Pandemonia Chronicles: DAWN

CHAPTER EIGHT: GHOSTS!!

Gestalt awoke to Zaria shaking him.

“Something is really wrong!” said Zaria.

“Really, what?”

“It’s still dark outside!” said Zaria.

“So go back to sleep!”

“But everyone else is gone~!”

Gestalt sat up and looked around. Not only was everyone else gone, but so was the tree shelter that Melia had conjured for them.

“That’s weird,” said Gestalt. “I wonder if they went somewhere?”

“But why?!” asked Zaria.

“I don’t know. They sure didn’t tell me anything.”

Gestalt noticed a shadowy figure in the corner of his eye, moving around the woods.

“Hey, is someone there?” said Gestalt.

The figure darted away.

“It’s probably them! Let’s go after them!” said Zaria. “They are probably trying to ditch us!”

Gestalt nodded, and they ran into the misty woods after the figure, but they hadn’t run for long until they came upon what seemed to be a small town.

“That’s so odd,” said Zaria. “I totally don’t remember a town being over here.”

“I don’t either.”

Gestalt put his hand around the handle of the sword and walked slowly toward the village.

“What are you doing?!” said Zaria.

“I want to see if anyone is there,” said Gestalt. “Maybe the others are in this town.”

Gestalt looked around. The town was small, but seemed well maintained. People obviously lived here, for he could see smoke rising out of chimneys, and the roads were not overgrown. Most of the houses seemed to be constructed from stone and wood, with thatched rooftops, but one large building in the center of the village was built with a tiled rooftop and had a wooden porch on the second floor. Gestalt thought it looked sort of like an inn. Indeed, on closer inspection there was a large sign that said “The Drunken Goblin Pub and Inn”.

While imagining what a clean, soft bed might feel like, Gestalt noticed someone coming around the corner so he hid himself in the shadows between two huts. As the person walked past him, Gestalt immediately recognized him: it was that bazaar merchant from the Renaissance Faire, the self-titled Sir Metatron!

‘What the hell is he doing here?’ thought Gestalt.

Sir Metatron did not seem to notice Gestalt and walked into the open door of the Drunken Goblin.

“What is going on?!”

Gestalt almost drew his sword and cut down Zaria, who had crept up behind him and shouted into his ear.

“Be quiet!” whispered Gestalt. “Something weird is going on.”

“What’s weird?” asked Zaria.

“I just saw someone from my world walk into that pub.”

“Then let’s go see what he’s doing~.”

Crouching down to seem less noticeable, the two ran across the plaza of the village and crept up the creaking wooden steps of the inn’s front porch. Inside, Gestalt could see an empty dining hall and an empty bar, but he could not see any sign of Sir Metatron—all he saw was a pale looking woman dusting off a table.