The sun dips low by the time I reach the entrance to the woods, following the mountainside. It's cold, the snow resuming as night approaches. The chest is gripped tightly in my hands, it's heavy and my arms burn from the strain of carrying it so far.

  "Finally..." I sigh. "I'm almost there...." My feet crunch through the snow as I approach the woods. They're dark, the tall, snow-covered trees blocking out the limited light.

  I pause at the edge of the forest, its shadows thick and shifting due to the wind. A brittle branch snaps under my boot, the crack unnervingly loud in the heavy silence.

  The trees loom, their twisted roots half hidden by the snow. The forest seems even denser than I initially thought, the dim light fading further with every step forward I take.

  I feel.... uneasy. I'm not sure why. The dark maybe?

  Yes, that's probably it. A wolf or something could jump out at me at any minute. Obviously I'd feel a little nervous, what kind of fool wouldn't?

  Despite the unease, I press on, through the dark.

  And the deeper I venture, the darker and colder it gets. My breaths grow shallow, my heart beating fast. I swear I hear something, a faint, deliberate crackle, like footsteps matching my own. I stop abruptly, turning quickly to face the sound, but there’s nothing there. Just trees....

  "Just shadows." I mutter to myself, though in the back of my mind I recall the spiders of Mistvale's crypt.

  The path narrows, thick trees lining each side of it, so close together I'm not sure I could squeeze through them if I wanted to.

  But then I see it, a faint light flickering through the trees ahead. I feel a deep sense of relief. I'm almost there.

  When I finally break into a clearing, I see my destination. A large, well-built house sitting at the center of the clearing. The structure, two or three stories high, is impressive in size but weathered by the harsh winter. Snow clings to the ledges, the roof, and frost coats the tall windows, obscuring any view inside.

  I step forward and knock on the thick wooden door. The sound echoes dully, and after a moment, I hear movement from inside.

  I step back as the door creaks open, revealing a man. His presence is unsettling, tall, draped in a dark, threadbare robe, with intricate tattoos snaking up his neck, reaching all the way to his bald head. His pale eyes glint like polished steel in the dim light. "From Lucien Draegmoore," I say, offering the chest with a voice steadier than I feel.

  The man’s thin lips curl into a smile. "Come inside," he says, his tone calm, gentle.

  Not bloody likely.

  I shake my head. "I’ll leave it here." My feet shift, ready to leave, but as I turn, the sight stops me cold.

  Wolves. Their eyes pierce through the darkness beyond the trees, glowing an unnatural green. Silent. Unmoving. There must be at least a dozen pairs of eyes watching me with ravenous hunger, likely more beyond what I can see.

  The chest clutched tighter in my trembling hands, I instinctively step back, heart hammering. My throat tightens as the man’s voice slides through the cold air just behind me, unnervingly smooth. "They prowl at night. Best to come inside, just for a spell. Until they lose interest."

  The choice should be simple. Stay out here, alone with the wolves, or take shelter in the clearly secure manor. Even so, my instincts scream at me to leave.....

  Dammit all...

  In the end, rationality wins out, the wolves are too close, I'd never make it out of the forest before they catch me. So, reluctantly, I turn and step over the threshold, the door groaning as it shuts behind me.

  The house is colder than I expected, barely warmer than outside. I can see why, the fireplace stands empty, blackened and cold, the only light coming from a handful of torches along the walls, casting uneven, wavering shadows. The foyer is spacious, its high ceiling lost in dimness and the faded portraits staring down with dull, lifeless eyes. The floor creaks faintly underfoot, the sound echoing loudly in the quiet.

  "Allow me to take that from you."

  The man glides forward without a sound, easing the chest from my grip with unsettling care. His fingers linger over the surface, pale and unnaturally long, caressing it with a reverence that leaves me a little disturbed. Without a word, he turns and opens it, deliberately angling the lid so I cannot see within.

  What could be inside....? Do I even want to know?

  When he finally finishes scrutinizing the chest’s contents, he turns back to me apparently satisfied. His smile stretches unnaturally wide, splitting his face grotesquely. In the dim light, his teeth are unnervingly white against his shadowed features.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "Perfect," he whispers, thanking me with a slow, deliberate bow.

  He extends a hand towards me, his unusually long fingers unfurling to reveal a small iron ring resting in his palm, its dark metal catching the dim torchlight with a muted glint.

  "A reward for your service. It must have been a long walk here." I look at the small piece of jewlery. It's an iron band, plane, probably not worth much. Although... there are familiar carvings along the metal and a motiff that's clearly recognizable. Near identical to the pendant I found in Mistvale crypt...

  "A marvelous piece, isn't it? Fitting, for one such as you." His eye scrunch together with his smile.

  I take the ring from his hand, careful not to let my skin brush against his. The metal is cold, as though it has been resting in ice.

  "....Thank you. Now, I should be going." I say, eager to leave, but stop his pale hand gestures to the window. "The wolves," he says, his voice as smooth as silk. I glance outside and see them, closer now. Their glowing green eyes peer through the glass, fixed on the house. They don't move, at all, not even a twitch. "They're waiting," he adds. "Hungry for meat."

  He lays a hand on my shoulder, causing me to flinch and turn, only to find his eerie grin stretching wider across his pale face. "Why don’t we have dinner?" he suggests, the words soft but seeming more a command than a request. My instincts flare but I do not resist as his guiding hand urges me toward the dining room.

  The house, though bleak, is well-furnished, with ornate decoration that seems almost too grand for such a cold, lifeless place. The dining room is no exception, with its long, polished table and a grand chandelier, its candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. Dinner is already served, cold, pale meat, skinned and unappetizing.

  "What is it?" I ask, my voice hesitant, as the man lowers himself into the chair at the far end of the table.

  He picks up a large piece of meat, tearing into it with large bites. "I don’t know." he says between chews, his voice calm and his grin never faltering.

  I don't bother sitting, and opt for the bread rather than the meat, nibbling at the stale crust. "You seem tense, dear friend. Sit down, relax."

  I don’t move. "What’s your name?"

  He lowers the slab of meat from his mouth. "Ah, where are my manners?" He closes his eyes and lowers his head. "I am called Vael, The Many."

  I nod in response, though I don't quite understand the title. "Seven."

  He lifts his head, appraising me "What an interesting name. I'm sure there's quite the story behind it."

  I shrug, forcing a casual air I don’t feel. “Not especially…” I say, before trying to shift topics. "Do you live here alone?"

  He shakes his head, smiling faintly. “Oh no. Never alone. I wouldn’t be the Many if I were, would I?”

  So there are others here?

  I move to ask but he speaks first, cutting me off. “Did you forget something?”

  Caught off guard, I frown. “What do you mean?”

  "I don't see it on you...."

  Not entirely sure what he's saying, I think back to Lucien's delivery. "Was there something wrong with the chest?"

  He shakes his head slowly. “No.... I was almost certain you’d bring it with you… my amulet.” Rising from the table, he abandons his meal and begins walking toward me.

  I instinctively step back, my pulse quickening. His eyes are so pale, the irises and pupils blending disturbingly with the whites, entirely devoid of color. "Very peculiar," he murmurs. "Much like you yourself. Those red eyes... do you mind if I have a look?"

  I knock over a chair as I backpedal. He doesn’t stop, his movements seemingly slow, though somehow closing the distance.

  "I'd rather you didn't," I manage, my voice shockingly steady.

  He begins biting his fingers as he creeps closer, his teeth sharper than I remember and drawing dark blood. "Just a glimpse," he whispers. "I'll put it right back..."

  I draw my knife on instinct, ending my retreat. The sight of it halts him mid-step. "I said no," I growl, pointing the blade at the smiling man. "Step back. Now."

  He pauses for a moment, his pale eyes locking onto mine, then steps forward. "Fear... how deliciously sweet," he murmurs, his voice a velvety hiss. "But so unbecoming of one of your... stature." His long, spidery fingers splay as he reaches for me, each movement slow and careful, as though savoring the moment.

  "....Fuck," I bat the man's arm aside with a quick motion and drive the blade into his gut. "I warned you."

  The smiling man’s smile.... doesn’t falter. "Intriguing," he murmurs, leaning closer. "Did you want to taste my blood?"

  I leap back, yanking my knife from his body. "What the fuck!?" The bleeding wound doesn't faze him; it's as though he can't even feel it. "Kindred, why do you flee?" he asks as he strides forward, faster now.

  My knife becomes a blur, carving through his flesh in a frenzy of precise, lethal strikes. Dark blood sprays in thick gushes, yet he remains utterly unbothered, his expression fixed and unchanging.

  "Wha-"

  His hand moves with unnatural speed, snatching my throat and hoisting me effortlessly into the air.

  "Aaahhkk-" I choke out, thrashing violently as I drive the blade again and again into his neck with frantic desperation. Black, tar-thick blood gushes over my hands, yet he doesn’t so much as flinch, his pale face frozen in that same monstrous calm.

  "Let us become one," he whispers. "Just for a moment...."

  His mouth stretches open, impossibly wide, the skin of his face tearing like wet parchment as it splits grotesquely in two. Inside, I see his teeth, different than before. Endless rows of jagged, glistening fangs, layered like a predator from some ancient nightmare.

  "Shit!!"

  My blade sinks deep into the forearm holding me aloft, severing the tendons in his wrist. He makes no sound or reaction, but his hand slackens and drops me.

  I hit the ground hard, rolling away before springing to my feet and racing to the other side of the room. "Hmm..." Vael mutters, inspecting his hand as it flops uselessly at the wrist. Slowly, he lifts his gaze back to me. "Shy not away, kindred. I mean no disrespect."

  My thoughts race.

  I consider running, fleeing deeper into the house. But he's more familiar with it than I am, who knows what would happen. I look to the window and feel my heart sink. The wolves remain, even more numerous than before, dozens upon dozens of the beasts staring.

  So, left with no choice.....

  I draw my club.

  No more retreating. It's time to fight.

  Results

  -1 Heavy Chest

  +1 Iron Ring