[WP] Write a story that seems completely normal, but has a disturbingly dark twist at the end.

...

The Shopkeeper's stare improved little as the old fingers began to sort through the lists and files of the local magic keepers and tinkers still holding residence in the city of Rotlandberg. As all days of the cooling season of the Holy Light's travels, the frost on the windows of the small establishment were barely yet fighting off the evening frost, and the hearth was yet to burn through the first of the day's logs to ember.

Despite the early morning and cold, somehow the shop was anything but empty.

"Right, exactly. I need to know if you know of anyone who can make already existing materials resistant to this." The man pressed again, not withering beneath the shopkeeper's monocle-covered eyed. The slow blink beneath the magnified impression that watched him seemed a mix between interested, and irritated.

"So a mage who specialized in resistances perhaps..." A bony set of fingers prattled off the counter's edge. "I've seen those type of enchantments cast for weapons, but tubes that are resistant to fire water?"

"Dwarven fire-water." The man corrected, pushing a small resealable bottle of questionable origin across the counter for emphasis. "See, it's corrosive to this material and no one in the region makes anything close to a replacement, so I'm trying a more magical approach."

"And what was it that needed to be enchanted?"

"A rubber tube... and some valves. I can point the parts out."

"Right..." The shopkeeper seemed to hesitate on the end of that word, trailing it with indignant uncertainty. "Well, I can point you towards one mage... He's a bit eccentric though."

"That'll do fine, much appreciated." The man slipped copper along the counter, as the shopkeeper wrote out directions upon a small slip of parchment. Then the man left, quickly as he'd arrived- motioning to a another figure by the door. The Shopkeeper kept his nose towards the counter, only watching from the corner of his eye.

Folks like that weren't worth the company. Nothing but trouble, the Keeper could tell just from the sight of all the fae swarming about the fellow. Wasn't natural in the slightest, and neither was keeping an elf at the door- waiting on him. Only the Dark lord was known for those type of habits. No good could come of him.

The shopkeeper lofted thick plumes of smoke from his wooden pipe, exhaling with a slow sigh. It was far too early for this sort of thing.

...

"So you've found the mage then?" Sola asked her companion as they began down the streets, bustling morning only just beginning to show as the sun crested the first of the buildings. The air was still cold enough to pass fog from lips and noses alike as people passed them by.

"Yes. Can you read this?" The man passed her a scribbling of paper- Directions, Sola soon realized, and very formally written.

She eyed the man, sharp eyes looking over the rough beard he'd only recently attempted to trim. The slightly tanned face was youthful, but his stature was hardly that of the warrior he'd proven himself. "I didn't know you couldn't read. That's strange, considering you're a mage- isn't it?"

"What's really strange is I can talk to you at all. Still haven't quite decided what to make of that." His reply was less than helpful, as he pressed on, foreign boots and garb resisting the cold touch around them. "That shop-owner muttered that the person we're looking for lives out a ways, not in town. We'll need to pick up at the stables and drive there. I just need to know where, hopefully we have enough coin leftover to get us through."

Sola knew very well they didn't have the coin leftover (in fact she was sure with a large degree of certainty they had barely two silver and a handful of copper pieces to rub together) but she didn't protest. Life-debts were quite often about the formalities, after all.

"Hrm..." Sola squinted at the paper, slowly feeling through the words. Her father had taught her to read, as per custom- but it wasn't as though she'd practiced much after he passed away. Ledgers mostly: Dig fifty graves here, move and til the earth here, signed Rodrick of the Black by order of the Lord... It was always along the same rhetoric. "Hrm..."

She realized he was staring at her with an expression of panic.

"You can read, can't you?" Sola would be damned to the pits of the black lands if she didn't detect mild horror growing in his voice. "Are we really in the same boat Sola?"

"Shush, shush. I can read Jake, it's just a bit rusty, is all." She stared at the paper, squinting slightly. Some of the words there were trouble for certain, the fancy cursive was truly confounding to decipher. It had been a long time since she'd seen much of this. "You know, if you need someone to read for you, life is going to be rather difficult. Honestly, you should learn-"

"Oh god, we're doomed. We're completely doomed." Jake muttered beneath his breath as they trudged along, making way towards the stables. Sola thought it was at least slightly rude, but then she was almost entirely certain he'd held some minor grudge in her direction regarding the recent incident with those ghouls.

Battle mages were usually much more spry in combat. At the time, she'd thought for certain Jake would have avoided being buried by the corpses.

He was an odd sort of battle mage, that much was sure.

The High-Undying flashed its mighty eyes in shades of color as they approached, heeding its master's call as Jake ran a hand through his beard with quiet grumbles of outloud thought. He talked to himself often as of late, rambling on about considerations and thoughts Sola found she could rarely follow. She'd have thought him mad as a hatter, if he hadn't tamed a demon and commanded it along like an obedient steed.

"Do you know where we're heading?" Jake asked as he pulled open the High- Undying's wing, sliding inside to the carefully crafted compartments within, hands rubbing together for warmth. Sola followed suit, uncomfortable as she did the same, letting the strange wing collapse with a heavy slam.

"West... It says we need to go west, towards the Border. The Church there has a large tower we should be able to spot, and the Mage lives on the grounds." Sola wondered what Holy Folk might think of the High-Undying arriving at their sanctuary. The thought seemed to be lived out in her companion's mind as well, wary grip on the leather-covered bone-wheel in front of him tightening.

"We'll have to park early and walk part of the way then." Jake's tone was nervous. Sola agreed with that sentiment entirely, listening to him mutter something crude about Light-toting Paladins.

...

The thought crossed my mind, curiosity peaking with its perspective at the personal madness I'd stumbled myself into: Curiosity specifically focused on how exactly I was going to convince the man in front of me to cooperate.

Then, that same man dropped the fourth ball that had been juggling in the air of their own devices, soon followed by the third, and the second. The first, at least, he managed to catch- but not before letting out a cry of anguish that made me wonder if someone, somewhere, had gone and died on him.

Magic was involved, so I couldn't rule it out.

"Mr. Morgart, as impressive as that was, I still need to ask for your assistance. I was told you specialize in enchanting objects to resist damage?" The question fell on seemingly-deaf ears as the man turned suddenly.

"Nooo... No. No. NO!" The final came as a shout, the man's fist suddenly raised towards the ceiling of the small stone room in the Church's living-quarters. A sudden rush of air rushed through the window, throwing off the equilibrium as Sola's ears twitched from her seat at the table. Magic, I supposed. Sola nodded with a glance, not much phased.

It was hard to know much of anything with the terrible extent of my current ignorance, but I decided that meant it was safe. I pressed on as best I could manage regardless. "Morgart, I was recommended you by a reputable source to the Adventurer's Guild: A Shopkeeper by the name of Wasol Greace, over in the local town. Following his word, I have a particular request for your services on a piece of a contraption of mine. I was wondering if you could help."

Once again I felt my words flow past, ignored by the Mage sitting before me. His eyes seemed to widen as his brows raised to, from my perspective at the very least, seeming impossibly heights.

"THE DARK ONE HAS TOUCHED THE WORLD!" The man's bellow shook the window's wooden cover so harshly as the wind flowed in, it slammed open- shut, and then open again. It came with a true violence this time, not a soft wind- but a blunt one. One that threw me from my seat.

Sola's hair was thrown back into disarray, and the tea spilled from my glass on the table: All in one sudden burst. I tried not to consider what might happen if I angered the man. Rationally, I decided on cutting my losses early; perhaps it was time to leave afterall.

"Mr. Morgart-" As soon as I started, raising my hands in a gesture of peace, he was upon me.

Briefly, I was forced to consider with honest question if this was to be the moment of my death. At best my thoughts and summaries came to find a sarcastic view, fitting perhaps.

What a run of it I'd had.

Mad blue eyes stared into mine, pupils of deep black widening to fill the expanse of sky's color, until nothing but void in white remained. The scent of harsh spices and garlic radiated from his breath, settling deeper into my nose than I could ever have wanted, as his fingers dug deep into my shoulders; ignoring the shirt and jacket that covered them, or the single of the rifle over my left side.

"You have come to this world, and know nothing young one."

His voice was harsh and slurred, and his face only seemed to slip closer. I watched in horror as a single shove threw Sola away to crash heavily against the far wall of the room. I hadn't even seen her move. Morgart continued without hesitation, ignorant to her shout of pain.

"He called you here by magics unseen and unknown to all but him. By the same forces he called that which was slayed not two days past. Of fire and salt, earth and destruction! A beast unlike that which this world has ever known!" The voice deepened still, rasping and terrible as those fingers clutched until I was certain blood flowed beneath them. "There is another, and it is stronger still than he or you, or I, or ANYONE can imagine. It drinks from the world, and it comes with the dawn! It comes with the rising sun of the eastern skies! It comes and he greets it with his fury!"

Sola gasped, and I didn't so much as look in the direction as I felt it. A chill worse than Old Tom's sword. A cold more frigid than any morning frost of winter night.

In the sky beyond the window was a dark twist that spiraled high into the clouds above, lifting off the far blackened lands of the west like a storm of one body; disturbing and ruthless in the clutches that guided its passage. As the crazed mage released me, stumbling towards the stone cut ledge to grip it as he had done my own flesh, I only needed to meet Sola's fearful gaze once.

We were in for it now.

"Shit."