Nathan parks the car in the empty road. This is it. Hallows has an industrial park with some medium company, nothing too big, and this is the end of it. On a Sunday afternoon there would be little traffic to start with, and this part is virtually empty. The whole area feels abandoned. On his last circle, Nathan has noticed swampy grassland next to decrepit buildings. The Varog has chosen his lair adequately.

Now that there is nothing to occupy his mind, stress turns to horror and for a brief moment, Nathan is paralyzed. The fear that had sit in his stomach like a ball of lead snakes its way through his body, making his breath grow short and his mind numb. No question nor objection reach him, the world is static and nausea. Nathan is afraid. No, he is terrified, yet it is said that people get used to anything and every tide must withdraw. Eventually, Nathan comes back to his senses and finds out he is holding the steering wheel in a death grip as if it would offer him some measure of control. He forces himself to breathe deeply, to refocus. He pushes back the terror to the place where feelings can be digested and stored to be dealt with at a later time, when it hurts less and when it does not affect judgement. He breathes, and the world comes back into focus.

The scene is somewhat anticlimactic. Just like any job interview or exam, the pressure makes the world more vivid and yet the reality just isn’t up to it. The exam place is old, the examiner tired, the company office has dirt on the ceiling. Someone has split coffee on the ground. This is the same.

A rusted board displays a fiery mascot and the words “Tiera Wood Pellets” in faded colors. The parking is sad and empty and the place is closed. This is a far cry from the expected cave in the ground from where yellow cloud of sulfur escape. The cold aura of rot does not lie though, nor does the strange dreamcatcher. This is the place.

Nathan opens the door and stands out. He is wearing light sneakers and a jean for mobility, but above it a utility vest containing the acorns in a pocket and he holds a spear. The surprise gear rustles lightly under the vest and he moves his shoulder to rebalance it. No helmet. Nathan figures that if he is hit in the head, the plastic top he wears when using a chainsaw would be of little use anyway.

Perhaps the police could… No, if he calls them now they would send a car to investigate, and they would be killed. Gwahin has been clear, if you want to hunt a Varog you need the ability to detect them and you need infused weapon. Hallows police officers do not have that. None of the officers he had met at the death scene had emitted any sort of aura. Calling reinforcements would just lead to more death, hostages being first. If the government had formed a corps capable of handling such threats Nathan knows nothing of it anyway. He could already imagine the call.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“ Oh hello I would just like to inquire whether or not you fine people have a division dedicated to killing magical swamp monsters that eat people and cannot be detected by non magical people, sort of like man-eating chameleons really. Any chance of that being the case? Hello? Hello?”

Yeah, no.

Not mentioning that any form of law enforcement would announce their presence and Sarah would be used as an energy bar.

Sarah.

No time to hesitate.

Nathan breathes in a last time and walks to the small factory. A last look around shows only rows of trees surrounding the company’s walls, fallen leaves and a forlorn antique jeep parked in the distance. Nothing stirs.

Nathan pushes the metal gate open, just wide enough to pass through. It opens silently.

He walks toward the main building. It is a large warehouse building painted white, with high up widows. A small building stand near the entrance, deserted at the moment. The face of the warehouse contains two large entrances currently shuttered. They seem large enough to accommodate a truck and Nathan assumes they would be used for deliveries. Both of them are locked. Another door leading to a lobby looks locked as well as barred. Nathan shakes his head, this is not the entry point. The noise of the break in would alert anyone in the silent building.

Nathan starts to look around. The warehouse extends for several hundred feet and on the left side he finds the prize: an open door, slightly ajar.

Nathan approaches in silence and slips into the darkness.

The interior of the warehouse is dark and musty, which is to be expected. What Nathan had not expected is the smell. It reeks. A subtle mix of animal and excrement. Very little light filters through the high window to cast a dull light on three massive machine lines, laying idly in the semi darkness like three giant caterpillars. To his right, a relatively empty space leads to the closed delivery bays. The left leads to what looks like storage silos but the main attraction is on the opposite side of the building. Tracks in the dust lead to a series of rooms, separated from the rest of the place by thin walls of glass and plastic. From his position near the door Nathan cannot tell which one could be inhabited.

Nathan crouches and crosses the assembly lines in silence, slow and vigilant. He crouches under machine as carefully as he can and stops every five steps to check behind him. Cold sweat runs down his back and drips in his eyes as he makes his way through. Nothing moves.

Nathan reaches the other end and find the tracks again, they lead to the two central rooms. As he nears the first one he stops for the first time. If the aura had not been an indication, the noise would have been enough. It sounds like what he expects bears would sound like when they snored.

Found the Varog.

Nathan creeps even more silently while his heart tries its best to bounce out of his chest. The second room has a lock on it, something that looks like it was stolen from a pen.

Sarah.

Nathan tiptoes forward until the snores turn into a grunt.

Nathan freezes but does not turn his head, in case the Varog can hear his stare. Thankfully, the grunts lead to a wet cough and then, to more snores.

Nathan waits for a minute before shaking himself. He suddenly really needs to pee.

He approaches the door and seizes the lock. He turns the key.

The clang sounds like a thunderbolt to him.

The snores do not stop.

With agonizing slowness, he opens it. Luck is still on his side and it moves silently on its hinges.

In the darkness of the room, he can see three unmoving shapes. A few steps forward and he can stare in silence, dumbfounded.

There are three women in the room.

The first one is a blond woman in her forties. She wears sports trouser and a shredded vest and nothing underneath, and she is shivering with cold. Her hands are currently grasping at something hanging from her neck. The second woman is much younger, athletic and wears tasteful clothes now stained and torn. The left side of her face and her blond white hair are caked with blood. The black and red stain reaches down to her trousers.

While they are both filthy, the two women are a study in contrast. While the older one is silently crying, the younger one is staring at him with a calculating look, her eyes going from him, to his spear, to the door. They are grey and… Cold. There is something of metal in her. Behind them is…

Nathan tries to reconcile what he sees and his mind.

Of course, Gwahin has warned him.

When Nathan thinks of Sarah, he sees an expectant mother, then a young one working alongside him with unerring serious. Sometimes she would be silent and focused, sometimes she would have a smile on her elfin face and a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. She would wear the company shirt, or casual clothes. The mess of her black hairs would be held in place with a circlet or a band. The Sarah lying in front of him is a broken thing, marred by violence and… Mutilated. But she is still Sarah.

No time, they have much to do. Nathan forces his mind to the present yet again but nothing has changed, the warehouse is silent, silent as a tomb.

Silent?

Oh shit.