I crept closer to the crumbling building, staying low and moving through the shadows until I reached one of the broken windows. The door felt too obvious, too exposed. I wasn't ready to go charging in without knowing more about what lay inside. Instead, I pressed my back against the wall, craning my neck to peer through the shattered glass. The rain still fell in torrents, but oddly enough, none of it seemed to touch the building. It was like there was an invisible barrier around it, keeping the storm at bay.
I strained my eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of that shadowy figure from earlier, but there was nothing—just the empty, dimly lit interior of what looked like an abandoned warehouse. No sign of the figure or whatever it had been dragging behind it. I let out a slow breath and made my move.
Sliding in through the broken window was easier than I expected, though the moment I crossed the threshold, something changed. The rain, the wind, even the eerie howling that had haunted me all night—it all fell away. It was like stepping into a different world. The air inside was still, quiet, almost suffocating in its unnatural calm. It was as though the storm had been left behind, held back by some unseen force that wouldn't let it in.
Once inside, I crouched low, keeping close to the floor as I scanned the room. It was emptier than I had expected. There were a few pieces of old furniture scattered around—dusty shelves, rusted filing cabinets, a few decrepit chairs—but nothing that looked like it had been touched in years. No crates, no storage, no signs of the bustling activity you'd expect in a warehouse. It felt more like a forgotten relic than a functioning building.
I moved carefully through the space, my footsteps barely making a sound on the creaky wooden floor. I passed an old desk and stopped when I saw a few drawers left slightly ajar. I couldn't resist. My curiosity got the better of me.
Inside the first drawer, I found a stack of old newspaper clippings. I thumbed through them quickly, my heart beating faster as I realized what they were. They covered all sorts of strange occurrences around Goodwater—articles about the construction of a canal that had been abandoned halfway through, reports of mob violence breaking out over local elections, and, most disturbing of all, stories about bizarre weather patterns that had plagued the town for years. Storms that came out of nowhere, floods that receded faster than they should, and winds that seemed to whisper through the streets like they had a mind of their own.
It all felt connected somehow, like these clippings were pieces of a puzzle that no one had quite put together yet.
I rummaged through the drawer some more until something caught my eye—a small metal sign tucked beneath the stack of clippings. It was faded and worn, but the name engraved on it was unmistakable:
*Neith & Anansi Shipping Company.*
My stomach dropped. It was the same company that had lured me to Goodwater with that job listing. The same company that none of the locals had ever heard of. I stared at the sign for a moment, trying to make sense of it. Why would this company leave traces of itself in a place like this—a crumbling warehouse that looked like it hadn't seen real use in decades?
Something was deeply wrong here, and I had a gut feeling that I was standing right in the middle of it. The warehouse was too quiet, too empty, like it was hiding something beneath the surface. I wasn't sure what I'd gotten myself into, but I knew one thing: Neith & Anansi Shipping Company wasn't what it seemed.
I glanced around the room again, more alert than before, my fingers still gripping the metal sign. The shadowy figure had vanished, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't alone. Something had drawn me here. Something had wanted me to see this place, to find these clippings.
As I crept further into the warehouse, my eyes scanned the room, still searching for something to make sense of all this. The air felt thick with something unspoken, like the building itself was holding its breath, waiting for me to uncover its secrets. The deeper I went, the stranger it became. There was something off about this place—more than just the eerie calm that hung in the air.
Then, I stumbled upon it.
At first, I thought it was just a pile of debris, maybe some old sacks or tarps discarded in the corner. But as I got closer, the shape became clearer. My blood ran cold as I realized what I was looking at—a giant crustacean, its shell gleaming wetly in the dim light. It was the size of a big dog, its legs twisted beneath its body as though it had been dragged here and dumped. I stood there, staring at it in disbelief. What the hell was something like that doing here?
I crouched down beside it, running my fingers lightly along the hard shell. It was cold and wet, like it had just been pulled from the sea, and its claws hung limply at its sides, still twitching slightly as if some lingering life clung to it. I glanced around and saw more of them—piles of these massive creatures, stacked haphazardly against the far wall. My stomach churned at the sight. Whatever this place was, it wasn't just an old warehouse. It was something much darker.
Suddenly, a low sound broke the silence, making me freeze in place. It was faint at first—almost inaudible—like a whisper carried on the wind. But as I listened closer, I realized it wasn't coming from outside. It was coming from the crustaceans.
The sound was unsettling, like a small howl, a strange mix of gurgling and high-pitched tones, but underneath it, I could hear something else—something that sounded almost like speech, though the words were warped, foreign, impossible to understand. My skin crawled as I leaned in closer, trying to make out the sound. Was this what I had heard earlier, outside in the storm?
Before I could think too hard about it, the silence was shattered by a loud bang. I whipped around just in time to see the cellar door slam open on the other side of the room. My heart raced as I ducked behind a stack of crates, my breath caught in my throat.
Two shadowy figures emerged from the darkness of the cellar, their forms obscured by the dim light. They moved quickly, their voices low and harsh, and I could hear them cursing under their breath as they approached the pile of crustaceans. Their speech was unlike anything I'd heard before—a strange dialect filled with clicking sounds, as though their voices were part human, part something else entirely.
"Damn them," one of them growled, dragging one of the large crustaceans toward the cellar. "They're making moves on our territory. Factions ain't respecting the old ways anymore."
The other figure nodded, his voice equally harsh, his words laced with bitterness. "We'll deal with them soon enough. But first, we need to clear this mess before they send someone snooping around. The storm's making them bold."
I stayed perfectly still, crouched behind the crates, trying to make sense of what I was hearing. Were these figures part of some kind of smuggling operation? A mob dealing in… what? Giant crustaceans? And what factions were they talking about?
As I tried to piece it together, my foot shifted, and I accidentally stepped on one of the crustacean shells. The sound of the crunch echoed through the room like a gunshot, and I cursed under my breath as both figures stopped in their tracks. Their heads snapped in my direction, their shadowy forms stiffening as they scanned the room.
"Did you hear that?" one of them hissed.
"Yeah," the other replied, his voice tense. "Something's here."
My heart pounded as they started to approach, their footsteps slow but deliberate. I was sweating now, my mind racing. I didn't have a weapon, nothing to defend myself with. If they found me, I was dead.
I edged backward, trying to move silently, but every creak of the old floorboards seemed to betray me. They were getting closer, too close. I could hear their breathing now, feel the weight of their presence as they neared my hiding spot. My palms were slick with sweat, my muscles tensing, ready to make a run for it if I had to.
But just as one of them reached out to check behind the crates, something outside distracted them. A loud crash echoed from the street, followed by the sound of glass shattering. Both figures froze, their heads snapping toward the noise.
"Someone's outside," one of them muttered.
"Check it out," the other ordered, his voice a low growl. "I'll finish up here."
They hesitated for a moment, and then one of them turned and headed toward the door. I stayed perfectly still, barely breathing, hoping against hope that the distraction had worked. The second figure lingered for a moment longer, but then, grumbling under his breath, he followed the first one outside.
As soon as they were gone, I let out a long breath, my body relaxing slightly. Someone had saved me, intentionally or not, and I wasn't going to waste the opportunity. I needed to get out of here before they came back. But not before I took one last look at the desk. The sign from Neith & Anansi still lay there, mocking me. This wasn't just about smuggling. Something far stranger was at play here, and I wasn't leaving town until I figured out what it was.
I crept toward the window, the adrenaline still pumping through my veins from the close call with those shadowy figures. Peering through the dirty glass, I scanned the street outside. The storm still raged, but the two figures seemed to have moved on, distracted by whatever was happening outside. Satisfied they weren't lurking nearby, I took a deep breath and slipped through the broken window.
The cold rain hit me like a slap in the face, soaking my clothes instantly. I couldn't worry about that now. I had to get out of here before those things came back. I glanced around quickly, then made a break for one of the nearby alleys, my boots splashing through the puddles as I sprinted away from the warehouse.
The alley was narrow and dark, with high brick walls that seemed to close in on me from either side. I was halfway down when suddenly, a figure stepped out of the shadows ahead of me, blocking my path. Before I could react, they raised a pistol and pointed it directly at my chest.
"Be quiet," the figure whispered, their voice low and urgent. "And follow me."
I froze, my eyes locked on the barrel of the gun. The figure was barely visible in the dim light, their face obscured by a hood pulled low over their head. But something in their voice—something in the way they moved—made me believe that, for now, they weren't going to shoot me. They were trying to help.
My instincts screamed at me to run, but I knew I didn't have a choice. Those shadowy figures were still out there, and I wasn't keen on finding out what they'd do to me if they caught me. So I nodded slowly, my heart still racing, and followed the figure deeper into the alley.
They moved quickly and quietly, leading me through a maze of narrow streets and back alleys, away from the storm and the danger I'd just escaped. We didn't speak, and I kept my eyes on the ground, focusing on staying as silent as possible. The rain still poured down, the wind howling between the buildings, but somehow this person moved through it like it was nothing.
After what felt like an eternity, we finally stopped. The figure glanced around, checking to make sure we hadn't been followed, then motioned for me to duck into a doorway. I followed them inside, shaking the rain from my coat and wiping the water from my face.
The figure lowered the gun but kept it close, turning to face me. Their face was still partially hidden by the shadows, but I could see their eyes now—sharp, alert, and filled with a mixture of caution and determination.
"Who are you?" I whispered, trying to catch my breath. "And why did you help me?"
The figure hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Names don't matter right now. But you've stepped into something dangerous, something you're not ready for. That place… the warehouse… it's not what it seems. And neither is this town."