The Midnight Haven Bar hummed with the usual low chatter and dim glow of neon lights. Outside, the rain was relentless, a continuous downpour that transformed the cracked streets into rivers of oil-slicked water. Leon Graves stood across the road from the bar, his eyes drawn not to the warm, inviting glow of the entrance but to a figure huddled near the mouth of an alley, half hidden in the shadows.
The old man had become a familiar sight outside the bar—a local fixture who seemed to exist just on the edge of awareness. His long, matted beard and tattered clothes blended into the urban decay of New Dresden, but there was something about him that tugged at the edges of Leon's perception, like a word on the tip of his tongue.
"Seer Samwell, they call him," the beggar had introduced himself once, in a voice thick with age and madness, though it sounded more like a title than a name. His eyes, dark and piercing beneath the tangled gray hair, had locked with Leon's for just a moment before he returned to his muttering.
Tonight, the old man was there again, perched on a pile of discarded crates, rocking slightly as the rain cascaded over him, seemingly unconcerned by the storm. His lips moved in an incessant whisper, a low murmur of half-formed words and cryptic phrases.
Leon had heard the ramblings before, but tonight there was a rhythm to them, an unsettling cadence that seemed to resonate in the damp, heavy air.
"Kings are dead, dead they are, but their shadows walk... Walk they do, in the places where light doesn't go…" the old man mumbled, his eyes glassy and distant. "The reaper sings to the dark… He hears them, oh yes, yes he does…"
Azrael materliazed behind Leon, and stopped for a while to gaze on the Old Man, the old man mysteriously gazed back as if he knew the Angel of Death was there, but Azrael didn't make it a big deal. It was just a coincidence that old man stared back, but Azrael can't keep his mind off of it, it really seemed that the old man knew that there was someone staring at him.
Leon paused, a flicker of curiosity tugging at him. There was something strange in the way Seer Samwell spoke, like he was teetering on the edge of prophecy, his madness tied to the same undercurrents Leon had been chasing. Every time Leon visited the bar, the old man was there—like a guardian or a sentinel, never approaching but always present, always watching.
Leon considered crossing the street, approaching the old man to dig deeper into his cryptic mutterings, but the thought passed quickly. There would be time for that later. Now, he had more pressing matters. Sara Blake was waiting.
The bell above the door tinkled as Leon entered Midnight Haven, and he was immediately struck by how the noise from outside seemed to vanish the moment he crossed the threshold. The rain, the distant wail of sirens, the hum of the city—it all faded away, replaced by the soft drone of music from the ancient jukebox in the corner and the low murmur of conversations too hushed to decipher.
The bar was dimly lit, its interior steeped in shadow. The walls were lined with dark wood paneling, adorned with faded, unrecognizable portraits that seemed to watch patrons with unseen eyes. It was a place that existed between worlds—quiet, unassuming, but with a weight in the air, as though time itself ran slower here.
Leon made his way through the familiar crowd—regulars mostly, people who had nowhere else to go but didn't want to be found. As he passed by a group of men huddled over a game of cards, he felt a slight chill, a prickling at the back of his neck. The man dealing shuffled the cards with fingers that moved too quickly, too fluidly for human hands. Leon didn't look twice, but he knew what he was seeing.
Creatures in hiding.
The Midnight Haven was more than just a bar—it was a sanctuary. For those who walked between worlds, it was a place of refuge, a safe haven hidden in plain sight, guarded by ancient magic and older agreements. Leon had known that from the first time he stepped foot inside, but he had never pressed the issue. In New Dresden, you didn't ask questions you didn't want answered.
Sara was already seated at a corner booth in the back, nursing a whiskey. She looked up as he approached, her brow furrowed, the tension in her shoulders evident. "You look like hell," she remarked as he sat down.
"Feels like it," Leon muttered, glancing around the bar. "Place seems busier than usual."
"Yeah, no kidding," Sara replied, her eyes flicking toward a group near the far wall, a strange trio of figures cloaked in shadow. "I can't shake the feeling something's off in here tonight. More than usual."
Leon nodded. He'd felt it too—the subtle undercurrent of unease that thrummed through the room. As if the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
"You sure about this place?" Sara asked, her voice low. "I know you said it was... special, but I didn't expect it to be this... weird."
Leon chuckled, though there was no humor in it. "Welcome to the world behind the world. You'd be surprised how many things are hiding in plain sight."
Sara shook her head, sipping her drink. "I've seen a lot since we started working together, but this... this is something else. It feels like everyone in here is watching, waiting. Like they're hiding something. Do they know about the Conjurer?"
Leon leaned back in his seat, glancing around the room. "Some of them probably do. But most of them? They're just trying to stay out of sight. New Dresden's full of things that don't belong in the light. The Conjurer is just stirring the pot."
Sara's eyes narrowed. "You're not telling me everything."
Leon met her gaze, his expression hardening. "There's not much more to tell. But you're right to be on edge. The Conjurer's making moves, and if what I've heard is true, the city's only going to get worse."
Before Sara could respond, the bartender approached their table. He was an older man, with graying hair and a sharp, knowing gaze that seemed to see straight through you. He placed a fresh drink in front of Leon without a word, then lingered for a moment longer than necessary.
"Storm's picking up," the bartender said softly, his voice carrying the weight of something unspoken. "You might want to keep your head down for a while. Things are moving… changing."
Leon gave him a curt nod. "Thanks for the tip Merlin."
The bartender's gaze shifted to Sara for a moment, and she stiffened under the intensity of his scrutiny. Then, without another word, he returned to the bar, his presence slipping back into the background.
Sara shivered, taking another sip of her whiskey. "What the hell was that about?"
Leon watched the bartender retreat, his brow furrowing in thought. The old man was rarely so direct, and his cryptic warning settled uneasily in Leon's gut. Something was shifting, something deep and dangerous, and the Midnight Haven was feeling it in its bones.
"He's one of the oldest," Leon said quietly, almost to himself. "He sees more than most."
Sara raised an eyebrow, setting down her drink. "Oldest what?"
"Just... one of the old ones," Leon replied, evasive. He didn't want to dive into the bartender's history—not tonight. "Let's just say he's got ties to things you and I wouldn't want to cross paths with. If he says something's moving, you listen."
Sara was about to push for more when the door of the bar creaked open, letting in a rush of cold air and the smell of rain. Every head in the room turned toward the newcomer—a woman dressed in a black cloak, her face obscured beneath a hood. Her boots thudded heavily against the wooden floor as she strode toward the bar, her presence casting a palpable chill over the room.
Leon tensed. He didn't recognize her, but there was no mistaking her aura. She was dangerous—predatory. She moved with a fluid grace, like a hunter stalking prey. He exchanged a glance with Sara, who had already started to shift in her seat, her hand instinctively drifting toward the blade concealed beneath her jacket.
The woman stopped at the bar, her voice low but commanding. "Whiskey."
Merlin the bartender, who had been a fixture of calm moments earlier, hesitated, his gaze flicking to Leon and then back to the woman. He poured her drink without a word, his hands steady but his expression wary.
Leon leaned forward, whispering to Sara, "That's not just anyone. She's here for a reason."
"Conjurer's pet?" Sara guessed, her tone low and serious.
"Or worse," Leon replied, scanning the room. He noticed the trio cloaked in shadow had stiffened, their eyes trained on the newcomer with wary recognition. Something was unfolding here, and it felt like the opening moves of a dangerous game.
The woman downed her drink in one gulp and then turned, her hood falling back slightly to reveal sharp features and unnaturally bright eyes that flickered with an otherworldly light. Her gaze swept the room, settling briefly on Leon and Sara before moving on. For a moment, Leon swore he saw her eyes linger on the shadowed trio in the corner.
As if on cue, the trio stood from their table, their movements synchronized in an unnervingly perfect manner. They made their way to the door, brushing past the woman with deliberate care, as though avoiding contact was a matter of life and death. One of them—the tallest of the three—cast a sidelong glance at Leon, his eyes glowing faintly beneath his hood.
They disappeared into the night, the door shutting softly behind them.
The woman at the bar smiled faintly, setting her empty glass down with a deliberate clink. "Things are indeed changing," she said, her voice carrying across the room like a whispered threat.
Leon felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He could sense it now—the subtle shift in the air, like the city itself was holding its breath. Whatever she was, whatever she represented, it was connected to the Conjurer. And from the way the patrons were reacting, she was not someone to be trifled with.
"We should leave," Leon said, standing abruptly. Sara hesitated, glancing between Leon and the woman, but she trusted his instincts enough to follow without question.
They pushed through the door and into the rain, the downpour still relentless. The streets of New Dresden were darker than usual, the stormclouds swallowing even the faintest hint of moonlight. The city's usual hum of life was strangely muted, as though the people of New Dresden could feel the tension brewing beneath the surface.
Leon tugged his jacket tighter around himself and led Sara down a side street, avoiding the main roads. They needed to regroup, to figure out their next move.
"Who the hell was that?" Sara asked, her voice barely audible over the rain.
"Could be anyone," Leon muttered. "But my bet? Someone high up. Maybe a hunter, or worse… an emissary."
"An emissary of what?"
Before Leon could respond, a low growl rumbled from the darkness of the alley ahead. Both of them stopped, hands instinctively reaching for weapons. The alley was empty—except it wasn't. Leon could feel the presence of something, watching them, waiting.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. At first glance, it looked like a man—a tall, imposing figure dressed in a dark coat—but as he moved closer, the rain seemed to slip off his skin unnaturally, as though he was more shadow than flesh. His eyes gleamed, bright and predatory.
Leon swore under his breath. "Hellhound."
Sara drew her pistol, her posture shifting into a defensive stance. "I thought they didn't show up in the city."
"Not usually," Leon replied, his voice tight. "But things are changing."
The hellhound smiled, a wicked grin that showed too many teeth. "The Conjurer sends his regards," he rasped, his voice like gravel.
Before either of them could react, the creature lunged, moving faster than any human. Leon barely had time to raise his arm before the hellhound was upon him, claws slashing through the air.
Leon's instincts kicked in, and he threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the hellhound's deadly swipe. Sara was already moving, she pulled the trigger of her pistol, the bullets piercing through the rain, but the hellhound was quick, dodging her attack.
The alley was a chaos of flashing steel and rending claws. The hellhound's eyes glowed with an eerie, malevolent light, and its growls echoed off the walls, creating an almost tangible tension in the air. Leon managed to get to his feet and drew his own weapon—a sleek, silver blade that seemed to hum with a faint, protective energy.
Sara and Leon worked in tandem, their movements synchronized from long practice. Sara kept the hellhound occupied with precise, calculated gunshots, while Leon circled around, aiming to find an opening. The hellhound was relentless, its movements fluid and almost graceful despite its monstrous form. It was as if the creature was part of the shadows themselves, blending seamlessly into the darkness.
Leon's casted Light Shards and it met the hellhound's claws in a shower of sparks. He could feel the raw power behind each of its attacks, the sheer force of it threatening to overwhelm him. But he pressed on, using every ounce of his skill and training to keep the beast at bay.
Sara's gunshors struck true, catching the hellhound along its flank and drawing a howl of pain from the creature. The hellhound's fur bristled, and it turned on Sara with renewed fury, giving Leon a crucial opening. With a swift, decisive move, Leon's Light Shards sliced through the air and found its mark. The edge of his weapon cut through the hellhound's defenses, and the creature let out a final, agonized roar before collapsing onto the wet ground.
Leon and Sara stood over the fallen beast, their breaths coming in heavy, ragged gasps. The hellhound's body began to disintegrate, melting into the shadows from which it had emerged.
"That was too close," Sara said, wiping the rain from her face with a trembling hand. "I didn't think they'd come for us so soon."
Leon glanced around the alley, his senses on high alert. "The Conjurer's got his minions out. This is just the beginning. We need to find out what's going on before things get worse."
Sara nodded, her face set in determination. "Where do we start?"
Leon considered their options. "We need more information. There's a contact I can reach out to—someone who knows about the Conjurer's movements. But we need to get somewhere safe first. Let's head to the old library. It's secluded and has a few hidden places where we can lay low."
"Where the hell is Azrael?" Leon asked himself
As Leon and Sara rushed away from the Alley, Seer Samwell peeked from the corner of the alley, and he was smiling.
They made their way through the rain-soaked streets, their path taking them through the labyrinthine back alleys of New Dresden. The city felt different now, its shadows darker and more threatening. Every sound seemed amplified in the oppressive quiet, and the sense of being watched never left them.
As they approached the library, Leon glanced back at the alley where they had fought the hellhound. The streets were empty, but the feeling of unease lingered. Something was definitely moving in the city, and the Conjurer was at the center of it.
The library was an old, Gothic structure, its exterior worn and weathered by time. It stood as a relic of a bygone era, with towering spires and arched windows that seemed to hold secrets of their own. Leon led Sara through a side entrance, down a narrow, dimly lit corridor that opened into a small, hidden office cluttered with old books and arcane artifacts.
He flicked on a desk lamp, casting a pool of light over the room. "We'll wait here until I can make contact. The old librarian is a valuable ally. She may know more about the Conjurer's plans than anyone else I know."
Sara looked around, taking in the dusty shelves and stacks of ancient tomes. "I hope she has something useful. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take."
Leon nodded, his expression serious. "We're in deep now. But if we can piece together what's happening, we might have a chance to stop it."
Sara's phone buzzed, as she glanced on her phone it was a ton of missed calls and text messages from Mike, her partner.
As she reached for her phone to make the call, the library's quiet was broken by a soft, rhythmic tapping. Leon and Sara exchanged a look, their senses on edge. The sound came from somewhere within the library, but its source was hidden in the shadows.
Leon's eyes narrowed. "Stay alert," he murmured. "We're not alone."
The tapping grew louder, more insistent, and then, from the darkness, a figure emerged—a tall, enigmatic woman with a mysterious aura, her features partially obscured by a veil. She moved with an ethereal grace, her eyes gleaming with an unsettling light.
"Madam Minerva?" Sara was shocked as she saw the local librarian.
The woman's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Hello Sara, Hello Leon"
Leon and Sara exchanged a wary glance.
"You know her?" Sara asked Leon?
"Of Course she's the "Librarian", Madam Minerva" - Leon told Sara sarcastically
"Madam Minerva, you're my middle school teacher, the local librarian, how the hell would you be associated with this guy?" Sara asked Minerva with a curious tone.
"Madam Minerva is a Sage, under the guise of a "Librarian" she is human tho, if you're curious."
"It seems your friend the Angel of Death is not present, Mr. Graves" Minerva asked
"He wanders off from time to time, back to the agenda Madam Minerva," Leon began, his voice tinged with both respect and eagerness, "I seek knowledge of the Conjurer. Do you know of him?"
Madam Minerva, with her silver hair cascading like a waterfall of moonlight, looked up from her desk where she meticulously reviewed a manuscript on celestial entities. Her eyes, sharp and piercing beneath her ornate spectacles, softened as she regarded Leon. She adjusted her robes and took a deep breath, her voice carrying the weight of ages.
"Before I can assist you," she said, her voice now carrying a weight of ancient authority, "there is a matter of payment."
Leon reached into his pocket and retrieved a coin. It was not an ordinary coin used by the citizens of New Dresden, but rather a currency from the Underbelly of New Jersey—its design intricate and unfamiliar, marked with symbols and patterns that spoke of a different world. The coin shimmered with an otherworldly luster, a testament to its exotic origins.
Minerva examined the coin with a mixture of curiosity and recognition. Her fingers traced the cryptic symbols as if unlocking secrets hidden within.
"This," she said, her tone reflecting both admiration and respect, "is no ordinary payment. It is a token from realms beyond our usual reach, hinting at connections and transactions in places few ever encounter. Very well, I accept this."
Leon nodded, relieved and eager. The exchange completed, Minerva's demeanor softened, and she began to prepare the information Leon sought.
Madam Minerva sat at her grand oak desk, the soft rustle of ancient parchment the only sound in the quiet sanctuary of her library. Before her lay a book with blank pages—an enigma in itself. As she opened the tome and began to read, her eyes sparkled with a celestial light, glowing like distant stars. She stared intently at the nothingness of the book's pages, and as she did, fragments of forgotten lore and hidden truths seemed to flow into her mind.
"You seek someone who is not written, the Conjurer is a blur in the fabric of reality an unknown entity, just like you Mr. Graves, you were once known, but know I cannot see you." She screamed and stopped her reading.
As the echoes of Madam Minerva's revelation faded, Leon and Sara felt the weight of the unknown pressing heavily upon them. The Conjurer remained a shadowy enigma, and the night's events had only deepened the mystery.
Leon turned to Minerva, gratitude in his voice. "Thank you for your help, Madam Minerva. Even if the Conjurer is still elusive, your insight has been crucial."
Sara nodded in agreement. "Yes, thank you. We'll be sure to keep your warning in mind."
Minerva's demeanor shifted to one of grave concern. "Be wary," she warned, her gaze locking with Leon's. "The Conjurer is not the only threat. The Horsemen are coming. Their arrival heralds a time of great turmoil and upheaval. The Apocalypse is near, and its heralds will not wait."
Leon met her eyes, understanding the gravity of her words. The Horsemen—their coming was a sign of something far greater and more catastrophic.
With that, Leon and Sara exited the library, stepping into the relentless downpour. The storm outside seemed to whisper secrets, its chilling embrace a stark reminder of the dangers that lay ahead. As they navigated the darkened streets of New Dresden, the city's ominous silence weighed heavily on them, underscoring the reality that their quest was far from over.