Night—or what passes for it—settles over the Eternal Campground. Though the sky is shrouded by that endless mist, the quality of the light has changed, dimming until the glow of the campfire feels like a gentle beacon. I sit near the stump, where the deck of cards rests in quiet patience. Lynn stands a short distance away, inspecting the supplies we've gathered. She turns a can of fruit over in her hands, as if the label might tell her something, then sets it aside with a sigh.
I haven't asked her again about what she tried to say before. There's no point. Each attempt ends the same way: the mist thickens, the air hushes, and her words dissolve into empty noise. I sense her frustration. But I also know we have time, assuming time means anything here. The Eternal Campground feels both endless and outside any familiar cycle, as if we dwell in a hollow between moments. I can't recall if I've been here hours or days. My body does not ache with hunger or thirst, though I know we must eat eventually. It's a strange existence.
I focus on what I can control. The axe I salvaged from the school lies across my lap, its edge now cleaned and oiled with what little I could manage: a scrap of cloth dipped in some leftover grease from our first location. The blade is still pitted with rust, but it's better than the broom handle ever was. If I am to be a Knight-To-Be, I must treat every piece of gear with care.
Lynn comes closer, but not too close. She crouches by the fire and holds her hands out to it, though I'm not sure she needs warmth. I watch her for a moment, trying to glean some hint of who she is. Her robes are threadbare but carefully mended. Her eyes carry something old and knowing, but also gentle. She meets my gaze, nods once, then returns her attention to the flames. Her presence soothes me, even if we are strangers to each other's pasts.
At length, I decide to draw again from the deck. We survived two journeys into the mist. We gained supplies, new weapons, and I learned a bit about my abilities. Maybe the next combination of cards will offer more than just scavenging—maybe it will unlock a piece of the truth that Lynn cannot share.
The deck seems to tremble under my fingertips. I shuffle lightly, expecting it to resist or guide me. Three cards rise to the top as if buoyed by an unseen current.
Location: Abandoned Nightclub.
I see neon lights, shattered glass, toppled bar stools. The idea of music and laughter in such a place is bizarre now, but I can almost imagine the rhythm of long-lost songs.
Event: Lantern of Stolen Days.
A ghostly lantern that reveals secret compartments and old caches. But it also hints that something about time—or what used to be time—lingers in these ruins. Not the forbidden words I've been warned against, but something equally haunting. A lantern that might show hidden corners of memory.
Enemy: Lamprey Leechers.
Not a single foe, but a swarm. Small, slug-like things that feed on blood and fear. They'll be troublesome, I'm sure. Difficult to fight one at a time if they come in droves.
I swallow. The Nightclub might be cramped and full of dark corners. The Lantern event promises hidden treasures, but at what cost? And the Lamprey Leechers… well, I'll have to be careful. They sound like the kind of creatures that overwhelm the unprepared.
Lynn watches me with a calm expression. She doesn't try to speak. She doesn't nod or shake her head. She simply waits. I know I must keep pushing forward. Still, a small doubt gnaws at me. I recall the quiet child-echo in the school, the sense of distant loss. Will this next place stir more fragments of my past?
I rise and walk to the mist's edge, holding the three cards before me. The mist churns, reluctant at first, then surrenders. Slowly, the clearing's edge dissolves into a crumbled city block. I see a broken neon sign twisted into a shape that might have once spelled "Lux Room" or something similar. Half of it sputters with erratic light, casting strange patterns on cracked pavement.
The Eternal Campground's ground merges seamlessly into an alley strewn with broken bottles and scraps of old posters. I step forward, Lynn at my shoulder. The air smells faintly of stale alcohol and rot. Through a fractured doorway, I glimpse the nightclub's main floor: a dance floor covered in shattered glass, overturned speakers, and hanging wires. A rusty disco ball dangles from a canted beam, reflecting tiny shards of firelight.
I feel something unusual. A flicker at the edge of my vision. Turning, I see a spectral lantern hovering at the far end of the bar counter. Its flame is pale, almost gray. It does not sway with any breeze, though there must be drafts in this ruined building. The Lantern of Stolen Days. According to the card's memory, it can reveal hidden compartments. Perhaps there's something valuable here—medicine, a clue, a piece of gear. Or maybe just more pain, more questions.
Before I can investigate, I hear a wet slithering sound. I freeze, and Lynn's hand hovers near mine as if to steady me. At the corner of the dance floor, beneath a collapsed speaker, I see them: the Lamprey Leechers. At first glance, they look like dark slugs as long as my forearm, glossy and writhing over each other. Then one rears up, showing a round, sucker-like mouth lined with tiny, razor points. I feel a spike of revulsion.
They haven't noticed us yet. The lantern's pale light reflects off their slick forms. I step slowly onto the dance floor, mindful of the crunch of glass underfoot. I must be quiet. One wrong move and the swarm might rush us. Lynn remains behind, silent. I realize again that I must rely on my own wits. I have an axe and some courage, but is that enough?
A thought: If they respond to movement or sound, perhaps I can distract them again. I pick up a shattered microphone stand from the floor. Carefully, I toss a small piece of debris—an old bottle cap—across the room. It rattles near a toppled table. The leechers squirm, sliding toward the noise in a disturbing, undulating mass. I seize the moment and approach the lantern.
Up close, the Lantern of Stolen Days is unsettling. Its flame casts no heat. Instead, I feel a slight chill. Within its glow, dust motes hang suspended, and I see faint outlines on the wall—hidden compartments indeed. There's a panel behind the bar, currently invisible to normal sight. I pry at the loose plank, and it swings open, revealing a small velvet pouch tied with twine.
I snatch it quickly and retreat. From the corner of my eye, I see the leechers turning back this way. The bottle cap noise didn't hold their interest long. I weigh my options: fight them head-on or slip away? The Campground is only a few steps behind us if we retreat. But something in me balks at running. If I'm to be a Knight-To-Be, I should face these foes, at least when I have the advantage.
I set my jaw, nod to Lynn, and step into the faint light. The leechers swarm forward, a wriggling carpet of hunger. I raise the axe, waiting until they're close enough. My first swing cleaves one in half, releasing foul-smelling ichor. Another tries to latch onto my boot, but I kick it aside. Lynn's presence gives me courage, if not words. I stomp another underfoot, feeling its body burst with unpleasant squelch. My stomach churns, but I keep going.
They come in twos and threes, but not all at once. Perhaps they are cautious. Another swing, another fall. One manages to cling to my pant leg, trying to bore through the fabric. I curse and slam it with the axe handle, prying it loose. It flops onto the glass shards and wriggles vainly.
Lynn steps beside me, raises her hand, and though I cannot hear her words, I see the faint shimmer of her healing energy swirling around me. Not that I'm wounded yet, but my nerves settle. The leechers hesitate, as if sensing something is amiss. They retreat toward their corner, leaving a handful of their kind splattered across the floor.
I let them go. Enough carnage for one day. We have what we need. The lantern remains, drifting lazily above the bar, its purpose fulfilled. The hidden compartment stands open, empty now. The soft glow fades. I expect it might vanish entirely, but it just hangs there, flickering gently, as though waiting for someone else to discover it.
With careful steps, we return to the threshold. Before stepping into the campground again, I loosen the twine around the velvet pouch and peek inside. Within, I find a small insignia pressed into a metal brooch. It's worn smooth with age, but I can just make out a design: crossed blades beneath a shield. Something about it feels familiar. Perhaps my old life carried symbols like this. Perhaps I once wore such an emblem with pride.
I grip it tightly, heart fluttering. The mist behind us stirs, and we step back into the clearing of the Eternal Campground. The cards lie waiting on the stump, the fire crackles, and Lynn stands silently by my side. She meets my eyes, and I see sympathy and regret in her gaze. Whatever I was, whatever I might become, this place is determined to keep me guessing.
I tuck the brooch away, resolving to learn its meaning. Perhaps, in time, the mist will relent, and Lynn will speak the truths she yearns to share. Until then, I will continue to draw cards, shape the labyrinth's fragments, and carve my path as a Knight-To-Be, one encounter at a time.