From the ages of 6-14 I had episode after episode of severe, repeated vomiting multiple times an hour for a couple of weeks at a time, then a couple of months gap before another episode. My record was 36 vomits in one night according to my mum and I was hospitalised multiple times due to severe dehydration. The classic CVS bingo card. Eventually on Christmas Eve one year I got a trial of Zofran which was the best Christmas present ever. A combination of Zofran and lots of refinement of my diet meant that I was one of the lucky ones who seemed to "grow out of it" and I don't remember any episodes from age 15 onwards. While previously any slight cold/cough/headache etc would trigger a full blown episode I managed to have Glandular fever and mumps during university with no vomiting at all!
However, I'm now 9 weeks pregnant and struggling with constant nausea, vomiting etc. Anti sickness drugs doing nothing this time and I feel like I'm back in my childhood bedroom: blinds drawn, only managing tiny sips of water every now and again, waiting for the next round of vomiting.
Has anyone else found that pregnancy has re-triggered their CVS beyond pregnancy - guess I'm just a bit worried that I'm about to re-enter a phase I thought I had miraculously grown out of.
My heart goes out to all of you who have been battling on with this horrid condition since you were a child, without the respite I was lucky to experience, you are troupers!

September 2nd - 07:00 Service to London
The morning commute always felt too early for Simon. Now autumn was rolling in, and the night ate further into the morning, he could barely keep his eyes open. So when he saw it standing across the platform, he was happy to blink and rub his eyes until it was gone.
September 9th - 07:00 Service to London
The same platform, the same spot, shivering. Why had he been this stupid not to bring a jacket? Oxford station was as nondescript as you could get, for a city so beautiful and ancient, it stood out like a big grey concrete thumb. He stood under the canopy sheltering from the rain, sadly it wasn't doing much in the way of protection. Every gust of wind brought icy shards of rain scratching at his face. Looks like he wasn't the only one suffering.
Across from him stood a man. Drenched to the bone, his white shirt clung to him, a tie stained blood red cutting through his torso. With every gust he stood still. Not flinching. Not moving. His eyes locked on Simon. Simon scanned him from head to toe, like a mirror the man responded, tracing his every move. Feeling the rush of a train approaching, Simon took a step back and like a child discovering their legs for the first time, the man stumbled forwards.
Feeling anxious warmth flooded his face, Simon scrambled onto the train. He was safe here. He was safe.
September 16th - 07:00 Service to London
He approached the platform with caution today, yes last week was weird, but it was early and he was tired. When he looked up at the departures the bad mood started. 20 minutes delayed. It was as grey as usual this morning, not raining though, that was a bonus he thought. He stood endlessly scrolling through social media, head locked down. Then he heard it, a high-pitched whistle. His head shot up, and then across from him, there he stood. The same white and red clothed man staring. Simon could feel his heart beating in his throat, his stomach turning in knots. Dark cold eyes were tied to his from across the void of the platform, sucking the warmth from his body. Simon knew he couldn't move, he couldn't bear to watch the man copy him. Breathing heavily he dragged his eyes to the departures, not daring to move a single limb. 3 minutes. He had to hold out for three minutes. He was alone out there, the platform was a lonely headland out at sea, it was just him and the man.
They stayed eyes locked, standing stock still. Simon didn't dare to breathe too heavily. Time was moving, he knew that, but every second was an eternity. Out the corner of his eye he could see a faint light growing brighter and brighter. The train was coming. He would be safe. Then in a split second the man broke his gaze. He was running. His body moved in perfect symmetry flying along the platform, getting closer and closer to the passenger bridge. He can get me. He can get me! Simon's mind was screaming. Alarm bells ringing. The man was getting closer. There was a hollow thud of thunder as the man's feet stormed across the bridge.
The train was pulling in now, its brakes hissing as it glided to a stop. Simon slammed his hand against the button frantically waiting for the doors to slide open, and they did. Inviting him into the warm comfort of the carriage. The man arrived at the bottom of the steps, fixed his gaze on Simon and ran. Gaining on him, 10 metres, 5 metres, 1 metre. The doors slid shut. And the man slammed against them. Simon’s stomach clamped in on itself; he could feel the sour taste of vomit flood his throat and mouth, pouring out onto the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the glass of the train door. He was looking at his reflection. But this was no trick of the light. The man had his face and he was smiling.
September 16th - 16:34 Service to Worcester
Simon spent his entire day scanning faces. Anyone who crossed his path was a potential threat. He made it through the work day, he would get home, call the police and get answers. Boarding the train with hundreds of other passengers he was shielded, nothing could get him. Every station they passed he checked every face twice. But his mind and body grew tired, he’d spent the day on high alert and he was feeling the effects. His breathing was slowing down, every thought came at half speed and his eyes drooped and drooped until he slipped into a dark dreamless sleep.
The thud of closing doors ripped him from his sleep. He was awake, alert, heart pounding. He could see a station by the window. Charlbury. He'd gone too far, three stations too far. He got up and looked around the cabin and not a single face turned to meet him. He was alone. It’s fine, he thought. He'd get off at the next station and turn around. He'll be home in no time. He sat there pushing every bad thought from his mind, humming a tune he didn't even recognise for comfort. Then in a matter of minutes they were pulling into a station. Standing at the door he surveyed the platform as they slowed. Empty. Completely empty. Then from the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of white then red, and finally that face. His face. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to hide. He ran back into the carriage and fell to the floor between two seats, making sure no part of him could be seen above the window. He heard the door hiss shut, and they were moving. He didn't dare to move. Was he alone? He sat still, not allowing a single muscle fibre to twitch. Then like rolling thunder the sound of heavy boots progressed down the carriage. Slow and methodical, they stopped at every row before moving to the next. Fuck it was coming. They were just inches from him. He craned his head up to look.
The eyes staring down at him were pure black. Obsidian marbles studded in the face he saw every day. He tried to scream but his throat clenched shut. A smile stretched across that familiar face. It was no smile he'd ever given. His breath felt like it was coming out in chunks. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Then out of its pocket something glinted in the light. He saw his own cowering reflection in the blade. Tears streamed down his face. He knew the pain about to follow would be the last thing he'd ever feel.

I have never had stomach issues or pain in my entire life until four months ago. I am praying someone has had similar symptoms because nobody knows what's happening.
I'll start from the beginning. I started eating healthy and exercising. I included oatmeal, grilled chicken, blueberries, greens, brown rice, healthy fats from virgin olive oil and almond butter, and eggs in my diet. My food macros were on point. After about two weeks, I started getting a dull ache under my right ribs. I didn't think much of it, but it started to get worse over the next few weeks and would radiate to my back.
I went to the ER. They did blood work and a CT scan with contrast but found nothing wrong. I noticed my stools were slightly lighter. Over the next few weeks, the pain worsened, and I felt fatigued and terrible. They checked my gallbladder, ran more blood work, and did an MRCP to check my pancreas; all came back good. They checked me for Celiac disease. I had an endoscopy and a colonoscopy, both of which came back amazing.
I finally asked the doctor to check my vitamin levels because I felt like I was deficient in something. Everything came back okay except my vitamin D, which was extremely low, which isn't normal for me. They did a stool sample and said everything was fine. I started taking vitamin D3, and my joints started feeling better. At this point, I got extremely depressed. I was still in pain and kept being told I was fine.
I stopped eating healthy and started eating poorly because I was so depressed. Here is where it gets strange. Over the course of six weeks of eating complete garbage, I started feeling better. My stools looked great in size and color. I still had that pain on my right side, right under my ribs, but it became just a slight dull ache that I lived with.
For three weeks, I started eating healthy again, and bam, two weeks into it, my symptoms were in full swing. The pain is bad and always hurts much worse when I am sitting, like I am squashing something inside. My stools look different, like they have grains in them, which is new. I can't figure out for the life of me what's wrong with me, and neither can any doctor I have seen. But something serious is happening, and I am just so lost.
I am praying someone knows what's up

Hey guys, sorry in advance for long post, but this really affects my mental health and relationship, and doctors have mostly been useless so far :(
For about 2 years (24yrs old), I’ve been struggling with: - a huge drop in libido - weak erections during masturbation (40% strength) and sex (70% strength) - no morning/spontaneous erections
I was referred to a urologist and I got a Doppler scan done. I’d never taken viagra before this, so they only injected my penis with a small dose. Anyway, I barely got an erection during the scan, and the radiologist performing it said it looks like a venous leak.
The next week when I met with my urologist, I explained that I can achieve a much stronger erection during sex. He said in that case it was just nerves and that I don’t have a venous leak, so basically there’s nothing wrong with me. He prescribed me some viagra cialis, which I’m yet to use as 1) thankfully I can still have sex and 2) it’s the huge drop in libido that affects me the most and I don’t see how viagra would help with this?
The other symptoms I have are: - Weak flow when urinating & I go to the toilet way less - Area between my penis, testicles, pelvic floor has been feeling constantly tight, heavy and numb+ occasionally pain in those areas - Wake up every morning with stomach ache, probably unrelated but this started around the same time (could be irritable bowl syndrome)
This makes me think it’s a pelvic floor issue or something related to it. Does anyone have any advice on which specialist doctor I would go to for this? Or any advice on particular exercises/supplements?

I went to visit my bf over the weekend and we ended up having pretty vigorous sex. It’s been a whole week since and my vagina is still sore at the entrance where it feel like it’s burns when it’s touched.
On top of this I picked up a stomach bug that left me in the bathroom all day with diarrhea. Everything down there burns and aches and I’m feeling pretty miserable. Is there anything I can do to help heal my vagina faster?

Synopsis:
An engineer from earth blends science and magic to achieve greatness in another world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — What to Expect:
- Weak to very strong progression with a Sword & Magic MC that kicks a whole lotta ass. - Fast pacing. A balance of action galore, politics, kingdom building, and slow-burn runecrafting. - Fun, satisfying moments. An extra shot of happiness when reading. Hardcore wish fulfillment. Hyper competent MC. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, abolish slavery, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine. - Dark truths of a medieval-esque society going under change.
Join my Discord Server to have chat, bother me, ask me questions, or just genuine fun really - https://discord.gg/d57v5upvcx
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Chapter 11

Congratulations! You have unlocked the skill: [Meditation]!
Meditation – Level 1
Type: Passive
Effect: This basic meditation technique focuses on bringing your awareness to the present moment. By calming your thoughts and observing your breath, you create a state of inner peace that fosters the natural restoration of your mana. It’s a simple practice that can be maintained throughout the day, even while traveling or performing light tasks. However, that requires a higher level of the skill. Connections: [Meditation] has formed Connections with [Magic Sensitivity] and [Magic Perception], enhancing all three skills’ effects.
A smile spread across Ethan’s face. He continued his routine like usual, albeit with one addition: daily meditation. It took some time, but slowly—ever so slowly—the dull aches behind his eyes receded, replaced by a refreshing coolness as his mana regeneration speed increased. Meditation indeed helped.
[Meditation] — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!
[Magic Sensitivity] — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!
[Magic Perception] — Lvl 1 -> Lvl 2!
“Finally!”
Unexpected bonuses! Ethan chuckled. It seemed even seemingly basic skills could have hidden relations. He closed his eyes once more. He had a feeling this was just the beginning.
Time passed, and he continued making rune motes. But a new kind of worry furrowed his brow. The novelty of handcrafted soap had its limits. The initial batch was sent to potential investors, nobles, merchants, et cetera—and it had indeed vanished like suds in a rainstorm. He’d even managed to train a couple of the more eager servants, turning them into his first, albeit slightly nervous, soap-makers. But scaling things up? That presented a whole new bar (pun entirely intended) of challenges.
First, there was the money issue. His pockets were starting to feel empty. Expanding his operation meant serious investment, something he could only take so far.
Investors. Ethan grimaced. The word conjured images of stuffy suits picking apart his plans with a practiced sneer. He shuddered. Funding everything himself was a pipe dream. He needed someone to believe in his vision, a knight in shining armor wielding a hefty bag of gold.
But the bigger challenge, the one that kept him up at night, was the production line. Hand-making was a labor of love, not large-scale commerce. He wanted a streamlined process—bubbling vats and efficient filling. Factories, of course, were out of the question. But the principles could be adapted, scaled down for his humble little workshop.
Large, sturdy vats, fire-resistant, and big enough to hold gallons of bubbling lye solution, were a must. Then came the pouring—tedious and time-consuming by hand but he would find a solution somehow. Safety, of course, was a large concern in his mind. Lye was a fickle thing. He needed proper ventilation systems, thick gloves for handling the caustic solution, and clear safety protocols practically drilled into his fledgling soap-making team. Maintaining quality was another worry. With increased volume, ensuring each bar possessed the same level of perfection became a concern.
Not to mention delays. Delays—that word was the entrepreneur’s nightmare. Machines breaking down, surprise ingredient shortages, unexpected problems in the production line… Ethan knew they were inevitable. He needed a buffer—a reserve of supplies and a maintenance plan to weather the inevitable storms. It was hardly rocket science, but the logistics of it all made his head spin.
Regardless, Ethan worked on the investor pitch, the design for the assembly line, the contingencies for delays—and with each minute, they solidified.
There’s so much to do...
***
Ethan ran a hand through his hair, standing inside the makeshift workshop they’d made to produce more soap. The latest batch of soap sat on the wooden table—smooth, white ovals that lathered luxuriously and left a hint of calming fragrance. The results were undeniable. Now, he had quite the amount of soap made already; it was time to get his creation into the hands of those who needed it most.
Selling within the barony was the easiest option. He could hire someone to hawk his wares at the market, catch the eye of housewives in need. But Holden was small, and the potential customer pool was limited. Not to mention folks knew him, and they didn’t trust him. Regardless, a well-placed stall at the weekly market would likely do the trick—meager returns, however, given that majority of the people were poor. Thankfully, they could afford it.
Ethan needed to be bold, however. The grimy hands of miners in neighboring Corinth, and the mud-caked travelers passing through the bustling border town of Westford—they all needed to experience the excellent product he’d made. Catching the eyes of a noble or two would be even better. Spreading the word beyond Holden presented a problem.
Trade fairs, perhaps. Grand events held a few times a year, attracting merchants from far and wide. The thought of securing a stall at the Westford fair, a place that would be teeming with potential buyers—and the biggest Bordertown that could arguably be called a city—was indeed enticing. But that would require waiting.
Nah, can’t wait. I need money. Merchants themselves would be it. Partnering with a reliable merchant who frequented the border towns could be a more strategic approach. He’d provide the soap, the merchant would handle the transportation and distribution, sharing the profits. But finding such a partner would be rather hard considering his reputation with the Merchants Guild...
Ethan sighed. He needed a plan that would push his soap beyond Holden and into the wider world. I should contact some of Theo’s friends...
Thinking of those “friends” that were indeed just like Theo if not worse, Ethan weighed his options, but settled for it regardless. He had no choice.
“Excellent work, everyone,” Ethan praised the workers, then walked outside where he boarded his carriage. Sitting down, Ethan looked at Roland.
“Roland. Send a letter to Hector asking if we could arrange a meeting,” Ethan ordered. “If he isn’t willing, contact every merchant of worth in Holden—contact the Merchants Guild, they will likely ignore me, given my reputation; however, even if one of them agrees to come, arrange a meeting. I will not be taking a bad deal, but we need to try anyway. Surely not all of them hate my guts...”
Roland looked doubtful of that possibility. Ethan coughed.
“As you wish, my lord.”
...
The carriage was going through the town to his manor when Ethan received a letter from Jack—through one of his undead ravens—regarding the base spell’s situation. The man had been using himself as the nexus, and the spell was working, analyzing the blight-organism’s patterns, recording them, sending them back to the nexus (Jack), and then those instructions would be sent to the base spell in every soap. The process was costing the man quite some mana, and he’d been requesting a mana crystal so he could make it the nexus instead of himself.
Mana crystals were unique, naturally forming gemstones that were imbued with magical properties They formed in regions with a high concentration of mana, often in places where the veil between the physical and magical realms was thin. These regions typically formed deep underground, in caves or ancient ruins, making them difficult to access. The formation of a mana crystal itself a slow process. Over centuries, the ambient mana in these regions coalesces and crystallizes, forming these precious gemstones. The size, purity, and power of a mana crystal depend on the concentration of mana in the area and the length of time it has had to form.
Procuring mana crystals was a dangerous and costly endeavor because it required skilled miners and mages to safely extract the crystals without damaging them or causing magical backlash—it could even be called magical cancer. Worse yet, they could explode. Thus, all the mana crystal areas were akin to area-51 back on Earth. Heavily secured, well-guarded, with possibly several types of magical alarms and defenses to detect intruders, and these mines were watched very, very closely by whoever could. Once extracted, the crystals must be carefully handled and stored to prevent their magical energy from dissipating. Due to their rarity, power, and the difficulty in procuring them, mana crystals were highly valuable. Often used in powerful spells, magical research, and as a power source for magical devices.
The flow of Mana Crystals into the market is strictly controlled due to their potential for misuse—though, if Ethan was being true to himself, it was most likely so the crystals could be sold at exorbitant prices. Though, the “official” reasoning by the mining guilds was that in the wrong hands, a mana crystal could be used to fuel destructive spells or create forbidden magical artifacts. As such, governments and guilds often regulated their sale and distribution, requiring permits and licenses for their purchase and use.
That’s why it’s quite understandable that a mana crystal would be the best nexus. Thinking so, Ethan rubbed his chin. However, mana crystals are expensive...
Ethan wrote back to Jack, penning his concerns and reassuring Jack that he would try to get his hands on a mana crystal as soon as possible. However, it would take time as they’re hard to come by. Not to mention, they cost a hefty sum, and Ethan lacked money at the moment. I need a way to make it absolutely certain that Hector will agree to be an investor. I also need people in the Merchants Guild backing me up—
As he was writing to Jack, Ethan suddenly had an idea. He paused, blinking, staring at the raven. Hmmm. I wonder if I can use these little guys to gather dirt on nobles. The morality of doing such a thing was questionable, and he would rather not do it, but he was in a world that required such actions if he wanted to survive.
Ethan leaned back into the soft backrest inside the carriage, a pensive look on his face as his mind raced with possibilities. He knew the noble houses of the kingdom engaged in all manner of unsavory dealings—corruption, bribery, smuggling, tax evasion on a grand scale, illegal trade in magical artifacts, forced labor in hidden mines, pregnant prostitutes, bastard sons and daughters, and even human trafficking. Heck, he was sure many secretly engaged in trafficking exotic Beastkin from the other continent. A cold disgust settled in Ethan’s stomach. Some Noblewomen with harems of human-looking Beastkin for their amusement. Men who lusted after feline Beastkin, keeping them chained and collared, using their enhanced senses for perverse pleasures. Sadists, the entire lot of them.
The children of these unions were another layer of tragedy. Then there were the barbaric collectors, humans who craved the immense strength of the Minotaurs, using them as gladiatorial entertainment or worse, in underground fighting rings where blood painted the cobblestones—heck, he was sure many were breeding monstrous Chimera for use in their personal fighting ring. The Beastkin weren’t livestock, they were sentient beings, their cultures and traditions as rich and varied as any human kingdom. Yet, here, in the supposed bastion of civilization, they were nothing more than exotic commodities to fuel the insatiable desires of some of the elite.
Lucianos Solarian IV, the Emperor, had outlawed Beastkin trafficking decades ago, and the punishment for defiance was a brutal lesson etched in blood. The first year after Beastkin slavery and trafficking were outlawed was etched into history.
Public execution wasn’t harsh enough. Traffickers were broken first—physically and mentally. Men and women alike. Weeks of torture were standard, designed to make them not only regret their crimes but also serve as a terrifying public reminder of the Emperor’s wrath. Ethan shuddered. He’d heard about men and women being flayed alive, their screams echoing through the city squares. They were forced to march through the city squares, stripped of their finery and any magical glamours that masked their appearance, stoned. Their crimes were announced to the jeering crowds, their faces branded with a mark signifying their depravity. They were then forced into hard labor, their bodies broken and their vanity shattered.
Surely, the Emperor was no kind man, and the message was clear: Beastkin were not slaves, not pets, not trophies. They were sentient beings deserving of respect, and the Emperor would tolerate no violation of their rights. Theodore’s father was the same, Obsidian was one of the better Kingdoms under the Empire. Heck, it could be said to be the best.
However, just like always, people still participated in sick behavior. Not everyone, to be fair. But a minority, still. And given how large the Solaris Empire was—and not to mention the other Empires that were worse than Solaris—there were bound to be dark secrets that they would do anything to keep buried. It was just how things were, and Ethan doubted it would ever end (the continent of Beastkin wasn’t any better; humans were the ones exotic there).
Thus, Jack’s undead ravens could be the perfect spies, slipping into noble manors and gatherings unnoticed, their beady eyes and keen senses recording every sordid detail. With enough incriminating evidence, he could blackmail these nobles into supporting his business ventures, ensuring they backed his proposals and used their influence to aid the common folk. Ethan would feel no remorse, regret, or apprehension for doing. The thought of wielding such leverage would give him a significant advantage when he inevitably threw his hat into the political arena. He refused to be a mere pawn, manipulated by those with wealth and status.
This way, he could control the game from the start.
However, a nagging voice in the back of his mind cautioned him. Using necromantic summons for espionage was hardly an original idea. Surely, some of the more paranoid nobles would have measures in place to detect and counter such tactics. He would need to tread carefully, lest the ravens be discovered and his plans unraveled before they began.
Still, the potential rewards outweighed the risks. With careful planning and execution, he could amass a wealth of compromising information, giving him the power to shape the kingdom’s policies for the betterment of its people. It was an ambitious gambit, but one he felt was worth pursuing despite the moral wound he’d receive from doing it.
Then, when the time is right—I can report them to the Emperor.
Ethan’s gaze drifted back to the raven, its lifeless eyes seeming to bore into him.
A wry smile tugged at his lips. Let’s see what secrets you can uncover for me, my little friend. Thinking so, he added a line saying that he would like to meet Jack sometime and talk about a “business opportunity”—after all, talking about such illegal activities that he was thinking of doing wouldn’t be wise over a letter.
...
A pleasant surprise awaited Ethan in his manor. A middle-aged man in simple attire paced within the living room. He had light, close-cut brown hair and brown skin. The stranger had sharp features, a salt-and-pepper beard, and a kind face that seemed easy on the eyes. Upon seeing Ethan, the man’s features stretched into a deeper smile as he bowed.
“Lord Theodore. I am Derrick. My apologies for the unscheduled visit.”
“It’s alright. I’m not sure if we have met before, Sir Derrick,” Ethan responded, glancing at Roland who appeared to have recognized the man. Roland gave Ethan a look that said I know this man, and he’s here for business.
“Indeed, we haven’t, my lord. I am Derrick, and I used to be a member of the Red Tower. I come here to talk about introductory books that you might interested in—and a far better deal that could benefit the both of us.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow, then smiled.
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Synopsis:
An engineer from earth blends science and magic to achieve greatness in another world where skills and levels reign supreme.
—
Ethan was just a plain old engineer, but everything changed when he was reborn into a world of skills, levels, and magic. With his advanced knowledge far ahead of the time period he finds himself in, this new reincarnated life will be much different than his last, especially because he can construct, deconstruct, and reconstruct runes—something no one else can do.
But with royal politics, looming tax collectors, a mountain of debt, dungeon incursions, cults, and hostile fantasy races mixing together into a cocktail of bullshit that threatens to bury his dreams; Ethan must bridge the gap between steel and sorcery to grow stronger. — What to Expect:
- Weak to very strong progression with a Sword & Magic MC that kicks a whole lotta ass. - Fast pacing. A balance of action galore, politics, kingdom building, and slow-burn runecrafting. - Fun, satisfying moments. An extra shot of happiness when reading. Hardcore wish fulfillment. Hyper competent MC. - MC will trigger an industrial revolution, abolish slavery, revolutionize magic, modernize agriculture, communication, commerce, textile production, education, transportation, sanitation, weapons manufacturing, leisure & entertainment, and medicine. - Dark truths of a medieval-esque society going under change.
Join my Discord Server to have chat, bother me, ask me questions, or just genuine fun really - https://discord.gg/d57v5upvcx
First < Previous Next >

Chapter 10

Ethan surveyed the men before him, schooling his expression. Cedric was one of his advisors, a lean man, taller than the average in Holden, and wiry, but with the unmistakable long and callused fingers of someone well skilled with a bow. It was odd to see such features, but Ethan wasn’t one to point it out or talk about it. A perpetual worried crease etched between his brows; he shuffled a stack of parchments.
Beside him, Roland stood with a hand on the pommel of his sword—a habit Ethan had grown accustomed to. Leaning back, Ethan opened his mouth.
“Alright, gentlemen. Let’s get through this.”
Cedric cleared his throat. “First, my lord, the harvest report.” He unfolded the top parchment. “The rains were late this year, my lord. We’re looking at a significant shortfall in barley and oats.”
Ethan frowned. “Roland,” he switched focus. “The scouting report on the bandits? Has Sir Thomas revealed something? What about the brigands?”
“Sir Thomas has been tight-lipped. The brigands have been bolder, my lord. Spotted them harassing farmsteads near Holden’s western border.
“Have we identified the culprits?”
“No, my Lord. But they seem organized, well-equipped. Too well-equipped, I might say.”
Ethan drummed his fingers on the desk. This wasn’t your typical ragtag group of cutthroats, that much was clear. “Some sort of a group, then.”
“Yes.”
“Mobilize a patrol. Set a few archers down range. Kill the bandits on sight, we can’t have them acting bolder.”
Roland nodded, his chin bobbing, face emotionless.
“Any other news? Have we received word from the neighboring barons regarding the proposed trade agreement?” Ethan asked.
“Yes, my lord. Sir Jack informed me that one of his ravens returned this morning; he says they spotted two men bearing the crest of the crown—”
“Tax collectors,” Ethan interrupted. “They should already be in Siez by now, then.”
Siez was a city two weeks’ ride from Holden.
“Well then, we must do something about the harvest,” Ethan murmured. He had some ideas, but all of them would require money.
“As for trade... Everyone has denied, like usual. Lord Ashton has been with Holden since Lord Baelgard’s death, but even he appears hesitant now. Cites concerns about the quality of our goods.”
“Hmm. Excuses.” Ethan sighed. “He doesn’t want to work with us anymore. He’s likely receiving pressure; I don’t blame him. I’ve offended quite a lot of nobles in my... teen years.”
Ethan cleared his throat. “We’ll send another sample,” Ethan decided, his voice firm. “Along with a personal letter outlining the benefits of trade with Holden, only this time, including soap; I’m sure he’ll latch onto the opportunity if he has some foresight.”
Ashton was playing politics, but they couldn’t afford to alienate their only potential trading partner.
The rest of the morning was spent in a similar vein—discussing minor squabbles amongst the populace, a few dead bodies that were reported, potential repairs needed on the crumbling town walls, and other matters regarding Holden.
***
Ethan entered the space sectioned off by iron grills inside the quarantined house in the outskirts of Holden. Covering his in a mask, he stepped over the grills, into the open hall with rows of beds lining both sides. He was here to take a look at the patients and if they were getting treated. They were. Undoubtedly. Some even showed signs of recovery. They stood up spotting him, then bowed.
“Lord Theodore! What an honor!” A woman said, then burst into tears holding onto her daughter’s hand. “Thank you for letting me live, Lord.” She sobbed as she buried her face on the sleeping child.
Ethan frowned, feeling uncomfortable. They hadn’t gone past their third stages of the disease. They weren’t even on their second one. That was why it’d been easier to treat them.
“Yes, my lord,” a man joined them, speaking. “You’re the only noble that’s spared us peasants a glance. Truly, thank you.”
Feeling even more uncomfortable, Ethan gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “I only hope you all get better.”
They smiled as he smiled back through the mask. Ethan quickly made his way out, then furrowed his brows as he met Miller outside. “Miller, why have you not pulled out those that have recovered? Letting them stay inside would only get them infected again or cause their condition to worsen.”
Miller’s face turned white. “My—my lord, but—but we cannot just remove them!” He took a deep breath. “If we let them go, they could infect others in Holden. If those infected catch wind of their neighbors recovering, wouldn’t they try to force their way into quarantine just to get healed and recover?” His eyes turned shifty, showing some sort of apprehension and panic.
Ethan glared. “Miller, you’re smart, are you not?” He narrowed his eyes. “Get them out of here, as soon as possible. I ordered everyone infected be brought in, logistics be damned! I’m paying it out of my pockets! You need not worry about those that might be infected. What do you even mean? We’re constantly on the lookout, if we found someone, they’d be here already.”
“Yes, about that, my lord,” Miller said nervously, looking away. “People fear. Many would rather stay quiet than let others know if they’re infected. Plus, it’s easier said than done. My men would get attacked. Anyone can get killed easily, they’re not Classed. or a large horde of desperate people might push forward in an instant.”
Ethan didn’t say anything. Gulping, Miller continued.
“And, my men are too few. There are not enough men to patrol and get the affected. Not to mention people would riot against it, fearing their loved ones are getting slaughtered for some ritual and that there’s no salvation. Especially given that a few dead bodies have been found recently,” Miller bowed, swallowed. “Forgive me for saying this, my lord, but people do not trust you.”
Miller slumped against his chair, staring at the ceiling. Ethan silently took his seat, thinking over what Miller had said. In the end, he could only sigh. “Get every infected here, do not worry about aurums.” It costed a lot of money—aurums—to get people treated. However, it wasn’t that much. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Ethan changed the subject. “Miller,” Ethan said. “How’re tests going?”
Miller frowned, a finger on his chin as he hummed thoughtfully. “We’ve encountered an issue; mostly with the later stage tainted. We’d expected it, too, however, we need some kind of a solution.”
“What issue?”
“Their skin is rotting; we cannot just have them use soap and hot water to keep clean. There needs to be something to address their wounds directly, first.” Miller sighed. “A [Healer], perhaps. But they’re expensive, my Lord. I am not sure if that is what you would want. Not to mention, another issue is that Sir Jack has yet to build something he calls nexus—he says you would know what that is. He’s currently using himself as said nexus, but says he would need to talk to you on that matter later to figure out some solution.”
“Is that so?” Ethan hummed, reclining back into his chair. Hiring a [Healer] would indeed be a pain. He was already paying Jack quite the sum each day, not to mention the [Beast Tamer] he’d had to hire to take care of Wynd. If he were to hire a [Healer] now, it would make a dent on his pockets that he wouldn’t be able to recover from. Not to mention, he needed to worry more about the financial situation now—the tax collectors would be arriving sooner or later, and the Merchants Guild would want their debt paid with interest. He couldn’t be stuck in a rut of indebtedness forever.
That said, soap would be excellent for the majority of the populace, the only time there would be an issue would be when someone’s already at the stage where their flesh starts to rot. If there were something, he had to consider it*... Are there alternatives?*
Unlikely.
Ethan took a breath, then leaned back into his chair, steepling his hands. What do I currently need?
Money. Money would solve a lot of his issues. Ethan hummed, stood up, then turned on his heel and walked out. Before getting out, however, he looked over his shoulder. “Tell Jack to keep working on updating the base spell. Make it more efficient, if possible. Leave the rest to me.”
I’ll figure something out...
He needed to—he wanted to.
Roland stood outside the carriage, and as he saw Ethan approaching, he turned to him. “My Lord.”
“Roland, let’s go,” Ethan said, grabbing the carriage’s handle, pulling the door open, and climbing inside. “We have work to do.”
“As you wish, my Lord.”
Reclined against the cushioned seat of the carriage, Ethan hummed. The solution to getting more money was rather simple.
My masterpiece needs to hit the market. Ethan smiled.
***
Ethan settled into a routine; he’d wake up with the first rays of sunlight filtering through his window. He’d stretch, and feel the satisfying pops in his back before heading outside to find Wynd already waiting for him, tail wagging excitedly. They’d take a brisk run through the dewy field. Ethan would spend a good hour playing with Wynd. The [Beast Tamer] Grandma Millie had a natural connection with Wynd, and Ethan was learning to understand how to handle a wolf under her guidance. Ethan knew that Wynd wasn’t quite a normal magical beast, heck, he was sure that Wynd would sooner or later hit some kind of magical puberty that’ll sky rocket his intelligence and allow him to speak or whatever, but regardless of everything, learning how to handle him was a good move. He was, after all, quite like a pet right now.
Regardless, he’d practice the [Elemental Spells] he knew: fire and water.
One day, he finally leveled it up.
[Elemental Spells] — Lvl 9 -> Lvl 10!
Warning: Level cap for [Elemental Spells] reached; satisfy the conditions to upgrade [Elemental Spells].
Interesting. Ethan thought, rubbing his chin. However, given that there was no information, he was confused so as to how to satisfy said conditions. I will figure it out, he shrugged, for now, I need to learn the other elements first.
Aside from that particular day’s highlight, his routine would continue as usual. After a satisfying breakfast, it would be time to get down to business. He’d perfected the basic soap recipe, and now it was time to ramp up production. With the success in making the first batch of soap, and the thought of making money, quick, in his mind, he’d started working extra hard to get more soap made. He found himself busier than ever. He’d sit in there for hours and create rune motes after rune motes. One by one, they’d materialize on top of his palms, swirling tiny fireflies.
Just like usual, one particular day, he was creating rune motes.
Ten… twenty… thirty… his brow furrowed in concentration.
Forty… fifty… and then, sixty rune motes. [Basic Rune Creation] skill leveled up, too, and a satisfied grin spread across his face the two times it did level up.
[Basic Rune Creation] – Lvl 5 -> Lvl 6!
[Basic Rune Creation] – Lvl 6 -> Lvl 7!
The number of motes he could create and the speed at which he did it had noticeably improved after each level. It drained his mana reserves daily. He’d often find himself with a dull ache behind his eyes, but he’d pushed on regardless, ignoring the beginnings of a headache and sometimes it’d blow into a full-blown migraine due to his stubbornness.
One such afternoon, as he slumped, massaging his temples, an idea struck him.
“Meditation,” he murmured. Perhaps focusing his mind inward, like calming a churning lake, could help manage his mana pool. It was usually like that in those novels he used to read back in middle school.
The first few days were frustrating. He sat cross-legged on a cushion, eyes closed, trying to clear his mind, but his thoughts kept flitting back to the ever-growing pile of soap base and the dwindling supply of rune motes (Jack hadn’t disappointed him, after all; the man was fast and his money’s worth, if not more. In fact, Ethan found it harder to keep up). Just as he was getting frustrated, a warmth bloomed within him, a gentle hum that resonated deep within something he could only describe as a core. He cracked open his eyes, a surprised gasp escaping his lips.
A notification appeared before him.
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First story is about my mom’s close friend. Her husband was a politician so he travelled a lot but one day his wife had a bad feeling and kept telling him don’t travel to this town, at first he insisted it’s work he has to go but when he saw how worried she was he canceled but on the morning of the meeting he suddenly told her he was going to the airport he couldn’t miss the meeting, he was late and a random guy at the airport kept trying to get his attention and telling him not to get on the plane but he refused and his wife was like listen to the man but he said no and got in. Less than 20mins after the plane took off it crashed, her was the last person to get on the plane and the first body they found. My mom was the one that broke the news to her friend she says she still feels terrible about it because she didn’t know as the friend had told her the husband had canceled his trip.
Second story is about my aunt and her husband, he once in a while goes to visit his step kids, she had no issues with this but his last trip she kept telling him to wait and not go, he waited but something came up with his step kids and he had to go suddenly, she was still against but he still went 3 days later his step kids called to tell her her husband had died but how he died was a bit sketchy he was healthy before he left and then suddenly he had really bad stomach ache after eating and then died? Also someone close to them gossiped that his step kids actually laughed at him till he took his last breath and refused to call an ambulance or take him to the hospital saying he deserved it for giving his other kids more attention. His last words before he died was please let me talk to my son, that’s my aunts son and they just laughed and said no. What’s worse was they called my cousin and told him about it mocking him and did I mention they left his dead body there for two days it wasn’t until a neighbor found out and yelled at them that they even tried to do something, their excuse was they couldn’t find anything to wrap the dead body so they were gonna leave it there till they did. Two of his step sons didn’t even attend the funeral and the other one who went didn’t even seem remorseful and a week later they came and they seemed way to happy for someone who was mourning someone they claimed to have loved
TLDR: first story is about my mom’s friend who told her husband not to travel because she had a bad feeling and he ended up dying in a plane crash. Second story is about my aunt’s husband who possibly got killed or just a coincidental death after she also insisted he shouldn’t travel. More details is above

Okay so I’m having a lot of anxiety right now. A couple of years ago I got a really bad viral infection and woke up in the middle of the night and vomited mucus. I’m thinking it was because of all the extra mucus my body was producing and it was all going into my stomach and it was too much for it to handle. But this has now created a fear for me whenever I get post nasal drip from a cold or allergies.
Anyway I’ve been having on and off nasal symptoms this week , maybe because of the change in weather (it’s winter here in Australia) but tonight I noticed that I’m having a lot of post nasal drip and I’m constantly swallowing phlegm. I’m getting so anxious that I will have another throwing up episode due to the constant phlegm I’m swallowing. Im really anxious guys, how common is it to vomit from this?

Whenever I used to get a cold it would slow me down for sure but I would never feel like I do now. I would get maybe a sore throat and a cough but that was it. Now when I get colds it’s never bad enough to go to the hospital or anything but it knocks me down for sure. My whole body aches now. Anytime I get sick my joints feel inflamed and stiff and I’m out of breath. I have yet to be diagnosed but I was wondering if this happens to anyone else?

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional/expert and nothing here should be construed as medical advise but simply sharing of insights. Would love if we could share some among us!
33F and currently on day two. Cycles are regular but it always comes with period pain on day 1 & some more on day 2. Feels like i've tried to plan my life around non-period days ever since I got my first one.
• had terrible period pain as a teen, along with nausea and actual throwing up when it got bad. Lower belly ache. Back ache and legs aching got included as I got older, altho stomach ache got more manageable.
• remember having a healthier diet one cycle (as a teen) cos it was the summer holidays and my aunt insisted she take care of me with various home remedies and the pain was more manageable (had citrus fruits everyday and hibiscus flowers blended with milk)
• once I moved out for work I stopped having dairy and I think that's the reason why the pain wasn't as debilitating anymore, but it still existed
• the soaked raisins ritual definitely helped some more with the pain
• seed cycling was a GAME CHANGER in terms of having realllly manageable period experiences like my cycle was better (went from 26 days to 28 days) with PMS being much milder
• I either didn't know to identify PMS symptoms earlier or it only got worse as I got older, not sure which is true
• took effort to improve my relationship with my own body, literally self talked to my uterus and my reproductive system and tried to embrace the bodily functions that were happening on their own with more grace and love. I think it's so important. We shouldn't be hating/having a negative association with something that happens in such regular frequency.
• recently came to the conclusion that my emotional and physical health that cycle is reflected in how my period occurs. But then sometimes it doesn't make complete sense either, what can I say
• did yoni steaming once (be very very careful if you ever try this by diy) and it was honestly such a therapeutic beautiful experience! I like to think the period the next time was smooth and nice but it could've been due to any other thing too
• having a difficult time using menstrual cups but I love my cloth pads, been using them for a year now
• use panty liners/cloth panty liners when you're expecting your period or for light flow days like 4 to 6, it's so much more light and airier
• while I agree that this is very controversial, period segregation is practised at home and while it is not as strict at my mother's, at my husband's house I'm to keep to myself in whatever place is comfortable for me and in all honesty I really appreciate the rest and the break from household duties no matter how small. This happens for day 1 2 & 3.
• I've noticed that moving around at work def helps keep my mind off smaller discomforts related to period so they're right when they say exercise helps manage period cramps
• I always keep a few painkillers in my purse even tho I've used them for a total of 2 times my entire life. The tablets reassure me that should things get really bad and I'm at work and can't rest/sleep it off, I can always rely on them. Smh.
To conclude, I wish we didn't have to go by such experiments and uncertainty to deal with these monthly functions and that there was proper research, help and medication available to us to make life easier. Meanwhile please learn more about your bodies and get to know what does and does not work for you, empower yourself with more knowledge.

After 15 months, I decided to give moderation a try. I’ve had 4 days in the last two weeks where I drank, never more than 2 drinks. Newsflash: it’s not worth it. I may have gotten a tiny little buzz that felt relaxing for 30 minutes or something, I guess because my tolerance is now so low. But even with just a drink or two, as soon as the alcohol wore off, which was before I went to bed because I drank so little, I felt like crap - mild stomach ache, headache, etc. My sleep suffered and I mentally feel disappointed in myself. I’m glad I haven’t had a full on relapse but not willing to take that chance. I just see no point at all in trying moderation. Time to nip this in the bud. I think having 15 months sober was the only thing that kept me in check a little.

Hi all,
I'm a 32 year old male living in Australia who has suffered debilitating IBS symptoms since I was about 18. After a long journey with flop dietitians, fodmaps, inconclusive colonoscopies etc, I've managed to find a diet that works for my bowel movements, reflux and regulating stress. But my main issue has always been the severe bloating. I'm a thin guy, and every day around 2-4pm I start to inflate to a 9 months pregnant level. It's sometimes so bad I can't physically walk or prepare myself dinner. I've only just seen HERE that not being able to burp and excessive bloating obviously go hand in hand, so im considering my next steps.
Another thing which maybe other people have experienced is emetophobia. At a young age this affected me severely, despite never actually vomiting. The last time I threw up was when I was 4 years old. However when I drink alcohol, I basically pass out and heave burps and shake uncontrollably, which makes me believe a lot of the intolerance is some like excess gas poisoning. I do believe the early childhood fear had some physiological symptoms in restricting my throat. I also had issues in puberty where my voice didn't break properly for 4-5 years, basically stuck sounding like I have a bad cold, and I'm wondering if that was related to a narrow or restricted throat. In adulthood often my worse symptom is nausea, which I think now is due to excessive gas that I can't relieve.
Right now my main treatment is dietary, and I've been working with Unique Hammond and Karen Hurds dietary recommendations. I recommend anyone interested in dealing with reflux or IBS or hormonal issues to look into their work with an open mind. Their nutritional work has put peoples chrons disease into remission, cured Ibs and GERD, increased fertility, cured arthritis, the list goes on. In a nutshell, it involves eating beans and psylium husk seperately from fats. It sounds counterintuitive with us gassy folks but for me beans when eaten correctly don't cause any way near as much gas issues as other foods.
In a nutshell their working hypothesis is overly acidic bile can move back up into the stomach (causing reflux), and move down into the colon causing irritation and ulceration. The body recycles our old bile at a rate of about 95% through a process called enterohepatic recirculation, and we can actually recycle bile that is harming us. Soluble fibre in beans and psylium bind to these acids so that they can be excreted, and new bile is made. It also binds to hormones like cortisol and adrenaline, so the diet in itself helps the body stop recycling stress hormones. As someone who spent years in fight or flight, daily panic attacks, constant diorrhoea, this way of eating has noticeably reduced symptoms and I'm now 4 years off of antidepressants.
That being said I'm not as strict with the diet as I'd like to be as the initial gut healing phase is incredibly brutal. And for all the progress I have made having normal formed regular bowel movements, the flatulence (while vastly improved) still causes me issues and frankly great suffering.
Regarding Botox I'm always uncertain whether the hiccups and stuck air is just reflux. So I'm nervous to get Botox if it just leads to more reflux. But reading about people's experiences with things like alcohol, I feel massively seen. Half of a beer will NUKE me. I drink once a year or so and its always painful. While I'm glad to be living in sobriety I always struggle with caffeine, which causes huge bloating. Has anyone done Botox and been able to drink coffee again without bloating?
I'm considering seeing Dr Paddle in Melborune but I don't have private health. Does anyone know what kind of costs I might incur?
That's all for me for now. But I'm excited to spend more time reading the sub and hearing about your stories while I figure out what's right for me. I'd love to hear more about your diets and what you've used to manage excessive gas!

Not sure if anyone can have some input. I'm away at the moment and recently turned 29 weeks. Second pregnancy everythings been fine so far. Baby is a little on the small side this time. 13th centile.
I feel dizzy, drained a bit faint and it's making me feel sick. My necks ached a bit. I dip test my own urin due to chronic Cystitis so I test for signs of infection. I'm really prone to them and have already been on antibiotics early pregnancy due to one.
My protein comes up pale in the middle and green on the outside.
Do you think it's worth getting checked out?
No headaches, no flashing lights or anything like that.
Eddit update
Sat after being seen by the midwife.
Everything seems ok, no protein blood pressure is really good. Only thing they found is it might be a uti.
Got to wait for the doctor. Which is a 4 hour wait 😩

We all know that familiar but unwelcome feeling of a stomach ache. Figuring out how to make it go away can be tricky because many different things can cause abdominal pain. Indigestion after a spicy meal, constipation, a nasty GI bug, and even sometimes sexually-transmitted infections (STIs) are all possible causes of abdominal pain. So how worried about STIs should you be the next time you have abdominal pain? Keep reading to learn more about which STIs can cause abdominal pain.

Given that you are experiencing a wide range of symptoms associated with chronic Lyme disease, including a history of a bullseye rash (erythema migrans) which is a hallmark of Lyme disease, it is important to seek medical attention promptly.
Here's a summary of your reported symptoms:

1. Fatigue
2. Joint pain and swelling
3. Muscle aches
4. Headaches
5. Cognitive issues (e.g., memory problems, difficulty concentrating)
6. Sleep disturbances
7. Neurological problems (e.g., numbness, tingling, facial palsy)
8. Heart issues (e.g., palpitations, chest pain)
9. Mood changes (e.g., anxiety, depression)
10. Fever and chills (in the past)
11. Swollen lymph nodes
12. Eye inflammation or vision changes
13. Sensitivity to light
14. Neck stiffness
15. Digestive problems (e.g., nausea, abdominal pain)
16. Dizziness or imbalance
17. Shortness of breath (maybe)
18. Rash (bullseye in the past)
19. Flu-like symptoms

These symptoms suggest a possible Lyme disease infection that may have progressed to a chronic state. It is crucial to get a thorough evaluation from a healthcare provider who can perform the necessary tests and provide an accurate diagnosis and appropriate treatment. If Lyme disease is confirmed, early and adequate treatment can help manage symptoms and prevent complications.

I'll start by saying I did read the intro guide, I'm looking to clarify things.
I am 37 year old female, mom of two. I finally got into the doctor's for blood work sighting extreme fatigue, low grade fevers, body aches, joint issues, mouth sores, headaches, tingling in feet.
I did come back b12 deficient - their low end scale starts at 232 and I was at 100. I also have low iron and moderate anemia (10.1).
The doctor hasn't called me back about lab work for a week. I feel like hell and I'd like some guidance.

1. I know injections are ideal, but I'd like to start oral asap while I wait. What formulation and how much?
   
2. How do I incorporate folate with this? Do I take them at the same time?
   
3. How do I incorporate iron supplement?
   

I just air fried 30 or so mini corn dogs and now I'm beginning to feel an impending sense of doom as my stomach gradually digests the low quality meat and my body starts to ache, the thundering sky outside my door the perfect symphony to accompany what I believe to be the most vile events of which I don't wish upon my worst enemy.
I'm currently awaiting to see if my doom will arrive or if I'm being paranoid and overly dramatic, will update later.

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It had been a few weeks since Altier was brought to the run-down shack that his black-scaled companion likely called home, and he could now comfortably say he was accustomed to the…household’s routine. The kobold typically left at the crack of dawn, returned a little after noon, and occasionally left again to forage until nightfall. When the weather was bad or there wasn’t a particular need for something, they half-heartedly chased their rabbit around for a bit, which usually ended with a bout of quiet petting while everyone got ready for the night. It was always amusing to see the energetic side of what he had come to know as a relatively lazy loaf of an animal. As for the routine of the ferrorabbit in question… Well…it was at least more interesting than expected.
Hoppit would begin his own series of activities as soon as his caretaker left—the first of which being a check of every nook and cranny in the shed. He sniffed at anything that caught his interest, varying from morning to morning, but he gave every object or corner its due attention. Once he was satisfied with that, he would eat some of the ragged plants that made up most of his diet, take a drink from his bowl, then jump onto the tro— table and plop himself down, his ears pivoting towards the door. It was hard to say if the lounging spot had been established before Altier’s arrival, but it was somewhat amusing to pretend that the little rabbit was standing guard over his core—if it wasn’t for one particular part of the morning ritual, that is.
Indeed, the ferrorabbit had a habit of licking the obsidian orb that sat in the middle of the room, which thankfully didn’t seem to perturb the system enough to give Altier a headache. He was confused when it first happened, but it was commonplace enough now that he barely acknowledged it. A part of him liked that he was getting attention as a core, even if it was delivered via a strange grooming method. The closest he got to being acknowledged as something other than ‘the dungeon’ was through an unfortunate misunderstanding that he could never properly rectify. He supposed that was hardly worth thinking about now, though; too much time had passed for there to be anyone left to correct. The little oddity of his mornings would have to suffice.
There wasn’t much to comment on as far as the rest of the day’s happenings. Hoppit would end his loafing by shaking his head and ears in a way that filled the silence with soft clacks, give the core a customary tongue bath, then jump off the table to nose his way out of the shed through a hole that was hidden by the storage cart against the wall. Where the rabbit went was anyone’s guess, but he always returned before anyone noticed he was gone, and often did so while covered in small cuts and scratches. Any blood from the lacerations was quickly licked off before it could be seen by the kobold, and in the event that the scaly caretaker happened to return earlier than expected, Hoppit would scurry over to the bundles of blankets to finish the cleanup in secret.
Today looked to be following the usual pattern. The kobold left bright and early with various gardening tools and a wooden pail, and Hoppit had since set off into the great unknown for one reason or another. Hopefully, he returned less injured than usual. It was frustrating to admit that Altier had begun to grow rather fond of the fluffy creature, and seeing the thing come back hurt was bothersome. Was it off looking for food? There wasn’t a whole lot given to it, so that was a possibility, and it could be getting into fights over whatever it found. That still didn’t explain why the animal was so thin, and Altier didn’t have enough to go off of to think of a potential solution. He wanted to help it in some way, like by summoning a creature to act as an escort, or maybe just by manifesting something edible like he once could. No, he could only stare at the ‘Synchronizing…’ that occupied his menu, wishing he had more information to work with.
He never thought he would miss the bombardment of notifications and their lingering presence that filled the edge of his mental vision; at least with that he could surmise enough to hazard some kind of action. Even knowing why the menu was acting the way it did would be a start. Yet, try as he might, there wasn’t a history for him to reference anymore, and he had nothing to work with. He was confident the last message had asked him to ‘accept’ something, then took his befuddled ponderance as an answer, but he was no closer to an explanation for what it wanted, nor why it prompted him in the first place. He just didn’t have another experience to compare against, since nothing like that had ever happened before. Not that he was ever in much of a position to allow it.
The entire purpose of having Altier inhabit a core was for him to become a dungeon of Decay, which entailed all the skeletons, poisons, acids, and whatever else came to mind when one pictured the concept. ‘Living’ creatures were something he only had the chance to experiment with near the beginning of his new existence, though he never dabbled past the first few insects before transitioning to the mindless undead. Having a thinking, feeling, breathing entity touch his core was a rite reserved only for the adventurers and soldiers that bested his trials, and that was usually a painful experience. Now, he had spent what he could only guess was hours being held by a kobold, followed by having a rabbit bump against him, and neither felt like what he came to expect. Instead, both had led to a completely novel reaction from the system. The strange circumstances put him at a bit of a loss as to what it all meant for him.
Sure, he could dismiss the deluge of errors from his companion’s involvement by pointing to the numerous ‘corrupted’ messages before it, and Hoppit was a part of mostly unexplored territory, but the lack of clarity nagged at the back of his mind constantly. Being exposed to activity after potential decades or centuries of unchanging solitude made him despise the informational dead end. If he couldn’t make sense of the rabbit’s circumstances, then he didn’t have much hope of deciphering the reason for why his system was misbehaving so terribly. He also didn't know much about the one who owned the decrepit holdings he was housed inside.
He still wasn’t sure what drove the kobold to take him from the cave. His suspicion of becoming traded goods fell flat after the first week or so, and he hadn’t noticed any cult-like behaviour, which was promising. Granted, a lack of nefarious behaviour didn’t mean there was a lack of nefarious intent, but he didn’t get the impression his companion held that either. The kobold itself didn’t seem quite settled on an opinion of his core, though it was up for debate if the hesitation was due to knowing what he was or not. They seemed to mull something over before bed each night, yet never reached a satisfactory conclusion, staring at the obsidian orb through weary grey eyes until they eventually forced themselves into sleep.
Whatever the underlying reasoning for his abduction was, he had observed enough to know that the kobold didn’t deserve to live in destitution. As beaten as the shed might be, they cared for it as best they could, and did so without a single groan or grimace of complaint. The floors were cleaned with a tattered rag and fresh water, dust was removed regularly, and any stray mess that Hoppit made was dealt with promptly. They even took the time to wipe off his core, which was possibly where the ferrorabbit got the idea to start licking him. The only time Altier had seen discontent from the kobold was when they didn’t find much during their foraging, and thus couldn’t give any treats to the excited and bouncy herbivore.
He wasn’t aware that a creature’s face could make such a painfully broken expression, and he was quick to decide that he never wanted to see it again.
Vexingly, his metaphorical hands were tied; a dungeon could only influence their Domain, and given the state of his system, not even that option was available to him. All he could do was glare at the rotting wooden beams that held up the roof and remember when such an issue didn’t exist. It would have taken a mere flicker of thought and a paltry sum of mana to mend the struts when he was a proper dungeon. He could even outright reinforce the structure by weaving in other materials, leaving the appearance as it was while making everything stronger than iron. Well, he once could. Working with other affinities was something that came to him after absorbing the coloured motes left behind by adventurers, and the accursed stone that stole his mana had taken that ability as well.
An attempt was made anyway, his will ordering the deteriorated wood to absorb any trace metals from the ground, but it was no use. He couldn’t feel the iron or stones beneath the shed like he would have been able to before, all but confirming his suspicion that his connection to the Earth element had slipped away. Nature was much the same; the only way he knew when Hoppit had returned most days was from the subtle noise and the essence of injury. The other attributes—Air, Flame, Luma, Shadow, and so on—were ones he never experimented with to any real extent, so it was less noticeable when he lost his grasp on them. Perhaps they faded early. Either way, all he had left was a waning cognizance of his own alignment, and that wasn’t of much use to him. If he had any appreciable mana income, then perhaps he could do something, but he wasn’t even sure what the upkeep of his current Domain might be. It was entirely possible that he was running on a deficit, which would offer a reason for why his system had been so—
[Do#$@n Ex@#d$%^&d! CRe@#r H-H-H-HoPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP—]
[Errrrrrr—]
[Sy$%^hroni%^$zing…]
[Creeee-tu— Hoppit ha@$ esttttb-hed terrrrrrr-ity f^#% t$e dun@&$n!]
- - - - -
“Well then,” he mumbled to himself, taking in the strange scene behind the shed. For one, he could actually view a small distance beyond the structure now, and two, there was a rather proud-looking Hoppit sitting on his haunches before a pair of significantly less prideful examples of the species. They looked quite a bit bigger than the lazy loaf Altier had come to know, yet they were more cut up and dejected than his furry friend. That answered where the injuries had been coming from, he supposed. Hoppit was probably running off to bash heads with whatever animal population existed here beforehand, and they had only just reached a consensus on who was in charge. Impressive.
One of Hoppit’s ears turned back towards the shed, his head following suit as he gave a lagomorph’s approximation of a ‘Look what I did!’ smile. Altier blanked out mentally, but didn’t have time to question anything before the new leader of the local rabbits imperiously pointed a paw towards the surrounding forest, which was equally surreal to witness. Most surprising of all, the…subordinates? The other ferrorabbits did as commanded, keeping their forms small as they took off into the foliage. Soft clacks came from Hoppit’s pleased shake of his head, then he too left the area with only a slightly lopsided bounce to his stride.
The man-turned-core could only gape at what he saw. Were animals always so…expressive? Had Hoppit heard him? What in the world was happening? Why had Hoppit’s personal conquest led to Altier’s Domain expanding?
He lamented not having fingers, nor temples to rub with them. His system was a garbled mess of errors and inconsistent messages, his residence was falling apart at the seams, his companion was someone who abducted him from the dungeon, yet never did anything past that, and his first real experience with an animal was turning out to be more confusing than he thought possible.
All of this was after an unknown amount of time spent commanding legions of undead to strengthen the very people who he would later learn had lied to and manipulated him, making him into a nightmarish entity just to bolster the power of their forces. He almost missed the days spent gazing out of a mossy window. At least then he knew what to expect.
Nothing made sense anymore.
= = = = =
The soft sound of roots ripping free from soil suddenly stopped, only to be followed by a dull thud of Ceele’s palm slapping against the ground to catch her fall before she landed on her rear. She righted herself with her tail and tossed the stubborn weed into a pile with the others. No matter how many mornings she did this, they always seemed to replace themselves faster than she could remove the pesky things. A sigh slipped from her muzzle as she set about grabbing the next one embedded in the vegetable garden.
Aches and spreading stiffness flared up, but went ignored as she neared the end of her duties, though she was well aware that they would come back with force once she tried to settle down for the day. The impending soreness was an inevitable byproduct of spending so much time working. Still, she knew that if it wasn’t for the kindly old couple that allowed her to call their shed home, she would still be sleeping beneath the stars while making sure nothing tried to get at her Hoppit. Even if it was just a part of the deal, they were owed this much in return, and she would see it done properly.
The sun bore down on her back as she did her usual tasks, which was a departure from the slightly overcast weather as of late. It looked somewhat promising when she checked in the wee hours of the morning, yet as her gardening duties dragged on, so too did the intensity of such a clear sky. A disappointed glance at the empty wooden bucket on the edge of the field was quickly corrected. She hadn’t thought to refill it at the river after watering the crops, and her parched throat was making its protests known, while also reminding her that there wasn’t much water left at home either. One more thing to take care of when she was done.
A gruff cough brought her attention towards the old kobold resting his back against a tree some distance away, safely shaded from the unforgiving rays beaming down. Her displeasure at having yet more to do was hastily wiped away. She was undecided on what to think of the detached audience, but looking so sour while upholding her side of the agreement wouldn’t reflect well on her. Hopefully, he hadn’t seen it. Not that she could tell if he did; he always had the same expression when he watched her work. The elder kobold’s arms were crossed, a finger tapping absently against his bicep, while his tail sat motionless on the grass, the muddy red colour of his scales standing out amongst the greens and browns. ‘Makis,’ was his name, assuming her memory served.
Makis had taken to observing her every so often, usually propping himself against this or that at a distance, the unwavering scowl being as unnerving as it was belying of his age. Somewhat loose skin sagged a bit around his jowls and neck, yet the rest of his face was still taut from how much time he spent examining red-hot metal, and his arms were marred with countless burns and cuts from his profession. He held an oppressive aura, though the crinkles around his eyes and muzzle suggested he smiled as frequently as he glowered, even if Ceele was yet to see the former. There was only the same judgmental expression aimed at her when he was around. She could only hope that he didn’t take offence to some unintended slight, but she didn’t know him well enough to say what might be considered one.
They hadn’t spoken since she took up residence on the outskirts of his land. His wife was the one to introduce them, but it was quickly established that he had no intention of being a chatty individual. He led Ceele to the shed hidden amongst the trees on the edge of the property, then dismissed her with only a grunt coming from the elderly kobold. She supposed that it was for the best. Her experience in socializing was centred around convincing others to employ her, and there hadn’t been much of an opportunity to expand her horizons while living a life on the road. If that had been the end of their interactions, she would have swiftly written the terseness off, but he appeared every few days, taking up residence beneath the shade as he watched her work, never speaking a single word. At least he didn’t openly protest her presence, yet she figured that would be easier to manage. He wouldn’t be such an enigma then.
There wasn’t a whole lot she knew about him besides his penchant for ‘supervision,’ and anything beyond that was what his wife had volunteered during the rare opportunity they had to chat. She was told that Makis worked the smithy out front, and although he had retired from doing so in an official capacity, she could still regularly hear his hammer as she tended to the garden, so she figured he kept himself busy most days. It made her wonder what was so interesting about a vagrant like herself, but when there was so little else to do, she could see how anything could be made worth the attention. It was just him and his wife living in the once bustling home, after all; the couple’s children had long since grown up and made families of their own.
She noticed his gaze shift elsewhere as she tugged yet another stubborn intruder from the soil, his arms falling from across his chest and the perpetually worn displeasure melting to that of curiosity. He wandered off shortly after, and she had to make an effort not to fall onto her tail as the pressure on her shoulders unexpectedly evaporated. Did something happen?
Ceele shook her head free of the distracting thought. It wasn’t her business if he grew bored with watching her work. As long as no one voiced any complaints, she could only assume that she was doing a satisfactory job. Maybe he finally decided that he didn’t need to be so watchful because she was doing well! That could be it, right?
A glance at the somewhat sloppily maintained garden erased the false confidence from her face, but she was just as quick to focus on finishing up, unwilling to allow darker musings to fester. Thankfully, there didn’t seem to be anything else that needed her intervention. The weeds were all uprooted, the soil was appropriately dampened, and her check for pesky insects or wildlife turned up nothing to worry about. She was free for the rest of the day!
…Or she would be free—as soon as she finished the last of her tasks, anyway.
The black-scaled kobold got up from her crouch unsteadily, shivering and wincing from the pins and needles in her legs. She would have to remember to stretch more often; it was far too easy to forgo that kind of thing just to make the overall work go slightly faster. Her hand reached out to grab the pile of weeds and put them into the bucket as she ran through what needed to be done before she could properly relax. Hoppit’s food needed to be washed, she needed to bathe, and they were running low on water anyway, so she would have to visit the river. Just the thought of dragging herself into the forest again made her muscles protest, but she wouldn’t have the energy to do it later. She forced the smile that had started to fall and took the first of many steps.
- - - - -
The river wasn’t too far away, only taking a few minutes of traipsing through the dense woodlands until she reached her destination. It was an idyllic little spot. The trees thinned out to allow a grassy bank along the water, and there was an appreciably gentle slope from shallows to depths, making for a convenient place to take care of various needs. She had discovered this place during her travels, and it was where a kind older woman found her.
Ceele was washing off at the time, with Hoppit safely taking shelter from the outside underneath the bundled blankets while he waited. The trickle of the stream brushing against rocks covered the sound of footsteps, so she was rather surprised when an aged voice called out to ask if she was okay. Her first reaction was to distance herself and apologize—the why didn’t matter, but she had learned that most people were more lenient of her presence if she seemed apologetic for it, and she usually was. The elderly kobold just laughed at her scrambling, tacking on an assurance that there was no need for modesty. The woman was blind, apparently, which explained how Ceele’s blackened colours hadn’t deterred her.
Strangely enough, there was a comforting sense of ease around the one who introduced herself as Hira. It was a sort of presence that Ceele could only vaguely remember, and it drew her close enough to speak as she finished bathing. The conversation wasn’t anything profound, of course—they hardly delved deeper than surface-level small talk—but Hira lost her smile as she listened to the younger kobold. By the end of it, the old woman posed a series of questions with a dark inflection to her voice, and Ceele struggled to find an answer.
‘Are you tired of looking for something that only slips away? Are you tired of running? Do you really want to be scared and alone?’
If the silence bothered Hira, then it didn’t show. She had simply held out a hand and offered Ceele a way of life that didn’t involve wondering where she would be spending the night, nor entailed cowering in the brush while fearsome predators roamed freely. It would be a simple existence of few fortunes, but it was safe, and it was honest. All she had to do was say yes.
Ceele denied it at first, partially because she knew most people despised Hobbit's species, and partially because she couldn’t shake the offer being too good to be true. Hira was quick to propose a compromise; Ceele could take residence in the gardening shed that had fallen from use, and to satiate the nagging sense of an unfair deal, she would be put in charge of maintaining the garden itself. All Hira wanted was to ‘see’ her favourite space bloom again, since she couldn’t take care of it anymore. The black-scaled kobold stared longingly at where Hoppit was, his little body shivering from the prolonged cold and fear that he would be hurt if he left the blankets hiding him. It was with a heavy guilt that she accepted Hira’s offer, keeping quiet about her true reason for doing so.
That was in the past, however, though she thought about it every time she stopped by and saw the smooth rocks where she and Hira first met. Eventually, she might gather the courage to admit that she was housing a ‘pest’ and beg for forgiveness. Until then, she would just work her hardest to prove it wasn’t a mistake to give her a home. That her endless efforts weren’t meaningless. That Hoppit deserved to be more than a ‘pest.’
That Ceele was more than something she had no control over being.
She cleared her head a bit and started on the reason she came all this way. Her dress was rather easy to wash in the meandering water, and the trees provided a suitable place for it to dry in the sunlight and light breeze. The weeds were fine with a thorough rinse near in the shallows, but taking care of her own hygiene required her to wade farther in, though it only came up to her chest in the middle of the rill. Still, she could scrub off the soil and grime, which was all she really needed. Perhaps some simple soaps would help rid her of the pervasive black that stained her skin and scales, but that was beyond her meagre means for the time being, as well as being mere wishful thinking.
She worked past the dreary mindset that settled in when she allowed it, focusing on how serene the river was. The soft birdsong from the trees helped make for a peaceful experience, and she could feel the somewhat chilled liquid basically pour into the aches and pains throughout her body, washing away the stiffness from spending so long under the unerring sun. It was nice to escape reality and let thoughts drift while held buoyant by calmer waters.
Yet the bliss was short-lived. Even if winter was gone, spring was still far from warming the waters enough for her to laze about for too long. She dragged herself from the soft current and fetched her dress from the low-lying branch she left it to dry on. It was still a touch damp, but it wasn’t anything a bit of time in front of the fireplace wouldn’t fix.
Ceele was only a short distance away from home when she heard a gravelly male voice, but it was the flicker of sight between the trees that made her drop what was in her arms and lunge into a sprint.
Makis stood just outside the gardening shed, a ferrorabbit held at arm’s length by rusty crimson hands placed on the scruff and haunch, the rabbit’s little ears flattened as fear filled its tiny face. Her eyes widened further when she noticed the small stains of blood in his light brown fur. They found out about him. Ephemeral claws of blackness clutched at her soul, ripping the very fabric she was made of as an unseen beast smiled, eager to take yet one more thing from her. Her Hoppit. Her baby. Her everything.
“Hoppit!” she shrieked, her words all but tearing out of her throat in desperation. Frozen blood coursed through her veins, yet poured into exhausted limbs. She broke through the treeline with no regard for the branches slashing against her flesh, panic making each sting fade before it could be processed. The grizzled glare of the older kobold snapped towards her, his usual scowl picking up an actual air of intensity that she never thought could be absent, the promise of violence lurking in his eyes. She skidded to a stop a few paces away, the lump in her throat threatening to clog her airway. “S-stop hurting him!”
“Didn’t,” he barked back, his tone even yet firm. “Cuts ain’t me. I’d’a done worse if’a had ta mind ta.”
The blatant declaration snapped her from blind panic, although his apparent anger didn’t do her fear any favours. “B-but… Then how…”
“‘Hoppit.’ Named it, did’cha?” he grunted, ignoring her confusion and bobbing the rabbit to get her attention again. His gaze shifted back to the animal, the flames of ire cooling slightly. “I was wonderin’ why yer plots ain’t dead yet. Suppose this critter’s why.”
One of her hands hesitantly reached out until she pulled it back, while the other clutched at her chest to stop her heart from hammering against her ribs. She couldn’t act rashly. Not while her baby was in his arms. “I—”
“Soft thing, ain’t it,” the elder kobold commented curiously, cutting her off.
“Y-yes?” she returned reluctantly, struggling to stop herself from lashing out to reclaim the ferrorabbit in his grasp.
“Like fine silk.” Makis tipped and tilted the animal, inspecting this and that with a deep-seated frown, all while Hoppit silently looked to her for help. The pit in her stomach grew. She needed to get him back, but how?
Ceele swallowed the dense dread as she tried to formulate some sort of plan, stumbling over her words and forced smile. “I-it’s nice! Isn’t it nice?”
His eyes snapped back to burrow into her own with hatred. “Wasn’t a compliment, girly.”
“B-but you—”
He released Hoppit’s lower half to jab a claw at the various spikes around his body, plying them with minimal force. “Look. See this? These’r suppose ta break bone. ‘Specially when he’s stiff like this. Ain’t no way I should be able ta bend ‘em. He’s barely more than a walkin’ carcass—all skin ‘n stick. He’s gonna get picked up by a wandering pecker if he keeps pissin’ about out ‘ere. It’s a wonder he’s still kickin’. What’cha feeding ‘em?” His gaze dropped from her face to the rest of her, disgust curling his muzzle into a snarl. “N’ver mind. I can guess.”
She felt the dampness build at the edges of her vision, unprepared to not only worry for Hoppit's immediate health, but also to face such harsh criticism while she was so vulnerable. “I… I try to make sure he has…”
Makis crouched to release the ferrorabbit onto the ground, Ceele dropping to her knees the moment he did. The terrified lagomorph wasted no time, bolting towards his adoptive mother and leaping into her arms, shaking uncontrollably. The rust-coloured ‘bold stared as she started soothingly stroking the animal’s back.
“Yer given’ em the weeds, aren’t ya?” he stated rather than asked. She gave a teary nod when her voice wouldn’t respond for her. The old kobold drew a breath, letting it go in an exasperated sigh as he stood back up, his expression becoming more impatient than antagonistic. “What else?”
“I— Um…”
“What. Else?”
“W-whatever I c-can find!” she sputtered out. Hoppit tried to hide against her neck, prompting her to tighten her hold. She couldn’t stop herself from shrinking, the guilt and confusion pulling her head down. “R-roots, vegetables, fruits… I give them as often as I can.”
His glare continued unimpeded, his cadence cold. “That it?”
There were a million things Ceele wanted to say. A part of her wanted to beg him not to kick them out of the first safe place she had in longer than she could remember, but she couldn’t find the words. She wanted to deny the judgmental tone that stabbed into her insecurity surrounding how good of a job she was doing with Hoppit, but the deadened void in her chest swallowed her pride whole. She knew he was right to critique her. That she was failing in the only thing that mattered anymore. That the feeling of loss would return.
“I try,” she whispered through the beginnings of a sob. “I try to find more, but he needs someone around, and I have to work the garden, so there’s only so much time I can spend looking. He won’t even eat all of what I bring back…” Tears dripped off her cheeks as she aimed a desolate smile at her furry friend. “He wants to make sure I have some too.”
“Yer killin’ em,” Makis pointed out plainly, crossing his arms. “He’ll be dead ‘fore the summer at this rate.”
“I know!” she shouted, forcing back the memories of insidious murmurs that lurked in the back of her mind, eager to creep into her ears again. The hate-filled stares that followed her, the rumours that arrived in towns before she had the chance to make an impression, and the guilt that loomed over her like an executioner's axe… “I know I am… I just… I don’t know what he needs. I don’t know how to make him happy…but I try. I’m trying…”
“…Yer an idiot, girly.”
She looked up to see the elder kobold walking away without another word. Her eyes fell to Hoppit, the ferrorabbit pressing himself against her as much as he could. He was small, thin, soft, and growing weaker by the day, but he never let it keep him down for long. No, he always showed his best for her, giving her joy that wasn’t provided anywhere else. She saw the thin cuts and dried blood, though she didn’t know where they came from, nor how he got out of the shed in the first place. But that was okay. Hoppit was okay, and she had Hoppit, so everything was okay, right?
…But how much longer would everything stay okay? How much longer until her efforts weren’t enough, and she was left desperately reaching for fading memories of what once was? How much longer until she killed her baby too?
How much longer until she was alone again?
Soft footsteps drew near, pulling her from the spiralling thoughts that threatened to gnaw at her soul. Damp, blurry eyes fell on Makis returning with a small wooden crate, the older kobold stopping a few steps away. He dropped the box, a deep, rattling thud produced as it impacted the ground, making Hoppit flinch in her arms. Ceele blinked as she kept him calm, then blinked again, looking up at the man for answers.
“The name, girly,” he spat in irritation. “Ferrorabbit. Ther’ Earth aligned creatures; they need metals. They don’t care where they get it, but they need lots of it. Iron, copper, tin, lead—raw crystal, if they can find it. You name it, they’ll take a chunk out of it. It's why they bother farmers so much; the best soil’s usually top’a gem deposits, ‘n the little bastards have no issue burrowing deep to get it. Dries up the element’s energy ‘n makes the crops weak.”
Ceele’s mouth opened and closed, each unsuccessful attempt to speak making her feel smaller and smaller. More and more lost. Why was he telling her this? How did he know? What was in the—
He kicked the crate with the side of his foot. “Scraps. Don’t’cha look at me like that. I’m a smith, girly. I might be old and retired, but I still work a forge. Now, this ain’t anything pure—it’s just slag and hunks—but I’m sure the critter won’t mind. Your little gardenin’ project pays off, ‘n I’ll see which of my contacts can get in some better ore.”
She ripped her eyes away from the box and met the perpetual scowl of the old kobold, seeing a warmth behind the hostility that she had never noticed before. “…Why?”
He scoffed in amusement, which looked somewhat menacing on such a hardened expression. “Yer a touch stupid, girly, but the missus adores ya, ‘n yer a good worker.” A shadow of a smile formed on his face. “Hira spent more evenings asking ‘bout how the plots are doin’ than I got time in the day. She’d bite my head off if I noticed a critter like that sufferin’ and didn’t lend a hand. ‘Specially when it’s obvious you ain’t tryin’ ta hurt the thing.”
“B-but the garden… Isn’t he a problem?”
Makis rolled his eyes, turning with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If he was, he’da killed it by now. I’d say he’s been keepin’ the others clear ‘n got scratched up for the trouble. That’s more reason to feed ‘em right in my eyes; pay the poor bastard his dues.” He paused after a few steps, shooting her one last incredulous glance. “‘N the rabbit’s right. You’re not much better off than he is. Eat. Before the missus takes my head, preferably. I ain’t need ta hear her worryin’ over you more than I already do.”
And with that, he walked off back to the house, leaving Ceele to sit stunned on the ground with Hoppit quietly nuzzling into her.
“Hoppit…?”
The ferrorabbit perked an ear and gently licked her collar. Fresh tears ran rivulets down her face, yet they didn’t weigh her down. They felt freeing. She adjusted her hold on the rabbit and held him out, taking in the small cuts and numerous other injuries she had never noticed before. He stared back at her with worried eyes.
“You’ve been busy, huh?” she cooed quietly, doing her best to keep her voice from cracking. He shrunk in her hands. “I told you to stay home, baby. What if something happened to you? I wouldn’t know where you went, and…”
Her protests died out as she saw what was unmistakably guilt on his little face. She brought him back to her chest and cleared her throat.
“It’s alright, Hoppit. If… If you want to help momma, then we can work together, okay? Just…please don’t go off getting hurt… I don’t know what I’d do without you…” The rabbit didn’t reply, and she was pretty sure she had never heard him make any sounds that weren’t his happy little ear clacks, but she chose to interpret the nuzzling as an agreement. “Such a smart boy…”
She took a breath and wiped off the excess moisture from her cheeks, setting Hoppit down on the ground. “Let’s bring Mr. Makis’ gift in, and then I need to go get more water so we can clean you up, okay?”
He bounced his way to the door of their home, waiting patiently for her to lug the surprisingly heavy crate into the shed. He was even still behaving himself by the time she returned from picking up the things she dropped in her haste. There wasn’t a single protest from the ferrorabbit as she washed over his wounds with warm water, nor when she asked him to wait as she cut up a small salad for him using an extra portion of her rationed vegetables. Finally, once everything else was gone, she tentatively sifted through the box until she found a chunk of something that didn’t look so sharp, then offered it to Hoppit skeptically.
As startling as it was to see him bite through metal without issue, she couldn’t help but tear up again at how pleased he looked with the bizarre addition to his diet. He munched through the first piece, then stared at the box while pawing at the air, asking for more. She obliged through wet laughs, feeling lighter than she had since he first gazed at her from his burrow, alone and afraid, just like she was.
Her little baby was happy, and that made it okay.
Next
—
A/N: Thank you to my Patrons, new and returning! No Thanks, Emmanuel, and Megathor join the others who get to read 1 chap ahead!

Hello everyone, 39F from a European country. My story is very similar to yours, I'm here because I need to learn how to eat again!
Since my teenage years, I have been a vegetarian/almost vegan for different periods, and then completely from 2017 until September 2023, when I started eating some fish again. In the last two years, I had noticed an accelerated decline in my physical well-being: constant fatigue, frequent headaches, dull skin, unmanageable anxiety, thinner and frizzier hair at the roots, and increased floaters. I also had a significant weight gain (I’ve never been very light in general) because I was always unsatisfied with what I was eating, so I would resort to carbs, pizza, pasta, and sweets, even though I prefer salty foods.
Anyway, a couple of weeks ago, after yet another strong craving for salami, I decided to start eating meat again. I live in a place famous for its meats (both red meat and cold cuts), and I have eaten a bit of everything.
It might be a placebo effect, but in the last two days, I have noticed having much more energy, like I haven't had in years. I haven't had any stomach or intestinal problems with any meat I've eaten, nor with fresh milk (I usually drank soy milk).
TLDR: The problem is that I no longer know how to eat. A 100% carnivore diet scares me a bit because I still have a "Mediterranean diet" mindset, but I feel a bit lost.
I think I want to eat low carb, but then what? How did you relearn how to eat? Do you have any advice? Or could you suggest some YouTube or Instagram accounts for inspiration?
Thank you in advance! <3

As if in response to his words, the rain began to pour down in torrents. I scanned the area frantically, searching for shelter from the deluge. My eyes landed on a nearby gazebo, its roof providing a semblance of protection from the elements. I pointed it out to Lily and Mark, and without hesitation, we hurried over and huddled together beneath its flimsy shelter.
As we stood there, trying to formulate a plan, I couldn't help but notice the water cascading down from the mountaintop, converging into streams that flowed ominously toward the town below.
"It's going to flood," I stated, my voice trembling with uncertainty. I racked my brain, desperately trying to devise a course of action in the face of impending disaster.
Lily shot me a look of concern, her brows furrowed with worry, while Mark's head whipped around in my direction, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.
"What? How do you know?" Mark demanded, his voice cracking with anxiety.
"Look," I replied, pointing towards the only road leading in and out of the town situated atop the mountain.
As Lily and Mark turned to follow my gaze, their eyes widened in horror. The road had transformed into a raging torrent, resembling more of a waterfall than a thoroughfare.
"Fuck," Mark muttered under his breath, his voice heavy with dread.
"We have to find somewhere elevated, away from the ground," I insisted, scanning our surroundings for potential refuge.
"There!" Lily exclaimed suddenly, pointing towards the Library, which was not far in the distance. Perched on the side of the mountain, it was accessible only via a flight of stairs. Its elevated position promised some degree of safety from the rising waters, and its sturdy roof offered protection from the relentless downpour.
"Okay, let's go!" I declared, breaking into a sprint towards the Library. The building was within reach after just a few minutes of brisk running. As I reached the steps, water cascaded down from above, creating a makeshift waterfall that made the climb treacherous but manageable. Determinedly, I ascended the stairs, each step bringing me closer to safety.
As I reached the top of the stairs and glanced back down, my heart sank at the sight of Lily and Mark still struggling to reach safety. "Let's go! Hurry!" I shouted over the din of the storm, my voice barely audible amidst the howling winds and pounding rain.
Lily dashed towards me with determination, but Mark remained rooted in the spot, paralyzed by fear.
"Mark, come on! Let's go!" I urged, my voice tinged with urgency. But just then, a deafening roar echoed through the valley, freezing us all in our tracks. It was the same roar we'd heard earlier. Still, now it was closer and had a chilling amalgamation of animalistic cries and human-like roars, resonating with an eerie intensity.
Breaking free from the spell of terror, I shouted again, "Come on, Mark! You're almost here!"
As Lily struggled against the rising tide of the cascading water coming down the stairs, I reached out to her, my hand extended in a desperate attempt to pull her to safety. She stumbled, but I managed to grasp her arm and haul her up the rest of the steps.
Glancing down, I saw Mark finally lurch into motion, his movements labored as he fought against the now ankle-deep water. With every step, he seemed to expend what little energy he had left.
"Mark, you can do it! Just a little further!" Lily's voice echoed through the storm, urging him on.
But as Mark neared the stairs, the water flowing down the steps surged with newfound force, threatening to sweep him away. With a burst of adrenaline, he pushed himself forward, his fingers grazing mine for a fleeting moment before the current overwhelmed him.
Helplessly, Lily and I watched as Mark was carried downstream, his screams of terror echoing through the valley. And then, as if summoned by the chaos, a monstrous figure appeared out of the shadows in the street.
Standing tall and menacing amid the storm, it was like something out of a nightmare. A grotesque fusion of man and beast, its black fur matted and patchy, its human-like face contorted into a snarling, canine visage.
As the creature locked eyes with Mark, it lunged forward with terrifying speed, its massive form crashing down upon him in a flurry of claws and fangs. Mark's screams pierced the night air, a haunting symphony of agony and despair that sent shivers down my spine.
Unable to bear the horror unfolding before us, Lily turned away, her face twisted in anguish as she fought back tears. As the creature dragged Mark into the darkness, I felt a cold chill run down my spine, a chilling reminder of the darkness within the heart of the Raven's Nest.
As I watched in horror, the creature tore into Mark's body with savage ferocity, reducing him to nothing more than a bloody mass of flesh. Its eyes met mine for a fleeting moment, sending a chill down my spine as it snatched up what remained of Mark and vanished into the darkness.
With trembling hands, Lily pulled me into the Library and hastily barricaded the door with a bookcase. My mind reeled with shock and disbelief, unable to process the gruesome scene that had just unfolded before my eyes.
"Rory, Rory, snap out of it!" Lily's voice pierced through the fog of my mind, her words a distant echo as I struggled to regain my composure. Her soothing touch and gentle words slowly brought me back to reality, the weight of what had just transpired crashing down upon me like a tidal wave.
I found myself hyperventilating, gasping for air as panic threatened to overwhelm me. Lily held me close, her arms a lifeline amid the chaos, calming my racing heart and guiding me back from the brink of despair.
It wasn't the first time I had experienced such a paralyzing reaction to trauma. The memories of our parents' passing flooded back, the pain and grief still raw after all these years. And now, faced with the brutal reality of Mark's demise, I felt myself slipping into that familiar state of shock once again.
Lily's tears mingled with mine as we huddled on the cold library floor, seeking solace in each other's embrace. The distant sounds of the monster devouring its prey served as a grim reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond our makeshift barricade.
In that moment of despair, all we could do was hold onto each other, finding strength in our shared grief and determination to survive. But deep down, I knew that the nightmare was far from over and that the horrors of the Raven's Nest had only begun.
Lily drifted off into sleep relatively quickly. She needed the rest; despite being twenty-seven, she was still young, and the day's events had taken their toll on her. I couldn't help but reminisce about our childhood memories when I used to affectionately refer to her as "Lil Sister." Those memories brought a sense of comfort amidst the chaos, and as I dwelled on them, I felt myself being pulled into the embrace of sleep.
Before long, I, too, succumbed to exhaustion, the weight of the day finally catching up with me. As I drifted off into slumber, memories of simpler times danced through my mind, mingling with the events of the present in a surreal dreamscape. And as the tendrils of sleep enveloped me, I found solace in the fleeting moments of tranquility amidst the chaos of the Raven's Nest.
I bolted awake at the sound of crashing, instantly alert and searching for Lily in the darkness. My eyes hadn't yet adjusted, so I fumbled in my bag for a flashlight, my heart pounding with anxiety. As the beam of light pierced the darkness, I swept it around the room, desperately seeking any sign of my sister. Then, another crash echoed from the direction of the basement stairs, labeled ominously in the dim light.
Normally, I'd have hesitated to descend into such a foreboding place, but with Lily missing, I had no choice. Slowly, cautiously, I made my way down the stairs, the beam of light casting eerie shadows on the damp walls.
The sound of running water grew louder with each step, and when I rounded the corner, I was met with the sight of the flooded basement. Something stirred in the murky depths, a figure moving in the dim light at the room's far end. My heart raced as I approached, the water sloshing around my ankles with each step. And then, in the faint glow of the flashlight, I saw her: Lily, struggling against an unseen force, her movements frantic and desperate.
I waded through the waist-deep water, my movements sluggish against the pressure, trying to reach Lily as she struggled against something unseen. The rustling and grunting ceased as I pushed forward, the urgency building with each step.
"Lily, what's going on?" I called out, my voice strained with concern.
"Rory?" Lily's voice came from the other end of the room, surprisingly calm.
Finally reaching her, I found Lily hidden behind a stack of boxes, her attention fixed on a metal ammunition box she'd uncovered.
"What the hell are you doing?" I whispered urgently.
"Maybe there's something in here we can use against... whatever the fuck that thing is," Lily replied, her voice tinged with desperation as she attempted to pry the box open, to no avail.
"Bring it upstairs, and maybe we can find something to open it," I suggested in a hushed tone, my nerves on edge as I scanned our surroundings for any sign of danger.
Lily's frustration seemed to dissipate into resignation as she met my gaze. Together, we began to wade back through the flooded basement, our senses heightened by the impending danger. Suddenly, the tranquility of our surroundings shattered as the front door upstairs, our only means of escape out of the building, sounded like it was violently torn from its hinges, the sound echoing through the basement like a harbinger of doom.
The heavy, ominous footsteps of the creature reverberated through the air, accompanied by the unsettling growl of its breath. It was clear that our presence had been detected, and the beast was now descending into the basement, drawing closer with each passing moment. Panic seized me as I realized the gravity of our situation - we were trapped, with nowhere to run and the relentless pursuit of the unknown closing in on us.
"Shh..." I hushed urgently, motioning for Lily to hide behind the boxes with me as the ominous sound of the creature's approach grew nearer. Despite the impending danger, Lily remained fixated on the ammunition box, her determination evident in her efforts to unlock it quietly.
"Stop," I whispered with growing frustration, attempting to draw her attention away from the futile task. However, it seemed as though she was wholly absorbed in her mission, impervious to my attempts to redirect her focus. Desperation gnawed at me as I realized the precariousness of our situation, with the creature closing in and Lily oblivious to the imminent threat, likely due to the shock of the day's events.
The monster's presence in the basement sent a chill down my spine as I peered cautiously from behind the boxes, taking in its imposing figure. Despite the water being waist deep for me, the creature waded through effortlessly, its massive form towering over us. Its keen senses were evident as it sniffed the air, detecting our presence with unsettling accuracy.
As Lily's persistent efforts finally paid off and the box squeaked open, her triumphant expression quickly shifted to one of realization and dread as the monster roared in response. The deafening sound reverberated through the basement, causing me to instinctively cover my ears in a futile attempt to block it out. Amidst the roar, I could discern an underlying tone that chilled me to the core—a human-like cry buried within the beast's primal roar, as if someone were pleading for mercy.
With adrenaline coursing through my veins, I lunged to the side, pulling Lily with me as we narrowly avoided the charging monster. For a moment, I thought we had escaped unharmed, but my relief turned to horror when Lily's scream pierced the air. Glancing down, my heart sank as I witnessed the gruesome sight—her leg had been violently torn from her body, leaving a trail of blood that tainted the water around us, a vivid crimson. The agony etched on her face mirrored the shock and helplessness I felt at that moment.
The sight before me was a nightmare made real. My mind recoiled at the grotesque spectacle unfolding as the monster tore into Lily's severed leg with savage abandon. Blood sprayed in every direction, mingling with the water to create a chilling tableau of horror. Each crunch and tear of flesh echoed in the cramped basement, a grotesque symphony of violence.
For a moment, I was frozen in shock, unable to comprehend the sheer brutality of what I was witnessing. It felt like time had slowed to a crawl, trapping me in this macabre scene of primal savagery. The monster's inhuman appetite seemed insatiable as it devoured Lily's flesh from her forcefully amputated leg, indifferent to her screams of agony as she lay not even fifteen feet away from it, screaming in pain.
As I watched in horrified fascination, a sickening realization dawned on me: we were not dealing with a mere beast but a predator driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh. And if I didn't act fast, Lily wouldn't be the only victim of its ravenous appetite.
With grim determination, I focused on the task at hand. Ignoring the nauseating sight of Lily's mangled leg, I reached for her, gripping her arm tightly. She cried out in pain as I hoisted her out of the water, her screams echoing in the basement.
"Come on, Lily, we need to go," I urged, my voice tinged with urgency. Ignoring the searing pain in her eyes, she nodded weakly, her face contorted in agony.
Together, we staggered towards the stairs, every step a Herculean effort against the overwhelming tide of fear and despair. The monster continued its grisly feast behind us, the sounds of its feasting driving us forward with a renewed sense of urgency.
I stumbled over an unseen obstacle beneath the water's surface, sending Lily and me plunging into the cold, dark depths. The shock of the fall stole my breath, and for a moment, disorientation clouded my senses as we struggled to regain our footing.
Frantically, I reached out in the darkness, my hands grasping for Lily's form as water rushed into my nose and mouth. With a surge of panic, I managed to find her, clutching onto her tightly as we resurfaced, coughing and sputtering.
As we gasped for air, I felt the weight of Lily's body in my arms, and with every ounce of strength I could muster, I began to drag her toward the stairs as she floated.
Struggling to hoist her up, I noticed the severity of Lily's injury more clearly. Her left leg was missing from the knee down, torn off in a gruesome manner. Each time I dragged her up a step, her bloody stump thudded against the hard surface, eliciting agonizing screams from her. Finally, we reached the corner of the stairs, where I adjusted her position to navigate the new angle.
As we turned the corner and I struggled to hoist Lily onto the first step of this new and longer set of stairs, the thunderous approach of the monster echoed through the basement, intensifying with each passing moment. Though I couldn't see it, the sound of its sprinting footsteps through the water and heavy breathing grew louder, signaling its imminent arrival. Fueled by adrenaline, I tugged harder on Lily's collar, the urgency of escape overriding any concerns about her injury. All that mattered now was getting her to safety before the creature reached us.
As we ascended, almost halfway now, I caught sight of the creature turning the corner. Its rapid pace caused it to collide with the wall, the force denting the cement as it rebounded. The sight filled me with a surge of terror, propelling me to pull Lily with renewed urgency. For a moment, she felt weightless in my grasp as I almost dragged her completely up the stairs, driven by sheer determination. Yet, as my grip faltered, I felt her slipping from my hold.
The moisture from the rain and flooding had made my hands slippery. Everything seemed to unfold in agonizing slow motion as Lily tumbled down the stairs, her descent helpless and inevitable. In the blink of an eye, the monster pounced upon her, its ferocious hunger driving it to begin devouring her without hesitation. Frozen at the top of the stairs, I watched in horror, my gaze alternating between the gruesome spectacle unfolding below and my wet, pruned hands, feeling utterly powerless to intervene.
The monster's gaze briefly flickered toward me as if acknowledging my presence for the first time since it began its grisly meal. Another thunderous roar erupted from its throat, prompting me to instinctively cover my ears. Again, I could have sworn I heard a desperate man screaming when the thing roared.
With a surge of adrenaline, I dashed up the final step and slammed the door shut behind me, shutting out the horrifying scene below.
As I fled through the unlit and dark town, I encountered areas still very submerged by the flooding, forcing me to swim through the murky waters in a desperate bid for escape. As I sprinted through the town, the absence of rainfall struck me. How long had it been since the downpour ceased? How long had I been asleep? Time seemed distorted, the day's events blending into a surreal blur. I pressed on, my only focus now: finding a way out of this nightmare.
After what felt like an eternity of navigating through the flooded streets, with every step weighed down by the relentless rainwater, I finally reached the end of the main paved road, where it transitioned into the dirt path leading to the mine—the sole exit out of town. The dark, murky, muddy path stretched ahead, promising a treacherous journey. The thick sludge threatened to swallow any misstep, making each footfall precarious.
As I stood there, catching my breath and surveying the daunting path ahead, the distant echo of the monster's roar pierced the eerie silence. It was a chilling reminder that danger lurked nearby, urging me to push forward despite the obstacles ahead.
By the time I reached Lily's jeep, I had lost both my shoes to the road and was caked in the thick, clinging mud. I swung open the jeep door, my heart racing with the anticipation of escape, only to be met with the realization that I didn't have the key. Frustration boiled over, and I cursed loudly, slamming the door shut in a fit of anger.
Then, a flicker of memory illuminated my mind: Lily's old jeep, a '95 Jeep Wrangler. We had discovered soon after she bought it that, true to its shoddy nature, it could be started with nothing more than a screwdriver in the ignition.
In a frantic search, my eyes darted around the muddy surroundings, desperate for any sign of a tool or implement that could help me start Lily's jeep. The sound of the monster's roar reverberated in the air, closer now, sending shivers down my spine. Every second felt like an eternity as I scoured the area, my heart pounding with fear and adrenaline.
Peering down the muddy road, I spotted the lumbering figure of the monster struggling to ascend. Its massive form sank into the mud with each step, hindering its progress as its feet and hands became mired in the thick, sticky terrain. Relief washed over me as I realized this bought me precious moments, a brief respite in my frantic escape.
I decide to look inside the car as I frantically rummage through the cluttered middle console of the car, my heart pounding against my ribcage. Every second felt like an eternity as I searched desperately for anything that could start the engine. Amidst the chaos of scattered items—a map, an old CD case, a jumble of charging cables—I felt my fingers close around something solid.
Pulling it out, I found a weathered Swiss Army knife, its metal casing worn and scratched from years of use. I unfolded the blade with trembling hands and positioned it carefully within the ignition. The familiar weight of the blade grounded me amid panic as I turned it, hoping against hope that it would work.
The engine sputtered to life after a few tense moments, its roar filling the confined space of the jeep. Relief flooded through me, mingled with uncertainty about what lay ahead. As I glanced up, I caught sight of the approaching monster, its massive form looming closer with each passing second.
With a quick intake of breath, I slammed the car into reverse, the tires spinning in the thick mud before gaining traction. The jeep lurched backward, leaving deep tracks in its wake as I raced away from The Raven's Nest.
The memories of that fateful day haunted me for years, a constant reminder of the horrors that lurked within The Raven's Nest. I tried to seek justice and warn others of the danger lurking in that cursed town, but each attempt fell on deaf ears.
As the years passed, I became increasingly disillusioned with my futile attempts to bring the truth to light. It wasn't that no one believed me; I knew too much. The secrets of The Raven's Nest ran deep, intertwined with the very fabric of the town's existence.
Authorities dismissed my claims as the ramblings of a troubled mind, unwilling or unable to acknowledge the darkness that permeated every corner of that forsaken place. And so, I resigned myself to the fact that some truths were better left buried, that the secrets of The Raven's Nest were meant to remain hidden.
In the quiet moments of solitude, I ponder the events of that harrowing day, eight years distant yet still vivid in my memory. I often wonder about those cameras we had installed, silent sentinels bearing witness to the horrors of The Raven's Nest. Do they still perch in their hidden alcoves, their lenses trained on the dormant secrets within those cursed streets?
The temptation to return, to retrieve that footage and unveil the truth to the world, is a constant tug at the edges of my consciousness. If only I could lay my hands on that evidence, undeniable proof of the malevolent forces that lurk in the shadows. But with each passing thought, a shiver courses down my spine, a reminder of the dread that still clings to the very mention of that forsaken place.
And so, the footage remains abandoned, lost to time and neglect, much like the town itself, swallowed by the unforgiving embrace of the valley. Perhaps some mysteries are best left buried, their secrets guarded by the silent guardians of the past.
I find myself consumed by a profound sense of guilt, particularly regarding Mark's tragic fate. I remember vividly the day we met at the museum, his genuine curiosity and eagerness to explore the town's history. Little did he know the peril that awaited us all. I can't help but feel responsible for leading him into that nightmare. It was a gruesome scene, etched into my memory with agonizing clarity. I watched in horror as the creature pounced on him, its razor-sharp claws tearing through flesh and bone with merciless efficiency. The sound of his screams still echoes in my ears, a chilling symphony of agony that pierces through the silence of my nightmares. At that moment, I was powerless to save him, gripped by a paralyzing terror that rendered me immobile. His death is a burden I carry with me always, a heavy weight that serves as a constant reminder of the price we paid for venturing into the heart of darkness.
I often find myself wondering about our parents' untimely departure, leaving behind a chasm filled with unanswered questions and aching longing. In the quiet of the night, I ponder how they would have reacted to my tale—of Lily's tragic end, of the nightmares we encountered in that desolate town. Would they have believed my words? Would they have comprehended the depth of my sorrow, the burden of guilt for failing to shield their cherished daughter?
In my heart, I carry the weight of my dear sister Lily's untimely demise. Her laughter, warmth, and unwavering spirit are now lost to the darkness that enveloped that cursed town. Each day, I long to see her smile once more, to hear her voice echoing in the halls of our shared memories. Yet, I know she is gone, forever lost to the merciless jaws of that insatiable beast. The memory of her screams, the sight of her torn body, they etch themselves into my soul, a painful reminder of the fragility of life and the cruelty of fate.
Lily's injury and her agonizing screams echo incessantly in the corridors of my mind, haunting me like a relentless specter. The memory of that moment is etched into my consciousness with vivid, excruciating detail—the sight of her torn leg, the gushing crimson of her blood staining the murky waters, and the raw, visceral sound of her screams reverberating through the air. Each time I close my eyes, I am transported back to that harrowing scene, unable to escape the overwhelming sense of helplessness that washed over me. Her pain, her fear, her desperation—all of it lingers like a scar on my soul, a constant reminder of the horrors we endured in that forsaken place.

My name is Rory Fars, and my little sister, Lily Fars, is the last family I had left.
A heavy sense of dread settled over me like a suffocating blanket as I sat in the worn leather seat of Lily's old jeep. The car, a relic of our happier days, seemed to groan under our shared sorrow. Beside me, Lily, my best friend, and confidante, absentmindedly twirled a strand of her long, dark hair, which swayed gently in rhythm with the haunting melodies from the oldies station on the radio. This car had seen us through countless joyful journeys when our family was whole. Almost three years had passed since that fateful Christmas trip in Texas when our parents were tragically killed in a horrific multi-car pileup. The memory of their loss was a constant ache, a wound that never fully healed.
My dad was from Amarillo, Texas, so my parents often took trips down there, visiting the places that held so many memories for him. During one of these trips, just before Christmas, a sudden blizzard struck while they were on the freeway. The snow fell in blinding sheets, making the world outside a disorienting white blur. As they tried to slowly pull to the side, their vision obscured by the relentless storm, they never saw the car barreling toward them at least forty miles an hour. The impact was devastating, an abrupt and brutal end to their journey and, in many ways, to our lives as we had known them.
My parents were always sticklers for safety, insisting on seatbelts every time we got in the car. So, of course, they had theirs on during that fateful trip. The initial impact wasn't what killed them, the coroner explained to me. Not even the first hit from behind, which was going at least fifty miles an hour, was fatal. I had to practically shake the information out of him—they were so resistant to tell me anything at first. By the time the third car hit, with an unknown speed, their survival was already in jeopardy. The coroner said that by the fifth car, they were likely dead. But it didn't end there. Another twenty-three vehicles slammed into the back of the pile, each collision further crushing their bodies, reducing them to a horrific, unrecognizable state. Each jarring impact pushed my parents deeper into a gruesome amalgamation of twisted metal and shattered lives.
I don't know why I felt compelled to demand those details at the time, but I deeply regret it now. I wish I had never asked. Almost every night, unless I drink myself into oblivion, I am haunted by nightmares of what they endured. I dream of driving up to save them, only to be caught in the same deadly barrage of cars, ending in a twisted metal tomb for all of us.
Lily is never in those dreams. Even in my most horrific imaginings, I can't envision her being hurt. Lily is my little sister, younger by eight years and three months. Whenever I mention our age difference, I see the judgment in people's eyes, but what can I say? Our parents never stopped loving each other. They had Lily late in life; she became our shared joy, our living reminder of the love that had bound our family together.
Lily wasn't my twin in the literal sense, but ever since she was born, it felt like we shared the inexplicable connection that twins often describe. As she grew up, our bond only deepened—we acted, sounded, and even looked remarkably alike. She became my rock, especially after our parents' tragic deaths. We leaned on each other, cried into each other's shoulders, and somehow found the strength to move forward. We eventually moved in together, finding solace in a two-bedroom apartment that became our sanctuary.
Lily seemed to handle our parents' deaths better than I did, or maybe she was just better at distracting herself with technology. Even before their passing, Lily was addicted to any kind of digital screen she could manipulate. Her ability to navigate the digital world was unmatched; she was the most intelligent person I had ever met. Her intelligence was a beacon of light in the darkness that had enveloped us, a testament to her resilience and brilliance.
After my parents' death, I embarked on a quest to find my spirituality by delving into paranormal investigations. I hoped these pursuits would bring me closer to my parents in the afterlife, spiritual realm, or whatever you want to call it. Instead, it created a chasm between me and any sense of spiritual existence. Each investigation seemed to push me further from the answers I sought, leaving me feeling more isolated and disconnected than ever.
I had hoped that by exploring these paranormal claims, I would discover a way to reach out to my parents and feel their presence again. Yet, as the years have passed, this endeavor has only deepened my loneliness and sense of loss. Despite knowing how detrimental it is to my mental health, I can't bring myself to stop. The hope that the subsequent investigation will be the one that proves the existence of an afterlife and that I'll find a way to contact my parents keeps me going. It's a desperate, unrelenting pursuit for a connection that remains heartbreakingly out of reach.
I should have accepted their death and moved on like any sane person would. Instead, I let my grief fester and dragged my sister and a stranger, Mark, through my obsessive quest for answers. My relentless pursuit of the paranormal didn't just alienate me; it consumed us all, leading to their untimely deaths. My name is Rory Fars, and I am here to confess my side of the story about the missing case of Lily Fars and Mark Lawrence.
This is the truth about how my desperate search for a connection with the afterlife led to a nightmare from which none of us could escape.
To start off, no, Lily was not a student of Mark's who fell in love with him and then got jealous of me hitting on him, leading her to kill him and herself. I know that sounds ridiculous, but given some wild theories circulating online, I need to address this one specifically since it seems to be the most popular.
First and foremost, Mark Lawrence was not, nor has he ever been, a professor at a university. Lily and I met Mark at the Local Museum in Redlin, a town nestled deep in the Appalachian Mountains. He was the curator of an exhibit showcasing the history of Raven's Nest, a forgotten mining town that neither Lily nor I had ever heard of. This is where our story begins, in a place steeped in history and mystery, far removed from the convoluted theories that now cloud the truth.
We were constantly searching for new ideas for our podcast about paranormal claims. Each of our twenty-five episodes so far had concluded with a rational explanation, so when Mark told us about the curse of Harper, I was immediately intrigued.
Mark was an older man, likely in his mid-sixties, with a full head of silver hair and a beard that stubbornly clung to its youthful color, only lightly dusted with grey. He had a presence that commanded attention, and his stories about the curse were delivered with an intensity that drew me in.
On the other hand, Lily was always more interested in the technical aspects of the paranormal. She had her own theories and was determined to debunk every claim we investigated. She wasn't easily swayed by Mark's tales about the curse of Harper, but she was willing to listen and give him a chance to prove himself. Her skeptical mind constantly checked my enthusiasm, and together, we hoped to uncover the truth behind yet another paranormal mystery.
"Hello ladies, care to hear about the mysterious town of Raven's Nest?" Mark asked with theatrical enthusiasm.
Lily and I exchanged a knowing glance, trying to stifle our amusement. Despite our attempts to remain composed, a smirk played at the corners of our lips.
"We're all ears," I replied, my tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.
He sighed, almost as if he was disappointed that we said yes. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to steel himself for the task ahead. "Well, you see," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty, "in the early twentieth century, a man named Harper Franstein exploited many men and children in the coal mines. By the mid-1920s, he had established his own settlement in a secluded valley, which he dubbed 'The Raven's Nest.' It was never officially recognized as a town, but that's the only name we have to go off of."
I could see the beads of sweat forming on Mark's brow as he struggled to recall every detail. Despite his initial enthusiasm, he now appeared flustered, his confidence waning. Eventually, he resorted to consulting his damp and crumpled notes, a sign of his growing unease.
"Um, anyway, yeah, um," he stuttered, audibly gulping as his nerves got the better of him. Lily couldn't contain her laughter, emitting a snicker that earned us a glare from Mark.
"Hey, just relax," I interjected, trying to diffuse the tension. "We're not here to judge or intimidate you." With a gentle touch on his forearm and a chuckle, I attempted to reassure him, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort.
He paused, sharing a chuckle with me, while Lily struggled to suppress her laughter and eventually excused herself, leaving just Mark and me. Evidently, he felt more at ease with fewer listeners, so he pressed on with his narrative.
"Anyway," he resumed, "Harper held complete control over the town and the mine, and he made sure everyone was acutely aware of that fact. When the disappearances began, he tried to sweep them under the rug, attributing them to anything but his own negligence in mining practices."
"What do you mean by 'negligence in mining practices'?" I interjected, eager to delve deeper into his intriguing tale.
He looked up, clearly pleased by my question. "Yes, exactly," he affirmed. "Harper adhered to a mining technique outlined by Dwight Brunst in the mid to late nineteenth century. This method mandated only one entry and exit point into the mine."
"Wait, so they were forbidden from creating additional exits?" I pressed for clarification.
"Not explicitly," he explained. "The practice advocated for just one entry and exit as it was believed to minimize the risk of cave-ins, at least in theory. However, there were instances where miners, feeling uneasy about this restriction, took matters into their own hands and carved out what they called 'Emergency Exits' for themselves. After about half of the town started going missing, Harper couldn't take criticism about how he responded, but most people say he was losing money quickly and didn't want to live in a world where he was poor. He walked into the mine, never to be seen again, much like the cave's past victims. Visitors report seeing and hearing Harper, trying to get them to leave."
As I stood there, listening to Mark's enthralling narrative, I found myself captivated by the mysterious allure of Raven's Nest. Unable to contain my curiosity, I decided to pose a question.
"So, what does the town look like now?" I inquired, eager to learn more about the present state of this enigmatic place.
Mark's demeanor shifted slightly as he rifled through his notes, a subtle indication that he didn't have a straightforward answer to my query.
"You've never been there?" I asked, my tone softening with genuine curiosity.
He flinched as though my question had struck a nerve. "Shhhhhh... shut up," he demanded, his voice tinged with unease.
Suppressing a chuckle, I leaned in closer and whispered, "Okay, hear me out. My sister Lily and I are investigating paranormal phenomena. Your story about Raven's Nest sounds like the perfect addition to our podcast. What do you say we compensate you for your guidance? Let's say, three hundred bucks?"
He straightened up, contemplating my proposition for a few moments. Without uttering a word, he extended his hand, and I met it halfway with my own, sealing our agreement with a firm handshake.
Our journey to Raven's Nest was no easy feat. Situated a good twenty miles from town and nestled deep within a dense valley. After all of the tight turns, narrow dirt roads, and steep inclines, it took us a grueling two and a half hours to go twenty-something miles, but we finally reached the outskirts of the infamous settlement. As we stood at the edge of the "Nest," anticipation mingled with trepidation, setting the stage for the eerie exploration that lay ahead.
I glanced at my phone; the time read 11:56 pm, signaling the late hour. Sensing the exhaustion weighing heavily, I suggested we catch a few hours of rest in Lily's jeep. Mark, though visibly unsettled, remained silent from the back seat, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he slumped against the window like a sulking child.
Drifting asleep in the passenger seat, I soon found myself ensnared in a nightmare. In my dream, Mark was being dragged away into the darkness, his desperate attempts to claw his way back to safety only resulting in broken fingertips. Despite his struggles, he was powerless against the unseen force pulling him inexorably into the abyss. Suddenly, I was alone, engulfed in utter darkness, my heart pounding with fear as I ran blindly from an unseen terror that seemed to pursue me relentlessly, its malevolent presence palpable but unseen.
I jolted awake, gasping for breath, my heart racing as the remnants of dread lingered in the pit of my stomach. It was morning, and I was struggling to adjust my vision. Lily's frantic but comforting voice broke through the haze of my terror, grounding me in reality. With her comforting embrace, I gradually calmed my racing thoughts, drawing deep, steadying breaths.
As we sat there, enveloped in each other's embrace, Mark approached the driver's side window with an unexpected question, "Alright, what's for breakfast?" His nonchalant tone and casual demeanor were a stark contrast to the harrowing nightmare that had just consumed my thoughts, momentarily dispelling the lingering specter of fear that had haunted my dreams.
Lily and I both look up at him and back at each other as we burst out into laughter.
Amidst our shared laughter, Lily and I exchanged amused glances before turning our attention back to Mark.
"Ha...ha, yeah. No, but seriously, what's for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, toast, at least?" Mark pressed, hoping for a more substantial response.
His earnest inquiry fueled our laughter further, our giggles echoing through the quiet night air. Eventually, we regained our composure and stepped out of the jeep, stretching our limbs after the cramped confines of the vehicle.
Mark awkwardly moves to the side, still waiting for an honest answer. Lily tossed him a granola bar, eliciting a bemused chuckle from him. With a shared understanding, we set off on foot, embarking on the hike into the town.
The path ahead was clear: a single dirt road that wound its way from the abandoned coal mine into the heart of the small settlement. The road, now overgrown and muddy from years of disuse, bore the marks of neglect and isolation. Wary of the treacherous conditions, Lily opted to forgo the risk of getting stuck, steering clear of the decrepit road that likely hadn't seen a traveler in at least half a century.
We parked Lily's jeep at the entrance to both the mine and the town of Raven's Nest, opting to proceed on foot from there. Standing at the mountain's peak, gazing down at the desolate town below, I couldn't help but ponder the history beneath the dilapidated structures. I imagined how this valley must have once been a pristine landscape cherished by the indigenous people who roamed its lush terrain.
"Jesus, this place is more like a shit nest," Mark muttered in disgust, his disdain evident in his tone.
Lily shot me a knowing glance, silently communicating her skepticism toward Mark's assessment of the town.
Deciding to put Mark's knowledge to the test, I casually inquired, "So, what year was this area founded?"
Mark's reaction was almost defensive as if my question had caught him off guard. He hesitated momentarily before fumbling for his note cards in his pocket, a telltale sign that he wasn't as knowledgeable as he let on.
Before he could respond, I interjected with another question, "Mark, how long have you worked at the museum?"
As Mark froze, his gaze locking onto mine like a deer caught in headlights, I watched him closely, waiting for any sign of hesitation or discomfort. My narrowed eyes bore into his, silently urging him to be honest.
Finally, breaking the tense silence, Mark confessed, "Look, this is only my first week. I... I haven't had the greatest time lately, and I really need the extra money. I'm sorry I lied, but I'll help however I can."
I met his gaze unwaveringly, sensing the sincerity in his words. Clearly, he was a man in need of redemption, grappling with his own personal struggles.
"Alright, alright, don't cry too much," I teased lightly, trying to ease the tension. Gesturing towards Lily, who was busy preparing her wireless motion cameras in her backpack, I continued, "Lily and I already figured that was the case. Honestly, we're surprised you agreed to come along."
Mark remained frozen, but the tension seemed to melt away from his expression, replaced by a tentative smile. It was a moment of shared understanding, a silent acknowledgment that he was still welcomed into our expedition despite his initial deception.
"Alright, I have the cams and portable batteries to make sure the cameras and anything we have with power can last," Lily said, her voice brimming with determination.
We began our descent into the town, our hiking boots struggling against the thick, clinging mud produced by the constant light rain and years of disuse. Each step was a battle, the mud threatening to swallow our boots with every move.
After an eternity of trudging through the muck, we finally reached the town's only paved road—the main road. It had taken us only about fifteen minutes to hike down, but navigating the muddy slope had sapped our energy. We paused for a break, taking a few minutes to clean off our boots and catch our breath.
As we rested, I noticed Lily rummaging through her bag with a focused intensity. Curious, I asked, "What are you looking for?"
"I brought five motion-detecting cameras that I want to set up strategically throughout the town," she replied, pulling out one of the cameras. She walked over to the nearest building, a structure that served as a post office, police station, and fire station. She positioned the camera outside the building so it was pointed at the only road leading in and out of the town.
"We need to cover all potential points of interest," she explained, securing the camera in place. "This one will monitor any activity on the main road. We should place the other cameras around key locations like the mine entrance, the town square, and some more intact buildings."
I nodded, appreciating her thoroughness. "Good idea. We need to make sure we capture anything unusual."
Mark, having finally caught his breath, joined us. "Alright, let's get these cameras set up and see what we can find," he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.
"Look," Lily said, turning her tablet screen toward us. She waved her hand in front of the camera she had just placed. The tablet displayed five squares on the interface, each meant to show a feed from one of the cameras. Since Lily had only set up one camera so far, only the bottom right square showed any footage pointed at the road leading out of town. She stopped waving her hand, and the feed went to a blue screen.
"What happened? Did we lose connection?" Mark asked frantically, his eyes wide with concern.
Lily cackled, struggling to contain her amusement. Composing herself, she waved her hand in front of the camera again, and the bottom right square showed her hand waving once more. "It's motion-activated. It's the best way to save on battery life," she explained.
Mark seemed to relax, though he was still catching his breath after the brief panic.
I glanced at my watch, noting the time. "It's 8:30. We're behind schedule. If you want to place the rest of your cameras, we better move now," I said, walking down the street.
Lily immediately got up and followed me, with Mark struggling to keep pace behind us. We reached the market building, and Lily positioned her second camera on the side of the road, pointing up at the market.
It's not much longer before we make it to the Town Hall. I suggest Lily place a camera nearby. She nods and heads into a building across from the Town Hall labeled, "Slaughterhouse: LOCAL ANIMALS ONLY."
As Lily explores the building to find an adequate spot for the camera, I wait for Mark to catch up. While I wait, I can't help but imagine this town in its prime, picturing the streets filled with families who loved each other.
My thoughts are abruptly cut off by a sound echoing in the distance—a roar unlike any I've ever heard. It was a mix of a human screaming in pain, the roar of a lion, and, near the end, the howl of a wolf. The chilling sound sent shivers down my spine.
I jump to my feet and immediately call out, "Lily, you okay?"
There's no response from Lily, but I'm interrupted by Mark finally catching up, panting heavily.
"Holy... shit... did you... hear that?" Mark said frantically between breaths.
"Yeah, we have to find Lily," I say, bolting into the slaughterhouse. I glance back to see Mark bracing himself on the steps of the Town Hall, struggling to keep up.
As I enter the building, the stench of rotting flesh hits me like a wave, causing me to gag. The smell is too fresh to be decades old.
"Lily? Lily, where are you?" I yell, using my shirt to shield my nose from the overwhelming odor.
"Rory, I'm in here!" I hear Lily yell from a room two doors down. I pass the first door, peeking in to ensure I hadn't misheard, but I wish I hadn't looked.
Inside the first room, I catch a glimpse of what appears to be a pile of animal carcasses, their decayed bodies arranged in a grotesque display. The sight is horrifying, the flesh still disturbingly fresh. The bile rises in my throat, but I force myself to focus on finding Lily.
I rush to the room where her voice came from, pushing the door open. Lily is there, setting up the camera, seemingly oblivious to the horror in the adjacent room. Relief floods through me as I see she's safe.
"Lily, did you hear that roar?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Yeah, I heard it," she replies, her eyes wide with concern. "I was just finishing up here. Let's get back to Mark and figure out what that was." She had placed the camera in a window, pointing directly at the Town Hall.
We hurry back outside, where Mark still catches his breath as we meet between the buildings. "We need to stay together from now on," I say firmly, looking at both of them. "Whatever that noise was, it's not something we want to face alone."
"Let's check out the Town Hall!" Mark says excitedly as he slowly clambers through a broken window.
"Did he not just hear what I said?" I mutter under my breath, shaking my head in disbelief.
Lily gives me a shrug, her eyes reflecting a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Guess we're heading into the Town Hall then," she says, adjusting her backpack and walking towards the broken window.
I sigh and follow suit, hoisting myself up and carefully maneuvering through the jagged glass. Inside, the air is musty, filled with the scent of old paper and decaying wood. Dust motes float lazily in the beams of sunlight streaming through the cracked windows.
The main hall is vast and eerily silent, with rows of empty chairs facing a stage draped in tattered curtains. The walls are lined with faded portraits and yellowed maps of the town, remnants of a time when this place was alive and bustling.
Mark is already at the front, examining a large, decrepit desk. "Look at this," he says, his voice echoing in the empty space. "It's like stepping back in time."
I walk over, glancing at the old papers scattered across the desk. Most are mundane—meeting minutes, maintenance logs—but one catches my eye. It's a letter dated June 1925, addressed to Harper Franstein.
"Harper, the disappearances are becoming more frequent. The townsfolk are getting restless, and I fear they may take matters into their own hands if we don't act soon. We need to find out what's causing this before it's too late."
I read the letter aloud, and the room fell silent. "Sounds like things were getting pretty tense," Lily remarks, her voice subdued.
As I'm distracted by the time capsule in front of us, Mark sneaks off.
I'm not sure how long it was before she noticed, but I saw Lily looking around before saying, "Where the hell did Mark go?" breaking me out of my trance.
I look around, turning my head in all directions, and shrug at Lily. I hear shuffling in the second room down the hall, so I slowly walk toward it.
"Mark?" I call out.
Just then, a loud crash reverberates through the building, making it sound like the whole place was about to come down.
We run in and see Mark struggling to keep himself from falling into a giant hole that must've broken under his weight. Trying not to laugh, I glance at Lily. We help him up as he dramatically falls onto his back, wheezing as he catches his breath.
Lily and I can't contain our laughter anymore as we bust out laughing hard. Startled by our sudden outburst, Mark jumps in fear. He looks around, confused for a few seconds, before realizing that we are laughing at him.
"Jesus, thanks, I guess," he says, clearly thankful but annoyed by our reaction.
After we contained ourselves, we headed back outside, exiting through the window Mark entered through. He struggles to climb out, but after Lily gives him a hand, he is safely out of the Town Hall.
"Alright, Ror, where should we put the next camera?" Lily asks me.
I stop to think momentarily, trying to picture the town's layout. "I think the only place left is the neighborhood," I respond confidently. I always talk like that with Lily. Over the years, I've realized she is the only person I can have that much confidence around. With anyone else, I'm worried about saying something stupid or wrong or how they'll view me, but with my sister, everything is easy.
As I look at the replica map of the town in its heyday from the museum, I determine that the neighborhood is to the East. "Okay, looks like we head East past the Library. Let's go." I say, walking away.
It only takes about eight minutes to get to the long strip of road that housed the town's workers. According to the map, there were fifteen houses along this strip of road.
The houses stand eerily silent, their wooden frames weathered and decayed by time. We walk down the road, our footsteps crunching on the gravel and echoing in the stillness. The air feels heavier here like the past is watching us, waiting to reveal its secrets.
"Let's put the last cameras on that house at the end of the road," I suggest, pointing to a house that looks slightly less dilapidated than the others, "another one at the last house on the other side, and the last we can save for a spot you choose."
Lily nods and heads toward the first house, pulling another camera from her backpack. She sets it up on the porch, positioning it to capture the entire street, and does the same in the opposite house. As I stand with Mark breathing hard, still unable to catch his breath since we first got here, I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched. I glance around nervously but see nothing out of the ordinary.
"All set," Lily says, breaking my reverie, "Still no ideas for the last cam?" Lily asks me.
"Like I said, wherever you think it would be best. I feel like we have enough good spots and angles, so go wild with that one," I told her.
She smirked and kept walking next to me. Mark was still struggling behind, but after the town hall mishap, he was trying his best to keep up. I looked at my watch, and it read '12:30 pm'.
"Holy shit, it's already 12:30," I said in amazement, but no one else seemed fazed. It felt like we'd only been here thirty minutes, not almost four hours.
We walked back down the street. Lily and I had been discussing on the walk that she should put the last camera at the town's only stoplight in front of the Library.
As we made our way to it, I could have sworn I was seeing something moving fast past my vision in the corner of my eye. Every time I turned to look, it was gone. I chalked it up to being my imagination until Lily and Mark both experienced the same thing.
"What the fuck was that?" Mark asked as he ducked, bracing for something terrible to happen. Lily and I looked back at him and then at each other as we shrugged. It was after that that I started seeing things, too.
I confided in Lily about the unsettling visions and sounds, and she admitted she had experienced the same phenomena but had kept quiet, fearing Mark would dismiss her as paranoid.
"Well, it's probably just a cat or something," I said, attempting to downplay the situation, but neither seemed convinced.
We continued our trek, and I noticed that the more we walked, the more frequently I caught fleeting glimpses of movement in my peripheral vision. It was beginning to grate on my nerves.
Finally, we reached the light in front of the Library. As Lily mounted the camera, I felt a sense of satisfaction. We were making good progress, and it seemed like a suitable moment to start exploring the town more freely. We decided to split up and cover different sections of the town.
"Wait, we have to go alone? Why can't we stay together like you said?" Mark asked frantically, but Lily and I ignored him as we headed in separate directions. He continued to protest, but we paid him no mind. Eventually, I was either far enough away to not hear him anymore, or he had given up. Either way, I was happy to enjoy the eerie silence of the town.
As I wandered, the stillness of Raven's Nest enveloped me. With its decrepit buildings and overgrown streets, the town exuded an unsettling charm. It was as if I had stepped into a forgotten world, a place frozen in time with secrets waiting to be unearthed. The ambiance reminded me of an amusement park's haunted town section—artificially eerie yet irresistibly intriguing. Despite the creepiness, the mysterious vibe of the town kept me engaged and eager to explore its hidden corners.
I glanced at my watch again, only to find the time glaring back at me: 3:19 pm. It couldn't be right. There was no way it had been that long since I last checked. Panic seized me, and I called out for Lily, my voice tinged with urgency. She appeared beside me in a matter of minutes, her expression mirroring my concern.
"What's up, Ror? You okay?" she asked, her voice laced with worry.
"How long would you say it's been since you put the last camera down?" I inquired, my heart pounding in my chest.
Lily's brow furrowed as she struggled to come up with an answer. "Uh, I don't know, thirty minutes?" she hazarded a guess.
I held up my watch, displaying the time: 3:20 pm. Lily fell silent, her eyes widening in disbelief. She was never great with time, but missing almost three hours of our memory was unprecedented.
"There's no way. Your watch must be—" Lily began, her voice trailing off as she checked her own watch, only to freeze in shock when she found it displayed the same time as mine.
"Lil, something is going on," I stated, my voice tight and apprehensive. I glanced up at the sky, my stomach churning as I noticed the clouds darkening and rolling in from all sides of the valley.
The sky closed rapidly, ominous clouds obscuring the sun as thunder rumbled ominously against the mountains.
"Mark? Mark, where are—" I began to call out, but before I could finish, Mark emerged from behind a wall, appearing as if he'd been too frightened to venture far on his own.
"We have to get inside!" Mark exclaimed urgently, his voice tinged with fear.