“They know we’re coming. No reason not to go in loud.” Letting a little of her carefully leashed rage bubble to the surface, she stepped up and drove her boot into the right-hand door with a wordless yell. She expected the door to swing open, maybe even hit anyone hiding behind it. She was ready for it to rebound. She didn’t expect it to tear free and fly five feet into the room before hitting the ground with a thud on the cafeteria linoleum.
There had been several mental patients waiting to ambush them, but in the stunned silence after the door stopped moving, most of them abandoned that plan. Two of them charged the doorway, screaming and brandishing weapons. The rest scattered like teenagers at a party when the cops show up, rushing for doors at the sides of the room. The sight shouldn’t have made her feel guilty, but a tendril crept back in anyway. Why did they have to keep reminding her that they were people? This would be so much easier if they were monsters.
“Holy shit!” Declan exclaimed as Lulu rushed forward. The dog burst into flames as she leapt at the first rushing man, her weight taking him to the ground with a cry of pain.
Char stepped forward to meet the screaming woman. This wasn’t another patient. She was wearing what was left of a blouse and pencil skirt under a tattered doctor’s lab coat. The once-white lab coat had been decorated with the same nonsensical symbols as the walls. Her hair was a wild tangle, and her teeth had been filed to points. She was using a pot lid as a shield, and a hooked fireplace-poker in lieu of a sword. Char used Assess on her.
Ice-heart Supplicant
Level 19
Touched by a dark force, her hunger and madness
have been enhanced. As her devotion grows, so
too does the chill in her heart.
“What,” Char ducked a wild poker-swing, “the Hell,” she stepped to the side, sliding her blade in behind the pot-lid to slice the woman’s arm, “is wrong,” the slice made the woman drop the makeshift shield. Char stepped in closer and shoulder checked the woman, sending her sprawling, “with you people?” The poker flew from the woman’s hand as she hit the ground on her back. She snarled up at Char, gnashing her filed teeth. Char put her sword-point to the woman’s neck.
“I’m going to suck the marrow from your bones,” the woman hissed. “Make your power mine. The Master will slurp down your soul like soup, make you his. All his… all mine!” She lunged upward, heedless of the sword, her teeth spread wide as though she planned to take a bite out of Char even as she impaled herself on the blade.
The point went deep, slicing into the woman’s throat. She gnashed her teeth, pushing farther onto the blade, fighting to get to Char, to sink in her teeth. Ice crystals spread up the blade from the wound. There was something about the ice that made the lightning in her core spark and roil; a deep, primal revulsion that echoed up from her very bones.
Char staggered back, but the damage was done. Horror twisted her gut as blood fountained out of the self-inflicted wound. Wherever the blood landed, ice spread outward from it, coating the woman and the floor around her with a spreading pattern of frost. The woman’s gurgling laughter didn’t stop until her eyes glazed over with death. Char had a hard time pulling her gaze away from the blindly staring eyes of the madwoman.
“Why would she…” Declan’s hesitant question shook her from her daze.
“I don’t know. I…” She shook her head, strange emotions boiling like thunderclouds in her gut, “There’s magic fuckery at work here. When I Assessed her, it didn’t show her as human. It came back as ‘Ice-heart Supplicant,’ whatever that is. We need to find that Master she was talking about. Maybe if we end it, we can save some of them.” She scanned the room. It was a moderate sized institutional cafeteria, redecorated in apocalypse chic. More of the crazy graffiti was painted across the walls. The tables had been moved. One long table sat elevated on a makeshift pallet platform at the head of the room, like the high table at a medieval feast—an ersatz Lord’s board. A bed sheet was laid across it as a tablecloth, and it was as stained and graffitied as the walls.
Aside from the main doors they’d come in through, there were doors on either side of the room. One was a swinging door next to the serving line, and the other was unlabeled. She nodded to the swinging door. “Let’s check the kitchen first.”
Lulu trotted over to the door, flames flickering down her back. Char wasn’t sure if Lulu had understood her words, was picking up on her intentions through their link, or if the chow-hound had just smelled food. Something about that last thought made Char uneasy, and she suddenly had a bad feeling about what they were going to find in the kitchen. Was that her Foresight warning her, or her subconscious putting together clues? A shiver like a finger of winter wind ran down her spine.
“Char, you alright? You looked a little green around the gills for a second there,” Declan asked, his attention divided between her and the doorway.
“I’m OK, but I’ve got a feeling that what’s behind that door is going to be more nightmare fuel.” Her eyes were drawn back to the head table as she spoke, and the bloodstains that marred the makeshift tablecloth. “You can stay out here, watch our backs, if you’d rather.” Some part of her knew what they’d find beyond that door. Her certainty unsettled her. She didn’t know where it came from, but the sight of the ice had stirred something old and wordless in her chest that echoed faintly with the sound of distant thunder.
She shook it off. There wasn’t time for sorting her feelings in a building full of bloodthirsty lunatics. Lifting her sword to a guard position, she stalked forward to open the door. Declan followed a step behind.
Cautiously, she opened the door. Lulu slipped in first, her flickering flames lighting the room and revealing a charnel house of horrors. Char had been braced for the sight, but knowing wasn’t the same as seeing it. The reality was a punch to the gut.
A human corpse lay on the central work table, half butchered. A bucket below the table held severed hands and feet. The modern stoves and ovens had been shoved aside to reveal an old fireplace in the wall that had been put back into use by the inhabitants, and a human leg was spitted and ready to roast over the glowing coals.
Char’s stomach churned with revulsion at the sight, and she heard Declan noisily emptying his stomach behind her. A thump pulled her attention away from the grisly scene. It had come from behind the heavy steel cooler door at the back of the kitchen.
There was no sign of the cannibal inmates. They must have fled through the third door in the room. If she hadn’t completely lost her sense of direction, that door had to lead back out to the hallway. They could check that later. First, she needed to see what was in the cooler.
She looked back to the others. Declan was getting control of himself. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and gave her a grim nod of readiness. Lulu’s hackles were up, but her eyes were on the hallway door, not the big, silver cooler door. A feeling of wariness emanated through their link. Char’s eyebrows drew together at that. She trusted her companion to keep an eye on it and alert them if there was trouble. Gripping the lever handle in her left, and keeping her sword up in her right, she pulled the handle and opened the heavy door.
She wasn’t expecting the sight that greeted her, though it was a welcome one.
Survivors huddled at the back of the cooler. A wave of stench—rotten vegetables and human waste—rolled out of the enclosed space. The distant thunder in her chest rolled through her again, along with a fierce desire to protect these people. One woman blinked in the light, then shielded her eyes with shaking hands. Someone whimpered in the tight mass of prisoners, and Char lowered her sword. “Hey, it’s OK. We’re here to help. We’re not with the crazies.”
An older Asian man, his cheeks sunken and eyes hooded with distrust, stood from the front of the group. He looked past her, eyes darting into the kitchen behind. His English was broken, but understandable, “Are they gone?” he asked, his voice hoarse. “The suanggi? Did you kill them?” The words trembled in his throat. His hands were balled into fists, but his arms shook.
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Char wanted to weep at the note of forlorn hope in his voice. “Some are dead, but not all. Come, let’s get you out of here. You can barricade yourselves in one of the offices while we clear out the rest of the building.”
The man wavered. Starved and traumatized, Char couldn’t fault him for hesitating. Three more people with similar features huddled behind him, probably his family. The oldest of them pulled the youngest closer. Two other people, a man and woman, with paler skin and the rounded features of Eastern Europeans sat with them. They looked to be in better shape, physically, but were just as traumatized. The man’s face was purple and yellow with bruises, and the woman’s face was striped with tear streaks.
The old man’s face firmed as he came to a decision. “Anywhere is better than here.” He nodded, more to himself in affirmation of his words than to Char, and started helping his family to their feet. The European woman helped the youngest teen to stand. The man with the bruised face stepped to the front of the group, protectively. His eyes darted in every direction, watching for threats.
Char stepped back and made room for them to file out of the cooler. She tried to block their view of the corpse on the work table, but she didn’t succeed. The European woman screamed when she saw it and the man had to catch her as her knees buckled. She started sobbing and speaking in Russian, one arm stretched toward the dead man. Char’s heart ached for the expression of grief and loss on her face, but her scream would have called attention to them. There was no time to let her mourn.
“Declan, take Lulu and make sure the hallway is clear. We can’t send them outside to face the monsters alone, so we’ll get them barricaded in an office for now.” When Declan nodded his understanding, she turned to the Russian man. She put a reassuring hand on his arm and lifted an eyebrow in an obvious question as she tilted her head towards the woman. She wasn’t sure if he spoke English, but body-language was enough for now. He nodded and helped the grieving woman back to her feet.
The Asian man and older teen looked steady enough, and each was helping their more fragile family members. The younger teen had to be at least sixteen, but grief and fear made him look younger. He clung to his older sister’s arm, burying his face in her shoulder to not see the bloody mess. Char gave Declan a sixty-count before she opened the door to follow him. He and Lulu were watching down the hallway in opposite directions, but there were no signs of any opposition.
“I thought I saw something moving at the end of the hall, but whoever it is, they’re keeping their distance,” Declan said as Char held the door for the refugees. Lulu chuffed, and sent a feeling of momentary safety. Char nodded and pointed her charges down the entry hall. She almost warned them about the bodies, but after what they’d seen in the kitchen, she didn’t bother.
It might actually be cathartic for them to see their tormentors’ corpses, as messed up as that might be.
The group passed the bodies, most of them looking away, but the Russian man kicked one of the corpses and spat on it. While Declan and Lulu guarded the rear of the group, Char led them into the office across the hall form the bloody, ransacked reception office.
It was a large office with a bay window that let in plenty of light. Char thought it would be good for the freed prisoners to be able to see out after spending time in the dark with no control. The room was dominated by a large desk in the center of it, and paperwork was scattered everywhere, flung wildly from filing cabinets against one wall. Otherwise, the room was in good shape, with very little of the disturbing sigil graffiti that covered the halls.
Char was looking out the window, watching for any sign of monsters or cannibals approaching from outside when the younger of the teens started yelling. She turned to find him pointing to a file laying open on the desk, and hurried over to see what the problem was. The old man turned over the file, hiding the photograph paper-clipped to its cover, and he moved to calm the agitated teen.
“What’s wrong?” Char asked as she reached for the file, lifting it to see the photo without showing it to the traumatized teen. The photograph was a mugshot of a pale, serious young man with glasses and dark hair. The name on the file was Harrow, Royce A.
The old man pointed to the file, “That is the one the others call ‘Master.’ He is their leader.” A shudder ran across the old man, and his jaw clenched. He said something else in his own language, something Char was sure was laced with curses and invectives.
She took the folder and moved over to the window where the light was better. It was a good idea to know one’s enemies; she could spare a few minutes to look the file over.
PATIENT FILE: HARROW, ROYCE A.
DOB: 07/04/2005 AGE AT INTAKE: 17
INSTITUTION: Ravenmoor Hospital, Berkshire, UK
ADMIT DATE: 06/09/2023
CLINICAL SUPERVISOR: Dr. E. Caldwell, MD, FRCPsych
STATUS: Long-term psychiatric detainment
SECURITY LEVEL: High
Summary of Offense:
Subject was found guilty of the premeditated murders of his two half-siblings, aged 13 and 15, respectively. Autopsy reports confirmed post-mortem cannibalism in both cases. Subject was deemed fit to stand trial, but not criminally responsible due to psychiatric diagnosis and was remanded to Ravenmoor Hospital for indefinite detainment.
Presenting Symptoms:
Upon intake, subject exhibited:
Persistent delusional belief system involving "absorption of essence" or "power transference" through ingestion of human flesh.
Blunted affect and minimal remorse; described actions as “necessary” and “destined.”
Auditory hallucinations: claims to hear "the voices of those I've consumed."
Fixed delusion of familial replacement: stated belief that by consuming his siblings, he had “inherited their place” in the family and “deserved their lives.”
Provisional Diagnosis (DSM-5):
Schizophrenia, Paranoid Type (F20.0)
Cannibalistic Ideation—Delusional Content
Antisocial Personality Traits
Treatment Summary:
Initial attempts with antipsychotics (risperidone, later clozapine) yielded minimal reduction in delusional intensity. Subject remains treatment-resistant and displays manipulative interpersonal behavior. Periods of apparent lucidity are frequently followed by escalating fixation on staff members and other patients. Has attempted coercion of other patients into harmful behavior via persuasive rhetoric couched in “power transference” ideation.
Staff Risk Assessment:
Subject is to remain under constant supervision. Not to be left unsupervised with other patients or unaccompanied in common areas. Demonstrates high risk of violence and charismatic manipulation.
The file went on with more notes about treatments, interactions, and transcripts of counseling sessions. It was disturbing to read. It was clear that Royce thought of other people only as tools or obstacles. There was no empathy at all in the transcripts. Near the end of the file, dated about two months before the Aldevari showed up, was a handwritten note:
"Subject’s behavior has grown increasingly organized. He has begun to refer to himself as a 'chosen vessel' and has expressed belief in an impending 'ascension' that will occur within the facility. Though the language is still rooted in delusion, there is a shift toward collective ideation and leadership behaviors. Monitoring recommended for cult-like influence on other patients."
—Dr. Caldwell
Had he predicted the coming of the Aldevari, or were the changes mentioned in the note only a coincidence? Did he know? How? Char’s mind swirled with unanswered questions. Among those questions were her own reactions to the malevolent cold energy released by the woman, the Ice-heart Supplicant, when she’d died. The roiling storm in her Core, the echoes of thunder, and the lightning mana that itched to be used all pointed to her Thunderbird bloodline. She’d had a feeling about what would be in the kitchen—some deep part of her had known what they’d find. It was unsettling, and it made her feel like a stranger in her own skin.
She glanced up and saw that Lulu was guarding the door, and Declan was helping to get the survivors settled with food and water. They had a moment of calm amid the horrors. She used that moment to pull up the notifications that she’d been ignoring. The first thing she noticed was the name on the kill notifications for the mental patients. It wasn’t Human, and it wasn’t Ice-heart Supplicant:
You have killed
Hunger’s Thrall — Level 17
Experience Gained
All of them were like that, except for that one woman in the cafeteria. She cursed at herself for ignoring her notifications. They held clues that could be important, and she’d kept them turned off because they were annoying, and, she admitted to herself, because she didn’t want to see the word ‘Human’ on them. She was a coward and a hypocrite. She could kill those people, but she couldn’t face the proof of her deeds on those damned little blue screens.
She glanced over to the survivors again. Reminding herself that the lives she’d taken had saved other lives. She could kill, she could do what needed doing to protect the innocent. Her father had killed for his country, she could kill for humanity. It didn’t make her a bad person, it made her a person willing to do hard things for the right reasons.
She swiped away the kill notifications. Killing the Ice-heart Supplicant had tipped her over the threshold to her next level. They had also advanced their quest.
Congratulations! You have gained a level.
You are level 23.
You have gained 5 free stat points.
You have gained +1 Strength, +2 Speed,
+1 Dexterity, +3 Endurance, +1 Intelligence
+2 Spirit
_______________________________
Quest Complete:
Sinister Signs
You have discovered the fate of the missing inhabitants and
reason for their abductions.
You have received: Experience, Gold credits, [Common Health Tonic]
————————————————————————————————
New Quest:
Cannibal Cult
Find the Master of the Cannibal Cult and
defeat him before he completes his ritual.
Reward: Weapon enhancement gem
“Oh, sweet!” she heard Declan exclaim. Glancing over, she watched as he tested the balance of a short sword. “We finished the quest. It let me pick a weapon. Did you get to pick another one, or did you get something else?” he asked her.
She shook her head, “I got a potion and some credits. Did you get the follow-up quest?”
“Yeah. How long do you think we have before he finishes whatever that ritual is?” he furrowed his brow as Char handed him the file to read.
“Probably not as long as we’d like to have.”