"It doesn't matter," Crysha said, without looking back, "whether they like me or not. I'm here because I have to be. To monitor you, Lenora. That's all."
Her shadow stretched long ahead of her. Undisturbed.
The road kept going.
A few days passed.
The road didn't care. It kept moving and Crysha made sure they moved with it.
She started with Lewd first.
It wasn't a conversation — it was a command, delivered the same way Crysha delivered everything: calmly, without room for argument. Lewd had stood there blinking for exactly one second before deciding that arguing with someone who had been alive for centuries was probably not the battle to pick today. She'd reached inside herself, the way Phantasm had been quietly teaching her, and pulled.
The sword that came out wasn't perfect. The weight was slightly off. The grip wasn't quite right. But it was hers — pulled from somewhere real — and when she held it Crysha had looked at it for a long moment and said nothing, which felt like the closest thing to approval she was going to get.
Then Crysha turned to Lenora.
That one lasted an hour.
The first thing Crysha had said — before any of it began — was a single look. Top to bottom. Taking in the maid dress, the ruffled hem, the apron still somehow intact after everything.
"Is that what you've been traveling in."
Not a question.
"It's a long story," Lenora said.
Crysha had let it go. Temporarily.
Derpy's pets sat at the edge of the clearing and watched — Mia with her tail curled precisely around her paws, Sphinx with his chin lifted. Neither of them made a sound. Nobody paid them much attention. Everyone was too busy watching Lenora and Crysha move — the way old training remembered itself in the body even when the mind tried to forget it.
Nobody noticed when Mia glanced at her own shadow.
Nobody noticed when Sphinx did the same.
The shadows rippled. Just slightly. The way water moves when something beneath it shifts.
They looked at each other.
Then, quietly, without a word between them — they sank. Both of them, slipping downward like the ground had simply decided to let them through. Gone before anyone turned to look.
Lewd sank onto the ground first, chest heaving. Lenora came down a moment later — one knee, then both, breathing hard through her nose.
The clearing was quiet except for the sound of them catching their breath.
Then Lewd noticed it.
Her shadow was moving. Not with her — independently. A slow ripple running through it like something underneath was pressing up from the other side.
She looked at Lenora's. Same thing.
Neither of them said anything about it.
Lenora reached into her coat and pulled out Celica's Embers. The book settled into her hands with a warmth that was almost familiar now.
"Celica." She kept her voice low. "You have a moment?"
Lewd watched her. Then she reached for Phantasm.
"Could we talk as well?"
The books answered at the same time — a layered warmth, two presences unfolding into the space between words.
Celica spoke first. I'm all right. A pause, carrying more weight than the words themselves. Still feeling some kind of way. About him pulling away. Knowing my sister was part of why.
Lenora's grip on the book tightened slightly but she didn't respond yet.
Phantasm's voice came quieter. Directed. Are you all right, little rat?
Lewd blinked. "I'm—"
Be on your guard. Not unkind, but not soft either. I know my sister. She is quite the thinker. Don't mistake quiet for still.
"If you have time," Crysha's voice cut across the clearing like a line in ice, "to hold conversations with your books—"
Both of them looked up.
Crysha stood at the tree line, arms folded, white hare foot already starting to tap.
"—then you have time to walk. We're moving. If we're reaching the mouse and rat kingdom we need supplies first, and supplies cost coin."
Lenora straightened. Smoothed the front of her apron out of habit. Caught herself doing it. Stopped.
Crysha's eyes dropped to the maid dress for exactly one second.
"We are also," she said, with great restraint, "getting you a change of clothes."
"It's fine—"
"You have been sparring in an apron for three days, Lenora."
Lewd pressed her hand over her mouth.
"It's fine—"
"It is not fine." Crysha turned away before the conversation could continue. "Coin. Then clothes. Then we move."
Lenora pulled her coat tighter around herself with what remained of her dignity and reached into her pocket.
Then her other pocket.
Then she went still.
The color left her face in a single, very complete wave.
Crysha watched her.
"Lenora."
"I—" Lenora's ears drooped. "Derpy has my coin."
A silence that lasted just long enough to be painful.
"He has your travel money," Crysha said.
"He was holding it."
"You let him hold it."
"It made sense at the time—"
"You let a convict," Crysha said, with the measured patience of someone who had been disappointed many times and had developed a system for processing it, "hold your travel expenses."
Lenora's ears were now almost completely flat.
Lewd had stopped trying to hide that she was enjoying this.
Crysha pressed two fingers to the bridge of her nose. Breathed in. Breathed out.
"Just this once," she said, "I will cover the expenses." She lowered her hand. Her eyes were steady and very direct. "In return — you are going to tell me everything about this Derpy. Who he is. What he is to you. All of it."
Lenora opened her mouth.
"Everything," Crysha said.
Lenora closed it again.
Crysha turned toward the road, cloak settling around her, star charms catching the light. The smile that touched the corner of her mouth as she walked was small and entirely controlled — the kind of smile that had nothing warm behind it.
She wasn't unhappy about paying.
She wasn't even unhappy about the coin.
What she was, underneath the patience and the measured words and the gracious offer, was calculating. Her student was falling — had perhaps already fallen — for something that should not exist. An abomination wearing a face that made people trust it. A bloodline that should not be allowed near rabbit genes. Near her student's genes.
She would learn everything about him.
And then she would decide what to do about it.
"Let's not waste the morning," she said pleasantly, and kept walking.
Behind her, Lenora looked down at her apron one more time.
Then pulled her coat closed and followed.
The maid dress was worse now than it had been three days ago.
The hem had lost another few inches to a root she hadn't seen in the dark. The apron was more grey than white. One ruffle had surrendered entirely sometime around the second day and she hadn't noticed until it was gone.
She'd had chances to change. Crysha had made that very clear. There had been a market town two days back, a peddler's cart the morning after, and no fewer than three pointed looks from a woman who had been alive for centuries and still found time to have opinions about outerwear.
Lenora hadn't changed.
She kept her coat pulled closed and didn't think about why.
"I would do anything right now," Lewd said, from somewhere behind her, "for a bath. Why do we have to walk? Can't we ride Mia and Sphinx like last time?"
"We could," Lenora said, "but I haven't seen them since the spar this morning."
Lewd looked around. Frowned.
Crysha turned her head — not fully, just enough to glance sideways at the ground beneath Lenora's feet. Then at Lewd's.
"They're in your shadows," she said.
Lenora looked down.
Her shadow rippled. Slow. Deliberate. Like something beneath it had shifted its weight.
"...It could be that," she said.
A beat.
"Or they don't like Crysha."
Crysha kept walking. "It doesn't matter either way."
By the time they stopped to rest, Lewd's legs had filed a formal complaint.
She dropped onto a fallen log and groaned — long, theatrical, aimed at no one and everyone at once. "Something warm. Walls. A roof. Any roof."
"A meal," Lenora agreed, sitting beside her. "A bed. An actual one."
"Yes," Lewd said with feeling.
Crysha opened her mouth.
The explosion hit before the first word came out.
Not close — but not far. A deep rolling crack that shook the air sideways and sent something in the treeline scattering. Crysha's hand went to the hilt of her katana before the sound had finished traveling. Her eyes swept the direction it came from.
"What was that."
Neither Lenora nor Lewd had an answer.
They didn't need one.
"If you have time to wonder," Crysha said, "you have time to move."
She was already gone — a blur of black cloak between the trees, heading toward the sound.
They ran after her.
They arrived at the edge of the tree line and stopped.
All three of them. At the same time. Breathing hard, saying nothing.
Because there was nothing to say.
The building stood where the road simply ended — massive, impossible, blazing with amber light from every window. Dark navy-black stone and gold trim that had no business being this far from anything. Purple energy crackled up the upper floors and bled into the night sky like an aurora that had lost its way, casting everything below in shifting violet light. The ground around it was wet and gleaming, the rain-slicked road throwing back a broken reflection of the whole impossible structure.
A sign above the entrance glowed in ornate gold lettering.
Derrpy's and Slurry's Emporium.
The S at the end hung loose on a chain, swaying in the breeze.
To the left, a signpost:
Oddities. Curiosities. Concoctions. Contraband. Candy (Maybe). Wonder.
A smaller placard near the base of the steps: Not a Hotel. Not entirely. But you knew that already.
A sign on the right pillar caught the lantern light: Come in. Curious souls welcome.
"That's..." Crysha started.
"What a palace," Lewd breathed. She stepped forward without thinking, head tilted all the way back. "Who lives here?"
Crysha stepped in front of both of them.
"No." Flat. Final. "Places don't simply appear in the middle of nowhere when someone wishes for a warm bed. This is a trap. We keep moving."
"Aunti." Lenora clasped her hands. Her ears were doing the thing — tilted at an angle that meant she already knew the answer and was asking anyway. "Just a peek. One look inside. We won't buy anything, we won't do anything. Just — a tiny peek."
Crysha looked at her.
Lenora held the look.
The gas lanterns flanking the entrance flickered in the wind. The purple energy above shifted slowly, like something breathing.
The loose S swayed on its chain.
"One look," Crysha said.
Lewd was already moving toward the steps.
The doors opened into darkness.
Not the kind that felt empty — the kind that felt full. Like the dark was holding its breath. The party stepped in slowly, shoulders close, eyes adjusting.
Shapes emerged first. Shelves. Cases. Things mounted on walls that caught the faint light from outside and threw it back wrong — blades with no business being single-edged, handles built for hands that had too many fingers, something in a glass case that pulsed faintly like it was still alive.
"What is this place," Crysha said. Not a question. A reckoning.
Then the lights began to come on.
One by one — warm, amber, rolling from the back of the room toward the front like the building was waking up in stages. And as they came up, the party saw it properly.
The desk first. Grand, dark wood, cluttered with things that defied categorization. Behind the desk — a ball of fluff. Black, voluminous, completely still.
And behind that, hung on the wall like a centerpiece, a painting.
A dragon. A wolf. Something between the two — rendered in broad, confident strokes, all fire and shadow and wings that looked like they'd been borrowed from a storm.
Lenora and Lewd looked at it at exactly the same time.
"Is that supposed to be Derpy?"
The fluff ball moved.
It looked up.
Then it screamed.
High. Piercing. Completely genuine. The kind of sound that came from a person who had forgotten the concept of customers existed and had just been violently reminded.
All three of them jumped. Crysha's hand flew to her katana hilt.
"Ewwww — oh my god — oh my — oh my god —" The fluff ball shot upright, two small sheep ears flattening, enormous red eyes going wide as she looked at all three of them in rapid succession. "SLURRY. SLURRY. We have customers — I didn't have the masks out — the masks, Slurry—"
From somewhere deeper in the shop, slow and entirely unbothered, came a voice.
"...It's been a while."
A pause. The sound of something shifting. A yawn.
"Who are we selling to this time."
Music started. From where, it wasn't clear — but a small jazzy beat drifted through the room like it had always been there and simply decided now was the time to make itself known.
The sheep girl — Derrpy, black curls bouncing, skull charm swinging at her collar, bell chiming with every movement — pressed both hands to her cheeks and vibrated.
"This is so cool — can I go first? Slurry, can I go first—"
"Sure." Another yawn. "But keep it down. Don't wake Revy."
The music got slightly louder.
The bass line dropped.
It came from everywhere at once — the walls, the floor, the cases of impossible weapons — a low jazzy thrum that climbed through the soles of their feet and settled somewhere in the chest. The amber lights pulsed with it.
Derrpy vanished.
One second she was there — bell chiming, red eyes bright — and the next the space in front of Crysha simply had a Derrpy in it. She'd crossed the room without touching the floor. Her small hands grabbed the front of Crysha's wandering shirt and she looked her dead in the eyes, grinning, and sang:
"Well welcome to our glorious emporium— my name is Derrpy and it's nice to meet you— here we sell many things, we have swords, shields and potions too—"
Crysha's katana came out.
Derrpy vanished again.
She reappeared behind Lenora — close enough that Lenora felt the bell brush her shoulder — and walked, unhurried, back toward the desk. Her voice carried the whole way.
"I would love to show you around and I would hope you would buy from me— and not from this guy—"
She pointed.
"—who can't lay down a rap."
From somewhere in the dark behind the desk, something unfolded itself. Slurry rose — slowly, hands in his hoodie pocket, spiral horns catching the light — and looked at his sister with the particular expression of someone who had heard this before and had prepared a response.
He stepped into the light.
The jazz shifted. Smoother. More deliberate.
"Oh no — it looks like Derrpy's trouble with her words, but do we need to fix her track into a more jazzy verse— let me show you how a real sheep drops a verse."
He moved without hurry. Not performing the way Derrpy performed — no teleporting, no grabbing — just walking, measured, like the room was already his.
"If swords and shields and potions are not your style— I sell magic books and magic staffs and anything close to magic— if you buy from me, my items, my weapons, won't let you down."
Derrpy's head snapped up from behind the desk.
"Don't buy from him— he's always underground doing god knows what— it's time to dispose of this error and buy from me—"
Slurry didn't even look at her.
"Derrpy, you are a bit jittery— time to lay off the magic drinks— let me sell to these people, your words are sloppy and cheesy—"
Lenora had her hand half-raised, not sure whether to applaud or step back. Lewd had forgotten she was exhausted. Crysha still had her katana out, eyes tracking Derrpy's last known position with the attention of someone who did not appreciate being grabbed.
Then the music changed.
It happened between one beat and the next — the jazz didn't stop, it shifted, dropping into something lower and slower and wrong in a way that was hard to name. The amber lights dimmed slightly. The shadows in the back of the shop grew teeth.
Footsteps. Unhurried.
A third figure emerged from the dark.
She moved the way Slurry moved — without performance — except where Slurry's quiet felt like rest, hers felt like patience. The kind that had already decided what came next and was simply waiting for everyone else to catch up.
Massive crimson curls. Dark red eyes half-lidded, unimpressed. A small smug smile that had never once been warm. Thick red wool covering her legs from the thigh down, a black cropped jacket open over a skull-logo top, chain detail at her skirt, sheep skull charm at her choker. She moved like someone who owned every room she'd ever walked into and had simply grown tired of announcing it.
She sang.
And every word landed like it meant exactly what it said.
"Listen here, you worthless scum— if you don't shut your fucking mouth— I'll soon remove your fucking tongue— I'll bleach your teeth one by one— I'll have your appendages severed, the rest of meat that's left on your body— and then we won't have this fuss."
The music stopped.
Lenora did not move.
Lewd did not move.
Crysha — who had not flinched at explosions, had walked into wolves' territory without hesitation, had pulled her katana on a teleporting sheep girl without blinking — stood very still.
Behind her, Derrpy had gone quiet.
Slurry put his hands back in his pockets.
Revy stood in the middle of the room and waited.
Nobody moved.
The silence had weight to it — the kind that Revy seemed perfectly comfortable inside. She stood with one hand in her jacket pocket, red eyes moving across the three of them without hurry. Taking stock. The smug curve of her mouth hadn't shifted since she'd walked in.
It was Crysha who moved first.
Not toward Revy — just a shift in her stance. Katana still drawn, but lowered slightly. The assessment of someone recalibrating. She'd been caught off guard once tonight and she was not going to let it happen twice.
"You must be the third one," she said.
Revy looked at her.
"Revy's the name — and look what came. You walked through our door, stood on our floor. Lovely little visit. What's it for?"
"We're travelers," Crysha said. "We need supplies."
Revy's gaze moved to the katana. Then back up.
"Put the blade away now dear, inside here theres nothing to fear — unless you make a mess of things, and then we'll have to have it cleared ."
Crysha held the look for three full seconds.
Then, slowly, she sheathed the katana.
Lewd exhaled.
Lenora had not realized she'd been holding her breath until it came out of her. She straightened her coat on reflex — pulling it over the ruins of the maid dress — and found Revy's eyes already on her.
Revy looked at the coat. At what was visible beneath it. At the road dust and the torn hem and the single surviving ruffle.
"Oh the road was long and rough, and the dress has had enough."
"It's fine," Lenora said.
Revy said nothing to that.
Her eyes moved to the painting on the wall — the dragon, the wolf, the thing between them — and then back to Lenora.
"oh my dear your Eyes went wide at what you saw, painting you see hanging on the wall — you know the face, you know the name. Go on then. Give us all."
Lenora met her eyes. "We recognized it."
The room shifted.
Derrpy's head lifted slowly from behind the desk. Slurry's hood came down half an inch.
Revy looked at Lenora for a long moment — reading something in her face that she apparently found more interesting than dangerous.
"Well, well, well — look at what the road did tell."
Then she turned and walked back toward the far end of the shop.
"Derrpy dear, go make a sale, something strong and without fail — and find the girl a change of clothes, before that dress tells all its woes."
Lenora opened her mouth.
The amber lights brightened slightly. The jazz crept back in — softer this time, uncertain of its welcome. Derrpy's head rose fully above the desk, red eyes wide, bell swaying.
She looked at Lenora.
Then at the painting.
Then back at Lenora.
"...You know him?" she whispered.
The music changed again.
Not the eerie shift from before — something deeper. Something that had no business coming from instruments. It crawled up through the floorboards and pressed against the inside of the chest like a hand that had decided not to let go.
The chairs moved.
Not falling — moving. Rising from the floor with the slow deliberateness of things that had been waiting for permission, then sailing through the air toward the party in silence. Lenora caught one with her forearm. Lewd stumbled back. Crysha cut one in half without drawing fully and didn't take her eyes off Revy.
The air around Revy had changed.
It had weight now. The kind that pressed down on the shoulders and made breathing feel like a negotiation.
Revy looked at Lenora. Then at Crysha.
Then she spoke — and the nursery rhyme cadence had dropped into something older and slower and wrong, the way a lullaby sounds when you hear it coming from a room that should be empty.
"Now listen close, my fellow friends, this shop is where the story bends — my sister, brother, and I make three, one shop above — but many beneath, you see."
The antlers came first.
They pressed up through her crimson curls slowly — dark, branching, wrong in the way that things grown in the dark are wrong. The room stretched around her as she grew. Not fast. Not violent. Just inevitable — like the ceiling had always known it would have to make room. Triple her height. The skull charm at her choker swung once and went still. Her red eyes hadn't moved from the party.
"Though we are not gods of any worth, the three of you seem fine on earth — a meal you'd make, I won't pretend, but two of you are claimed — and that suspends."
The shadows moved.
Lenora's first. Then Lewd's. A deep, rolling ripple that ran from heel to wall like something underneath had pressed its whole weight against the surface from below.
Revy looked at them. Something shifted in her expression — not warmth. Recognition.
"Your shadows speak before your tongue, your master's mark in old and young — so your first visit here runs free, but cross us once—"
She tilted her head.
"—and then you'll see."
Behind her, Derrpy had stopped bouncing.
The bell at her collar had gone quiet. Her black curls had spread — wider, wilder, the cute skull motifs on her dress pulling into something that shared the shape but not the softness. Her red eyes had darkened, the white of them bleeding into black at the edges, and she was smiling still — but the smile had too many layers to it now.
Slurry hadn't moved from where he stood. He didn't need to. The spiral horns were longer. The shadows around him had stopped behaving like shadows. His expression was the same — unhurried, unbothered — but the weight of him had changed, the way a still river changes when you realize you can't see the bottom.
Revy's voice came down from where she stood above them, slow and even and final.
"We are the wendigo sheep, we three, and we serve the abomination faithfully."
Nobody spoke.
Lenora's shadow rippled one more time.
And somewhere in the dark beneath it, something rippled back.