TIME August 1st, evening LOCATION The Kenbro Saloon
BACKGROUND:
A hag had taken their guide and vanished into the fog, and a storm of unnatural purple lightning had chased the Agents straight into the isolated, jumpy village of Kenbro.
WHAT HAPPENED
The saloon was packed and every patron in it was armed, crossbows and blades alike aimed loosely in the Agents’ direction until the barkeep – Ceph – broke the silence with a warning about the wolves and the dark rather than any real hostility.
A drunk miner made a pass at Raven and backed off fast once she made it clear she and Ash were together; behind the bar, a ten-year-old boy named Damien was being physically restrained by his own mother, swearing and clawing at her, blood already trickling from where the ropes bit into his wrist.
Ceph’s explanation was chillingly matter-of-fact: Damien got ‘worked up’ when the storms came, ever since his sister died in one.
He attacked her too, apparently. Just an accident. He’d be fine once the storm passed.
A separate group of miners nursed their boss – Avon – with a bad, rattling cough and a hunger he couldn’t explain, defensive to the point of hostility about whatever they were transporting.
A woman burst in through the door moments later, bloodied and hysterical – the preacher had turned on them, she said, and had her little sister.
Nobody moved to help.
Then something started tapping at the shuttered window behind the bar – tapping, then thumping, then the shutter split and thick vine tendrils forced their way into the room, groping blindly along the floor.
Ash burned them back with scorching rays; Raven cut the main stems to ribbons in a single, brutal pass, and the vine withdrew, whatever remained of it retreating into the storm.
In the confusion, the miners’ boss – Avon – had gone missing from the room entirely.
And the crackling, burnt-meat smell coming from wherever he’d ended up wasn’t a good sign.