Leaves underfoot, the sound of your trudging through this quiet forest only helps lull you to sleep. The day has been long, the moon's bright light over-eager for your weary self. It lights your way just barely, but enough to see the path & lake ahead.

The top of the lake glimmers almost crystalline under the ever darking sky, iridescent ripples dotting around as various fish curve their way through the placid waters. 

Out of the corner of your eye- a faint glimmer, red, just for a moment. 

To get a better look, you...

…climb a nearby tree, seeing that a branch overhangs the spot with the glimmer. Getting up the tree is fine- you do feel a little ridiculous as you shimmy along the twiggier-than-expected branch, the looming lake lingering beneath you. It’s quite a fall… 

You hear creaking.

Pausing for a moment, the sound seems to be coming from the branch, behind you. 

And then it stops, almost as soon as you stop moving. 

A weird scuffling sound breaks the silence. From here you can’t fully get a good look at the cause of the noise…

Whatever the noise is, it's NOT worth dallying around any longer. You shimmy as hastily as you can forward, reaching what you hope to be a safe point at the end of the branch. 

Glancing down, you see once again the quick, bright glimmer of red below the water.

Stretching down, you're able to skim the water with the tips of your fingers. Thankfully, the branch slowly giving way gets you closer as you cling on for dear life. 

Your arm plunges into the cold water, shock reverberating up the rest of you. 

Success! You grasp something...

Retracting your arm, you see in your hand a small, metallic object- smaller than expected. A large sewing needle, about the length of your middle finger, thicker than a regular needle but still very much sharp. The tip is stained a ruby red, almost blended with the silver steel.

You rotate the item in your hand, following the edge of the stain around. A sudden drop in the branch surprises you, and though you're able to hang on, the needle leaves a small slice in the side of your finger. It stings, & though the wound warm and reddened, no blood is drawn.

Shimmy off the branch

The cut is only slightly deep, blood yet to spill from it. After a few seconds, the sting numbs to a dull ache, the warmth from it fading. 

You catch your reflection in the water below, and you see yourself nursing your hand.

A figure also perches behind you.

"Oh! Ah, hello there..."

Your voice trails off as in the reflection below you see the head of this figure tilt, almost like curious clockwork. 

It doesn't respond.

You’re not sure if it’s the morbid curiosity, fear or awkward silence that spurs you into continuing.

“Wellll it’s a lovely night out! Think this tree branch is giving way, by the by- could barely hold just myself up but a moment ago…” 

A warm, damp breath approaches your ear.

Hesitation grips you, your arm twinging from the conflict between fight or flight. Before you can decide, you feel two large claws bunch up your shirt, tugging you up and backwards into the centre of the tree. 

The claws don’t yet relinquish their grasp on you.

“L-look, I’m not sure what you THINK I’ve done, or if you think I’m food- is it food you want? I know a place with plentYAAAA!!”

The being suddenly hoists you skyward, tugging up on your slowly loosening cloak as they begin flying away, the lake tree growing distant with haste.

Feeling the slow unease of gravity prying you from your cloak, you swing your arms up to try and cling to the legs that are holding onto you. 

Your fingers graze upon the texture- small & featherlike in shape and form, yet hard and inflexible to the touch.

It takes some neck-craning, but you manage to see the creature holding you... and keeping you from meeting the ground with significant impact. 

Vacuous eyes fill its small head & reflect the lavender-peach hues of the sunset, dilated pupils flickering across the landscape.

Where hair would be, a crown of feathers; longer and more stoic the further back they go until the very back, where stray slivers soften and drape.

A long, thin & lean neck leads to the rest of the body- not birdlike, yet not humanoid either, 

plastered in wide feathers...

...much the same as the head and legs, all taupe and tawny in colour. 

A being seemingly both crafted with & eliciting curiosity.

The heavy wingbeats pull you back away from your hyperfixations. You've heard of similar creatures, though none fit this exact visage before you.

“So, where are we headed? Anywhere nice and friendly this dark, dark night…?”

You feel your stomach churn the forced optimism around, knots of anxiety forming there & in your voicebox, drying your mouth. 

A small, purr-like chirp comes from the beast as its eyes flicker  at you.

“The Gobbled Goose does really good food and isn’t too far from here- if it’s food you’re after. I promise you it’s more edible than I am.”

It looks at you, while heavy wings cut through wisps of cloud. 

“Ah, so it’s hunger?”

A small black tongue appears & licks its lips.

The lip lick panics you somewhat to say the least; a vile reminder of a much more vile fate.

"I assure you- I really, truly do not taste good. Ten times worse than the worst smell you've ever smelt. The meals at the Gobbled Goose though..."

Your mind thanks you with silence.

“Their Jellified eels? To DIE for. I’ve heard great things about them- all gooey and…eely…”

You hold out hope its ears are as big as its stomach; Bird-like creatures usually like fish…right?

The creature’s tongue stays poked out, wide eyes seemingly entranced by you.

You point forward, ceremoniously calling out

"To the Gobbled Goose!"

Though the creature's eyes are wide and dark, you can somehow sense their pupils dilate. They screech in presumed joy as they suddenly dive, gaining speed before pulling back into a glide back towards the earth.

After a mere minutes, you spot the familiar thatched roof of the Goose, nestling amidst the forest. How this creature knew where to go is beyond you, but a relief nonetheless.

Their heavy wings beat as you land, and as they plop you down, your airsick legs crumple slightly.

Glancing at your new pal, you know there’s no covert way to bring a 6foot something bird creature in. 

“Wait here, I’ll get us some food…”

You speak as you would to a cat about to knock a glass from a table. 

The Tavern thankfully has a small window showing the bar & barmaid.

The barmaid looks in your direction, rosy cheeks dimpled in puzzlement. Somewhat reluctantly she opens the window, the muffled ambience becoming far louder. 

"Can I help you?"

"Yes- could we get some jellified eels please?"

Her brow furrows.

"Usually patrons order inside..."

You place your hands together as if in prayer; you're not sure much else could help you here. 

"I, uh, have been kidnapped by a large bird...thing, and the eels might persuade it not to kill me."

The barmaid leans to look behind you, her eyes widening. 

She turns, walks away.

A glance over your shoulder reveals the creature peeking out between trees, a picture perfect vision of terror as the gentle tavern glow barely lights its eerie form.

As you're about to turn back, the creature takes a couple of tentative steps out into the open towards you.

Onlookers begin to see the creature, understandably concerned at its presence. Before any commotion can occur, you intervene. 

“By the gods, it’s been a while since I’ve seen you! Don’t worry folks, they’re friendly! Isn’t that right?”

You hope it picks up on your pointed tone

A few folks around you speak to eachother, hushed & not looking away from the creature.

“They’re my friend. We’re just here to get some eels and then we’ll be off, so if you don’t mind…”

The vacuous eyes of the creature seem to light up as you both walk back over to the inn.

Returning to the window, you see the barmaid, eyes still wide and unblinking, hand over a small wooden plate of gelatinous grey slices of fish, dotted with what seems to be herbs and spring onion. 

"Uh... five bronze please..."

Her gaze doesn't break with the creature's at all.

Contemplating a trade, you realise it’d be better to leave sooner rather than later, and toss over the coins.

“Thank you…”

The barmaid’s voice eeks out as you head back towards the forest. 

Walking, you feel that same wide, piercing gaze behind you.

The creature follows, close

The gelatinous fish squishes between your fingertips as you hold it up, the creature closely following your movement. 

“BUT you have to promise you won’t hurt me, alright?”

Their eyes dart to meet yours, blinking twice. Taking that as an ambiguous ‘yes’, you toss it to them.

The gooey residue clings to your fingers as the creature's mouth opens wider than expected to swallow the morsel whole, like a pebble falling into a canyon. 

Safe to say your appetite is mostly lost. You pass the bowl over, their maw again opening to catch the sliding food.

"So, can you understand me, or speak at all?"

A short, black tongue glides along their sharp lips, if you can call them that, as it finishes the eels. Their neck cranes in your direction, vacant eyes staring. Then, a blink; their head tilts, letting out a small guttural chirp.

"Okay, that doesn't help... uh, do you have wings?"

The head quickly cocks to the other side, letting out another chirp.

"Do I have wings?"

It sits back on its haunches slightly, stretching its neck and vibrating its wings. It looks at you curiously, not making a sound.

You flap your arms slightly, much to the seeming bemusement of the creature. For a second it flaps their own arms, though as opposed to its wings. 

A basic understanding is there, but calling it clear communication would likely be a stretch. 

“Hm, right. So, what now?”

The object thankfully survived the flight, as you're able to pull it from your pocket with no issue. 

Holding it up to the creature, you see them regard it with their usual quiet curiosity, head tilting, jolting side to side. It reaches out with its lean, long clawed fingers.

You snatch the needle back, unsure & unwilling to learn if this creature, or indeed the object holds any arcane power that could, gods forbid, be very regrettable. 

“Do you know what it is? If it does anything?” 

The creature jostles, curling all but one of its fingers.

Like the creature, you raise a pointed finger to see what it does. 

They re-adjust again, bringing a  finger on their other hand up, prodding the end of their raised digit with it.

Ah. For you, that second hand is the one holding the needle.

"Well, what's the worst that could happen?" 

You prick the tip of your finger before your mind can spiral into the thousands of regrettable possibilities. The creature opposite you leaps backward a little, readying for something to happen. 

After a few seconds; nothing.

A tiny bead of blood emerges from your finger. You stare at it intently, zoning out the already eerie quiet of the looming forest above, the gentle almost purr-like sound of the creature keeping you aware. 

You almost don't notice the drop of blood begin to rise to eye-level.

You tentatively raise your finger, meeting the droplet where it floats, your eyes focusing on it. It feels cold to the touch, a little bloody residue remaining where you touch it. 

Your head begins to almost thrum from the focus, your vision zoning in purely on the droplet.

The forest around you has darkened, almost to the point of pitch black. The moon's light still reaches you and the droplet, but all else has all but succumbed to the dark and silent, isolating you. 

"Ah! I see we found our little trinket then?"

A playful laugh haunts around you.

Holding up the needle & steeling yourself, you speak in the darkness. 

“This, I presume? Mayhaps I’ll consider returning it if you tell me who you are.” 

The laughs echo and ricochet in the silence surrounding you.

“Little old me? Just a curious friend who wants to know you!”

“That’s not an answer.”

You pull the needle back closer to yourself, the new voices closing in on you as you do.

“I’m surprised we don’t know! YOU are the one who summoned US, after all…”

A cold breath on the back of your neck sends goosebumps down your arm. It- they, approach.

"Own? Dear, though you may well have found and summoned us by no means triggers ownership. We have your blood- now, whether or not you're familiar with the arcane, you've likely heard stories of magics that can be... experimented with using blood..."

They trail off pointedly.

“So you own me then? Surely a contract-“

Laughs echo around you, close and suffocating.

“Ohohoh, now we’re speaking of contracts? I wasn’t aware your run of the mill blood mage would legalise use of their victims’ blood for evil- always felt a little less voluntary than that!”

Threatened, you try to hasten an answer to your questions. Grasping the needle at both ends, you ready trying to break it in half. 

“What would you do with me, then? Why are you here?”

No laughter, only a single voice from behind you responds.

…“Well, your hand wouldn’t be forced- though we’ve spoken on the hold blood magic can bring, mm. Then we’d simply ask a favour.”

Ghostly ripples of magic weave a translucent image before you. 

“You’d head to these ruins, simply placing the needle upon the dias.”

“Nothing you need know of. Clearly you bear understanding of the magics we could incite, and you know tis of your best interest to follow this through.”

The illusion outlines the murky stone remnants, the location of which seep into your mind as you watch.

You turn to try to meet the voice as you speak, seeing for a moment a vague streak of mist that hastily dissipates.

“We would not send you to accomplish this for us just for you to fall before completing it, no? It’s in our best interest to see you there in one piece.”

…That feels as if it’s as close to a guarantee as you can get. The voice around you grows quieter, as the encroaching darkness begins to give way, back to the nighttime of the forest, the creature at your side and needle resting in your palms. 

The being blinks, head cocked.

The creature cocks its head at you, bemused. They cautiously approach, looking still at the needle in your hands. Their wings beat a little. 

You realise the warmth around your pierced fingertip has subsided, as if the pinprick that summoned whatever...that just was, is gone.

“Right, we’d best be off then.”

You begin walking, the dark of the night looming and cold whistle of the wind prevalent. It takes a few steps to realise you have no earthly idea where these ruins are. 

A sharp pang of warmth emanates from your finger tip, turning you westward.

The still warm thrum of your finger comforts you against the chill night winds that cascade through tall trees looming above. 

Behind you, clawed steps on freshly fallen leaves as the creature you’ve come to name Heron follows, neck craning toward each forest noise.

“So, still following eh? Must be an interesting time ahead- that or you’ve nothing better to do!”

Your attempts go seemingly lower on their priority list- they do seem hooked on the sounds emanating from the dark. 

“Anything interesting?“

Heron stops, staring far into the trees.

You halt, focusing your hearing to see if you can hear anything. Your deep breaths resonate, the thrum of your heartbeat in the back of your ears, your chest, the still gentle rustle of leaves in the night breeze. 

Not a sound out of place, yet too perfectly quiet.

Bringing your arms to your chest, you ask the question to Heron, who lets out a small noise and continues staring out into the darkness.

Before much else can happen, a sudden shadow leaps at you, dulling your vision to near complete darkness- still conscious, but blinded.

You drop to the ground in hopes it’ll keep you secure until your vision returns. The hair on the back of your neck pricks up under the anticipation of your expectations- gods know what is happening… 

After a few moments, you begin to see the trodden grass beneath you reappear.

Tentatively, you look around you. Nothing immediately springs up as a threat- Heron seems fine, though their feathers have flattened out in alarm. There’s no clear sign of whatever force that was around you; all that seems new is a mustard coloured thread, embroidery at a guess.

You carefully scoop your fingers around the thread. Soft, a rich seeming fibre with a discernible quality sheen to it. You’ve seen your fair share of threads repairing your clothes before, this easily the finest one yet. 

As you twine it round your fingers, you find not the end.

Standing full upright, you weave the thread around your hand, turning to Heron. “Worth seeing where this leads, right?”

Knowing you’ll likely be met with Heron’s usual confusing chirps, you make your way along the dark path, for what feels like a couple of hours.

The moon peeks out the treetops overhead, signalling the night will be around longer yet. Your eyes grow wearier with each passing moment, and so you decide to rest up for a bit.  

You find a large, wide tree to lean against, Heron perching not too far away.

Laying your head back against the broad bark, you take a moment to sink into your thoughts. It’s been an eventful couple of days, between odd shadows in the forest, a strange voice attached to a bloody needle, a hopeful ally in Heron… 

You think about what’s ahead, about…

Even your proficiency in potions prove moot here. You find yourself perplexed by the pulsating powers the needle bears and that claw at the back of your mind with the hollow voices that surrounded you not long ago. What will you find at this shrine?

After rest, you continue on.

The forest tracks continue on through the night. Stars linger on the deep indigo horizon; your studies often brushed on the presence of spirits, but you never contemplated what, how, why…

Your thoughts are interrupted by a crumbling stone beam, and your thread tautening.

You pull tighter on the thread. There’s a smidge of resistance, and you see the thread curve round the back of the beam, in a downward direction. Inhaling the cold night air, you pull once more. A shallow thud can be heard, the thread loosening a little.

A calculated risk, but a risk still, you think to yourself. Shooting a glance to Heron, you cautiously round the pillar to see what awaits you there. 

Your gaze follows the mustard thread across the patchy grass, to moist earth, to bone. 

Many.

The skeleton you before you has a tapestry-like cloak draped over its back and shoulders as it leans still against the stone beam, the thread spiderwebbing a loose semblance of sinew between ribs. 

It’s morbid, but glimmers with curiosity and a strange beauty in the moonlight.

Heron seems just as aghast, though their head is a tad cocked to the side- out of curiosity, or perhaps a hint of recognition? 

“Anything?” You murmur, wary of disturbing the eerie peace. 

Heron oddly leans in to the skeleton. It’s not long before you too notice a sweet scent.

Closing your eyes to focus hoping the scent will carry on the chill air.

Sweet, almost off nectar, but not…

No- you’ve smelt this, round the back of butchers’ stores, familiar but uncommon. 

As it hits you, your eyes open to see the skeleton standing immediately before you.

Almost instinctively you take a step back in surprise at this sudden appearance. The cloak trails behind them, the thread draped between their bones keeping it on their bare frame.

Your eyes briefly focus behind them, recognising the vision & shrine the voices showed you.

“I suppose you’re here for a reason?” 

You pull out the needle, hoping matching it with a threaded being solves something.

It’s hard to say an eyeless creature can eye something up, but the skeleton surely does. As you study it’s expression, it snatches the needle, running off.

You tug the thread that still connects to the skeleton, who finds themselves quickly pulled to the ground from the ‘force’. They sit up, head slowly turning around to see you, realising they’ve been rumbled. Reluctantly, clasped between bony fingers, they hold the needle to you.

“What in goodness name was all that about?!” 

You somewhat snatch the needle back, as the skeleton winds the loosened thread around its hand. 

“I have a job to do, and cursed as all this feels, I’m going to stop faffing and get this DONE.”

You head to the shrine, impatient.

The shrine, piled smooth, oval rocks, stands surprisingly stoic before you, bare other than the vines and flora that’s climbed up the back of it. Seemingly it’s helping to hold it together. 

Needle in hand, a nauseating weight lays on your chest. This is what you came to do.

You hesitate for a moment before placing the needle down with a slightly trembling hand. 

Though placed horizontally, the needle stands, sharp point down, perfectly on the uneven stone.

Your mind fills with an anxious heartbeat.

Nothing. 

Until a gasping breath from behind.

“Gods ABOVE that blasted thing is lifted!! Oh what a bloody relief!”

You see the skeleton’s celebrations pause mid-cheer as they stare at the back of their still skeletal hand. 

“Ah shit. Well, better than nothing I suppose.”

They look to you. 

“Well? What’re you looking at?”

Your jaw drops, as you look bemused from the shrine back to the somewhat sassy-spoken skeleton.

"I- wh...I came all this way for THIS?"

If the skeleton had eyes, you'd sense they'd be rolling them about now.

"Come now, am I really THAT much of a disappointment?"

The skeleton dusts themselves off mostly unsuccessfully. “We’ll that’s a relief- most people would surely be JUBILANT to have discovered as rare a specimen as I! I must say I’m grateful for your assistance though, dear squire. Well met!” 

They bow deeply, bones clacking together.

“Hast though met a knight without a squire? Nay, PERISH the thought! Awful kind of you to offer your services- now, I’m torn between a full deep bone clean or washing this cloak of mine first… at least one simply must be done before we venture t’ward the wilds!”

Though heavily scraggly, your keen eye is able to make something out. 

One could safely assume this cloak is a draped tapestry, depicting a scene. You’ve seen others like it, woven environments that symbolise a tale or story of an event, person or hero. 

Looking closer at…

...you see a tall building amidst a mostly flora-less city, covered in intricacies and surrounded by astonishingly decorated buildings and fountains, as if the tapestry weaver could only attempt to capture the finer details.

A jaw rattle distracts you "A deep cloak wash it is!"

They pause, just for a split second before resuming their usual joviality. “Ah, well, a tapestry never tells its secrets, hm? Tis clearly fine and grand enough to be a worthy cloak! Now, let us away on our journey, yes?”

They begin walking in a seemingly random direction.

“Don’t avoid the question!” Frustration takes its hold, not only at the skeleton’s ways but for the generally odd and slightly tiring day you’ve had so far. 

The joviality stops for a moment. 

“I believe it’s a city, one I don’t remember  well. Feels like for good reason.”

They sigh with whatever air whistles through their bones still. "It's quite alright; I understand initial mistrust between new companions! Say, why don't we rest for the night, hm? I'm fairly sure this area gives us plentiful sanctuary!"

Heron chirps in seeming agreement.