—— ? ——

  Simon hobbled confidently out of the tavern. He had a mission and a purpose. Talk with Brian and Kaelalin and figure out his burning questions.

  He probably shouldn’t have been as confident as he was. Within seconds of the door shutting behind him, he realized an important fact.

  Simon had no freaking clue where he was. His memories of his late night journey had been fuzzy at their best. Complete voids of memories at their worst.

  His body still felt like it had been rolled off a cliff. At least the sun was out, and no one was actively trying to kill him.

  At least, to his knowledge.

  He decided his best course of action was to just forge straight ahead. He drifted down the street, keeping to the sides to avoid the ever flowing processions of ramshackle carts.

  Varnholt was… odd. Now that he was moving through its streets and really didn’t have a clear direction, he paid more attention to the buildings. There seemed to be a pattern amongst the chaos that was the town’s architectural theme. Stone-and-timber structures with sloped roofs, wide porches, and a distinct uniformity spoke of an original design and layout.

  But there was something wrong. Between these visually similar buildings were wide open, empty lots, or vastly different buildings that were not properly attached.

  Simon looked closer at one of the empty spaces and studied the two buildings on either side of the wide lot. He inspected the side of a building and saw where bricks were essentially flawlessly cut to form the wall. He crossed the lot and stared at the other building.

  Same thing.

  After going back and forth, he finally noticed. The grain of wood, the texture of the bricks, and other features matched with the opposing wall.

  The gap was too clean. There was just… space. Like invisible fingers had pulled at each building and separated them. They were never built with space in between them. Someone, or something, had essentially clicked a ‘create spacing’ button.

  It hadn’t even left scars. The foundations were clean. The walls ended where they once connected, now facing open air.

  He stepped back and turned slowly, surveying the rest of the street. Now that he saw it, he couldn’t unsee it. Every building seemed to have been moved and disconnected.

  And what had the people of Varnholt done with this weird fantastical change to the town?

  Moved right in.

  New buildings had sprouted everywhere, filling the gaps. They did not follow the previous town’s aesthetic.

  A glassblower’s studio built almost entirely from repurposed windows, sunlight refracting through colored panes and casting jagged rainbows onto the cobbled street. In the next space sat a squat forge clad in reinforced stone and etched runes, a faint hum of mana pulsing from its ventilation stack. Black ash coated the roof’s snow and neighboring buildings.

  Some of the new buildings were fantastically designed. Stonework etched with flowing designs, murals, and other gorgeous features. Other structures were mismatched extensions jutting out at odd angles bolted to the side of the old.

  Each spoke of the eccentric nature of Varnholt’s residents. Simon continued his walk down the street.

  He passed a leatherworker’s shop with rows of hanging hides and neatly pegged tools mounted on a wall that doubled as a sales counter. The awning above had clearly been stitched from a variety of pelts.

  Wonder if I can fashion actual armor from the bunny's fur… hmmm.

  His mind envisioned a skillfully crafted form of his bunny slayer armor.

  The next building had to be a… bakery? It was utilitarian and reminded Simon of concrete Russian buildings. Square, blocky, and functional. A narrow metallic chimney jutted out from the top like a broken flagpole, coughing out lazy puffs of scented smoke. The scent was bread-like.

  A wooden sign hung, lashed to a metal rod that had been hammered into the stone above its doorway.

  ‘Rogaunsaga Bakery.’

  That was it.

  Simon was about to go through the big door and see the inside when he stopped.

  Right. No money. He mentally kicked himself. Later.

  He gave the bakery one last, longing sniff and kept moving.

  Okay… I have no idea where I am.

  Simon thought about asking somebody, but the streets were emptier than earlier. The few that walked it now were all moving faster than him and seemed to be on missions. Purpose radiated from their posture. Nobody looked like they had time for a lost stranger limping through town like a hungover scarecrow.

  Maybe I should just go back and ask Cyrus… I don’t know what I was thinking

  After a few more minutes of being lost, he sighed. He was going to get so much shit from the barkeep.

  He turned on his heel and froze. A few steps away was a familiar face.

  Dravlen.

  The man was leaning up against a building, half shadowed by the tall workshop. He had a shit-eating grin on his face.

  “Was wondering when you were going to give up and head back to Ember Rest,” Dravlen said, his grin widening. “Although, it looked like you were going to keep wandering until you found yourself outside the town by mistake.”

  Simon rubbed his face with both hands, dragging down slowly, as if trying to pull the growing frustration out of his skull.

  “Hello, Dravlen,” he said, exhaling. “I’m going to assume you’ve been following me for… I don’t know…” Simon gestured vaguely, irritated. “Somewhere between a minute and just long enough to be an asshole?”

  The Yoreboon nodded. “Yeah, somewhere in that range. Glad to see our latest explorer isn’t dead yet,” he said, already strolling past Simon with casual ease. “Brian’s lab is this way.”

  Simon shook his head and fell in step with Varnholt’s head of security.

  “Nah, not dead yet. Not for the universe's lack of trying, though.” He looked over at his new guide. “I’m going to assume you heard about my recent late night adventure?”

  Dravlen mercifully matched his slow, painful pace. He gave Simon a nod, his face darkening.

  “Aye. You just had to go find the most horrifying creature in the valley, eh?” Simon’s face twisted, jaw tightening, but Dravlen lifted a hand before he could speak. “Hold on. Let me make something clear—we had no idea that thing was out there.”

  His voice was steady, but there was weight in it. Not guilt exactly—Dravlen didn’t seem like the type—but something close to concern threaded through his sarcastic, joking tone.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “We’ve done patrols of the valley, searched a decent amount of it.” He sighed. “But as you probably noticed on Brian’s map, most of our efforts have been in the north. That’s where the timber, stone, and metal are. That’s where the focus has been.”

  He glanced at Simon with an unreadable expression as they turned a corner.

  “The south end hasn’t been a priority. We have barely scratched it. Some folk have scouted it, but never used mapping crystals. Hell, those things weren’t even around until about a week and a half ago. Brian and Kaelalin and others keep pulling magical gizmos out of the ether.”

  He shook his head.

  “Most of Varnholt’s resources and focus have been on that tunnel. People here have kin that should be somewhere out there, and they’re anxious to find them.”

  Dravlen’s tone flattened, like he had explained this too many times to too many desperate people.

  “People are staying busy. Everyone’s pitching in. You’ve probably noticed how they move—how tightly wound they are. There’s this… manic energy. Like if they stop for too long… they’ll have to think…” His voice dropped lower. “And no one wants that right now. Finish the tunnel. Get news. Make sense of all this.”

  Simon's mind started to wander. He hadn’t even thought about friends and family… wer–

  PIFF

  A snowball hit the side of his face, icy particles stinging and making the bruises whine in protest.

  “Noooooo, Sir! Look out! I have another one!” the Yoreboon snapped at him, his voice dripping with a mock drama and glee.

  Simon staggered slightly, blinking through the ice clinging to his lashes. He turned and looked at the man, who was once again grinning.

  Dravlen raised his right arm in a slow, deliberate ceremony, using his left hand to adjust his aim like he was lining up a ballista shot.

  “Better arm yourself, citizen,” he declared, voice booming with mock authority. “It’s just not sporting to hit someone who can’t fight back.”

  Simon wiped the side of his face, flinching as the cold stung deeper into the bruises. He stared at Dravlen with a blank, dead-eyed glare.

  “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

  Dravlen didn’t lower his arm. “No. This is training for Varnholt’s most recent explorer.”

  Simon glanced around and noticed the snowball at his feet. He bent down, letting out a groan as his joints protested the movement.

  “I’m injured. You know I’m injured.”

  “Not as bad as the snow I just threw.” Dravlen gave a pitying look to the scattered remains. “It had to touch your ugly face. Honestly, you should apologize to it.”

  He paused, face shifting to mock contemplation.

  “Now that I think about it… might be a damned shame to put anything else through that kind of trauma.” With exaggerated movements, Dravlen crouched and gently placed his second snowball on the ground. He leaned in close and whispered, “I’m sorry, friend. I won’t let that happen to you.”

  Simon didn’t hesitate. He hurled his own snowball straight at the smug Yoreboon’s face.

  Hitting him was a stretch.

  Watching it get snatched from the air, then gently cradled and placed beside its twin?

  “You’re an asshole,” Simon muttered. “You know that, right?”

  Dravlen stood and brushed the snow from his hands with a theatrical flourish.

  “I am,” he replied, then gave Simon an almost sincere look. “A stealthy asshole with great aim, and zero patience for moody downward spirals. Don’t forget it.”

  With that, Dravlen turned and started walking again. Simon let out a quiet sigh and fell in step beside him.

  They walked in silence as the mood settled. Simon busied himself with studying the strange buildings they passed. Odd shops, humming workshops, and disasters of construction that looked like the owners had personal vendettas against architects.

  The journey was winding and long.

  Eventually, he muttered. “Is Brian’s lab on the other side of town?”

  “Aye.” Dravlen gave him a look. “Kind of funny, actually. Ever since he picked that building and started working, the whole area’s been repurposed. No one really lives near there anymore. It’s mostly storage now… a few workshops, overflow project areas... that sort of thing.”

  He shrugged. “So taverns like Ember Rest, where people want to spend their free time, are nowhere close”

  Simon nodded, his voice seeped in sarcasm. “What a mystery. As head of security, do strange things like this keep you up at night?”

  Dravlen grinned and opened his mouth to respond–

  BOOM.

  A deep thud echoed across the district.

  “As a matter of fact, they do not,” he finished smoothly. He was already starting to speed up, leaving Simon behind. “I’m gonna go check if those two are still breathing. Down this road, take a right, then a left. It’ll lead you straight there.”

  He gave a two-fingered salute over his shoulder.

  “Meet you there!”

  And in a blink, he was gone.

  —— ? ——

  The smoke hadn’t cleared yet.

  A new, jagged hole decorated the upper corner of Brian’s lab. From it, dark smog poured steadily, glittering with multicolored sparks that arced and crackled like miniature fireworks exploding in tar.

  Kaelalin moved around the street with a set of inscribed tongs. She carefully picked up glowing chunks of stone and metal and placed them into large metallic barrels. Her hair was pulled back into a tight braid, though several strands had been freed by the shockwave.

  Simon watched almost two buildings away.

  “We really need that expansion,” Brian’s voice called down from above.

  Simon looked up to see him rappelling toward the breach, a harness strapped tight across his chest and a glowing rope snaking up toward the observatory level. As he reached the jagged edge, Brian muttered something under his breath. Frost shimmered along the scorched stone, and the molten glow began to dim as the surrounding air condensed.

  “I don’t care what the council thinks the priorities are,” Brian continued, boots braced against the scorched wall as he leaned in to inspect the damage. “If they want us to work on this damned barrier, we need a secure workspace.”

  He pulled out his own set of inscribed tongs and started plucking loose, sparking chunks of metal from the breach, dropping them down into a padded bin waiting below.

  “And something underground!” he added, louder now. “Yes, yes, the tunnel’s important, and anyone who can manipulate stones’ time is valuable–but so is this project!”

  He yanked a twisted glowing shard of metal free with a grunt, then glanced down to toss it., but stopped mid-motion.

  “Oh! Hey, Simon!” he waved the tongs awkwardly ,the molten chunk now swinging dangerously above his head. “Glad to see you on your feet again!”

  Kaelalin glanced up from her barrel, spotted Simon, and gave a casual wave.

  Dravlen appeared beside her, brushing a few stray sparks off his shoulder. “Swept the perimeter. No debris made it past this street.”

  He looked up. “I agree with you, Brian. I’ll go make some rounds with the council. I’m going to insist this time that it’s a matter of security.” He exhaled sharply, annoyance slipping into his tone. “They all said something like this wasn’t going to happen. Again. I’m sick of it.”

  Then, without another word, he turned and strode down the street.

  As he passed Simon, he gave him a short nod.

  “See you around, Simon. Oh–what's that on the street?” he gestured behind Simon.

  Simon blinked and glanced over his shoulder.

  A snowball sat perfectly centered in the street, untouched and waiting.

  He looked back, but Dravlen was already gone.

  Of course.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled toward the building.

  “So… Is it safe for me to get closer? Or should I keep yelling?”

  Kaelalin didn’t even look up.

  “Safe enough. Just don’t touch the glowing-hot bits and you’ll be fine.”

  Simon hesitated, then made his way to the front of the lab, stepping carefully around scattered debris. Sparks still hissed from a nearby barrel, but neither Kaelalin nor Brian seemed particularly concerned.

  All things considered, they were making quick work of the chaos.

  “Can I help?” he asked as Kaelalin moved to another shard.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Brian called down, answering for her. “Just give us a bit and we will have this fixed up.”

  Simon folded his arms and kept watching.

  Quietly, he asked, “So… what did Brian do this time?”

  Kaelalin gave him a weak smile.

  Well…” she said slowly, dragging out the word as she picked up another shard with her tongs. “We’ve got a system for situations like this.”

  She stood and turned toward the nearest barrel.

  “Step one: stabilize your own or each other's vitals.”

  “Step two,” Brian called from above, “create containment inside!”

  “Step three,” Kaelalin said, her tone now very pointed, “the person responsible for the explosion retrieves all external debris — by hand. No magic. The other uses magic or anything they want and works on the structure.”

  She dropped the shard into the barrel with a heavy clang.

  Her eyes flicked up and met Simon’s.

  He held her gaze for a beat, then sighed.

  “And here I thought I’d signed up to work for at least ONE reasonable person.”

  He glanced up at Brian, who was now humming to himself as he dangled cheerfully from the rope, swinging slightly as he maneuvered another sparking chunk of metal loose.

  Simon turned back to Kaelalin.

  She had a wicked grin on her face.

  “Now, where would the fun be in that?”

  —— ? ——