Passing into Angelshade proved far simpler than I had expected. When we approached, they did not even stop us outside the walls. Instead, the gates swung wide and we were urged through before they slammed shut behind us with an urgency that suggested we were less a routine arrival and more a minor miracle.

  Apparently, someone entering the city from the east was enough of an event that the captain of the watch came to see us himself.

  He did not ask for papers or demand to know our business. Instead, he wanted to know how many travelers we had seen headed west, how far back they had been, and in what condition. It had been nearly a week since anyone had come from the east road. Most traffic now flowed from the south, along the coastal route, or from deeper within the republic to the west. No one wanted to travel either road that ran close to the Forest’s edge, and sea passage was booked months in advance.

  There had apparently been strong efforts to dissuade anyone from testing what people were calling the “lull.” Word had reached the Guild, and a cohort was supposedly on its way to begin patrols soon enough. The captain was clearly wound tight over the whole affair and what he considered unnecessary risk.

  But for all his bluster, hearing that travelers were still making it through seemed to drain something from him. For a brief moment, I thought he might sag where he stood. Relief softened him in a way he likely did not intend. Then he drew himself up again, voice sharp as ever, declaring to anyone within earshot how reckless it had been. Quite a crowd had begun to gather, hoping for word of those on the road.

  We did not linger to be further scolded.

  It seemed unwise to remain the center of attention. We avoided questions, letting the guard explain things to the crowd and guided the wagon down the main road toward the Adventurer’s Guild, eager to conclude this leg of the journey.

  Once we were past the gates and the unexpected welcome, we rode in relative silence for nearly a minute. It was more than enough time to notice the changes since even my previous brief visit.

  The atmosphere had compressed. What I remembered as a free-spirited frontier town now felt tight and watchful, like a place holding its breath. The red cobblestone streets were still clean, the lamp posts still shone bright. But the marketplace had closed early, no longer lingering for the late night adventurers.

  The streets were not empty, but most people kept their heads down and moved with purpose, eager to be indoors before sunset. Guards stood at corners where I did not recall them standing before. Even adventurers had taken up visible patrols, marked by bright sashes in lieu of uniform. It all had a sense of practicality and necessity, but it still pressed down the image I carried of this place.

  “I know you’ve been avoiding discussing your plans,” Roderick said at last, his voice low so it did not carry beyond us, “but we have heard enough to understand your intent is to head into the Forest.”

  I did not look at him. “Yes.”

  He cleared his throat. “It is not my place to say. But you should reconsider.”

  “We cannot,” I replied simply.

  Mara moved in before the silence could stretch too thin.

  “How long are you planning to stay in town?” she asked instead, directing the question toward Nadine with deliberate casualness. “When should we expect you back?”

  Nadine hesitated only briefly. “We are not certain. We have something to find. It should not take long.”

  “That does not sound reassuring,” Tomas muttered.

  Mara guided her horse closer to the wagon. “It is clearly not a favorable time to be entering the Forest,” she said quietly. “If you truly must go, you should not go alone.”

  Her posture straightened, and I watched the offer form itself on her lips.

  Roderick cut in gently but firmly. “We are not the right escort.”

  Mara frowned at him. I was only glad I didn't have to devise an awkward rejection.

  “If the Forest is unsettled,” he continued, “only those truly experienced with it should consider entering. We are competent, but that is not the same thing.”

  Tomas nodded once. “I’ve skirted the edge a few times. That was enough to know he’s right. That place is not something you muscle through with grit and good intentions.”

  I could see where this was going, and I did not particularly want them searching the city for a group reckless enough to volunteer.

  “I know the people who understand the Forest best,” I said, allowing just enough confidence into my tone to end the discussion. “We will have all the escort we need.”

  It was true. Just not in the way they imagined.

  The Adventurer’s Guild stood exactly where I remembered it, broad and unapologetic against the street, lanterns already lit despite the fading daylight. Stable boys appeared before we even fully stopped, efficient and quick, hands already reaching for reins.

  “The stable here will be safer than an inn,” Mara said as she dismounted. “Most places, anyway. Guild keeps its own watch. A little more expensive if you’re not members, but worth it.”

  I glanced up at the carved wooden plaque before stepping inside. It was exactly as I remembered. Weathered and vibrant, the crossed staff and sword laid over a shield. A stylized banner flowing below that read Courage, Unity, Honor. Before I'd thought them just words, but now, ironically, I understood them so much more. It was here that my journey had begun, in a way that truly defied what the place was supposed to stand for.

  Mara’s confidence in the Guild’s safety rang just slightly hollow in my ears. Then again, perhaps that was only memory speaking. Bias has a way of reshaping anything into something darker than it is.

  “It’s convenient,” I said lightly. “And I expect to find my friend here.”

  Mara smiled. “Then we’ll secure the wagon and see about rooms.”

  “We may not need them,” I replied. “If things go well, we could leave tonight.”

  That dimmed her expression just a fraction, and I noticed a moment later, Nadine’s too. The realization tugged at me more than I expected.

  "We should certainly have dinner together,” I added. “Mara, would you keep Nadine company while I track my friend down? It may take a little time.”

  Nadine brightened immediately. “That sounds reasonable.”

  I shot her a small smile before turning my gaze back to the door. In reality, it would not take time at all. I had tasted the bard's blood months ago, and I could already scent her faintly beneath the chaos of ale and sweat and roasted meat… But there was no harm in lingering, just a little bit.

  The moment we stepped inside, sound struck like a physical force. The Guild was as loud as I remembered, perhaps louder. Tables crammed close together. Platters overflowing. Voices layered atop voices. Somewhere near the center, a pair of minstrels were tuning their instruments, already drawing curious glances.

  I lifted a hand in greeting when a barkeep called out to us on our way in, and let the others drift toward an open space near the back.

  “You all go ahead and order food. I’ll find her,” I said. “Try not to start a fight.”

  “That is rarely my fault,” Tomas protested.

  “Fault isn't as important as your frequent participation,” Roderick corrected.

  I slipped away before that could escalate.

  A few heads turned as I moved through the crowd.

  “Hey, hood!” someone called.

  “Lost, sweetheart?”

  “You sing? We’ve got room at the table if you do.”

  Another voice chimed in, “Or even if you don’t.”

  I paused just long enough to offer a brief smile beneath my hood. “Tempting,” I replied. “But I’m already promised elsewhere.”

  That earned a few laughs. One of the men rose slightly as if to pursue the matter, but a companion caught his sleeve and dragged him back down before anything more could come of it.

  Even so, I could feel it. The tension beneath the revelry. Two of the louder men began bickering over nothing in particular, voices sharpening until a third slammed his mug down hard enough to quiet them both. It was an atmosphere I had no right understanding—one of too many people and too little patience.

  I reached the bar instead of continuing to wander, more interested in watching the room than in any drink.

  The barkeep approached with a practiced grin. “What’ll it be?”

  I pointed at a glass someone nearby had just been handed. “Whatever that is,” I said, loud enough to be heard over the crowd.

  He snorted. “That’s mulled cider.”

  “Then I suppose I’ll have mulled cider.”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  He poured it without comment.

  I leaned lightly against the counter. “It’s lively tonight.”

  He followed my gaze across the room. “Lively’s one word for it.”

  “Yes. Everyone seems on edge."

  He grunted, "That they are. New in town?"

  I nodded. "We just arrived. What has everyone so wound up? Surely the monsters haven’t breached the walls,” I said casually. “Or I imagine this place would be emptier.”

  “Not that anyone’s seen,” he replied. “Nothing as obvious as claws in the streets or howls from rooftops.”

  “But?”

  He studied me for a moment before answering.

  “People are going missing.”

  My fingers tightened slightly around the mug.

  “Missing how?”

  “Gone,” he said simply. “Mostly girls near your age. Some younger. Some a bit older. No signs of a struggle. No blood. Just gone.”

  “How long has this been going on?” I asked, even as I remembered my first encounter with the bard in the forest. Her party had been searching for missing girls, hadn't they?

  “Before the Forest stirred,” he said. “Months, if you count properly. Maybe that was the first sign something was off.” He wiped down a patch of counter that did not require it. “There are jobs posted. Rewards too. For rescue or information. Most of the Guild’s regulars have already taken a crack at it. Most have already come back empty-handed.”

  “And now the Forest,” I said.

  “And now the Forest,” he agreed. “More monsters on the roads. More funerals. Folks get jumpy when death comes from two directions.”

  That, at least, I understood.

  I let the silence stretch just long enough not to seem callous.

  Then I straightened slightly. There was no sense in circling the matter any longer.

  “I remember hearing about the missing girls the last time I passed through,” I said. “I met a group in the Forest. They said they were looking for them.”

  He did not interrupt.

  “There was a woman with them,” I continued. “She did not quite fit with the rest. Smaller than the warriors she traveled with. Near my height. Older than me. She carried herself like she would rather be anywhere else. I think she might have been a bard, or something close to it...”

  Recognition flickered across his face before I could finish, and I trailed off.

  “Dawn? She was the only one who came back out,” he said. His jaw tightened behind the words, and his tone flattened. “She won’t speak about that night.”

  “I am not here to press her on it,” I replied quickly. “We have met before. I need to speak with her about something else entirely.”

  He studied me for a long moment, as though trying to determine whether I was about to make his evening more complicated.

  “She’s upstairs,” he said at last. “The second floor balcony. She's got a corner table overlooking the floor.” He paused, scrutinizing me for a moment before continuing, "And if you are planning to drag her into another fool’s errand, you can reconsider.”

  A small smile touched my lips. “I would never.”

  He did not look convinced.

  I left my cider untouched on the bar, and looked for the stairs. As I turned, I caught sight of Nadine and Mara drifting toward the growing knot of people near the minstrels. Someone had cleared space, and the beginnings of a dance floor was forming. Nadine looked nervous, but it didn't keep a grin from her lips. Mara laughed as she took Nadine's hand and hurried them along.

  I smiled to myself and moved toward the stairs.

  As I climbed them, they creaked underfoot, though no one below seemed to notice. The noise of the common room softened slightly on the second floor, dulled by height as much as distance.

  Dawn was easy to spot. She was the only person sitting alone. Unlike the other occupants of the balcony, she didn't linger near a railing or pretend to enjoy the view. She had claimed a corner table overlooking the floor below with a lantern pulled close and stacks of parchment spread in careful order before her. A half-finished plate sat at her elbow, forgotten. She was reading, lips moving faintly as she tracked a line of ink across the page.

  They were some kind of reports. It took me a moment to recognize the format, and then I realized they reminded me of the job board downstairs. Only, these weren't just job postings, but written statements, lists of names and dates, and documents that I wasn't familiar with.

  I processed the scene for a moment, then smiled. She might not want to adventure anymore, but she certainly still had a role at the guild.

  The chair across from her was empty, which I took as a good sign. I approached without hurry.

  She sensed me before she saw me. Her hand stilled over the parchment. The faint movement of her lips stopped. Slowly, she lifted her head. When her eyes met mine, the color drained from her face. Much to my surprise, she did not rise. She did not smile or even move to greet me. She simply stared, as though trying to decide whether I was real.

  I lifted a hand in greeting, not quite sure if I was confused or amused by her reaction.

  “Good evening, Dawn.”

  Dawn’s fingers tightened on the edge of the parchment.

  “You’re not a dream,” she said.

  “No.”

  Her eyes flicked toward the balcony rail, toward the last of the daylight bleeding through the windows.

  “The sun is still up.”

  “It is.”

  She paused. “You said the girls weren’t in the Forest.”

  “They aren’t.”

  Her jaw flexed.

  “I told no one what happened.”

  “I know.”

  She loosened her grip on the parchment, but didn't quite let go of it. She risked looking around, then back to me.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said at last.

  “That has been said of me before,” I replied lightly.

  Her eyes narrowed, not amused. “I meant inside the city.”

  “I came through the gate like everyone else.”

  “But, the sun is still up,” she repeated, almost as much pleading as confusion.

  “Yes. I noticed.”

  I knew my amusement was starting to show, but I did my best to hold it back. For Dawn's part, her jaw worked as though she had three questions competing for precedence. In the end, simple curiosity won.

  “Why are you here?”

  I tilted my head slightly. “To see you, of course. Can I not visit a friend?”

  The word hung between us.

  Her expression shifted, uncertain whether to be offended or incredulous.

  “We are not friends.”

  “Not yet,” I said easily. “But I did very much enjoy your stories.”

  That startled her more than anything else had.

  “You remember that?”

  “Of course I do. They're what got me into this whole ordeal. I doubt I'd have left the forest in the first place without them.”

  For a moment, something softened in her posture. Not trust, but the edge dulled.

  “You did not come for stories,” she said more quietly.

  “No,” I agreed. “Though, I do have one you might enjoy, later. I came because I need your help.”

  That refocused her entirely.

  “My help.”

  “Yes. I need a favor.”

  She leaned back slightly, folding the parchment in front of her without looking away from me. “With what?”

  “I have a wagon,” I said. “Some horses and supplies. They need somewhere safe to remain for a few days. Perhaps a little longer. The Guild yard is sufficient, but I would prefer someone I know overseeing them and making sure the horses are getting enough exercise.”

  Her gaze flicked toward the stairs, then back to me. “You’re going back.”

  “Yes.”

  Into the Forest went unspoken.

  She studied me for a long moment. “You expect me to stable and care for your horses while you walk back into that place.”

  “I do.”

  “And you think coin will convince me.”

  “I think coin will help,” I said mildly. “But I suspect you will ask for something else.”

  She studied me carefully. “And what makes you think I would agree?”

  “You’re still here,” I said, nodding toward the papers she had been reading. “Most would have left town by now.”

  Her fingers tightened slightly around the folded parchment.

  “They’re not in the Forest,” she said, almost to herself.

  “The girls? No, they really aren’t.”

  “You’re certain.”

  “Yes. I'd have known.”

  She looked at me then, properly, measuring whether I was lying.

  “One of them is my niece,” she confessed.

  That, I had not known. She had to be one of the girls who'd gone missing more recently.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

  She gave a sharp breath that might have been a laugh if it had contained any humor. “So was I, for a while. Then I started asking questions.”

  “And everyone else stopped,” I said.

  “Not like that. They tried, a lot of people did. But they failed, and they moved on to contracts that paid better.” She clenched her teeth for several seconds. “I did not.”

  I nodded. I understood. Something like that doesn't loosen it's grip on you. Not when it’s family.

  “You want information,” I said.

  “I want something useful,” she replied. “If you are going back into that Forest, then you have access no one else does.” Her gaze did not waver. “You could ask him. If there is another creature hunting near his territory, if something else has moved into the region, he would know.”

  I leaned back slightly. “You place a great deal of faith in my ability to simply ask.”

  “You place a great deal of faith in your ability to return,” she countered.

  A corner of my mouth twitched.

  “Fair.”

  Dawn held my gaze. “You could ask him,” she repeated.

  I did not answer immediately. Below us, the minstrels had finally begun playing something lively. A few chairs scraped back as people gave up the pretense of restraint and claimed the forming dance floor. I spotted Nadine at once, reluctant at first, then laughing as Mara coaxed her into motion. Roderick had found a seat with a tankard and was already deep in conversation with a pair of strangers. Tomas was gesturing wildly through some exaggerated retelling of something that may or may not have happened.

  Life, pressing forward, even now.

  I looked back at Dawn.

  “I can ask,” I said. “If there is knowledge to be had within the Forest, I can seek it.”

  “For my niece.”

  “For your niece,” I agreed.

  She searched my face, as though trying to measure how much that promise weighed.

  “It may not be the answer you want.”

  “I’m past wanting,” she said quietly. “I’ll settle for truth.”

  I nodded.

  “Then I will bring you what I can.”

  For a moment, neither of us spoke. The lantern between us flickered softly.

  “Thank you,” I said into the quiet.

  Her eyes lifted in surprise.

  “For trusting me.”

  We both turned our attention to the dancing below. Cheers rose as another song began, and the floor turned into a swirl of movement and colors as the dancing continued. The seconds stretched between us without discomfort.

  “I will see your wagon and horses tended,” she said at last. “The Guild will not interfere if I claim them under my responsibility.”

  “Good,” I replied. “And when I return, I’ll have a story for you this time.”

  She shook her head faintly. “You are a strange girl.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  By the time I made my way back down the stairs, the music had taken on a life of its own. Someone had cleared more space near the center of the common room. The minstrels were no longer warming up; they were playing as though the world outside the walls did not exist. Boots struck the floor in uneven rhythm, laughter rose and tangled with the melody, and for a little while the Guild almost felt like itself again.

  Nadine was in the middle of it. Mara had drawn her in at some point, and whatever reluctance Nadine had begun with was gone. Her hair had slipped partially loose, her cheeks were flushed, and she was laughing at something Mara had just said as they spun apart and back together again. She moved with surprising grace when she stopped thinking about it.

  I remained near the edge of the room and watched. There was something about seeing her like that, so fully in the moment, that tugged at me. The Forest would not offer music. It would not offer warmth. It would not offer laughter that rose without restraint. It would offer shadow and patience and things that watched from just beyond reach.

  When the song ended and the dancers began drifting back toward tables for drink and breath, I stepped forward.

  “You look happy,” I said.

  Nadine turned toward me, still breathless. “I am.”

  “That’s good.”

  She studied my expression a moment too long.

  “You’ve spoken with your friend?”

  “I have. She agreed to see that our things are kept safe here.”

  Relief flickered across her face, before being replaced by something more complicated.

  “And we leave tonight,” she said, not quite asking.

  “Yes,” I agreed.

  The noise around us seemed to dim just slightly.

  “You could stay,” I said, before I could talk myself out of it. “With them. It would not be unreasonable. Things are unsettled in the Forest, and I don't have an answer for that. The Guild would be far safer.”

  Her answer came without hesitation.

  “No.”

  Mara, who had stepped closer without either of us noticing, let out a quiet breath.

  “Nadine,” she began carefully.

  “I’m going,” Nadine said, softer now but no less certain. “You knew I was.”

  Mara’s eyes tightened, though she tried to disguise it with a small, rueful smile. “I did. I won't try to stop you. But we'll be here for a few days at least, in case you change your mind. We could stay longer.”

  They stood close enough that their hands brushed, their fingertips lingering together. I looked away, granting them the privacy of pretending I had not noticed.

  “I’ll see you back here in a few days,” Tomas declared loudly from somewhere behind us, as though volume alone could banish unease. “With tales of how you bent the Forest to your will.”

  “That is not how that works,” Roderick muttered.

  “Let him keep the version where I am dramatically impressive,” I said. “It seems important to him.”

  Nadine’s fingers tightened briefly around Mara’s before she stepped back. “We will return,” she said, more to Mara than anyone else.

  Mara nodded once. “I know.”

  Dawn approached then, moving with quiet purpose.

  “It’s arranged,” she said. “Your wagon will remain in the yard. I’ve spoken to the stablemaster. The horses will be fed and exercised. No one will touch what isn’t theirs.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  Her gaze flicked to Nadine, assessing, then back to me. “Be swift.”

  “I intend to be.”

  We did not linger. Outside, the air had grown colder. The Guild yard was quieter than the common room, lanterns casting long shadows across packed earth. Altivo lifted his head as I approached, ears flicking forward in recognition.

  I rested a hand against his neck. “I won’t be long,” I murmured. “Just a short trip.”

  He huffed softly, as though unconvinced.

  We gathered what we needed. Water skins. A small pack of food that would not spoil quickly. Nothing that would weigh us down unnecessarily. The Forest would provide its own tests; there was no sense burdening ourselves further.

  As we stepped away from the wagon, Nadine glanced back once, then squared her shoulders.

  “You mentioned secret paths,” she said quietly as we made our way toward the north gate. “Shortcuts.”

  “There are ways through,” I replied. “Faster and safer—for me.”

  “But, not for me.”

  “No. Not for any human.”

  She absorbed that without complaint.

  “Then we take the long road.”

  “Yes. But I know the way, and I know the Forest. We will be fine.”

  The guards at the north gate did not argue when we requested passage. They looked at us as though we were walking in the wrong direction on purpose, but the gates opened.

  Beyond them, the road narrowed quickly, losing its shape as it approached the tree line. Snow caught the moonlight in pale sheets, and the glow from the guard fires along the wall stretched only so far before surrendering to shadow. The Forest waited beyond that boundary, its canopy devouring what little light dared reach it.

  I did not look back at the city.

  Nadine walked at my side, her breath rising in small silver clouds.

  And together, we stepped past the last of the firelight and into the dark.

  Ruler of Nightmares: A Psychological LitRPG

  by C. Savant

  A prince rises in blood. A god rises in fear.