned and slowly got out of bed, heading over to the desk at the far end of the room. The mirror that sat atop it reflected a haggard face that for a few seconds Leni didn’t even recognize, bags under her eyes and her glossy golden hair layered now with grease and poking up in odd angles. It was all Leni could do not to shriek at the absolute sight she’d become, so much for her good morning! With a whimper Leni brought her not-so-well-manicured-anymore nails up to her frayed hair and rubbed her split ends. Maybe Lola had a brush she could-

Leni’s bright mood instantly returned. How could she be so stupid, Lola was back! They had found her deep in the ruins and Lori had saved her from some evil people that wore weird clothes that looked like bath robes with pictured of horrible things stitched on them and they wore skull masks made of gold and did horrible things to people. They wanted to kill them, they wanted to kill her baby sister.

Leni shook the bad thoughts away like Lori taught her when they were little and just starting Middle School and Leni overheard those mean girls saying nasty things about her and though she couldn’t understand the words (except stupid of course) she did understand the tone and it hurt; but Lori made it better, she always made things better. Luna and Lisa were scared of Lori for being strong enough to do what she had to, but now Lori was all cracked up like a broken vase. Leni tried to glue her back together, like Lori would do when they were kids and Leni broke things so she wouldn’t get in trouble, but she was afraid it wasn’t working. Maybe she needed tape?

Leni’s head hurt, she didn’t know whether to be happy or sad or scared or angry and it was making her head hurt and her heart race and she really had to calm down like Lori taught her. With another sigh Leni stopped trying to make herself halfway presentable and left her room, still in her nightgown as she walked barefoot down the freezing halls until she found the room she was pretty sure Luna was in. She was about to knock but stopped short and with a sheepish smile instead slowly nudged the door open, wincing as the ancient wood creaked. Leni poked her head in and squinted into the dark room, grinning when she spied a lump of covers on the bed.

Tip-toeing into the room Leni made her way over to the bed and loomed over it with a broad, toothy smile and a twinkle in her eye, she hooked her fingers into the bed sheets and slowly pulled them down, revealing the two snoozing faces hidden underneath. Leni brought her hands up over her mouth, trying to hold back her squeal of delight as Lola’s darling little face snuggled into Luna’s neck. The poor girl had been listless all day yesterday, even after rescuing her Lola didn’t talk or do much aside from hold onto Luna, shivering and muttering to herself in a daze no matter how much the others tried to coerce her into conversation. By the time the sun had gone down it was realized Lola had no intention of not only talking but letting go of Luna, so it was decided it’d be best for the girls to bunk together that night; or as many as Lola needed.

Leni smiled and reached down to brush some of Lola’s golden locks from out of her eyes. She looked so peaceful right now, so innocent, nothing like she did yesterday: eyes wide and pupils contracted, staring at everything but not really looking at anyone, not even realizing she was safe and that her sisters had come for her, whispering to herself about monsters trying to hurt her and screaming like hell itself was closing in on her when they tried to pry her off Luna. Maybe today could be different, maybe Lola will talk today. That’s all Leni really wanted right now, just a sign, something to show her that her baby sister was going to be alright.

“I’m sorry Lola,” Leni whispered, and leaned down to kiss her head. Leni’s heart skipped a beat when Lola’s mouth curved up into a smile and she had to stifle a sob of relief lest she wake her sisters from their well-earned slumber. With another kiss, this one planted right on a snoring Luna’s cheek, Leni turned on her heels and crept out of the room, closing the door behind her softy. At first her intention was to wake the girls for the day but after seeing that, how could she? Best just to let them sleep, it wasn’t like they had school or anything so why not?

Walking down the chilly halls at a brisk pace Leni decided to go back to her room and change, also she made a mental note to tell that Caretaker fellow to turn up the thermostat, she never understood why dads liked to keep it low, after all it’s better to be warm than cold. Or maybe he preferred it this way, Leni sure didn’t and couldn’t imagine why anyone would but conceded that people had their own tastes. Except fashion; that was, like, practically a law.

Not that fashion had much bearing these days it seemed. Leni’s nun costume, or habit as Lori told her it was called, wasn’t exactly trendy, though it was way cuter than Lori or Luna’s outfits, but it seemed to be important so she wore it anyway. At the very least the hood hid her messy hair so nobody had to look at her. She’d hate to disappoint the nice preacher man after all, and she did promise him that she’ fix up his church, didn’t she? Hey, Luna had gold, she’d ask Luna for some money! Certainly they had enough to fix up the place. In fact, she'd probably be proud of Leni for thinking it up and for looking out for the people in the town. Great Pop-Pop may not have been the nicest guy around, the locals sure didn't seem to like him too much, but he left them a town to look after and Leni decided to do just that. Who knows, maybe she might just turn the people's opinions around about not only their Ancestor, but the girls too.

Plan in mind Leni nodded her head and left the room. About thirteen seconds she ran back in and with an embarrassed giggle rooted around the armoire until her hands closed around a long leather hilt and she pulled free her cudgel. It was not a nice-looking weapon. Granted most weapons weren’t, by design a weapon is made for one purpose; destruction pure and simple. Oh sure, you used them for self-defense, and the defense of your loved ones, but weapons were made to harm things all the same and that’s what made them useful. Weapons were tools, they had to be used by a person to have any real effect on the world (with the exception of obviously cursed weapons forged by old, terrible things that hated everything and whispered awful thoughts in people’s minds) and this was no exception, ugly as it was it had no other purpose than what could be gleaned at a first glance.

This weapon had certainly been built with such intentions in mind. There was nothing about this weapon that wasn’t useful, the leather handle wrapped in rough, red wrappings for easy gripping, the cold steel head of the weapon, heavy and thick yet surprisingly light and even Leni noticed how odd that was. Of course, the real centerpiece were the spikes jutting out of the metal and Leni knew from first-hand experience how sharp they were. There wasn’t anything flashy about it: it wasn’t shiny, it wasn’t a pretty color (aside from the copper stains around the spikes), there were no laces or ribbons tied to it, there weren’t even any runes of power in ancient, dead languages carved into it. There was nothing extravagant or grand or even noble about its design or purpose; it was a club and it was used for bashing someone’s brains in, nothing more and nothing less.

Leni never considered herself someone who had it in her to hurt others, but it seemed Leni was learning a lot about herself recently. People wanted to hurt her so she hurt them back, people wanted to hurt her sisters so she hurt them first. It was, in a Leni kind of way, logical. She could follow this sort of thinking easily, you do something bad and you get punished for it, so simple. At any rate she had grown attached to her cudgel, it had saved her life several times now and Leni got a certain thrill from using it. Its weight in her hands as she swung it, the way it collided with bone, jarring her hands and sending tremors of pain followed by numbness up her arms. The sounds it made when she broke the skeletons with it, snaps and cracks she had never really heard before but were just so much fun to listen to as the dusty things fell apart with a few cracks to their skulls. Leni brought her weapon up to her face and kissed the stained metal in a show of affection that went unappreciated for its time.

Yes, she loved her nun’s beating-stick, almost as much as she loved her book. Oh yeah! With another giggle Leni reached back into the furniture and fished out a frankly enormous book with pages as thick as her head. In comparison to the weapon the book was quite lovely, with a golden cover and calf-skin pages decorated in all the finest calligraphy the monks the church kept locked underground and fed on a steady diet of salamanders could provide. Images of gallant knights slaying the fish-headed abominations below the waves, of trench coat wearing Victorian men hunting werewolves with giant saws (that is to say, the men were using the saws, not the werewolves), and armies of nuns outfitted with chainsaw-swords battling laser-wielding robotic skeletons and so much more besides that adorned the pages within and Leni spent most of her time flipping through them just to look at the pretty pictures. She had a good feeling Lincoln would love it too, it seemed right up his alley with all the knights and swords and scantily-clad super-heroines even though he’d deny the last part. There was also the matter of the strange letters that covered the pages, Leni didn’t recognize them (it was Latin as Lisa later told her) but somehow that didn’t stop her from being able to read and understand them (and when she informed Lisa of this the poor child genius said nothing and shut herself away in the library) or agree with what they had to say either. Basically, monsters were bad and evil and the Ruinous Powers (and yes, they had to be capitalized) wanted to hurt people and it was only through faith that one could fight back against the ancient and unknowable horrors that lurked beyond the veil, mostly by burning cultists and beating up evil-doers while screaming litanies.

Neat stuff really, good wholesome family entertainment. She wasn’t sure what a litany was or how to scream one but it sure sounded swell, maybe Lori could teach her and then she could scream it for Luna and her little sister wouldn’t be so scared all the time. Maybe then she’d stop acting like there was something wrong with the church and she wouldn’t look down on Leni for believing in it. Maybe then she wouldn’t be so upset with Lori anymore and treat her nicely instead of ignoring her or glaring at her when her back was turned. Maybe then she wouldn’t keep the things she takes from chests for herself and hide them in her jacket when she thought nobody was watching.

Leni hugged the book to her bosom and gently cradled the sacred text like a swaddled newborn as he sauntered out of the room, club at her hip and armor rattling with every step. She wasn’t even sure if she’d need the armor today but she had a feeling that they weren’t done just yet just because yesterday was a bust, after all they found Lola in those ruins so what if another sister was down there? Leni could never leave one of her own behind, if her baby siblings were here she was going to find here, no ifs, ands, or buts about it. And if anybody got in her way then they’d have to answer to Leni Jr. That was the beating stick. That’s what she was naming it from now on.

Plus, they still had that Necromancer to deal with. She didn’t really know what a Necromancer was at first but Lisa told her on the walk over to the Ruins that it was somebody who made old dead things get up and start moving around. Leni still didn’t get it, at least not until she met her first skeleton and it tried to kill her big sister.

“A foolish supershtition,” Lisa had said, “A schientific imposshibility.”

What a load of phooey that turned out to be! Something about those skeletons scared Leni, and not just because they were spooky like Halloween; it wasn’t the way they moved and it went beyond their empty eyes, it was something deeper than all that put together. They were wrong, they shouldn’t exist, the dead shouldn’t be getting up and hurting people but this Necromancer thing was telling them too and it was awful, it was a monster. Leni knew what to do with monsters, her book told her.

As Leni meandered through the halls, down the stairs, and towards the kitchen she hummed a little ditty she overheard in town the other day about an old ‘lady of the night’, whatever that was, that Lori didn’t want her singing but she wouldn’t tell her why (never said anything about humming though) and thought about what she was going to do today, then idly wondered where the Caretaker was always shambling off to and if he’d like to have breakfast with them. He was a creepy fellow, but seeing as he was taking care of them she decided he must be an alright sort so she’d give him a chance all the same. He hadn’t really done anything so far, aside from give them that list of course. Maybe he could give her another list of all the people in the village so she could say hi to them, people liked it when you knew their names-

“Leni!”

“Eh?” Leni blinked and shook her head, glancing every which way around the room until she spied Lori sitting at the breakfast table, a scowl on her face and eyebrow raised. Lori seemed like her usual self already, but then she was never really a morning person, so it could be just that, and judging by those bags under her eyes big sis hadn’t slept well last night if at all. Now that’s a real shame, Lori was pretty she shouldn’t have to deal with dark bags, so unattractive...

“You alright Leni, you’re spacing out.” Lori thought about what she just said and despite herself cracked a grin. “Well, more than usual.”

“Oh, hi Lori! Yeah, I’m alright, the floors are cold here though and I don’t have my slippers,” Leni chirped with a wide smile as she meandered over to the table, just now noticing the spread of vittles adorning it. “Oh boy, breakfast,” she cried out, rubbing her hands and salivating as she examined the veritable feast laid out for them this morning.

And what a spread it was: a smorgasbord of eggs sunny-side up, stacks of pancakes piled up and dripping with golden syrup, toast with strawberry jam on the side, ham and sausages still sizzling fresh from the oven, and a silver bowl packed full of a wide variety of fruits arrayed in delicate patterns. Leni leaned over the buffet, letting the warm aroma of the food wash over her as she appreciated the obvious effort that went into this. But no, this wasn’t just labor, for whoever made this meal it was an art, a way of life. The sheer craftsmanship that went into this left Leni breathless, but mostly it just made her hungry and without wasting a second Leni grabbed the china plate next to Lori’s seat and started helping herself.

“Like, this is totes amazing! Who made this, the Caretaker?”

Lori snorted and casually scratched the side of her head with her mace. “As if. Apparently, he went out and literally hired these two chefs, they’re twins. He said they used to work on a cruise or something, ‘The Maw’ I think, weird-ass name for a liner if you ask me. Anyway, they’re like the best chefs in the world or something.”

“No kidding,” Leni garbled out through a full mouth stuffed with pancake and egg. “Ish delishioush!”

Leni turned her head away as if disgusted but Leni wasn’t fooled, she could see the grin on her sister’s face and could hear the stifled giggle before she covered her mouth with a gauntlet and coughed.

“Learn to chew sis,” Lori huffed, and Leni obliged by gulping down her mouthful and laughing. Leni was about to take another bite but stopped short when she noticed Lori’s plate. It was still half-full, the expertly prepared meal just left to sit and cool while Lori twiddled her thumbs and generally looked sorry for herself.

“Is something the matter?” Leni asked, pointing at the plate with a fork when Lori turned to her. “You’ve barely touched your food. Are you sick?”

Lori blinked and rubbed the back of head, eyes not quite meeting her sister’s questioning gaze as she looked off to the side almost sheepishly. “Oh no,” she quickly said, her eyes darting towards the far-off kitchen door. “The food’s great, it’s just that, well, the chefs-

Whatever Lori was about to say went unheard as the slam of a door hitting the wall made both girls jump, and while Lori continued to avert her gaze away Leni turned towards the now open kitchen door and the monstrous figure looming inside it.

It was grotesque in every sense of the word, a massive creature far larger than any person Leni had ever seen before, even larger than that bandit she had to hurt back on the road, not only in height but in sheer width as well. It looked like a man, barely, and he wore a typical chef’s outfit that hugged his curves in all the wrong ways while a tall chef’s hat swayed on its bulbous head. Frankly, to call it a person might be a gross miscalculation, for while it had the overall humanoid body shape there was something wrong with it; the way it shambled around, the way its rolls of fat jostled as it waddled forward, the unnatural largeness of its head, the open expanse that was its mouth, its listless fish-like eyes that just stared dumbly without blinking as it gazed around the room. It was wrong, everything about it was wrong and it spoke only of an old, terrible hunger and Leni found herself paralyzed as he meandered closer to her, the open hole in his head sucking in ragged gasps of air as his glassy eyes fixed on the young woman, his body jiggling around as he stumbled forward. The only part of its body not jerking about were its arms which he held out as they bore a heavy cauldron, sloshing with a black bubbling liquid, a heavy fragrance emanating from it and one Leni immediately recognized at that.

Coffee!

Terror was immediately set aside with the reveal of that lovely, caffeinated brew and Leni practically vibrated in her seat as the lumbering oaf made its way to the table and gingerly set the pot on the table. Leni looked up at the brute’s face, comprised mostly of sagging rolls of flesh and looking all the world like a particularly hideous blob-fish, with stars in her eyes and a wide, genuine smile on her face.

“Thank you, you have no idea how much I missed coffee. Are you the chef? O-M-G this food is to die for you’re, like, the best chef ever but don’t tell my dad that because he’s a chef too but he should take lessons from you, you’re totes an artistic genius. I’m Leni by the way, it’s so nice to meet you!”

Leni’s little speech was meet by the chef’s dull expression, eyes staring at her but not focused and cavernous mouth hanging open dumbly as the monster seemed to be registering what the spunky young girl just said. With a sudden grunt the creature jerked back to some meager semblance of sentience and gave her a brief acknowledgment with a quick nod of its head before turning around (no small feat given his overall girth) and lumbering his way back to the kitchen. As he made his way back through the doorway, he turned back and gave Leni one more glance over the mound of flesh that might have once been a shoulder a few thousand pounds ago before closing the door behind him; though just before it closed Leni managed to make out the sight of another shambling thing lurking about back there, just as rotund and squalid as his brother.

Leni hummed to herself as she scooped up a shot of coffee with a chalice, no longer concerned by the chef’s monstrous appearance. Heck, he could grow another head for all she cared, just so long as he kept bringing coffee and breakfast. Besides, no need to be rude to the poor fellow, he probably got enough of that in school or out on the street by random jerks, and Leni was sure that deep down (really deep down, he was rather large after all) he was surely nothing short of a perfect gentleman. After all, somebody who could cook this good had to be nice. Leni was about to continue with her meal when she noticed Lori from the corner of her eye. The older girl was still not eating and was now staring at Leni with a mixture of shook, disbelief, and maybe even a little admiration. The nuances of such meanings were lost on Leni, what she did pick up on was the cooling food and she clicked her tongue and affixed her older sibling with a disapproving glare.

“Now Lori, you know better than to let food cool. What would dad say if he saw you. Eat! The chefs worked hard on this.”

“Well you don’t have to tell me twice, dude. Smells great in here.”

The two oldest Loud girls swiveled around and saw Luna standing there in her nightgown, rubbing her eyes with one hand while the other trailed off behind her, clutching onto something unseen behind her back. With a smile and gentle nudge Luna moved aside and Lola peeked out from behind her older sister. The sight was almost too much for Leni, her baby sister looked so small, so fragile, nothing at all like how Lola normally looked; where before the younger girl would be first and often loudest at the breakfast table now she only stared around with wide eyes, trembling hands clutched tight to her sister’s dress, not saying a single word. Leni brought a hand up to her mouth to stifle the moan that threatened to tear its way past her lips and she heard Lori stand up from her chair and move around behind her. Lori stopped short of her chair, hovering near the table though Leni could tell her older sister desperately wanted to get closer to Lola, to wrap her up in a hug and tell her she was going to be okay. Something was holding her back though, she seemed hesitant for some reason.

“How is she,” Lori finally whispered, her eyes set squarely on the shivering little girl who refused to make eye contact with anybody in the room, instead focusing on the food on the table.

Luna tried to smile but it was forced and looked painful, her eyes downcast as she removed her arm from Lola’s grasp and rubbed the little debutant’s head affectionately. The gesture went appreciated and Lola leaned into her sister’s hand. Leni sighed and let a small smile slip through, seemed Lola still liked head-pats so at least that was still normal.

Luna sighed and looked Lori in the eyes. “She won’t talk to me, I’ve been trying all night but she’s just not saying a word. She won’t let go either, she’s always shaking and whenever she thinks I’m leaving her alone she freaks out and holds on tighter.” Luna continued petting Lola’s hair and the once boisterous young girl whimpered and buried her head in her older sister’s thigh, though Leni wasn’t sure Lola even understood that they were talking about her.

Lori let out a deep breath and walked towards them, hand outstretched and a ghost of smile on her lips as she shushed the whimpering child. But before the Lori could comfort her baby sister, just as her fingertips brushed the side of Lola’s face, something happened that stopped Lori dead in her tracks.

Lola flinched.

Lori’s gasp was soft, almost inaudible, but Leni could feel the pain in it and she winced as Lori drew back and held her hand close to her chest. Lori opened her mouth as if to say something, but no words came out and the oldest sister turned around just as her face began to scrunch up in pain and sat on the chair with a heavy thud. No sobs came out of Lori then, she simply didn’t have any left to spare. Leni wasn’t the only one to react to Lori’s predicament though, Luna too reacted and turned her head off to the side. Guilt was clear on her face, but she didn’t admonish her little sister, nor did she comfort her older one, she simply stood there awkwardly and let the regret wash over her as she tried to let the moment pass on its own.

The mood of the room thoroughly ruined Leni decided to act. Scooting her chair around she leaned forward towards her two younger sisters and held her arms out. “Come on Lola,” Leni cooed, her tone sickly sweet and only somewhat pleading. “Come here sis, we got some yummy food here for you.” Lola peered from behind Luna’s leg, wide-eyed and silent but staring straight ahead past Leni and towards the table. She hadn’t eaten last night, and no one was sure how long she was down in the catacombs, she must’ve been starving. Hungry as she was though, Lola didn’t move from Luna’s side, huddling close to her older sister as she eyed the food. Leni and Luna both waited but when it seemed Lola wasn’t going to move Luna sighed and rubbed the side of her head.

“Look, Leni, I think she’s still really shook up about the whole-

“Lola!”

All the girls in the room snapped to attention at Leni’s tone, no longer warm and motherly but now authoritative. For Lori her sister’s voice wasn’t merely startling for its out-of-character quality, it was the same inflection she used to get Lori to snap out of her breakdown back down in the catacombs, and the oldest Loud wiped her eyes and watched her younger sister act with wide eyes and an open mouth. Luna herself gaped for a few seconds, unsure whether to chastise Leni for her tone or encourage her as it seemed to get through to their otherwise unresponsive sibling.

Leni didn’t notice Lori or Luna though, her eyes were focused squarely on Lola who shrank back from her sister’s voice and the look she was giving her. Leni and stern didn’t normally go together, but with her brow furrowed and mouth set in a tight line the older girl looked every bit the older sister she so rarely acted like.

“C’mere!” Leni snapped and Lola considered her options for a few seconds before ever so slowly letting go of Luna’s nightgown, giving Luna one last pleading look before meandering over to Leni when she saw Luna wasn’t going to be standing up for her. Leni wasn’t having any of Lola’s wishy-washy attitude though, and the normally caring and concerned teen snorted and lunged. Lola barely had time to squeak much less duck out of the way as Leni scooped her up and planted her right on her lap, holding the shivering child close as she shushed her and pulled her plate of food towards her.

“See,” Leni gently chided, petting her little sister’s head, running her fingers through Lola’s tattered locks as she tried to untangle the knots. “Nothing’s going to happen, you’re safe now. See, we even have food. You need to eat Lola, okay?” Lola soon stopped her shivering and relaxed in the familiarity of Leni’s embrace, though Luna could see she was still on edge. While Leni’s tone was no longer harsh it still had a sharp undercurrent to it, and Luna felt a shiver crawl up her back as she acknowledged the uncomfortable truth that this place was affecting Leni as well. As Leni tried to get their younger sister to eat something Luna wiped her eyes and turned her head about the room. For a brief second her eyes met Lori’s, but Luna couldn’t hold her oldest sister’s gaze and she turned her body around, trying to find anything to focus on to escape the situation. She found unlikely salvation in the door to the kitchens, the clattering of dishes and the hustling of something large reminded her about the new employees the suddenly had and with a sigh Luna walked towards the kitchens, sheepishly rubbing her arm.

“Gonna go say hi to the chefs,” Luna muttered, hesitating briefly just to make sure she was heard and only continuing when Leni gave a brief nod. Lori’s expression also made her pause, going wide-eyed before a downright mischievous grin crawled its way across her face, but the oldest sister said nothing and quickly tucked her snickering face behind her hand before Luna could ask her what was up. The young Rock-enthusiast tried to brush off the unsettling suspicion gnawing at her stomach as she turned and pushed the door open, disappeared into the kitchens.

“Sup dudes, names Luna, just wanted to thank you guys for the gru-JESUS CHRIST WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE!”
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The rattling of bones on hard stone echoed throughout the darkness, accompanied by the grunts and heavy breathing of something struggling, fighting with tooth and nail but never gaining purchase. Escape eluded Lucy Loud no matter how hard she fought. She could thrash all she liked, for the dead did not tire, her teeth found no purchase on their flesh-less forms, her wrists were clutched tight by skinless talons that lacked muscle but still held her with a supernatural strength. Still, Lucy fought, fear and anger welling up inside her and propelling her past exhaustion, fueling her though by all accounts she hadn’t any strength left. The dead paid her no heed, ferrying her through the rotting corridors of the damned castle, guided by the green witch-fires of the cultists their masters sent them to follow.

Lucy preferred the skeletons to them, compared to those awful things wearing human skins the rough handling of the dead were tender mercies. The skeletons felt nothing, there was nothing personal in this for they had no personalities, they were soulless automaton following the whims of their masters. The Three, shrouded in red cloaks so no one could see what exactly was happening to them to produce the heavy odor of rot that wafted from them. They had caught her as she wandered in the dark, confused and scared and far away from the safety of her bed and her mom, they grabbed her up and whisked her away to a dark underworld where dead things walked, and worse things crawled out of sight, but they didn’t kill her. Lucy wished they had, the cultists were worse. At least the horrible thing with pulsing skin and tentacles for legs had gone, though that she be left to its mortal companions was no consolation. The way they looked at her, laughed at her as they told her what they were going to do to her made her shiver and scream and throw up more than once now. Lucy thought she was dark, thought the things she came up with in her poems were the pinnacle of gothic and morbid. But Lucy was an eight-year-old girl, and these were monsters, and the things they wanted to do to her...

Lucy jerked away from her captors, fresh terror renewing her with almost unnatural vigor as she struggled against her bonds. They were going to kill her. Oh God, they were going to kill her! Lucy opened her mouth and tried to scream for her mom, for her dad, for her sisters and her big brother, for God and Jesus and anyone who might be listening to come and save her. Nothing came out but a strangled, ragged cough that scraped its way out of her throat and sent a fresh wave of pain down into her chest as she hacked up a faint speck of blood from her abused lungs. She had screamed so much already, she had cried and yelled, raged and pleaded, and all she got for her efforts were a raw throat, the cruel laughter of her captors, and the indifferent silence of the dead.

She was going to die down here. Lucy whimpered and went completely limp as the thought ran through her mind, scouring hope from her very soul as an existential dread settled within her. She didn’t want to die, not really, she said it all the time, but she was sorry, she was so, so sorry.

“I’m sorry,” she hacked, jerking her up and casting her eyes skyward. “I’m sorry God,” she tried to scream but it came out a harsh whisper. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, nothing happened much to the delight of her tormentors as they heaped fresh abuses onto the poor child. Lucy ignored the verbal barrage, too tired and beaten to struggle, the fight finally snuffed out as the Darkness swallowed her flame up. The Light wouldn’t find her down here, she was already dead.

So far gone was she that she didn’t notice the skeletons had stopped in their tracks, their iron grip on her wrists slackened as their living comrades up ahead halted and called out into the dark. Lucy didn’t see the second light in those dark tunnels appear, blue and brilliant in its luminescence, nor did she hear as the cultists called out to it, asking if it be a comrade then demanding it show its presence as the light neared, unwavering and indomitable in its approach.

She heard the screams though, and she felt the cold stone rush to cradle her broken body as she was dropped to the floor in a heap. Stunned and shocked Lucy lay there for almost half a minute before the sudden realization that she was free hastened her mental faculties and she scrambled to her feet. She should have rushed off into the darkness at that point, she should have run and not looked back; but then, perhaps if she had then her fear would not have given her the strength to fly so far. It was only a glance, just enough to make sure the cultists hadn’t noticed her escape, and maybe just a little curiosity as to what could make those monsters scream so hideously.

Her answer was terrible to behold, a nightmare given flesh and form stolen by the bodies of those who hadn’t the sense to flee in the face of such incomprehensible horror, or worse possessed such folly to think they could match swords with something beyond this world. Before Lucy’s eyes the cultist witch screamed, kicking and crying and puking up blood as she tried to tear herself away from the glowed hand that pierced her chest as easily as a hot knife through butter. It cared not for her babbling as it clutched tightly on something inside her and slowly, agonizingly, it pulled out with a torrent of blood and organs cascading onto the ground and something white gleaming in its fist. It wasn’t until the witch’s head was sucked below her collarbone, into her chest, and out the gaping hole where it dangled in the air that Lucy realized her spine had been ripped out with her head still attached. A gruesome trophy for a gruesome creature, no matter how aristocratic its robes seemed as it pulled its coat open (and for a split second Lucy saw THEM, a hundred screaming faces sewn into its flesh or maybe it was its flesh maybe this thing was nothing but the people it killed and collected and that knowledge would have been terrible enough had not the faces been her own sisters screaming for her to join them) and stuffed its new still-screaming addition into the confines of its clothing before dropping the useless carcass to the ground. And though it was surrounded by the Dead and the Flesh Cult, though they attacked with the wild abandon only fear and stupidity can bring, it paid them no heed. For its skeletal face, submerged and illuminated in blue flames confined within a metal cage atop its shoulders, was focused solely and squarely on Lucy.

Lucy wasn’t exactly aware of where she was going when she shot off into the darkness, to be perfectly honest she wasn’t entirely conscious either. Exhaustion coupled with adrenaline fueled by complete and utter fear has an interesting effect on the mind of a person, never mind a child’s, and it could be argued that Lucy was running on something closer to instinct than any conscious thought. She was running for her life after all, and the darkness does things to a person’s mind. Complete and utter darkness, where you can’t see your own hand in front of your face, where you can’t see when there’s a bend in the corridor up ahead, where you can’t see the things moving all around you, but you know they’re there because you can hear them whisper and brush your face with their cold, dead fingers. Such as it was Lucy’s flight through the catacombs consisted largely of smacking into walls, tripping over rats and loose rocks, and bowling over skeletons as she ran around screaming, coughing, and crying her little eyes out.

Then she fell to the ground and slipped into the nothing.
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Leni felt a shiver run down her spine and she grimaced. It was an icky, ugly feeling and Leni wasn’t prone to entertaining such inklings even on her good days.

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“I’m not having this discussion Luna, we literally have no choice.”

Suffice to say today was not shaping up to be one of Leni’s good days.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Luna snapped back at Lori, who hadn’t the patience nor the inclination to turn around and deal with the petulant little rocker. “You always think you know what’s best, well maybe we don’t have to risk our lives fighting zombies in some underground castle. Maybe what we need to do is stay home and look after Lola, who might I add is, oh, I don’t know, traumatized!”

“She’s with Lisa,” Lori snorted and glared over her shoulder, still moving forward at the same determined place, never pausing even as she shoved peasants aside and kicked at pickpockets. “She’ll be fine,” the oldest Loud snarled, smacking a street urchin that got a little too grabby for his own good as she continued her way. Behind her Luna snorted and looked over her shoulder back towards the manor.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure they’re fine. What could possibly happen, leaving them completely alone in a strange castle all on their own, with that creepy caretaker and those two mutant chefs of ours. I’m sure they’ll be right as rain, nothing but sunshine and fun times, eh luv?”

Leni groaned to herself at the back of the line and massaged her temples. This wasn’t good, at this rate she’d get worry lines. Also, Luna and Lori had been fighting more and more lately and she didn’t like that even when it didn’t give her headaches. Lori was doing that thing she did where she’d pretend to be all tough because she was the oldest and it made sense to her, and Luna was acting up now like she was baiting Lori into starting a fight. A dangerous scenario, Luna should really know better.

“I mean,” Lori started, voice low with a thick lining of venom behind the sickly-sweet tone, “you could always go back. I’m sure they’d love to have you. And it’d be easier for you too.” Lori kept her brisk pace, but Luna fell behind, nearly tripping over her feet as Lori’s words caught up to her.

“Oi! What’s that supposed to mean!” Luna yelled, but Lori wasn’t about to turn around or say anything as she continued down the road.

“Look,” Luna called out as she raced ahead to try and keep her sister’s attention. “If you’re going to imply something you might as well go ahead and say it. Are you calling me chicken? Cause that’s what it sounds like so let me just go ahead and tell you-

Luna’s voice was soon drawn out by the din of the Hamlet’s denizens as they went about their morning routines. Drunkards stumbled about moaning of their hangovers as urchins milled about them, their small hands eager and quick to dart in and out of pockets. Layabouts befouled porches and stoops with their presence while vagabonds and their ilk skulked in the shadows of eves and alleys. Prostitutes lined the street corners and called out to their johns when they weren’t otherwise engaging the beggars in a turf war for the best spots to stand all day. Minstrels and rascals alike roamed the dirt roads, singing merry tunes and bawdry tales of unfaithful housewives while said women tried to bean them with the waste buckets they poured out of their windows onto the streets. As dead as the Hamlet seemed at first Leni quickly realized it was still alive in its own way, diseased and sluggish as it was there was a sort of energy to go with the general sense of dread that thickened the air of the place and though the proclivities of the people in this place was lost on Leni their lives weren’t. These people were sick, she realized, and from the bottom of her souls she wanted to help them.

Leni groaned again and rubbed her temples. It was all well and good to want to help people, but how could she when she couldn’t even help her own sisters. She could try and save them from monsters and bad guys, but Luna’s fears, Lori’s despair, those problems were beyond her and the inadequacy weighed heavily on the empathetic young woman. So caught up in her reverie was she that it wasn’t until she felt the grimy fingers of some street orphan prying into her habit did she realize that her sisters where now long out of sight, and after delivering a quick chastisement with plenty of ear-pulling she tore off down the road of the Hamlet to try and catch up to them.

A sensible notion, but the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and the roads of the Hamlet are paved with belligerent madmen, beggars, and the occasional dog-sized rat, and Leni soon found herself lost among the winding paths. The noise of street vendors shouting their wares cut through the air and the din of the village’s denizens swarmed around her in a mad cacophony of threats, treatises, and downright insane prices. Oh, if only they were selling clothes! At any rate it wasn’t that different from the mall’s back home and Leni was soon swept up in a form of chaos she was more than a little intimate with. She hadn’t the time to explore the Hamlet on her own yet, Lori and Luna both made it clear why they thought it’d be a bad idea for her to go wandering about, but Leni didn’t see the harm and was delighted to revel in the sights, sounds, and smells of the bazaar.

And what curiosities, what wares! Trinkets and charms and knickknacks and all sorts of interesting things to ogle and gawk at. Cursed paintings, evil tomes of the dead, dream-catchers that claimed to trap ghosts for the owner’s discretion's, and genuine Persian rugs with depictions of ancient squid-things sewn into it in pretty colors being only a few of the wares hawked by the stall-keepers and shady robed men leaning out of alleys and doorways. Leni danced in place and squealed, it was all just so authentic! If only Luna had given her a few coins when Leni asked her after breakfast, she’d get them all a few presents! So odd really, the way Luna held onto the coins, like she really wanted to be the one to hold onto their money. Where was she anyway?

Leni wasn’t exactly sure where she was going now, it wasn’t like the mall back home where she knew every store and vendor by heart, this place was a veritable maze of stony-faced merchants and sleazy salesmen all seeking to profit from their wares and perhaps get a nice bonus off the foreigner to boot. Nice Leni might be, but she wasn’t exactly gullible. She’d been around the mall more than a few times and knew all about the usual scams. Leni wound her way through the markets, expertly dodging grabby pickpockets and ducking under the outstretched arms of vendors hoping to drag her into their stalls, her eyes greedily drinking in the contents and characters of each venue, searching for the best prizes and prices available if only so she could come back later with a full wallet.

How long she meandered she hadn’t a clue, it was so easy to forget where you were at the market what with all the lovely distractions lying about, but out of all the stalls and shops she perused none managed to draw her in. A mall rat she might be, but Leni was ever the loyal client and if a store wanted her business it needed to ‘click’ with her on a deep, fundamental level she barely understood herself. Just when Leni was about to give up and go look for her sisters (where were they anyhow, it was just like them to get lost at the mall) something caught her eye, and with a gasp and a wide grin she knew she had found what she was looking for.

It wasn’t very pretty, little more than a dilapidated wagon, a run-down pile of rotten wood with a few holes punched into the sides. It was missing a front door, it’s front two wheels had been either broken or stolen which left it perched on cinderblocks, and the gemstone-inscribed sign above it was noticeably worn down and faded. But on the side of the wagon was an open window, and leaning against the sill, surrounded by fragrant candles and trinkets galore, was a woman with a twinkle in her eyes and a crafty smile. She was obviously not a local, her skin brown and her luxurious hair long and black, and she didn’t seem nearly so brow-beaten and worn down as the rest of the Hamlet’s residents. She looked like a gypsy Leni thought, and then immediately felt bad for typecasting her. The woman’s clothing was also different, richly decorated with blues and reds and covered in shiny baubles; the jewels she adorned glinted in the candlelight as the woman spread her arms and called out to the wandering masses of peasants in the market.

“Come one, come all, this humble Nomad would never dare to refuse a customer. All who deign to look will find my wagon a treasure trove for the intrepid. Idol, amulet or lucky charm. The simplest object can be a talisman against evil.”

“Ooh,” Leni cooed as she approached the open window, eyes sparkling as she poured over the inventory hanging on the shelves behind the merchant woman. “I like that,” she continued, fixing the bemused gypsy with a grin, “did you come up with that on your own.”

“Sure enough, though the trinkets mostly speak for themselves. I only sell the finest of talismans, I take great pride in my wares, as my prices demonstrate. Now, to what do I owe the honor of this visit, Leni was it?”

“You know who I am?” Leni asked, head cocked and genuinely curious.

The woman’s laugh was warm as chocolate and Leni couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I foresaw your arrival in the bones and crystals,” the woman whispered cryptically. She picked up a shard of broken glass and inspected it for a second before tossing it aside with a grin. “Also, your reputation precedes you my dear. One of the very owners of this proud estate visiting my modest wagon? Truly, I must be blessed this day to be graced with your presence.”

Leni blushed and waved the flattery off with a giggle. “I’m not anything special,” she insisted, and affixed her gaze on the selection of goods. The nomad woman caught Leni’s eye and turned aside with a soft smile, arm outstretched towards her stock with no small sense of pride.

“Like what you see? My own personal collection this. Treasures and secrets from faraway lands, no mere snake oils you’ll find here. Nothing but authentic talismans and amulets, trinkets to fight back the Darkness.” She leaned back on the window sill, cupped her jaw in her hands, and gave Leni a wink. “I’m sure there’s something here for the young heiress too. Have a look.”

Leni wanted to tell the mysterious woman she had no money to purchase anything anyway, but distraction took her by the hand as she poured over the collection. It was as the woman said, a great store of artifacts and oddities, each with their own poignant energies emanating from them so Leni could feel them even from outside. Talismans made of raven feathers and skin with runes carved into the hide, amulets with glowing gemstones stuck in bonds of silver, skull necklaces, rings that blinked back at you, and great tomes of forbidden knowledge that whispered in your head when you stared at them for too long. Why was this woman not getting more customers, she had everything!

Yes, the Nomad Wagon had many curiosities, but there was one thing in particular that caught Leni’s eye. It wasn’t a pretty thing, there were no gems sticking out of it nor was it covered in eldritch runes of power, it wasn’t even shiny. It was a skull, a human’s to be precise, with a candle sticking out the top. It really wasn’t much, and the morbidity of being made out of human remains loses some its luster when you just fought skeletons yesterday, but no matter what she did it kept drawing Leni’s eye. If anything, it was creepy, and she knew one little sister who would absolutely love it.

“How much for that?” Leni asked, pointing to the skull. The gypsy woman blinked and did a double take.

“That? That’s just decoration, I put it out to draw in the locals. It doesn’t really have much power, light the candle and it revives the senses sure, but that’s about it.”

“I love it!” Leni declared, staunchly standing her ground, lack of monetary funds momentarily forgotten.

The merchant shrugged and grabbed it up, holding the trinket out towards the young teen with a smile. “Fair enough, and who am I to deny the master of the estate? Now then, onto payment.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Both Leni and the nomad flinched at the hard voice and Leni slowly turned around with a sheepish expression. Lori wasn’t happy, that much could be determined from the way she tapped her foot and crossed her arms. Luna also didn’t look amused, but Leni could never bring herself to find her rocker sister threatening and frankly the way she tried to copy Lori’s stance was just adorable. Why was Lori mad anyway?

“What the heck Leni! I take my eyes off you for two seconds and you run off!”

“Told you we’d find her at the mall,” Luna sighed.

“What part of we’re going to the Ruins sounds like we’re going to the market!” Lori snapped.

“The ‘We’re going to the,’ part.” Leni said, and both her sisters groaned at the honesty of her tone.

Right, they were going to the Ruins to fight more skeletons, she totally forgot. Actually, this is perfect timing. Not wasting a second Leni marched right up to Luna and before the younger girl could say or do anything began to rummage around in the sack around her hips. Luna cried out a complaint when Leni pulled out a fist-full of coins, but the older girl didn’t even hear her as she turned back to the gypsy and plopped the coins onto the counter.

“Will this cover it?”

“Oh yes!” The woman said.

“Oh no!” Luna cried and made for the pile of money; just a smidge too slow unfortunately as the nomad scooped the coins up and shoved the candle-holding skull into Leni’s hands.

“No take backs,” the woman snapped and slammed the windows shut in Luna’s face.

Luna peeled herself off the wooden doors and rubbed her nose with a growl, glaring first at the wagon before turning back to Leni. The girl was oblivious of her sister’s ire, much to enamored with her new purchase the lead any credence to her sister’s dour mood.

“Look what I got,” she cried, showing off the overrated Halloween decoration. “Won’t Lucy just love it?”

Luna grunted. As a matter of fact, Lucy would love it. Doesn’t mean it was worth all those coins though. But just before Luna could tell Leni off Lori grabbed them both by the hair and pulled the shrieking girls several feet away from the wagon into the middle of the road.

“Congratulations,” Lori stated after letting go, fixing Leni with her trademark glare. “You got Lucy a present. Oh, but wait, we don’t know where she is, and every second we spend looking for you is a second not spent finding her, or any of the others. Get this through your head Leni, you need to focus, I need you to focus, okay?”

Leni looked like she wanted to argue, her face scrunched up and cheeks puffed out. But as Lori’s words sank in she deflated and looked down at the ground. Luna stood off to the side, not willing to be a part of the punishment and uncomfortable just being out in public. She took a few glances around and tugged the bag at her waist tight then pulled the scarf around her neck up over her mouth. Lori glanced over to Luna, sighed, and then looked back to Leni who was now looking at the ground and sniveling to herself. With a groan Lori walked up to her little sister and gave her a hug, humming to her as she wrapped her own arms around Lori’s waist and hugged her back.

“I’m sorry,” Leni mewled.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” she grumbled and the seriousness in her voice caught Lori by surprise. “I’m always messing up and not understanding things even when you really need me too. I want to focus but I just can’t, and I don’t know why. I wish I wasn’t so dumb all the time”

Lori gasped a little and held Leni tight. Suddenly she wasn’t in the middle of a market in some run-down hovel, she was back home, seven years old and holding onto her mom’s dress as the older woman tried to tell her there was something wrong with her little sister, with the way she thought and acted, and that she needed to be there for her to help her understand things. The memory passed as soon as it came, and Lori let out a deep breath and held Leni out in front of her.

“You’re not dumb, don’t ever say that.” Lori’s voice was firm and unwavering as she wiped Leni’s tears away. “You’re doing your best, you’ve done so much for me already I hate to ask more of you, but I need to. Our baby sisters literally need us, Lincoln’s probably all alone out there on his own, they’re all scared and maybe even hurt so we all (and she said this with a pointed glare at Luna who crossed her arms and looked away with a huff) need to get our acts together and try to find them.” Leni sniffed and nodded her head, giving Lori a big smile who couldn’t help but give one right back and pull her in for another hug. They stayed like this for a few seconds until another pair of arms snaked their way around them and Lori smiled, happy that Luna decided to join in on the family hug.

“Isn’t this nice, I just love these family moments.”

Nope, not Luna.

Lori growled and shoved off the intruder, turning face to face with the emaciated form of the Caretaker who cackled and hopped in place. Off to the side she heard Luna laugh and she snorted.

“What are you doing here old man?”

“What I do on the weekends is my own business,” he admonished with a finger wag and another giggle.

Lori grunted and turned on her heels, unwilling to give the man any more of her time than she had too, but Leni’s gentle “Wait,” made her stop and she turned back to see her sister holding out the skull she had bought earlier to the Caretaker.

“Could you take this back to the manor for me please? It’s a present for one of my sisters.”

The Caretaker blinked and seemed to fold in on himself, perhaps taken aback by the show of genuine familial love. With a nod he held out his skeletal arms and took the present from Leni who graciously thanked him and joined up with her sisters. All three shared a quick nod of affirmation, and after locking their arms together to make sure there were no further separations, walked off down the road.

The Caretaker watched them go, silent and stony-faced as the trio of young heroes marched off into the distance, willing and perhaps even able to face the Darkness head on. Something unfamiliar welled up in his chest and he barked out a noise somewhere between a cough and a sob as an odd mistiness fogged up his eyes. He looked down at the little present the young mistress had placed in his care and to his surprise he felt something wet crawl down his cheek. A long, greasy tongue squirmed out the corner of his mouth and gave an experimental lick. Huh, salty...

“How very interesting,” The Caretaker whispered in a voice not entirely his own.
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Darkness was all that greeted Lucy Loud as she awoke, and normally for the young goth that would have been just fine in her book. By virtue of her more morbid hobbies light wasn’t something she expressed any particular interest in, bright colors alone made her want to retch and the typical interests of girls her age were lost on her as she delved into the realms of the occult and macabre. Recently this had come to bite her in the ass, and considering her up-till-now experiences with true terror perhaps it was time for a change in venue. At any rate not being able to see even when you were sure your eyes were open isn’t a particularly pleasant experience for anybody, much less an eight-year-old girl who had just a while ago been man-handled by the undead, threatened with excruciating death via human sacrifice by cultists, and seen no less than the brutal murder of said cultists at the hands of an eldritch abomination made of human faces.

Lucy curled up in a ball and whimpered to herself. The adrenaline coursing through her veins earlier, the raw drive to live that drove her to run from certain death and fly into a realm of eternal darkness just for another second of breath, was gone. Spent. Kaput. There was nothing left but fear, regrets, sorrow, and a dull, throbbing ache in her calves. Idly she reconsidered her disdain for Lynn’s offers to exercise with her, but this had the unfortunate effect of reminding her she probably wasn’t going to be seeing her sisters again which just made the whole situation that much worse. Lucy curled in on herself until her face was resting on her stomach and her knees curled up over her head in a little ball of terror and just a smidgen of self-loathing. Chances are she would have laid there for a good while, possibly forever, sitting in total darkness until she finally closed her eyes and never opened them again; but rarely is fate content to let things lie where they will, and Lucy’s flight was far from over.

The sound was what caught her attention first. A low, crunching noise, echoing out of sight but certainly not out of mind as Lucy’s stress-addled mind focused on the potential danger. Seems Lucy wasn’t quite ready to give up yet, drab and morose as she was the child had some kick left in her and she wasn’t about to go lying down. Though her muscles protested Lucy forced herself upright and gasped as the aches in her body shot pain through her system. That gasp would be her undoing, the life in it sent her senses coming back to her and Lucy quickly discovered that her sense of smell was putting in overtime. Lucy immediately doubled over and gagged, had she anything in her stomach she would have surely thrown up. It was wretched, it was disgusting, it was easily the worst smell she’d ever endured and she shared a room with Lynn. She hadn’t the words to describe for she didn’t have a frame of reference to base it off, the closest she could think of was the time some old meat went bad and stank up the fridge for a week.

Pinching her nose shut Lucy looked around as the chewing noise seemed to intensify around her and she could also hear a droning, buzzing noise that seemed to be both in the background yet also in front of her. It slowly began to dawn on her that what she was confusing for echoes were not in fact so. There was more than one, it was all around her. She was surrounded. Lucy whimpered and scooted back away from the sounds, but she only made it about a foot before her back hit solid stone. Terror once again welling up inside her Lucy staggered to her feet and turned around, her little hands patting at the wall that blocked her. No matter how high she reached she couldn’t feel a top or break in the rock. She had fallen somewhere, but how, how did she get here? Lucy’s flight through the darkness was a blur, all she could remember was that horrible nightmare from earlier and after that nothing but a profound sense of horror and a desperate need to get away. Had she fallen down a hole in her mad frenzy to get away?

Something like the sound of stick but sturdier being snapped rang out in the darkness and Lucy’s knees went weak. She had to get out of here. Lithe fingers clawed at the unseen wall as Lucy tried to crawl her way up to sanctuary, and to her credit she managed to get about two feet up before gravity took notice and decided it wasn’t going to be having any of that and brought her down with a heavy thud. Lucy groaned and rubbed the side of her head, thankful she didn’t feel any blood but sporting a new splitting headache to further foul her mood up. As she tried to get back up on her feet her hands brushed something unseen, something long and wooden with a bundle of dry tinder and cloth stuck on one end. Breath quickening Lucy grabbed the abandoned torch and held it tight, nimble fingers trailing along the ground for further materials as she tried to block out the chewing sounds all around her. They sounded more energetic now.

After another minute of scrounging Lucy sported not only a torch but two sharp rocks in her hands, and though she had no idea if they were flint or not she was much too excited to let such trivial things as geology bother her. After all, it always works in the movies, right? Get two rocks, bash them together, and voila! This was of course utter nonsense, it requires not only force to ignite a spark but favorable conditions that included but were not limited to a non-damp environment, minerals capable of ignition, and kindling for which a fire to begin. Such as it was that around the fifth or so strike a spark caught the tinder and the end of the torch burst into flame in a brilliant flash of light and heat that illuminated the abandoned ruins. Lucy laughed to herself and pulled her bangs out of her eyes and she turned to face the gleaming red face of a dead man.

Lucy backed up into the wall as far as she could, her mouth wide in a soundless scream. The face had no skin, its grinning skull covered in glistening red muscle as black corpse-flies buzzed around it, the source of the maddening droning noise. Maggots fat on necrotic flesh squirmed and writhed in the sinew, their bodies so well-fed Lucy could see them carpet the corpse in front of her. Lucy took a quick glance around and amended herself, corpses. Dozens of them, stacked and piled in inhumane positions, carelessly tossed and strewn about without honor or mercy. To think, just a day ago, to read of such a thing would have enticed her, elated her even. Now Lucy felt nothing but hot sick boiling in her tummy as her eyes brimmed with tears from the sight and smell of it all. Lucy looked up and shivered, there was no hole, only a stone ceiling barring her from the outside world so far away. She had not fallen into some hole as she suspected, then how did she get in here?

The wet slap of flesh hitting stone made her turn and Lucy nearly fainted when she saw the fat, white slab of pulsating meat burst from the flayed entrails of an unfortunate man. The maggot was enormous, in sheer girth alone it rivaled the largest of pumpkins, its multitude of pointed legs waved about in the air as it writhed and pushed itself from its nest of flesh. The maggot’s pin-point head undulated in the air, the two hooks the creature had for a face wriggled in place as the maggot slowly moved about, sweeping the room. Lucy kept her eyes focused on the unnatural horror in front of her, too terrified to breath much less move though she could hear similar noises all around her; the giant parasite’s brethren had also stopped their gorging. The reason soon became all too clear as the maggot in front of her homed in on Lucy’s direction, and with a horrible squelching noise popped free from the carcass and hit the ground with a heavy plop. It lay for a second or two before squealing and like some hideous inch worm started crawling its way towards Lucy, head bobbing eagerly as it zeroed in on the scent of fresh meat. Maggots were necrophagous by all accounts, but whatever loathsome transformation had befallen the wretches had also broadened their appetite. The scraps they subsided on were not enough, though they were deliciously rotten the tender entrails inside were withered and competition for what was left was fierce. That something fresh and intact should find its way to them was a rare treat indeed, and such a bounty was not to be squandered.

A shudder of pure revulsion worked its way down Lucy’s spine and nestled somewhere deep in her bowels. As dark and dreary as she was there was something Lucy couldn’t stand and that was maggots. Though they accompanied the dead there was nothing romantic about them like vampires or ghouls, they were fat, ugly parasites that gorged on rotting animal carcasses. Just the sight of them made her stomach turn, and that was just the small ones. These were bigger than her head, and they probably weighed more too. If just one of those things managed to grab her, why it could...

Lucy staggered to her feet and leveled her eyes down at the approaching beast, giggling to herself as its bloated, squishy body rolled over itself in its desperation to reach her. A strange calmness had overtaken her, and with it came an epiphany of sorts. This is where they came from, the skeletons. People dug up or murdered were dragged here and left to fester in the dark, the maggots would feed themselves on the necrosis and strip the flesh from their bones so the dark Three may bid them to rise. Yes, of course, it made perfect sense. What use would muscle, or skin have on the reanimated whose movements were preordained by the unnatural magics, such things essential to the living would only slow the unholy things down. Something must’ve found her then, passed out in the hall and mistaken for dead something dragged her back to the corpse pit and the hungry mouths that awaited therein. Was this to be her fate then, killed and devoured down here in hell, her corpse made to walk again after all that she used to be was stripped away by drooling, indifferent fangs?

Not if she could help it.

Lucy hefted her torch high above her head and slammed the sharp end of it deep into the maggot just as its bristling fangs hemmed the line of her skirt. The maggot shrieked and popped like a meaty balloon, pus squirted out in wide arcs as the pale flesh was ruptured; the disgusting creature chittered to itself as whatever passed for its life faded from its broken body. Lucy spat a ball of phlegm at the dead grub and focused on the fast-approaching swarm. She drew her makeshift weapon back and lunged with a snarl.

How quickly does the tide turn? How quickly can hopeless resignation to one’s fate change in an instant, the natural drive to fight and live overcoming the senses as it pushes a body past its limits for just one more second to exist? Instinct and adrenaline coupled to birth sheer ruthless determination and Lucy was awash in a baptism of blood and rot, reborn into something beautiful and terrible as she reaped a bloody toll on her would-be executioners. The maggots weren’t weak, their rubbery hides were too tough to smash with foot or fist though the blows would drive them back, but when pierced by the sharpened point of a stake they stood no chance. Still, they had numbers on their side, and each one of them outweighed Lucy by a fair margin, so no matter how hard she hit (and so far gone was she in her animalistic frenzy that she did not notice she was hitting a fair bit harder than a child should) there was another one there with fangs bared and knife-like legs ready to grab her legs and hold her down. Lucy fought with all the wild abandon of a caged panther, knowing the end was near but determined to take something down with her as she drove the pointed end of her torch into writhing maggots, or shoved the burning end into their faces. The sound their flesh made as they burned, their shrieks and the sizzling of their milky meat, made Lucy grin and she reveled in taking their lives.

As many as she killed another two took its place. They were everywhere, she was in their home, their feeding grounds, and she was outclassed. She could see them pulsating within the confines of their cadaverous hosts only to sense her presence and burst out from within in an explosion of bile and viscera. Distracted by one such display, and taking the moment to stab one of the maggots before it could dislodge itself, another maggot came up from behind and barreled into her leg. Lucy hit the ground with a wet smack and took some measure of joy in at least crushing the one that knocked her over. The feeling was short lived as another maggot squirmed over to her and sunk its diseased fangs into her leg. A pained howl tore its way from Lucy’s mouth and she was only distantly surprised at how off her voice sounded, scratchy and wrong and it hurt, like something was still wrong with her throat from all the screaming and crying she had done. Survival takes precedence to curiosity and Lucy brought her other foot back and kicked at the maggot head again and again. The creature would not budge until Lucy’s foot connected with a bulbous ball that she assumed was its eye and the offending organ exploded into jelly. The maggot screamed, a hideous almost human sound, and reared up, wiggling its legs and fangs around in pain. Lucy kicked out again and the bulbous parasite was sent backwards into three more of its fellows.

Lucy rolled away just as another maggot brought its fangs into the stone where her arm was seconds ago. Lucy grit her teeth and staggered to her feet, working through the pain just to try and hobble one step ahead of the maggots, torch held high over her head, so she could see the ones in front of her. The maggots sensed her weakness, whether they could feel the slowness of her movements of could smell the blood Lucy didn’t know but the squirming multitude picked up the pace and like a tidal wave they poured after her, crushing corpses and rolling over each other to try and reach her. Lucy tried to scream but when all that came out was a ragged groan she decided now wasn’t the time for that. Panting heavily, she tried to make her way to the other end of the kill room, stumbling over rotting carcasses and kicking out any offending grubs as the tried to latch onto her, all the while trying to outrun the horde quickly gaining on her heels. As she limped Lucy’s meager torch finally illuminated what she had been hoping to find. A rotten, wooden door lay in front of her, half-open invitingly, tauntingly.

An escape!

With a peal of ragged laughter Lucy hobbled and limped her way towards the door, drunken on adrenaline, terror, and even a little hope as the door neared closer and the swarm behind her advanced. She could feel them, crawling down her back and into her skin and shearing her away with their fangs and pincer-like legs, the disgusting noises their fleshy bodies made as the rolled over each other, the hideous screeching that emanated from them and drowned out everything in Lucy’s ears except for her heartbeat, pounding like a war-drum in her chest and reverberating in her muscles. Lucy bit her bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and ran, silently screaming through the pain as her abused, bleeding leg pounded her skull with agony enough to make her dizzy. She needed to get out, they were behind her, need to get out, they’re on her back, need to get out, need to get out, need to get out-

“OH GOD, LET ME OUT!”

Lucy screamed and slammed into the wooden door, her lithe body smashed through the rotten timber and sent fragments of it sailing away and clattering into the darkness. Her torch also went flying from her hands, it hit the ground and rolled away leaving her at the edge of its light. Lucy hit the hard stone with thud and rolled herself, her poor leg cried out at the abuse and now her shoulder as well, a worrying crack heard as she hit the ground. Lucy tried to fight through the dizziness and lifted her head up, and what she saw caused a great toothy smile to break out across her face as she giggled.

The maggots had become stuck in the doorway, as the great wave tried to follow her through the door so great was their collective mass that most of them slammed into the walls on either side and the ones that were in front of the passage had become lodged along their fellows. The force of the impact had killed most of them it seemed; a pasty mash of pulped maggot, the smell alone was putrid. The few that weren’t killed seemed injured, three maggots lay out in the open but seemed content to writhe in place and chitter rather than chase after the prey that outmaneuvered them.

Lucy giggled to herself and pulled her broken body up to its feet. The pain was so intense that it looped back around into a pleasant numbness that left her giddy and just a little woozy. Hobbling around she glanced every which way until she saw the torch lying a way over yonder and limped over to it. Still giggling Lucy bent over to pick up the torch, her tiny fingers just barely managing to wrap around the hefty wood.

A low growl in the dark froze her blood. Shaking like a leaf, a waterfall of sweat and tears pouring from her face, Lucy whimpered and slowly began to look up. The pale, pallid skin she saw first, stretched over a human’s body but one far too large and heavily muscled. The arms were too long, the hands were massive paws that ended not with nails but tapered claws like a lion’s. Lucy took a single step back and kept looking up, past the well-defined muscles, past the necklace of human skulls and finger bones, all the way up a skeletal face staring down at her with yellow lanterns for eyes.

Before Lucy could even scream the ghoul reached down and crushed her tiny body with one of its gore-encrusted hands.
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“Something’s wrong.”

Lori and Luna both stopped in their tracks. A glance of confusion was shared between them before Luna looked back over her shoulder at Leni who had suddenly stopped walking.

“What d’ya mean, luv?” Luna called out. To her side she saw Lori give the ruins around them a suspicious once-over, hand resting on her mace and shield held at the ready. She couldn’t blame Lori for being careful, but did she really have to look so enthusiastic about it...

“Somebody’s in danger,” Leni replied, shaking Luna from her reverie and catching Lori’s attention. Leni walked up to her sisters and without a word pointed in front of them. The door to Hell lay open for them, an open archway in the side of a castle long since abandoned and consigned to molder beneath the Earth under the watchful, sightless eyes of its unholy guardians. Luna shivered and tried to swallow her rising fear. She hated this: hated this place, hated what was down there, but most of all she hated that she had to go back down there. Lori snorted and nodded to herself.

“All right girls, looks like this literally just became a rescue... mission?”

Lori stumbled a little on the delivery when Leni pushed past her and marched right up to the foreboding entrance. There was no need for speeches, she had already prayed earlier; and besides, the castle had already marked her as an enemy, and so had she likewise. She didn’t know who was down there, or what they would find blocking their way, but what she did know was that they would regret doing that. They would regret getting in Leni’s way.

“Don’t worry,” Leni whispered, not to herself but to whoever was down there waiting for her. She hefted her bible in one hand and with the other tore the mace from the holster at her hip. With one final defiant glare she marched into the darkness, leaving her sisters behind to sprint after her.

“Big sis is coming.”