The Sarulean Manor was an exquisite example of middle-period Egaellean design: an angular assortment of boxy shapes cut from alternating white marble and green stone, joined under a pointed pediment. Jutting out its central hall were a series of add-ons and extensions, each clearly constructed decades apart, giving the entire building a jumbled, asymmetrical look. If the exterior was this enchanting, then Kaelis could only imagine what wonders the inside might hold—minus the monster, of course. But first she’d have to actually get into the building.

  Kaelis wrestled fruitlessly with the handle of the manor’s front door. She jerked and pushed and pulled with all of her strength, but the entire thing felt fastened in place, like it was a fake wall specifically designed to make her look stupid in front of the Captain.

  “Damn,” she finally groaned, throwing her hands into the air in frustration. “It’s barricaded from the inside.”

  “Just kick it in,” said Jira, folding her arms.

  Kaelis carefully examined the large, thick slab of wood reinforced with iron. “Not sure if we can,” she admitted.

  She retreated down the short set of steps and onto the cobblestone roundabout, all the while studying the building for any alternate entrances. Every single window was boarded up and sealed over with metal bars, while rows of iron spikes jutted out from the roof like a frightful crown. With its layers of defenses, the manor had been turned into more of a fortress than a home.

  “Yeah, looks like the Duke and his family really dug themselves in good,” Kaelis inferred, unable to see another way in. She backed up further and looked towards the edge of the manor’s western wing. “There’s gotta be an easier way inside. Maybe we should try our hand going ‘round back.”

  “Fine,” grunted Jira.

  Readjusting their gear, the two women moved on from the entrance and made their way around the side of the massive mansion. Guns drawn and at the ready, they skulked across the grounds, the whole estate steadily turning a moody gray as dark clouds continued to gather overhead.

  Turning the corner, the pair came upon a maze of a terrace. Once more, Kaelis was overcome with curious delight. Evenly placed along the winding pathways were numerous statues, reverently sculpted from flawless ivory stone. They depicted delicate figures beyond grace—not of men, but of Angels.

  Renderings of the Angels had long been an area of great interest to Kaelis, as almost all the visual records of their appearance had been lost to the Sundering, trapped beyond the far side of the Forever Storm. Only a few second-hand accounts had survived, mainly from soldiers who had seen the Angels up close during the war against them, and most of those contradicted one another in some way. The statues of the courtyard seemed to follow the most commonly accepted depiction: those of tall, impossibly thin humanoids, with blank, serene faces held high atop elongated necks. Each was draped in the flowing robes of a philosopher, their expressive forms exuding unearthly wisdom.

  Kaelis pored over the statues, dazzled by their artistry and their durability. After a moment, she swung her eyes back to check the Captain’s reaction. Jira trudged along the path, looking past the statues, indifference on her face. But at least it wasn’t a scowl anymore. Never one for silence, Kaelis decided it was once again safe to strike up some pleasant conversation.

  “So, Captain Sirroza—” she began.

  Jira grumbled. “What is it?”

  “I was just wonderin’—Well, in Varaism you don’t believe the Angels are divine, right?”

  “Aie.”

  Kaelis waited for a follow up, only to be met with silence. “…Oh, okay,” she said. “Well, uh, do you think you could expand on that? Just a bit?”

  “I thought you knew things.”

  “I know things!” huffed Kaelis. “It’s just Dierrosi culture is a bit of a blind spot for me, and I wanna learn! You want me to be a richer human being, don’t you?”

  Jira flared her nostrils. “Fine. I’ll explain.” She paused for half a second, collecting her thoughts. “The Anja Rai—”

  “The Angels,” amended Kaelis.

  “Whatever. They planted the Archmother, yes, but they only found the seed. They didn’t create it. They’re just another race sowed by the Ehrla Var, makers of the planets and stars.

  “Okay. Okay,” muttered Kaelis, nodding studiously. “So in Varaism, the Angels didn’t make our souls, the Ehrla Var did? And that means they’re in charge of guiding our spirits to the Dream when we die?”

  “Correct. If you’ve proven yourself to them.”

  “Got it,” said Kaelis. “And I guess that means you don’t think the God King was anything special either, him being an Angel and all?”

  Jira nodded. “Hm. The king of Ama-Lasria was just a king, like any other.”

  “But you still think he’s a hero, right?”

  “No.”

  “What?!” exclaimed Kaelis, flummoxed. “Why not? He sacrificed himself to save humanity! What more could ya want?”

  “Hmp,” Jira grunted. “Humanity wouldn’t have needed saving if it weren’t for him.”

  “I mean, sure, maybe, but Ama-Lasria was engulfed in a horrible civil war before he descended. If he never united the people and rebuilt the city, we might not even be around at all. Think about it.”

  Jira sighed. “Aie, whatever,” she muttered. “Are we done?”

  The pair passed the last statue in the row. It depicted an Angel standing triumphant, a blazing sword in one hand and a large seed in the other, their foot planted atop a mound of craggy, writhing worms.

  “One last question,” said Kaelis, looking reflectively at the carving of bugs.

  “Hm. Fine.”

  “The Su Yaia Var. Do you worship them too?”

  Jira screeched to a sudden stop. She swiveled around and looked at Kaelis sternly, her face bubbling with indignity.

  “The Su Yaia Var are just…” she rumbled, struggling to find the words. “…Parasites—fleas—shed from the Ehrla Var when they created existence. They are beasts, deceivers. Their kind is dangerous, best left to rot in their prisons beneath the earth.”

  “So the Yahtte, they were—”

  “A cult. Nothing more.”

  “Right,” said Kaelis, treading lightly. “But some Varians still think the Su Yaia Var are demigods, yeah?”

  Jira frowned, glancing aside. “Many still do…” she muttered. “That’s why… there was such anger when it died…”

  “The one you and the Rezna team captured, you mean? Okay, got it,” Kaelis said with a studious nod. “Explains why the war started, I guess.”

  Jira tensed up, her shoulders lifting. “That’s enough questions.”

  “Aw, please, just one more?” Kaelis begged. “I just wanna know how the Rez—”

  “I SAID ‘ENOUGH’!” Jira snapped. “Lesson over.” Without warning, she stormed ahead, putting a great distance between her and her teammate as she turned the corner into the rear courtyard and disappeared from view.

  Kaelis stood there, gobsmacked, taking a moment to absorb what had just happened. Was it something she said? And which part, specifically? As she puzzled, it slowly began to dawn on her that she had been left completely alone in dangerous territory. Pushing aside her confusion, she jogged to catch up with the Captain.

  She emerged onto the back lawn of the estate. The skies grew ever darker, sapping the color from the already ashen landscape. The grounds at the rear of the manor were far more open and sparse compared to the gardens at the front, consisting of a wide, flat swath of dusty earth. The only thing breaking up the land was a dried-up fountain, its edges lined with withered shrubbery and lorn paths. Crouched in a wide clearing beside the fountain was Jira, gazing keenly at the ground.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Kaelis sheepishly approached her. “Captain Sirroza,” she quietly offered. “I hope I didn’t say anything to offend—”

  “It’s fine,” Jira replied, half-apologizing. She beckoned Kaelis over to her. “Look here.”

  Curious, Kaelis slunk over to see what Jira had found. Carved into the earth were four freshly-filled holes arranged in a square, their edges clearly visible amongst the pale grass. Planted in the loose soil were slabs of wood reclaimed from the manor, each with a single name tenderly etched into the grain.

  “…The hell…” whispered Kaelis.

  Jira nodded solemnly. “Graves,” she stated. “Fresh ones.”

  Kaelis studied the markers, reading the names aloud. “‘Leanor, Rui, Brianka, Afonso’… Are these the missing villagers?”

  “The Sheriff said only two went up.”

  “Right… Then who do these belong to?”

  Jira shook her head, unable to answer. “There’s something else,” she revealed as she stood and pointed to the ground a few paces from the plot. Leading away from the graves were deep depressions embedded in the dirt, streaking across the lawn and heading towards the manor. “Drag marks,” she stated.

  Kaelis cocked her head. “What the…”

  “Come on,” said Jira, moving to track the trail.

  Kaelis followed behind, keeping a close eye on her surroundings as the Captain traced the grooves flowing along the dirt. The path wound its way across the lawn and walkways and up onto the manor’s rear porch. As the two women grew closer to the house, the trail turned gorey. Smears of blood, crusted over, flowed along the stone, surrounded by deep scratches. The path of carnage grew denser as it snaked across the porch, disappearing into a large hole punched into the back doorway.

  Jira looked at the remains of the door laying on the ground, ripped from its hinges and smashed to splinters. She narrowed her eyes.

  “It’s inside.”

  Kaelis and Jira readied their guns and nodded silently at one another. Carefully and quietly, they crept through the doorway, past the veil of darkness and into the abandoned manor.

  Just as Kaelis had hoped, the interior of the building was a thing of beauty. The long and narrow living chamber stretched the length of the main house, the walls brimming with six-wing-shaped Angelic motifs and hints of warm pigments. Sadly, its fine decor, gnarled and faded after six hundred years of neglect, was picked clean by centuries of scavengers, leaving nothing on the walls and floor but dirt and rubble. Only a few pieces of furniture remained, ones too heavy to be hauled off by the explorers of old. They lay cleared from the floor, haphazardly tossed into the corners and crushed into jumbled heaps.

  Lining the room was an array of doors and hallways, shooting off into parts unknown. Jira gestured over to a central doorway, the surest way into the heart of the house. The two women, ever watchful, treaded softly over centuries of dust and grime and gristle, the thick layers of debris crunching beneath their feet.

  Then, a faint rustling cut though the ominous quiet, coming from behind a lavish door at the end of a short hall. Jira put up her hand and crouched low. Kaelis followed suit. The Captain signaled to her teammate to investigate. With a silent nod Kaelis moved in, rifle raised, careful to not make a sound.

  Reaching the door, Kaelis twisted the dented brass knob and gently pushed it open, its hinges creaking softly as it swung. She crept through the doorway and entered into a posh and spacious master bedroom. Centrally along the far wall sat a regal four-poster bed, its curtains forebodingly drawn. The bed gently rattled, the rustling stemming from behind its drapes. Kaelis tightened the grip on her gun. She moved ahead diligently with Jira following closely behind her, scanning the room for additional threats.

  Kaelis cautiously approached the curtain. She shot a readied look towards Jira and together they nodded in silent understanding. Kaelis lifted her hand and raised a trio of fingers.

  Three.

  Jira readied her revolver, taking aim at the bed.

  Two.

  Kaelis stepped forward, hovering her hand over the drapes.

  One.

  Kaelis ripped back the curtain.

  A small streak of gray-brown exploded from the mattress and flung itself at Kaelis’s face. She let out a girlish shriek as a shaggy squirrel latched onto her helmet and scampered erratically around her head and shoulders. Flailing her arms around wildly, she struggled unsuccessfully to shoo the animal away.

  Jira loosened her stance and rolled her eyes. She moved past Kaelis, still preoccupied with her squirrel problem, and investigated the bed. She froze at the sight.

  The squirrel leapt from Kaelis’s shoulders and ran off into the house. She steadied herself, exhaling a sharp, exasperated breath.

  “Damn rodents,” she muttered. Noticing Jira’s sudden stillness, she moved over to join her. “What is it?” she asked, looking down at the bed. Kaelis quickly echoed the Captain’s horror.

  Laid out on the mattress was a man’s skeletal corpse, its head alarmingly missing, having been awkwardly severed at the neck. It was positioned in a dignified pose, hands folded at its ribs, resting atop a thick layer of dust. By the looks of it, the body had been posthumously placed there, and recently at that.

  “Yeesh,” grimace Kaelis.

  Jira’s brow sank. “What happened here?”

  Kaelis studied the corpse from a respectful distance. It was dressed in fine attire of a bygone fashion, its style perfectly matching the opulence of the surrounding room. Unless someone was playing dress up, there were few candidates for who the man could have been.

  “I think this is the old Duke…” she deduced. “Or was. Someone musta found his body.”

  “Hm,” Jira grunted uneasily.

  “Which could mean the graves in the back could be the rest of the Sarul family… But why would they bury the others and not him?”

  “And what happened to his head?”

  Kaelis pondered deeply for a moment. “…You don’t think that squirrel took it, do you?”

  Jira threw her an incredulous look.

  A loud clatter suddenly rumbled through the house, its vibrations tangible through the floorboards. Kaelis and Jira snapped alert, ready for action. Another clang arose, louder and clearer, followed by muffled, musical humming of a voice that sounded almost human.

  The two women angled their heads, tracking the source of the noise. It was coming from inside the walls, specifically from behind a wide, wooden wardrobe.

  The pair moved over to the wardrobe, ears attuned to the sporadic sounds of rummaging. Taking a closer look at the furniture, Kaelis noticed a subtle series of hinges running along one side of it, affixed to the wall like a door. Wordlessly, she pointed out the hinges to Jira. The Captain returned a nod, and the two of them shuffled over to the wardrobe’s opposite end. Slipping their fingers into the gap, they pulled against the furniture. It swung away from the wall with ease, revealing a secret passageway.

  All at once, the sounds of clanging ceased.

  The two women peered into the passageway, discovering a steep set of stairs descending into a dim chamber. They stood still for a moment, waiting for the sounds to return. Several seconds floated by without a hint of life throughout the house. Whatever was down there, it had heard them. Exchanging steeled looks, the pair moved in, plunging into the eerie silence.

  The two women pressed themselves through the darkened stairwell and emerged at the bottom. They stared into the space before them, astonished beyond their imagination.

  “Zehr Varro…” Jira gasped.

  The pair had arrived at the entrance of an enormous laboratory, its breadth illuminated by a host of gas lanterns, as well as a phosphorescent greenish glow emanating from a tube in the center of the chamber. The room was roughly as wide as the manor itself, crisscrossed with machinery and pits and tables cluttered with scientific instruments of all shapes and sizes. Lining the walls were rows of copper pipes and glass containers of antiquated design, a section of which looked to have been smashed into a jumbled pile. Seemingly hundreds of textbooks and blueprints lay scattered across the tables and floor, while half-finished anatomical drawings, plastered with a patchwork of notes and theories, clung to an enormous blackboard taking up the entirety of the far wall.

  As Kaelis and Jira stepped deeper into the lab, a noxious smell quickly filled their nostrils. They both gagged at its foul intensity. It wasn’t hard to find the cause. Strung up next to the blackboard were a handful of torn open animal carcasses hanging from hooks, their musculature visible behind their peeled flesh.

  Resting on a nearby slab was the strangest thing of all: a humanoid body constructed from layers of bloodied muscles and tendons. The strips of tissue looked like they’d been taken directly from the animals and then molded into human form, sewn together and riveted in place by thin copper bands. Sutured between the body’s shoulders was its only nonanimal component: the old Duke’s mummified head.

  “Dear lords…” breathed Kaelis, equal parts appalled and amazed. Getting approval from the Captain, she called out into the darkness. “Hello? If anyone is in here, we don’t wanna fight. We’re just looking for answers.”

  They were met with nothing but dreadful stillness.

  Agreeing to split up, the two women moved to either side of the lab. Slowly they slunk down the walls, looking for any signs of life.

  “Vintra,” called Jira a few moments later. Kaelis turned to see the Captain standing beside a heavy heap of smashed equipment. There, buried beneath the rubble, barely visible, were two sets of human legs. The pair of women sadly acknowledged it—they had found the missing villagers.

  Focusing up, Kaelis carried on. “We know you’re down here. You got nothing to be afraid of,” she cooed into the dark, tracking a path of papers and books chaotically strewn about. The trail led to a large machine of unknown purpose resting in the direct middle of the room. It was a man-sized metallic helix, ornately woven from thin strands of gold and silver. In several places the metalwork had warped and shattered, and been patched over by less elegant additions.

  Resting on a table next to the machine was a thick glass vial, three feet tall, capped on either end by thick metal plates. Sloshing inside the jar was a viscous bioluminescent fluid, its yellow-green glow casting an uncanny light across the lab. Kaelis approached it, drawn in by its mystery.

  Examining the vial closer, she noticed a large web of cracks had formed along one side of the glass, almost like the thing had been dropped once. Some of the jar’s biological sludge seemed to have seeped out through the crack, hardening into a glutinous, moistened, tar-like growth. The substance had oozed down the length of the vial, coagulating into a thick, solid mass at its base.

  “…The hell…?” Kaelis muttered, more than puzzled by the strange object. She took a step forward and tapped her gloved finger against the growth’s shimmering skin.

  At her touch, the jar violently stirred. With a mind of its own, it leapt from the table, knocking Kaelis off her feet. She stumbled backwards and fell over, staring paralyzed with horror as the vial heaved itself onto the floor with a wet thud. A number of thin, jointless arms unfurled themselves from out of its tumorous growth. They flopped onto the ground as the thing began to drag itself towards Kaelis.

  “AHH!! WHAT THE SHIT?!” she screamed.

  Jira whipped around to see her teammate on the floor and the freakish vial crawling its way towards her. “Vintra!” she cried, swinging her revolver around, unable to believe her eyes.

  A guttural bellow rang out from the thing—a horrible tangle of unearthly noise and human vocals spilling out like vomit.

  “Leeeaaave!”