Chapter 1: A Little Girl

You ignore the sounds for now. You just want to see the sunlight again, and be outside of this cold, foetid limbo.


Eventually, you return to the entrance from whence you came. It's shut itself in the time you've been gone, but you think you have the trick of it now. Gently, you touching it, and reach out into it with that other part of you.


It's bewildering, this strange extension. Almost like a limb, but one without form, sensing strange patches of coldness and heaviness around it. Even skirting around the pendant in your pinafore, and the skulls at your hip, you can feel them distorting the world around ithem in a way your physical self cannot. A dense chill, pushing down with its weight. Not entirely a great analogy, but then again, you're not entirely sure how to explain it in words, any more than you could explain colors to the blind.


With a resonant click, you hear whatever mechanism inside the wall give, and the stone lifts from its perch, giving you space enough to climb out. Getting over the lip tskes a few moments of scrabbling, nearly knockin the candle over and out. You almost shudder at the thought, the memories of that utter blackness from before coming to the fore of your memory.


Finally, you clear the stairs back to the inn proper, relishing the light and the fresh air. Taking a deepbreath, you beam happily at Mama. She's sitting behind the main counter, waiting patiently.


"Ah, Lucy, there you are!" she tells you, smiling back with tired eyes.


"Well Lucy? It is time to make a decision," the voice whispers in your ear.


OPTIONS:


  1. Put on the pendant, try to help Mama.

  2. Go upstairs, put the pendant on one of your parents.

  3. Ask the voice how exactly you can help Mama.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"What exactly can we do to help Mama?" you ask softly, quietly enough so that Mama does not hear.


Mama frowns a little as she looks at you, eyes wandering over the bushel of carved skulls hanging from your fist.


"It depends. Her spirit... what you see in front of you, that is who and what she is. By the looks of it, she's... disorientated. Confused. She doesn't know, and she's just trying to keep up with her routine. If there were people here, if this functioned as an inn again, perhaps she could reclaim some semblance of self. But that's unlikely, given what the town has become,"


"So what's going to happen to her?"


"If nothing is done, she'll get worse. The best case scenario, she... fades away. Disappears,"


"...and the worst?"


The voice says nothing.


"Lucy, what have you got there?" asks Mama, peering over the bar to get a better look at your newfound treasure.


As painful as it is, you ignore her for a moment, continuing your talk with the voice.


"So what can we do?" you hiss, beginning to get irritated at the constant barrage of vague ad unhelpful answers.


"You mean what can I do. And the answer is, without a body, nothing. I can teach you, but it will be days, weeks, even months before you can gain any semblance of strength to do what needs to be done,"


"So what can you do?" you snap, finally losing your temper.


"Lucy?" repeats Mama, obviously confused by the one sided exchange that she can see.


"I can help her pass on, I can stop her from fading away, from growing worse, maybe even improve her mind, or I can stick her in a body with some semblance of being alive again," was the voice's flat and irritable response.


OPTIONS:


  1. Talk to Mama.

  2. Agree to put on the pendant to help Mama.

  3. Put the pendant on a body.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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"If I put you on, you'll help me help her, right?" you ask carefully.


"Yes,"


"But... I just want to have you on to help her. Not for teaching, or anything else... at least, right now. Just to help Mama, okay?"


"...fine,"


"...promise?"


"Don't insult me child!" The voice howls in your ears like a gale through a crypt, sharp and echoing. "I need not be sworn to childish promises! I may be old, and eldritch, and beyond humanity, but I have not forgotten what it means to have a heart beat warmly in my breast, or feel the pang of love for another in my soul!"


You flinch away from the buffeting screech, yanking out the pendant, hand protected from its touch by a thick hankerchief.


"Do you promise!?" Your voice is sharp and cold, heavy with anger. Your fingers are clenched around the stiff fabric, but you can still feel the cold lead prickling your flesh.


"I promise," sneers the voice.


"Lucy?" Mama comments again, clearly getting distressed now.


For Mama, you think, as you pull the chain over your head.


Instantly, you feel that presence intertwining with your own within you. A fresh flame of anger squats alongside the irritation you already bear. You breath deeply, an action that is not your doing, and your heart flickers just that little bit faster. Your body freezes momentarily, caught between the paradox of attempting to forcefully loosen up and fearfully tensing up. In the end, the relaxation wins out, in time wtih a deep exhale.


"Now Lucy," says the voice inside your head. "What do you want us to do?"


OPTIONS:


  1. Talk to Mama.

  2. Put Mama to rest.

  3. Preserve Mama's mind.

  4. Put Mama in a body.

  5. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"We're going to give Mama a body," you whisper.


"...Lucy?" your mother murmurs, still looking at you with confusion and fear. You raise your hands slowly, as if to placate her, and offer her the warmest smile you can.


"It's okay Mama," you say gently. "It's all going be okay. I'm going help you. You won't forget anymore, you won't be confused anymore. It'll work out, okay Mama?"


"I-... okay..." the fear fades fom her face, replaced only by more confusion.


"What do we do?" you ask the voice subtly.


"Get her to her original body, or failing that, any body. I'll take care of the rest," says the voice.


You smile at Mama again, extending your hand.


"Alright Mama, I need some help with the sheets upstairs, okay?"


She blinks, staring at you blankly for some seconds, before reaching for your fingers. Her fingertips pass through yours, and she looks at her hand in dismay and growing horror.


You draw your hand back hurriedly, grimacing all the while. Her immaterialness had slipped your mind.


"Mama?" you say again, sharply. She looks at you with that same lost expression, as if forgetting that painful realisation. "We're going upstairs, remember?"


"Okay Lucy," says your mother eventually.


As you bring her into her room, Mama seems to grow more and more worried, looking all the more uncomfortable. She deliberately avoids looking at the bed, and is wringing her hands frantically. It hurts to see her like this.


"Now, let me child. And watch, so that you may learn," says the voice as you feel the presence wrapping around your limbs. Hesitantly, you let control slip away. Your body moves over to the bed, and touches Mama's flesh. A cold extension, like yours but not yours, reminiscent of that feeling within you discovered in the basement, reaches out. It washes over Mama's body. Like a bleak mist, draining light and energy. Imperceptibly, you know that something died. You don't know how you know that, or even why it's so specific, but you do, as immutably as up is up and down is down.


Suddenly, your body looks to Mama's spirit, and you feel that cold extension snatch out. She disappears, but... she's not gone. She's wriggling in the grip of that other, as it smoothes her out, gripping her tightly, treating her as if she were as malleable as clay. You want to say something, anything, but the control is no longer yours. Then, suddenly, the other, it pushes Mama into herself, and she spasms violently, arching her back. It's almost as if she's having a seizure, her limbs clenching and unclenching. She jerks out of the bed, falling to the floor boards with an ugly thud.


Silence. She doesn't move.


Gradually, you feel control being returned to you, tentatively, almost grudingly.


"Mama?" you hazard, as soon as you are able.


"....why am I so cold?"


OPTIONS:


  1. Explain to Mama the truth.

  2. Lie to Mama, comforting.

  3. Change your mind, let her pass on.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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"You've..." you hesitate. You still don't like lying to Mama, but you did promise her that you wouldn't do things like this anymore.


"You've been sick Mama. Very sick. Everyone has,"


"...is... that why I'm so cold?" she mumbles, pushing herself up. Carefully, you help her. Her flesh is indeed chill to the touch, a strange, unnerving feeling. She's too unsteady to get to her feet, falling back on her read, legs splayed in front of her. She looks at you with a confused, bewildered expression.


"I've done what I can to prevent rot, but more may be needed in future. For the moment, you should bath her," whispers the voice.


You kind of have to agree with her. Mama stinks of blood and sweat and excrement. A bath wouldn't go amiss. Besides, it might help warm her up.


It takes a little while to boil the water enough for a bath, but soon enough you've managed to get Mama undressed in the warm tub. She still seems unsure of her self, distracted, flexing her hands and looking at them. She doesn't talk much. Mostly, she just stares about, her eyes pale and clouded since she "woke up". Still, you try to be cheery about the whole thing. You hum an old song Mama taught you as you scrub her hair.


"....this water's cold," Mama murmurs softly, staring listlessly into the distance. This gives you pause. It was close to scalding when you started, but even though you made sure it mellowed somewhat, it was still fairly hot.


OPTIONS:


  1. Ask the voice why Mama is still cold.
  2. Ask if you can actually bring Mama back to life.

  3. Comfort Mama, simply tell her it's because she's sick.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"Thank you... Rita, for helping me, and for helping Mama," you say, your voice barely audible even to yourself.


There's no reply, but you do feel something akin to gratitude radiating from that presence within you.


Mama looks up to you from the tub questioningly.


"You're cold because you were sick Mama," you tell her. It's not exactly a lie. She did get sick, and that is why she's cold now. It's just... not the entire truth.


She seems to accept this. You're not sure. Mama doesn't really talk much. She seems almost... childlike in her mentality. Still, you manage to bath her, dry her, comb her hair out, and finally dress her without any real problems. It doesn't help distract from the too pale nature of her skin, blueishness around her lips, or the pale cloudy cast to her eyes. Even at first glance, it's very obvious that there's something wrong with her.


It's dark outside by the time you finish.


"I'm... I'm supposed to be doing something at this time, aren't I?" Mama says, face creasing with confusion.


That's right, this is around the time she normally makes dinner. As if to confirm this, your stomach gurgles in protest.


"It's dinner time Mama," you tell her.


She nods slowly, then begins making her way to the kitchen. As you follow her, you start to mutter to the voice under your breath.


"Why does she feel cold?"


The answer is prompt.


"Because she's dead. I had hoped that a fresh soul in a fresh corpse, not mention her own, might allow her some... resemblance of life... but apparently, that's not the case," The voice carries with it a twinge of apology with it, not in the words, but with the presence within you.


"Oh..." A twang of sorrow joins your own in sympathy.


"I am sorry Lucy,"


"...what's going to happen to her?"


"What I've done will stave off the worst of physical degeneration, but though time will allow her mind to grow more coherent, it will also slowly... mummify her,"


"...mummify?" you ask quizzically.


"...make her... thinner. Wizened. Similar to a skeleton covered in skin,"


"Oh..."


You grow quiet as you watch Mama potter around the kitchen. Whatever loss affected her, she certainly remembers how to cook, even beginning to hum absentmindedly. She looks the same as she always has at this time of night, going about the kitchen, cooking up a hearty meal for you, your Papa, and whoever else happened to the inn for dinner. For a few, blissful moments, you can almost forget yourself, and imagine that the lague didn't really happen. That you're all together again. Then Mama turns around, and you catch a look of that bloodless face and sightless eyes, and the dream vanishes.


OPTIONS:

  1. Ask if you can actually bring Mama back to life.
  2. Ask the voice about itself.

  3. Ask about the skulls you brought back.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"What if... what if we brought Mama back to life?" you ask the voice softly, still watching Mama go about making dinner. "We can do that, right? We have all of her here..."


There's a moment of pregnant silence.


"I've... never tried it before. I suppose it's... possible?" muses the voice, along with a note of curiosity stirring in your chest. "It would involve reaching across to the World Without Sun and bringing your mother's soul fully into this world, then reuniting it with her body..."


"So we can?"


"Preparations would be simple enough. The workshop in the downstairs already set up with the correct wards and devices..." the voice continues, almost more to itself than to you.


"...is tha a yes or a no?"


"Hm? Oh, well... honestly, I don't know Lucy,"


"I thought bringing people back to life is what witches did?" you comment irritably.


"Hmph. Such ignorance. First of all child, I, and you, are not witches. We are magi. Second of all, my practical knowledge of resurrection and its ilk is lacking. I never got around to indulging it before... fate intervened,"


"...you mean you died," you add softly.


"...yes Lucy. I died," It's not said sadly, though you feel it should be. Even the presence within you fails to stir with those words. With sorrow, or anger, or something. Not remaining so still with it being said so matter of factly.


"I thought... you'd be angry or sad about it or something..."


"...I've... had a lot of time to come to terms with it. To think about it,"


"Maeve said that you were burned at the stake,"


"Truthfully, once they tied me to that stake, I let my soul slip from my body. I had little desire to feel the agony of being burned alive, nor did I wish to turn my powers on my peers... well, most of them at least. So I left, and I watched, and I waited,"


Something resembling a sigh runs through your head like a gently breeze.


"For a long, long time,"


OPTIONS:

  1. Continue asking about resurrection.
  2. Continue asking the voic about itself.

  3. Help Mama with making dinner.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"I'm sorry..." you murmur to the voice, wishing that you could comfort it better.


"It's fine Lucy. As I've said, I've had time to come to terms with it. If anthing, I find it rather funny that I was not burned at the stake for my "heretical misdeeds of witchcraft", no my death came of simple human jealousy," it says to you.


"...what?"


"They never discovered that I was a mage. I was careful, very careful. Every trinket, every artifact, every scrap of research, all of it hidden in the rooms downstairs. Which, by the way, I painstakingly excavated by hand... until I could manage to recruit some "helpful bodies" to the task. But no, I was a witch because the Mayor and the Priest declared it so..."


"Oh..." You feel sad for the voice, even if it doesn't feel sad for itself. You wish you could help it... although... now that you think about it, helping Mama could possibly turn into helping Rita.


"If... if we manage to bring Mama back to life... do you think we could bring you back to life?"


"Heh. I appreciate the sentiment Lucy, but my body is long since ashes," replies the voice. The small warmth of appreciation lights up within you, and you can imagine Rita smiling, if indeed, you could imagine what Rita looks like.


"But if we help Mama... maybe we could help you afterward," you continue.


"...perhaps. Though first we would have to clarify how to aid your mother,"


"...what would we have to do?"


"As I said, venture into the World Without Sun to pull the bulk of her soul into this world... after that, it's a simple case of rejoining the soul and the body," explains the voice thoughtfully.


"The World Without Sun?" This is the second time the voice has brought the term up, but you still don't know what it was.


"For lack of a better term, the afterlife, of sorts. That is by no means a full, or even a correct explanation, but later on, I promise," clarifies the voice offhandedly.


"Okay..."


"Right now, what that means to you and I in regards to your mother... you will have to have to call her back fom there. You may even have to venture there physically, as I can no longer. It is a cold, colorless place, filled with hungry ghosts and worse. Is that a risk you are willing to take?"


OPTIONS:

  1. Yes.
  2. No.

  3. I need to think about it.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
You don't hesitate, not even for a moment.


"Yes,"


"Hm. I didn't expect anything else of you Lucy," says the voice, a feeling of pride radiating through you. Not your own, but from her. "We should probably begin before your mother sits down to eat. I would heartily recommend she doesn't fill that body with food. If we fail, it will stay in her stomach and rot, leading to problems with her maintenance,"


"I uh, okay," you reply, turning to Mama. It seems like such a shame to interrupt her now, when she's just starting to recollet herself, but it was all for making her better.


"Mama?"


The woman freezes mid action, boiling water in the pot sloshing over her hand. If she feels it, or even notices, you can't tell. She turns to you with a confused expression.


"Yes Lucy?"


You hold out your hand.


"Will you come with me for a minute? I have to show you something. It's important,"


That blank, sightless stare is directed at you for several long seconds before Mama replies.


"I-... okay," is all she says, taking your outstretched fingers with her own. They're still chill to the touch, and you have to resist shivering from the clammy feeling against your skin.


You lead her downstairs, into the basement.


"What are we looking for Lucy?" she asks as you light the candlestick, giving it to her to hold.


"Something important," you stress, going over to the block. Once again, you push out that cold extension of yourself into the block, searching blindly for that handle. With a crack, and a grinding sound, it moves beneath your "touch". The flagstone judders up out of the ground., yawning open and revealing that inky abyss beneath.


You stand before it, the light of your candle making no impact on the shadows within. This is it. There's no turning back after you make these steps. Once you set down this path, that's it.


"Well?" asks Rita.


OPTIONS:

  1. Go.
  2. Don't.

  3. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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Without hesitation, you walk into that abyss. One hand clings to Mama's, not to protect you, but to lead her. The voice repeats its direction for you to follow.


Mama is quiet. Confused and mumbling, but quiet overall. She follows your pull without complaint.


It only takes a few minutes to reach the lair. It hasn't changed in your brief absence, but the voice urges you onwards to a room past it.


The workshop, as the voice calls it, seems to be in even better condition than the previous one. Save for one or two cracks, the walls are all solid. A skull symbol is painted on each of them, even the ceiling and floor, in some dark red color, the paint crusty and flaking. In the centre of the room is a simple, yet sturdy wooden table, besides which is a short cabinet laid with dusty tools. Myriad stains cross the table and the floor around it, in the same color as those markings on the walls. A dark realisation comes to mind that it's likely not paint at all.


"...Rita, what is this place?" you ask carefully, glancing at the lines of tools. Saws, knives, chisels, and thick needles.


"As I said, it's the workshop," the voice explains, as if it was obvious. You're not sure if you want her to elaborate any further.


"...why have we come here? Where even are we?" says Mama slowly, gently touching the wall.


"Get her to lie on the worktable. And for this part, I am going to need you to give me complete control, at least for the time being,"


OPTIONS:

  1. Let the voice take control.
  2. Ask to perform the ritual under the voice's direction.
  3. Ask if there's another way.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"Alright," you say, tightening your grip on the pendant around your neck.


"Mama?"


You mother looks up, confusion and fear plastered across her face.


"Can you lie down here please?"


She turns to stare at the stained table, tentatively touching its surface. For a moment, you don't think she will, but after a few seconds, she slowly lies down.


"When will you let go?" you whisper to the voice.


"Soon," is all it says, its presence wrapping around your own. Your body tenses up, and you have to will yourself to let go, to let the other take control. The feeling is no less disconcerting than before, the movement of your body outside of your own accord. As before, the you not-you takes a deep, shuddering breath, as if revelling in the sensation. Indeed, you can feel a sense of enjoyment, of satisfaction in your chest, it too not born of your emotions. Gently, your hand reaches out to touch Mama's, and you feel that extension that is not of yourself push into her. Her eyes go wide, and she stiffens, then goes limp.


"What did you do to her?"


"She is... asleep. As asleep as the dead can be, at least. Now please, quiet. I need to concentrate. Oh, and my apologies in advance," murmurs the voice inside your head.


"...what?" you try to ask, but your mouth no longer responds, forcing you to remain silent.


Your body moves about the room, checking the sigils on the walls, the floor, and the ceiling. Content in their appearance, your body continues back to Mama, stopping by the assorted blades. Grabbing a curved knife, your body turns it over, checking the edges before wiping it clean on your pinafore. It gleams in the candlelight, no less sharp for its age. With nary a moment of hesitation, you run the side of it slickly across the outside of your forearm.


It doesn't hurt. In fact, you think that, perhaps, it was blunt after all. Then the stream of crimson spills forth in a steady ebb, and the pain becomes real. Your heart starts to hammer in your chest, responding to the lump of panic that dropped into your stomach. The voice had you cut yourself! Why!?


Before you can react in any which way, a wave of calm crashes down within you, smothering the flames of panic. There's a slight tremble to the movement of your hands, but otherwise, the fear you're feeling is being suffocated by the voice's sheer force of will.


With forefingers, your body dabs at the wound, painting ruby symbols onto your mother. Her forehead, her chest, her hands and feet, all are painted with that same skull you've seen upon the walls. Your eyes close, trapping you in darkness. You can feel your limbs move, and the extension that is like your own but not moves, squirms from your finger tips. They leave trails behind where they move, like the path of a painter's brush. You can see the marks they make as clearly as if you were watching in a sunlit field.


The marks, they congeal, clotting together, forming... something else. Something that yawns before you, cold and hungry, a chill breeze trying to drag you towards it.


Finally, you open your eyes.


A hole gapes before you, the whispering howl of the wind into its maw the only sound you can hear besides your beating pulse. It looks into a mirrored elsewhere, a room just like this one, but twisted and without color, and cold. So very cold. You don't know why or how, but you know that place is colder than any winters day you've ever felt.


Your body rips a shred off your dress, tying it around your arm, tightly. It hurts with how solidly it's tied, slowly turning a rose red, but it stops the bleeding.


With no volition of your own, you step forward, into that hopeless place, and you feel control returning to your body.


"Find her Lucy,"


OPTIONS:

  1. Start calling for your mother.
  2. Run.
  3. Examine the room more carefully.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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"Mama?" you call out.


The grey surroundings seem to swallow the words. It looks like the room you just left, but wrong, in a way you don't entirely understand. The walls are distorted, bent out of shape, the room squashed or stretched at random. The sigils upon the walls, here they're almost black, dark countenaces of seeping ichor, leering down at you. Strangely enough, there's no light. There's no dark either. It's all just pale, washed out, and uniform, like a memory unremembered.


A trail shines past you, a thin wisp of smoke frozen in time. Your eyes following it, you see it comes from the open portal behind you, circling around and disappearing out of the room.


"Mama?" you say again, and bead of light spirals down the trail. As you follow it to the outside, you find that it opens not into the passages from before, but a winding stairway above some dark abyss. Your stomach lurches as you teeter close to the edge, and you fall backwards.


"Some quick words of warning Lucy," whispers the voice, somehow sounding distant. "Do not head further than you need. Do not venture down. Most importantly, do not interact or reply to anything that is not your mother. If they would move upon you, flee back here, as fast as you can,"


You nod quietly, watching the trail unwind along the way upstairs. Following it, you come across lines of doors, fragments of rooms spilled upon the path, warped chambers that bubble up out of the nothing.


The trail is getting more indistinct as you follow it, fading from your sight.


Even as you consider this, a soft sobbing reaches your ears.


OPTIONS:

  1. Call out for Mama again.
  2. Follow the crying.
  3. Examine the rooms more carefully.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"Mama?"


Aside from the crying, these words are the only sound. Almost too loud for your ears, they echo, once, briefly, before disappearing into the endlessness around you. Another mote of light slides down the trail, and the crying stops.


But there's something else. The air, which has been still, now feels heavy. You hear something. A rapid clicking, its tempo uneven, reaches your ears.


"Hide!" hisses the voice, fighting to be heard over the suddenly deafening beat of your heart. It's a movement of instinct, ducking behind some fallen pillar.


It skitters into view, long and thin, on feet like knives and hands like spiders. Rather than teeth, needles jutt from the inky crevice that is its mouth, beneath eyes just lightless holes in its head. Carefully, it creeps along the walkway. Click. Click. Click.


Raising its head, the creature speaks in a cold voice, like the wind whispering through keyholes on a winters night.


"Mama," it parrots, singsongs, lengthing the word into a shrill shout. "Mama. Where are you?"


OPTIONS:

  1. Run.
  2. Try and creep past it.
  3. Ask the voice on what to do.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
You hunker down, trying to make yourself as small as possible behind your hiding place. That thing jerks to and fro, as if smelling the air.


"Hm. I'm surprised that sentinel is still here," mutters the voice, accompanied by a pang of irritation sidling up along the fear in your belly. "That bastard certainly made them hardwearing, didn't he?"


If you could, you'd try and look at the voice, to express some sort of quizzical gesture. Instead, you settle for quietly wearing the expression. It does seem to get the point across.


"It's... for lack of a better term, it's a guard dog, designed to hunt down anything that isn't supposed to be here. That includes us," it explains.


The slightest of shrugs is your response, trying to barely move, to barely breath lest it hear you. It scuttles about the walkway, mockingly calling Mama, Mama. Disgust mingles with fear, and despite the chill coursing up and down your spine, an ugliness begins to form, directed solely at the creature. Hatred.


"If it catches wind of us, it will hunt us down until we're either out of its territory or..."


The voice lets the thought hang.


You scowl.


"Well, in terms of how to deal with it, we can run, which... is possible. I'm not quite certain how fast you can use these tiny legs, but we don't have to go far. We can sneak around it... That option is a little more difficult, as I certainly don't have any experience in hiding, do you?"


You raise an eyebrow, along with the merest opening of your hands.


"Finally, we can try and overpower it. Oh no, don't give me that look, I don't expect you to go galavanting towards it like some knight, child. No no, use our magic against it, and attempt to submit it to our will. We may have to find a more permanent solution, as once I let go, it will go about its regular business... And it may be somewhat difficult in the first place, as it was likely made to resist such attempts at control..."


OPTIONS:

  1. Run.
  2. Try and creep past it.
  3. Use magic.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
As silently as you can manage, you creep forward on your hands and feet. Every movement is slow and careful. You crawl along the side of the fallen pillar, around where the creature is shambling.


A piece of rock gives beneath one of your feet with the mildest of cracks. It doesn't matter. The click of movement from that thing stops abruptly. You freeze. Then the clicks start again, but you can tell, they're getting closer.


Click.


Click.


Click.


Just above your head, comes the sound of several in quick succession. These next few moments stretch out endlessly. The only thing you can hear is your rampant pulse, thrumming in your ears. It's too loud. It's far, far too loud, and you just know that monster is going to hear it, any second now.


"Mama," the thing barks. "Mama, where are you?"


Only for the presence of the voice within, keeping your body locked, you don't leap out of sheer fright. You feel like you're going to be sick. The teeming knots in your stomach are pulling you into yourself, even with the voice holding calm with the force of will.


"Mama," it spews again, finally turning around. Above you, the scrape of nails against stone.


Click.


Click.


Click.


The sound gets fainter and fainter, until you're sure you can no longer even imagine that you're hearing it.


You try to relax, but your body just trembles madly, and you have to quash the urge to vomit. Even then, it's too hard to not curl up into a ball, hugging your knees.


"Calm Lucy, calm. It's okay. It's gone," hushes the voice, its sympathies and calm demeanor trying to blanket the terror in your stomach.


OPTIONS:

  1. Try not to cry, go follow the trail.
  2. Try not to cry, examine the room around.
  3. Try not to cry, cry a lot.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
You wipe you face with the back of one grimy sleeve, clenching at the tightness in your throat. No. No. You won't cry. Not here, not now. You're doing this for Mama.


Making sure that your steps are silent, you pad soundlessly through the gloom. The trail from before is dispersing once again, fading like smoke. Crying, the same crying as before, rings out. A quiet sobbing, of someone lost and scared. It only takes you a couple more footsteps to realise that the trail is leading you in the direction of this voice.


Words well up in your mouth, but die before they reach your lips. You remeber those nightmarish black eyes, a trio of holes pulling in the sights around them. The shiver that runs up your spine has nothing to do with the cold.


Eventually, the trail fades completely. You follow the soft sobs instead, and find yourself in the common of your house. At least, it looks like the common at first glance. Like the workshop from which you entered, it too is twisted, warped by the lifelessness of this dreadful place. The floorboards are dusty and splintered, the walls cracked and seeping with damp. There's a hole in the ceiling, a single drop of water falling from the tip of a shattered beam. This is what the common would look like were it abandoned, likely for many years.


A woman is sitting on the floor in front of the bar. She's slumped over, back hitching with every whimper. She's dressed like your mother.


OPTIONS:

  1. Call out to her.
  2. Touch her on the shoulder.
  3. Run over and hug her.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Having learned your lesson last time, you say nothing. Instead, you just point at the slouched figure and shrug. It takes a moment for the voice to respond.


"It's not a sentinel if that's what you're asking child. As far as I can tell, it's simply a normal ghost," it says.


You gesture again, emphasising the motion, this time raising your eyebrows along with it.


"...what? There's likely to be an entire host of fresh souls down here child, I can't be expected to differentiate between them all. I don't know if it's your mother or not. Finding that out is one of the primary reasons I brought you here. That and the fact that you're literally the only sentient creature in the vicinity with a physical form," the voice continues, managing to sound only the slightest part bitter about it.


"So make it aware to your presence, and either it's your mother, in which case we leave with her in tow, or it isn't, and you get the attention of a hungry, if largely harmless spirit instead, in which case we continue looking. Possibly using it as bait to distract further sentinels,"


There's a lot about that statement that doesn't sit right with you. Partly the emphasis on the word "largely", and partly the idea of using a spirit as bait. Still, the voice has a point...


OPTIONS:

  1. Call out to her.
  2. Touch her on the shoulder.
  3. Run over and hug her.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
You can't help it. Your restraint broken, you run into an embrace with the figure.


She jerks in fear at your touch, a cry ringing out. Her flesh is cold, but soft, and her expression softens as she gets a proper look at you. It's your mother.


"Lucy!" she cries, finally returning your embrace.


Despite the chill of her touch, the hug feels good. It feels right. You relax in her arms and tiredness creeps up on you with a manic speed. You almost feel like you could fall asleep in Mama's embrace. But something...


"Lucy..." warns the voice suddenly.


It doesn't get to elaborate before you hear it.


Click.


Click.


Click.


OPTIONS:

  1. Hide.
  2. Run.
  3. Magic.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Instantly, you're on your feet. Mama's hand is in yours and you're dragging her along until you manage to utter a single word.


"Run,"


Though confused, she stumbles after you, trying to keep pace with your own mad dash. And to your ears, comes that haunting sound.


Click.


Click.


...


Click. Click. Click. Click, click, click, clickclickclick-


With an ugly caterwauling, the thing skitters into view over scattered furniture. It's on the path that leads home, crawling towards you at ungainly speed. Mama shrieks in horror, trying to pull you back.


"Lucy!" snaps the voice.


OPTIONS:

  1. Run towards it, try to dodge past.
  2. Run back, try to lose it.
  3. Try to magic it, or something.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Placing your feet firmly on the ground, your hands balled into tight little fists, you steel yourself.


That monstrosity bears down on you, clambering at frantic speed. The sight of its hollow black eyes sends the fear inside you twisting at your heart, and you tense up just to stop the shaking.


"Lucy!" screams your mother, torn between stumbling away in fear, and reaching to you.


"Lucy!" hisses the voice, angry and afraid and worried, all at once.


"Lucy!" mimics the creature in that sing song squeal.


You reach out with that extension of yourself, pulling it out from deep within. Only now it is less like a reaching hand. Nor does it shape like a fist. No, if you had a shape for what it looks like in your minds eye, it would be a blade. Thick and curved and oh so sharp.


You feel, you see the voice copying you with its own extension, reaching out from within you as well.


As one, you lash out.


You feel the presence connect. Not yours, but Rita's. It bites deep into spectral flesh, and the thing falls. At speed, it pitches forward. The resulting roll is painful to watch, much less imagining experiencing it.


But the creature doesn't stop. Without pause, it lurches to its feet, bleeding dark ichor from half a dozen spots. A wound pulses through its chest, black streaming from the gash.


"Lucy!" it gurgles, staggering forward.


OPTIONS:

  1. Prioritise getting out of dodge.
  2. Flee, bring Mama.
  3. Stand your ground, try to hit it again.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
Again, you pull back your strength and the voice does the same. Again, you strike out against that terrible thing lumbering towards you. Again, not you, but Rita's touch penetrates the creature. You can feel it twisting beneath the voice's grasp, trying to worm its way free, but Rita is stronger. With sheer will, the voice forces its extension inside the sentinel, gripping its soul. The beast stops dead, slowly falling to a docile squat. Still, it leers hideously with those three vacant sockets.


"Hmph. Tenacious bastard, weren't you?" mutters the voice, more to itself than to you.


"...is it okay?" you murmur, glancing back towards Mama. She's sitting in shock, unsure of exactly what's going on.


"It is under control child. My control. It would be difficult to make this a permanent change, but it is possible, though for the moment, I believe this would suffice,"


The voice turns stern, and you can feel the pang of irritation.


"Next time, do not think to engage the creature as you did so now. As I have mentioned before, your magic is far too underdeveloped to harm or affect the the dead in such a way. Had I not stepped up, the creature would have fallen upon you," it scolds.


OPTIONS:

  1. Destroy the creature.
  2. Attempt to permanently control the creature.
  3. Leave to finish the ritual with Mama.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
You nod.


"I'm sorry. I just... I just want this over. I want to go home with Mama," you say, extending your hand to Mama.


She takes your hand carefully, searching your face.


"It's okay Lucy. We can both go home together," your mother responds, obviously thinking you're talkng to her.


"Hmph," says the voice. "I will keep the creature restrained until you leave this place. Without me, it will likely revert to its usual behaviour,"


You spare a glace to the creature. It hasn't moved, staring blindly into space with those three empty sockets. Despite knowing that it's under control, the sight of those blank eyes still cause a knot of anxiety to form in your chest. Hurriedly, you avert your gaze, leading Mama back to the way home.


The portal grows closer, slowly trembling like a deep wound, leaking life and color into the bleakness surrounding it. Mama pauses upon looking at it.


"Is... is this the way home?" she asks quietly.


You nod again, pulling her forward.


"Come on Mama. Let's go home," you tell her, stepping through, hand in hand.


Light and warmth and a thousand other sensations crash against you as you reenter the land of the living. The scent of dust, moisture, and soil. The gentle currents of air, tickling against your skin. The dull sound of silence, made from the susurrus of countless unheard noises. Even in the relative darkness of the workshop crypt, everythign looked so vivid, so colorful.


You let out a breath you didn't even realise you'd been holding.


"We made it Mama,"


There's no answer.


You can't feel her hand either. Jerking around, you gaze at where the portal once stood, only to stare at the table where your mother's body lay. A light was hovering above her. It radiated a gentle pulse, something you could feel against your bones. It felt... good. Like the heat of a warm bed on a cold night, or the embrace of a love one after a long day alone.


"Is this..." you start.


"This is it," answers the voice.


Without asking, you feel it seize control. Wordlessly, you let it. You're so close to that warm embrace now you can almost feel it.


Your hands move, and that extension from within the voice stetches out, attempting to ease the light into the body. It looks difficult, as the light seems almost repulsed by the gesture. Harder and harder the voice pushes, the light sliding in its grip until finally-


The shriek that tears fom Mama's lungs is ear splitting. She seizes up against the table, every muscle tensed, eyes rolling in her head. She screams again, a drawn out howl of pain and confusion. Her body bucks once, twice, three times, and she falls from the table. Her movements are frenzied and the screaming doesn't stop.


"What-" you try to say over the noise, only for it to interrupt.


"I don't know Lucy! This- This shouldn't be happening! I don't- I don't understand!" babbles the voice, its rising panic adding to your own.


All at once, Mama falls still, going silent. She pushes herself up on white hands that now resemble claws, lank hair framing her face. She turns her head to you, and opens her eyes.


They're blood red.


OPTIONS:

  1. "...Mama?"
  2. Embrace her.
  3. Run.

  4. Write in.

Please respond in Voting Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
"...Mama?"


Her vision snaps into focus on you, and instantly she flings herself back with a stunted cry. The worktable behind her is batted aside as if it were a child's toy, splintering in the process. Pressed against the far wall, her eyes wide with fear and confusion, your mother searches the room desperately.


"...Mama?" you hazard again, unsure whether to take a embrace her or to flee.


Those crimson pupils snap to you.


"...Lucy?" she murmurs with a frown.


A smile starts across your face, and you take a hesitant step forward. The effect on your mother is immediate. Instantly, she she pushes herself further away, shuffling along the wall, putting more distance between her and you.


"No... No, you're not my little girl," hisses the woman, shaking her head with a dawning horror.


"...what? No Mama, it's m-"


"Don't say that! Don't call me that. You're not my Lucy. You might look just like Lucy, sound like her, even act like her but...,"


Her expression turns ugly, fangs bared in disgust.


"I can see you for what you truly are,"


"No Mama, i-"


The remnants of the table shatter above you, flung in a single motion.


"I said don't call me that! Don't you dare use her voice like that!" she screams hysterically, now on her feet. "You tempted me! You led me here!"


Falling into a hunched crouch, your mother clutches her head.


"Oh God, you led me here..." she sobs, staring through her fingers. "I died, and then I followed you..."


"M-... it's okay... You're alive again and-"


"You think you can lie to me that easily?" snaps Mama, glaring at you from behind her hands. "You think I can't smell the rot? Hear the silence of my own heartbeat? Feel the stillness in my veins? The chill in my bones?! You think I can't tell that I'm dead!?"


"I-" you mumble, only to be interupted by the voice.


"She's... she's not lying Lucy. Despite our attempts, your mother is... she's still dead. She's just... different. Wrong. I-... I don't think this is the kind of thing we-... that I can fix. That anyone can," it says softly.


"I'm-... I'm sorry Mama..."


The words are barely whispered, unable to convey the sheer ache in your chest. For a moment, your mother's face seems to soften. She even reaches out, only to stop. An angry sneer crosses her face, and she slowly recoils.


"No, not again Dragon. Never again," she mutters, her voice thick with disdain. "You may trick me once, but no, I will not be fooled by you again,"


Careful to keep the distance between the two of you, Mama sidles across the room, slipping out the door and into the darkness. You don't try to follow her. You just fall to your knees, waiting amongst the fragments.


Soon, you begin to cry.


End of Thread.


@Jaye@Riuma@Anomaly@Grey@The Fuzz@PixelWitch
 
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