Chapter 2
Adelaide approached the jagged hole in the cabin’s front wall, her breath catching as she peeked nervously inside. Abandonment was no guarantee of safety; any number of animals might have claimed the place as their refuge. She scanned the room cautiously. It wasn’t much larger than her studio apartment, with moonlight spilling through a sizable gap in the roof to illuminate its center. Dust particles swirled lazily in the beams of light, adding an eerie stillness to the wreckage within.
Relief washed over her as she cautiously stepped through the hole and into the room. Her gaze swept across the chaos—the remnants of a life long past. Pieces of broken furniture were strewn haphazardly across the dusty floor, none of it intact. Moldy blankets or curtains, their original forms indistinguishable, lay crumpled in odd patches. To her right, she saw a wooden table split in half, its pieces reduced to jagged piles beside a crumbling stone fireplace. Wooden bowls and spoons lay scattered nearby, mingled with sand and dust. A rusted cast iron cauldron had been tipped over in the fireplace, its contents spilled and long-stained into the stone. Over the hearth hung a moth-eaten tapestry, its faded pattern unclear in the dim light.
Adelaide’s attention shifted left, where a large wooden chest poked out from beneath a threadbare blanket riddled with holes. A decaying bed frame leaned awkwardly beside it, its mattress gutted and spilling dry leaves across the floor. Dusty cobwebs cloaked the corner above the bed, sending a chill through her at the thought of what might be lurking there. A moldy quilt hung limply from the bed’s edge, speckled with debris from the ruined mattress. Though its worn fabric seemed to promise warmth, the layers of mold clinging to it quickly dissuaded her.
Finally, her gaze drifted forward, where a small bookshelf stood near the opposite wall. Above it, a rusty metal hatchet was embedded into the wood, its blade corroded and forgotten. The shelves themselves were barren, save for broken jars and the remnants of old cobwebs. A thick layer of dust coated every surface of the room, mingling with sand to form a testament to years of neglect. It seemed clear that whoever had lived here was long gone, whether taken by death or by force, she couldn’t be sure.
Adelaide turned to her left, her eyes landing on the large chest tucked beneath its tattered blanket. If video games had taught her anything, it was that chests like this often held something useful. And if nothing else, she figured she could use the blanket to cover herself, despite its sorry state.
She reached for the blanket, tugging it off the chest in one swift motion. A cascade of sand and dust tumbled onto the floor, the particles catching faint glimmers of moonlight. Adelaide wrinkled her nose as she inspected the fabric—it was riddled with mold, damp to the touch, and cold as death. With a sigh, she tossed it aside, releasing a musty odor that lingered in the air.
Turning her attention back to the chest, she crouched down and gave it a closer look, sliding it carefully toward the moonlit center of the room. Its size struck her immediately—it was large enough to hide a person. The wood was dark in color, with several leather straps crisscrossed over the lid and body, their rusted buckles holding the chest securely shut. The corners were reinforced with rusted metal, further hinting at its craftsmanship.
Adelaide’s gaze drifted to the intricate carving on the lid—a coat of arms depicting a howling wolf with a sword and hatchet crossed behind it. She traced the lines of the carving with her fingertips, the wood feeling smooth but faintly tacky beneath her touch. Beads of moisture trailed after her fingers, and she paused, surprised by the chest’s solidity. Unlike the slimy, spongey floorboards beneath her feet, the chest felt sturdy and well-made, its craftsmanship likely a source of pride for its original owner.
What tied it to the cabin’s decay were the corroded metal accents and the thick layer of dust blanketing it—just like everything else in the room. Yet, something about it felt preserved, as though its contents had been shielded from time and ruin. A faint smile tugged at Adelaide’s lips as a thought crossed her mind: This is practically a treasure chest, waiting for the right hands to uncover its secrets.
Whatever lay hidden inside, she was certain of one thing—it had to be in better condition than anything else in this crumbling shack. And she was determined to find out.
Adelaide scanned the cabin, weighing her options for opening the chest. The splintered wood scattered across the floor seemed too brittle to break through the chest’s sturdy exterior, and she didn’t have the strength to lift anything heavy enough to smash it open. The shards of glass from the broken jars might cut through the leather straps, but the risk of slicing her hands in the process was too high. She sighed, her mind racing through possibilities. Jumping on the chest was out of the question—it had felt far too solid earlier for her weight to make any difference.
Her gaze landed on the hatchet embedded in the wall above the bookshelf. It wasn’t ideal, but it was her best shot. She made her way over, examining it closely. The handle was in no better condition than the rest of the cabin’s decaying wood, and the head was rusted all around. Still, it might do the trick. Adelaide gripped the poll of the hatchet’s head firmly, avoiding the moldy handle, and began wiggling it side to side. The wall groaned in protest as the hole around the hatchet widened with each movement. After a few moments of effort, the head finally popped free.
Adelaide brought the hatchet closer to her face, squinting at it in the dim light. Before she could inspect it further, the handle slipped out of the eye and clattered to the floor—landing squarely on her foot.
"Motherfucker!" she yelped, pain shooting through her toes as tears sprang to her eyes. She dropped into a squat, clutching her foot with one hand while the other still held the hatchet head. "I really could use shoes," she muttered, pouting as she rubbed her sore toes.
Adelaide stood back up after a moment, cradling the hatchet head in her hand as she walked back into the moonlight toward the chest. Despite the rust coating its surface, none of it flaked off onto her palm—a promising sign that the metal wasn’t completely corroded. Even the blade, which had been embedded in soaked wood just moments ago, seemed sturdier than she’d expected.
She crouched down by one of the discarded pieces of fabric on the floor, wiping the rust from her hand and the hatchet’s head. The cloth left streaks of grime behind, but the blade’s shape remained intact. Sure, there was rust, but it didn’t crumble under her touch. It held its wedge-like form well enough to be useful. As she turned the hatchet over in her hands, she noticed faint carvings etched into either side of the blade. They could have been words, or perhaps just decorative patterns—it didn’t matter to her in the moment. All that mattered was that the tool was functional.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Adelaide made a mental note to find a new handle for it later. For now, the chest demanded her attention. Whatever secrets it held, she was determined to uncover them.
As Adelaide approached the chest, she adjusted her grip around the hatchet head, trying to find a hold that felt secure. No matter how she positioned it, the awkwardness of wielding the head without a handle was undeniable. Still, it was her best chance at breaking into the chest. She studied the lid carefully, weighing her options, before gripping the poll of the hatchet and bringing the blade down with force.
The strike reverberated through her arms, sending a sharp jolt that loosened her grip. The hatchet slipped from her hands and clattered onto the floor beside her. Startled, she glanced down, relieved it hadn’t struck her on the way down. She crouched quickly, picking up the hatchet head and brushing off the dust that clung to it. Her muscles, sore and exhausted, weren’t strong enough to wield the hatchet effectively—not for smashing the chest open, at least.
Her gaze shifted to the leather straps securing the lid. Perhaps they could be cut. Carefully, she began sawing at one of the straps with the blade, pulling it taut as she worked. Minutes passed, but her efforts yielded little more than faint marks where the dull edge had scraped across the leather. The strap stretched slightly under her grip, but it refused to give way.
Frustration bubbled up, and Adelaide slammed the hatchet head against the front of the strap, aiming for the buckle that held it shut. The impact sent flakes of rust scattering, and she paused, intrigued. She tapped the buckle lightly with the hatchet, watching as more of it splintered and crumbled. Excitement surged through her as she struck it again, harder this time. Each blow chipped away at the brittle metal until, finally, one of the straps came free.
Adelaide wasted no time, attacking the second buckle with the same method. The rusted metal gave way under her determined strikes, and soon, the second strap fell loose. A thrill of triumph coursed through her as she placed the hatchet aside and reached for the lid. In her excitement, she almost forgot the biting cold that had plagued her moments before.
It took considerable effort to pry the lid open, but when she finally succeeded, Adelaide was immediately hit with the strong scent of lavender. The fragrance was unexpected, overwhelming her senses for a moment. Peering into the chest, she was surprised to find its interior in remarkable condition—perhaps even better preserved than the exterior.
Her eyes scanned the contents. Four small, mysterious pouches were tucked neatly into each corner, their purpose unknown but intriguing. At the center of the chest, several folded garments drew her attention. With hurried movements, she grabbed the nearest piece of fabric and rose to her feet, holding it up in the moonlight.
The garment was a cream-colored, long-sleeved shirt. Though worn and slightly tattered, the fabric felt sturdy. It was far too large for her frame, clearly made for a man much bigger than herself, and featured a string at the collar for fastening. Adelaide didn’t care. Anything was better than staying as exposed as she was.
Quickly, she slipped the shirt over her head, the fabric falling heavily against her skin. She pulled the string at the collar, securing it closed, and tucked her necklace safely beneath the fabric. The shirt’s sleeves hung well past her hands, and its length nearly reached her knees—almost like a summer dress. Still, a wave of relief washed over her, bringing tears to her eyes. She had never imagined something so simple could fill her with such gratitude and joy.
After rolling the sleeves up to just above her hands, Adelaide turned back to the chest, eager to see what else it held. Her hands found another piece of clothing, this one darker in color. Holding it up, she realized it was a pair of brown pants with a string around the waist for fastening. She slipped them on hurriedly, tying the string tightly to keep them from slipping off. Like the shirt, the pants were far too big for her, but she didn’t mind. They were a blessing nonetheless.
Once again, her gaze returned to the chest. This time, a flash of red caught her eye. Reaching in, she pulled out a heavy wool cloak, its vibrant color striking even in the dim light. She stood to inspect it, running her fingers over the fabric. Gold embroidery lined the hood, forming intricate symbols that Adelaide didn’t recognize. A circular metal pin attached to the cloak caught her attention—it resembled an ancient safety pin. Though unfamiliar with its design, she found it simple enough to figure out.
Carefully, Adelaide undid the pin and wrapped the cloak around herself. As soon as the fabric touched her skin, a comforting warmth spread across her shoulders and arms. It was strange, almost unnatural, but she welcomed it. Securing the cloak with the pin, she let it fall heavily around her, the hem grazing her feet. Admiring the pin’s craftsmanship, she noticed a wolf’s head etched into the design—a detail that brought a faint smile to her lips. The combination of a red hood and a wolf felt almost poetic.
As the cloak enveloped her, the warmth expanded, wrapping her entire body in a cocoon of comfort. For the first time in what felt like forever, she wasn’t shivering.
"Woah. Is this… normal?" she murmured, the sound of her own voice breaking the silence. Adelaide’s mind raced as she tried to make sense of it. Normally, a body would warm a blanket first, and in turn, the blanket would keep the warmth in. But this—this was different. The warmth came from the cloak itself, like it was alive. Such a thing seemed impossible without an electrical source. And yet, here she was.
Pleased with her initial discoveries, Adelaide leaned over the chest again, excitement flickering in her chest as she grabbed one of the four small pouches nestled in the corners. Pulling it open, she peered inside, only to feel a pang of disappointment. The pouch contained nothing but dried lavender flowers. Her brow furrowed as she reached for another pouch, only to find the same contents again. The third and fourth yielded no surprises either—just more lavender.
‘Whoever this guy was, he sure loved his lavender,’ she thought wryly, setting the pouches aside. While they weren’t exactly the treasure she’d hoped for, the scent seemed to explain the chest’s overwhelming fragrance.
Her curiosity reignited as her hand brushed against something else tucked at the bottom of the chest. Pulling it out, she found a small leather-bound book, the same coat of arms from the lid of the chest embossed on its cover. The leather was surprisingly smooth under her fingertips, its surface unmarred except for a thin strap securing the book shut. The lack of a title only added to its mystery.
Overwhelmed by curiosity, Adelaide undid the strap and let the book fall open in her hands. The front page was filled with unknown markings, scrawled in a way that was both deliberate and incomprehensible. The characters were distinct and neatly spaced, yet their meaning eluded her completely. They looked foreign, not like any writing she’d seen before.
Flipping to the next page, she found an illustration of a flowering tree, its branches arching gracefully. Beside it stood a massive wolf, its sheer size dwarfing the small, smiling man drawn next to it. Adelaide’s pulse quickened. If the man’s proportions were accurate, the wolf was easily four times larger than her.
She shuddered at the thought of encountering such a creature. Wolves were familiar to her, but nothing this enormous belonged to her understanding of the natural world.
Turning the pages faster, Adelaide skimmed through illustrations of fruits and berries, fishes, and various animals that looked oddly familiar. About halfway through, she stopped at a page filled with circular diagrams. The designs were intricate, etched with patterns that seemed to follow a deliberate system. Her breath caught as she noticed similarities between these patterns and the ones embroidered on her hood—and the ones carved into the hatchet. She frowned as she studied the diagrams more closely. What were these symbols supposed to mean? They didn’t look like writing, but they weren’t random either. There was a logic to them that made her uneasy.
The writing shifted further in the book, becoming progressively erratic. The neat characters from the earlier pages dissolved into uneven, wobbly scrawls, connected by shaky strokes of ink. Whoever had written it seemed to have deteriorated, either with age or illness. Adelaide thumbed through the remaining pages, noting the diminishing illustrations and the increasing focus on strange diagrams.
She closed the book gently, her mind buzzing. Whatever this is, it might be important. The patterns, the coat of arms—they seemed linked to everything she’d discovered so far. Thinking it might prove useful later, Adelaide placed the book carefully back into the chest and closed the lid, determined to keep it safe until she had time to delve deeper into its mysteries.
