“After a full day of running, I found myself on top of a hill above an open plain, the moonstone resting atop. It looked like a curling finger with a gnarled tip. Pale-white, like the moon, almost as if it was giving a mighty middle finger to the sky.

  “To the east lay a black, starlit sky and woods which housed an elaborate white castle in its center. I had come from the west, a land of perpetual dusk. Vibrant purples, oranges, and yellow hues wrapped the area.

  “I gathered my thoughts, planning out what I was to do next once I made it to the mortal plane. To offset the balance in my favor, I would have to destroy the current Winter Warden. Killing him probably wouldn't be that hard, but tracking him down could be.

  “I wasn't too worried, however. Lady Luck had never let me down. That and mine and the Winter Warden’s powers were two sides to the same coin. I knew that wherever I landed would be the right place. Lady Fate would drag him to me, seeing how she liked him better. It was our nature to battle each other and protect our territory during our respective times of year.

  “The moonstone grew bright, drawing my mind back to the present. She had finally made it. The moon was right above and began to shine down. The stone shifted in the middle space and folded in on itself, opening like a doorway from both sides—peeling away reality with a curtain of light. On the other end, a cold and wet landscape greeted me.

  “‘Perfect,’ I said sarcastically. I took a deep breath and stepped through.

  “The smell of horse shit was the first thing I noticed. Then, the freezing rain. I stood on top of a minor hill like before and gazed around. My nose was assaulted by a small westward river town. To the east were some woods that led into cold, damp ruins. Cloudy gray skies and pouring rain stretched across the horizon, casting everything in muted colors and dark dispositions. The wind held a biting cold that passed right through you, stealing a bit of your soul away. A fantastic vacation spot.

  “‘Great,’ I said aloud. ‘This place has terrible weather, and the moody location is definitely the Winter Warden aesthetic. Everyone and everything is miserable.’ Speaking of everyone, I let my eyes drift over toward the town.

  “There, I noticed a few farm folk running toward town. That was when I heard them screaming about the ‘moonstone’ and ‘strange lights.’ I figured my entrance into this reality wasn't all that discreet. I decided that they had the right idea, so I too headed into town to gather more information, or at least something stiff to drink.

  “I don't know if you've ever been to a town on the brink of collapse and starvation, but a lot of people forget that it doesn't happen all at once. A few corrupt city officials, bad banking, or one too many unfortunate harvests can contribute to tearing a little town down. This time, however, looked like it had all three and then some. Walking into town, I noticed the horses on the brink of starvation, huddling together. The poor creatures tried to stay warm underneath a termite-infested wooden covering, but you could still see their muscles twitching uncontrollably. The way they shivered still holds a special place in my nightmares.

  “Moving deeper into town, I let the rain cover the sound of my footsteps. I let the cold water awaken me further and sharpen my senses, but I nearly lost my balance when my feet met the heavily treaded road into town. Once smooth, the road was now cracked, broken, and completely covered by a mixture of feces, mud, and slush. What I had tripped on was definitely not a rock.

  “The houses were in better shape, but not by much. Simple stone structures with thatched roofing pocked this city. Deeper into the town, one structure held a sign above its door that said ‘warm ale to cold customers.’

  “A tavern is a perfect place to gather information and drink spirits, the best of both worlds in one place. I weaved a bit of a glamour together to hide my armor and pointy ears. Simple magic, really, causing something around the world to be forgotten or overlooked. With a gentle nudging from the space between me and the eyes of those around me, I created a minor veil. It's not as strong as invisibility, but it's definitely a lot more effective inside a crowded room. Now, if they looked at me, all they would see is a wet traveler in a black cloak trying to get out of the rain.

  “Opening the door, a wave of heat carried the smell of body odor straight into my loving nose. Honestly, I didn't think the town could smell any worse, but this was only one of many assumptions that were to strike me that day. My ears flicked as I adjusted my hearing to the mixing pot of conversation wrapping around the space. Then my face was kissed by a roaring fire like a lover rushing into you. Oh, how I missed the fires from home. It was different and one that only the mortals could create. A tempered, loving flame that held all that needed its energy. I just wanted to run right into it and tell it how much I missed it over and over again. But I bet a stranger doing something like that would only beget immediate trouble. Glamour or not, I was trying to keep a low profile.

  “In the back of the room, two men stood in front of the fire trying to warm up. They roared and yelled to gather the drunk occupants there to focus. They seemed to be the two figures from before, so I did my best to stay low and quiet.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  “Stepping in quickly, I headed toward the bar, which sat at the other end of the room facing the front door. It was far from the flames, but that couldn’t be helped, no matter how much my heart ached. There, a lady stood cleaning a glass absentmindedly. I approached the bar, getting a better look at her while passing between occupants. She was a middle-aged, stocky woman, a little bit on the shorter side, with wide shoulders and muscular arms. Her hair was pulled back, and some loose curls framed her face. She wasn’t very pretty, considering she shared similarities with a bruised pumpkin, but her eyes caught me in a way I'd never experienced before. Her eyes were some of the most breathtaking I had ever seen. Pools of gray and blue, dark, in deep contemplation. I stumbled in my approach but quickly caught myself on the shoulder of another patron. I figured if not for a hard life, perhaps she would've been beautiful. This was a cold world, however, and she’d seen an even colder part of human nature.

  “I wasn't quite ready to rouse her from her wandering mind, so I stayed at the edge of her vision, stepped up to the bar, slipped into a seat, and listened in on the grandstanding the two men were having.

  “‘I saw it, I did, at the moonstone,’ the taller of the two men said, his voice thick with phlegm and mucus. ‘Like the stone was punishing us and reaching out of the ground to pull up another Faye demon to torture us!’

  “‘It's just another sign that we've strayed too far from the path of our people,’ said the other man with him. His form was also stocky, but his voice was shrill and annoying. ‘We need to drive the wickedness from our lands once and for all!’ The longer they spoke, the more of the room leaned in to listen until all of the tavern’s occupants were hushed.

  “‘Sit down, Crayben,’ said the lady bartender. ‘The only wickedness you'll be driving away is the bad dreams at the bottom of your mug.’

  “‘But, Maddy, there was no spirit in our veins yet when we saw what we saw,’ said the taller man I now knew to be Crayben.

  “‘No, you fool, it wasn’t a spirit, it was the great hand of the old ones,’ said an even older man sitting by the window next to the fireplace.

  ‘Old man Stebp is weaving another story,’ whispered a patron next to me.

  “‘Hush, he hasn’t told one of his stories since his daughter got caught up in the culling last time,’ came the reply. ‘Let him have this.’ The voice was tender but worried. Something had happened to these people outside of bad crops. Even Crayben and his friend grew quiet.

  “When old man Stebp saw he had the room's attention, he nodded in approval and took a swig, seemingly to steady himself. He shook once, then spoke.

  ‘It's common knowledge that the moonstones aren't just random pieces of rock,’ his voice drew out the last words. He was the kind of old man who really knew how to tell a story. So far, he was right at least.

  “‘They're not portals to hell, they’re fingertips.’ He reached out his own hand as a demonstration. ‘This world was once full of man-eating giants. These creatures hungered and thirsted for all kinds of chaos. They hated everything that was a part of creation. In their mad rage, they tried to tear at the very fabric of all realities.’ He began to tear his napkin in half. I heard the bartender hold back a reply. ‘Do you know what they found?’ he asked, eyeing the room. He paused much longer than he had done previously, surely for the dramatic effect.

  “‘They found that they were not as strong as they thought they were and trapped themselves in the realms between. Only some were fast enough to reach backward toward the tear, only barely catching the edges of it on their fingertips.’ He nodded proudly as if he had done this a thousand times before, and then suddenly opened his eyes wider. He seemed tired in an instant and slumped his head, realization playing across his face. I read it like a book. He is still there. The story no longer gives him any comfort or escape.

  “The room fell silent once more. Then Crayben’s agitated form couldn't wait any longer. He coughed twice, then eyed the other man. Raising his voice, he addressed the room.

  “‘I’m sorry, old man, but I don’t think we can rely on that story. Really, I think we need to do another culling to see who needs to pay and—’ His voice was cut off by the thunderous sound of a fist slamming into the bar.

  “‘You want to drive out wickedness so badly, do ya?’ the woman bartender exclaimed, her voice low with a deep rumble. Her tone held more than just a warning. ‘Then start with your own damned selves.’ Her clenched fist turned white. Anger splayed across her face. ‘I used to think like one of you. I used to believe in the old ways of culling. Then, after my dear darling was selected for the woodwalk, my heart never believed the same.’ Her voice broke off at that last mention, emotion threatening to choke her. ‘It was as if all the light in my life died that day, AND NOW THE SKY WEEPS WITH ME AND ALL THE OTHER WIVES WHO LOST THEIR HUSBANDS TO THE WOODS!’ Her voice was now a roar, echoing off the walls of the bar. The patrons shifted uncomfortably. Something she said rang true, and all of them released an unspoken fear between them.

  “The bartender bit down hard on her lip and tried to keep it from trembling. Her eyes, now red, glared like daggers at the rest of them, holding nothing but contempt and rage.

  “‘Maddy,’ the tall man said in a pleading tone, ‘we’ve all lost someone to the woodwalk, but you know what will happen if we don't do it. The Stagman will come for us all. Please, Maddy, don't be like that.’

  “Maddy glared for a moment longer, then turned away, back toward the crowd of onlookers. I saw her pull a bottle from the top shelf and pour herself something before downing it in one go.

  “Ah, yes, the situation was clear now. It seemed like a case of common village folklore that leads to ritual sacrifice when brought to hard times. By the look of things, it was probably done by drawing straws. The only way to keep things fair. So they’d been sending the selected into the woods for a ‘walk’ to appease some sort of Faye spirit they believe in, called the ‘Stagman.’

  “Now, if this were actually a real Faye spirit of the woods that did demand ritual sacrifice, these people would be rolling in fields of gold by this point. The power necessary for a Faye to sacrifice someone's soul and be absorbed into their canopy of influence is taxing and tricky. Most ancient lands, Faye use that as a last resort to save their territory. No, something was wrong, something had tricked them into a death cycle and was making sport out of them. The image of the Ouroboros came to mind, the snake eating its own tail.

  “I’d learned all I needed to and slipped out the way I came, but not before liberating a few bottles that were behind the bar. No harm in it since her back was turned.