“What in all hells is this?!” Mark couldn’t help but curse, looking at the basement the group had led him to. It was one thing to be told, ‘Boss, there’s something you need to see for yourself,’ but an entirely different thing to actually see what they had reported and still try to discard what your senses are telling you, simply because it was too bizarre.

Or maybe it was simply time for Fate to give the people another kick to the groin, after all, they had managed to settle and create a somewhat functioning society, even after the original shitshow and the later rising of the dead. Now, it seemed that their diet lacked the necessary horror for whatever force was responsible for this shit and had decided to up the dosage. People not living in constant terror and anxiety? That couldn’t be tolerated, huh?

No, the basement the group had discovered was yet another kind of horror, one that was more at home in some sort of suspense or maybe slasher story, not the zombie story their life had been. It was in surprisingly good condition, to the point that Mark suspected magic had been used to repair the various cracks and damages that almost had to have occurred during the last months, but he couldn’t be certain. No, certainty came later, once they went into the rooms and found the cells, some of which were filled with runes drawn in blood. The runes looked completely different from those used by the Spellcasters around the farm, almost as if they were written in an entirely different language. According to the Witch of the group that had found the basement, the runes were identical to those used by the Pale Lady and that was when Mark realised just how big of an issue this was.

Because the basement was filled with bodies, bodies that looked like they had been deliberately crippled, placed on rudimentary tables as if it was some sort of macabre ritual before they died. Luckily, all the bodies showed the obvious signs of being Shattered or Withered but that was only of limited relief. If somebody was willing to cripple and do… whatever this was with something that looked like a human, how long would it take for the Pale Lady to start using humans? A part of Mark’s mind could easily imagine the inhumanely pale being stalk across the farm, happily tearing into adults and children alike. There was something that made him uneasy, even if he only thought about the powerful woman.

So far, she hadn’t attacked people, but who was to say that would remain true? Many of the people at the farm considered her a monster, a beast far worse than anything roaming the land, worse because the monster could think. Was intelligent enough to make plans and find allies, allies that the monster could make powerful with apparent ease.

An ease that the Pale Lady had shown off by taking an ordinary child, barely old enough to start school when the world was still sane, and turn that child into a figure powerful enough to give many adults at the farm pause. Nobody knew just how strong the child was but fact was, the Pale Lady had made her what she was now. And nobody knew how, what had to be sacrificed to accomplish in days what others could only accomplish in months of constant struggle.

There were those who muttered about vile rituals, about demons, monsters and other macabre things, uttering that Mark had never really considered anything but stories but now? Standing in a basement filled with bodies that looked like they had been used in some sort of vile ritual, or maybe in a dissection?

There were countless rumours about Lia, how she had been a Shattered but the Pale Lady had done something to bind her, turned her into something different, into a monster bound to her alone, so was his hesitation to even consider that some vile ritual might have turned a child into an actual monster? A ritual, possibly performed in this very chamber?

“What can you tell me about all this?” Mark asked Mari, the Spellcaster who had been with the original group to find this place.

“Only that it was the Pale Lady’s work, those runes are hers. For some reason, the runes she primarily uses look completely different, to the point that we can barely use them, to say nothing about learning them,” Mari admitted, looking at the dark maroon lines on the floor. She knelt down after briefly moistening her finger, rubbing across one of the runes before rising again.

“Most of the runes here are drawn in Blood, though some are done in chalk, I’m not sure what the significance is, but it gives me the willies,” she explained, looking around again, “And these few here are some I recognised, they are done in the normal style and I think this one represents Water, I’ve seen Kevin use it. Can’t really say more, other than that this place really gives me the creeps, though it’s not as bad as that frozen sandbox Ralph’s group found.”

“Sandbox?” Mark asked, frowning as he tried to remember what this might be about.

“There’s a massive sandbox a few kilometres that way, it’s completely bizarre. I think there used to be a park there but now, it’s just gone, the entire area nothing more than a dirt lot filled with some insanely big icicles lying around,” Mari shook her head, as if unable to believe her memories, “Shit, I really don’t know how those Icicles can last, it’s impossible, they should melt in a few hours, not stick around for weeks or however long that shit has been,” she let out a few curses, the creepy sensation she had felt in the area still irritating her. She enjoyed magic, especially the flames she could command, and that area had felt so utterly wrong, it couldn’t really be put into words. There was something about it that just sent shivers down her spine and not the good kind of shivers.

Orienting himself for a moment, Mark quickly went over things he had heard, soon remembering something that might be significant. “If I don’t get directions wrong, this might be where the Pale Lady destroyed the Withered. You remember the warnings about those, right? Pack-hunting creatures that should be avoided at all cost cause they had overwhelming numbers and levels?” Mark asked, knowing that he had given out those warnings for a reason.

“Yeah, I remember. Though, the warnings were taken down, right?” Cliff joined in, having listened to the conversation the whole time. As the leader of their small group, he had been the one to call in Mark, given the oddity of the cellar. Monsters were one thing, but this was clearly something more, so the council had to be informed.

“The Pale Lady claimed she destroyed the whole lot of them,” Mark explained, getting a few surprised looks. The warning had been dire enough to keep people away from this area for weeks and even after the warnings had been taken down, people continued to avoid it for a while. Until Ralph and his group decided to check things out and came back with tales of creepy Icicles that didn’t want to melt.

“Wait, so it wasn’t weeks that the Ice didn’t melt, it might have been months?” Mari interjected and somehow, her complexion was even worse than before, which was quite the achievement given that they were in a basement filled with creepy ritual circles and dead bodies. Killing a foe in combat was one thing but crippling them and doing some weird, messed-up ritual shit was a completely different thing. And the drag marks spoke of a lot of weird shit going on in this cellar.

“This is so messed up, how is that possible? It’s the middle of summer and that monster just makes Ice stick? What the…? How?!” Mari started to rant, clearly unsettled by the realisation about the Pale Lady. It was unsettling to know that somebody else was able to alter the world in such a fundamental manner, especially standing between the bodies used by that someone.

“It’s worse,” Cliff said, sounding far too casual for comfort, “I’ve talked to Ralph and guess what? The Ice doesn’t fade, it doesn’t melt, it’s just there. And it’s creepy as fuck.”

“Wonderful,” Mark shook his head, sounding defeated, “So now you are telling me that the Pale Lady is not only able to permanently alter reality, she is also experimenting on Shattered,” he summarised, letting out a resigned sigh, “Why didn’t I stay in bed today? I was so comfortable without knowing all this, ignorance can truly be bliss.”

Nobody in the basement has an answer to that, and yet, all of them feel the same. Why did they have to find this basement? And now that they found it, what did they dare to do about it?