The Eternal Campground's quiet presence steadies me as I stare at the scattered relics I've assembled. A pattern emerges in my mind: the Keepers, the Threshold, the fragments of memory that hint at a greater duty. Each excursion into the misted fragments of this world brings me closer to understanding. Lynn watches as I consider the deck, her posture calm but intent.
I try to recall the Sealed Bunker Entrance we encountered before—locked, unyielding. Something inside me knows that if I gather enough clues or find the right artifact, I'll be able to breach it. Perhaps I need a key, literal or symbolic. The cards have a way of guiding me, offering paths toward what I seek.
I shuffle the deck slowly, letting intuition guide my hand. The campfire crackles, and I sense Lynn's quiet encouragement. Three cards present themselves:
Location: Overgrown Pharmacy
A small, vine-choked store where faded medicine labels and broken shelves suggest old cures turned toxic or miraculous. Perhaps I can find supplies, or maybe hidden compartments that hold more than bandages.
Event: Strand of Fate
A glowing thread stretching through debris, leading to secret caches and unexpected treasures. If I follow it, I might discover something important. If I ignore it, I may lose an irreplaceable chance.
Enemy: Marrow Burrower
A creature lurking beneath the floorboards or cracked tiles, waiting to strike from below. It prefers ambush, seizing a limb and dragging prey into hidden tunnels. I'll need caution and a steady stance.
I glance at Lynn, raising an eyebrow. The Overgrown Pharmacy could contain something valuable: a key, a note, or at least more fragments of memory. The Strand of Fate event suggests I can find something crucial if I follow its subtle guidance. But I must beware the Marrow Burrower's ambush.
Lynn gives a small nod. We step to the mist's edge, and I bring these chosen cards to mind. The air shifts, and we step forward, leaving the Campground's warmth behind.
We emerge into a narrow street choked with greenery. A rusted sign overhead reads something like "Phar_m_cy," missing letters. The storefront's glass is cracked, vines twisting through the frame. Inside, shelves lean precariously, strewn with damp cardboard boxes and pill bottles turned brittle with age. A faint scent of mold and old chemicals hangs in the dim light.
Softly, a pale thread of light gleams at the edge of my vision. The Strand of Fate. It weaves through toppled shelves, leading deeper inside. My heart quickens—this could be it. Perhaps this thread guides me to a hidden cabinet or a secret safe tucked behind the pharmacist's desk.
I enter carefully, axe raised. Lynn moves behind me, silent and alert. The floor feels spongy underfoot, as if roots and damp soil have replaced solid tiles. I think of the Marrow Burrower and step lightly, ready to jump back if anything stirs beneath.
The Strand of Fate glimmers again, drawing me toward the pharmacy's back room. I step over broken boxes and spilled syringes, half-melted blister packs crumbling under my boots. Rounding a corner, I find a locked cabinet half-buried under tangled vines. The glowing thread hovers above it, drifting in and out of sight. I brush the vines aside, trying the cabinet door. Rusty hinges creak but do not open.
A low scraping sound halts me. Lynn's eyes dart to the floor. A tile shifts slightly, dirt falling into a gap. I tighten my grip on the axe. The Marrow Burrower must be right underneath, waiting for my guard to drop.
I consider my options. If I try to break the cabinet open now, I'll be vulnerable. Perhaps I can lure the Burrower out. I pick up a shard of broken shelf and toss it across the room. It clatters loudly. For a moment, nothing happens—then the floor near the noise shudders, and a scaly, elongated head bursts through, snapping at empty air. The creature is like a twisted mole-rat with bone ridges and sharp incisors. It hisses, confused by the lack of prey.
Seizing the moment, I move behind it and strike with my axe. The blade digs into its hide, not deep but enough to wound. It shrieks and tries to slip back underground. Lynn steps forward, dropping a heavy chunk of debris to block its retreat hole. The Burrower thrashes, half in and half out, and I strike again, harder. It snaps at me, nearly catching my boot. I retreat a step, then swing once more. This time the blade sinks into something vital. The creature goes limp, its body twitching before falling still.
Lynn exhales silently, relief visible in her posture. I nod, grateful for her quick thinking.
Returning to the cabinet, I inspect the lock. It's old and rusted. With careful effort, I wedge my axe blade under the latch and pry. Metal groans, then snaps. The door swings open, revealing a small waterproof container inside. I lift it out, brushing dust away. The Strand of Fate shimmers approvingly before fading, as if its task is done.
Inside the container, I find a thick key—iron, heavy, engraved with runes similar to those on my parchment. This must be related to that Sealed Bunker Entrance. My heart pounds with hope. There's also a brittle sheet of paper with half-faded writing. I can make out a few words: "Access—Keeper's Records—Subterranean Chamber." Perfect confirmation. The Keepers' Records might lie behind that bunker door.
Smiling despite the gloom, I show Lynn the key. Her eyes brighten, as if she knows how important this is. We take one last look around, grabbing a few intact bandages and a small bottle of antiseptic. Then we retrace our steps, stepping over the Burrower's corpse and pushing out into the overgrown street.
The Eternal Campground calls us back. A few steps and we stand once more by the fire. I place the iron key beside my other relics: the brooch, the amulet, the parchment, the scroll, and the stained glass shard. A pattern emerges: all threads leading to the Keepers and the Threshold they guarded. If I can open that bunker, perhaps I'll find the final pieces of my past.
Lynn sets a bandage and antiseptic aside to tend my wounds. Her careful ministrations speak louder than words: she is with me, no matter the silence. We've come so far, forging trust through action and shared hardship.
I rest, feeling closer than ever to the truth. The mist still shrouds our voices, but I don't need speech to understand what must be done. Armed with this key, I will return to the Sealed Bunker Entrance when I'm ready. I will delve into the Keepers' domain and reclaim the memory of my oath.
For now, I breathe deeply, savoring this victory. The deck awaits the next draw, and the labyrinth waits to reveal its final secrets.