Eerie

“Lord Eerie,” Lord Curse greeted coolly. “Can I help you?”

“The ritual is nearly complete,” I said. “But I’m still not sure how to adapt it for use en masse.”

“Yes,” Curse agreed drily. “Your method does seem flawed in that respect. I suppose you wish for my assistance?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“I’m surprised,” he said. “I would have thought your pride would have prevented you from admitting your failure.”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries, Curse,” I said coldly. Trust my long-time rival to make achieving a shared goal harder than it needed to be. “I need help, yes. I might be stubborn, but I’m not a fool. I might be our leading expert on forbidden magics, but we both know that you are the ritual master.”

“Very well, Eerie.” He beckoned me into the study. “I will help you with your silly plan.”

“It’s not silly,” I said, allowing my tone to be only slightly defensive. “This is the destined way.”

Lord Curse laughed. He had a harsh, almost violent laugh that made me want to cringe away. Then he said something softly in his sharp voice that I didn’t quite catch. I rolled my good eye, reminded myself of the dangers of infighting, and settled in for a tiring evening of discussing ritual techniques and dark magic with the most insufferable person in the entirety of Ginsinger Place, blissfully unaware of the actions that were about to shake my entire world.

Flight

Arath and I had followed the girl through Mordium for a long ways before getting anywhere. I swore she was intentionally taking the wrong route to throw us off, but eventually she entered a small, run down looking bar called Ginsinger Place. A faceless hideout? It seemed likely. The faceless are the largest of Mordium’s various religious cults, a group of people who have sworn never to reveal their faces to any who are not themselves faceless. The girl was faceless, which meant she was probably on a mission for the faceless.

The only way to know faceless business is to be faceless. They are highly secretive and have numerous methods for ensuring that their activities, plans, and secret hand sign code remain unknown. In fact, no one who was not a member of the strange cult even knew what they believed or sought, because no one could find out. Which left me with only one option. I needed to infiltrate the faceless. 

How do you become faceless? First you spread rumors that you wish to and hope your boss doesn’t find out. Then you open the mysterious letter from a faceless recruiter you’ll get in the mail and go to the location specified within. In my case, I had been called to an unsigned building on a nameless street, one which was usually acknowledged to be a base for drug deals and illegal surgeries. 

And inside the blank building, I did indeed see a surgical table, along with several cabinets sealed by heavy padlocks. But my attention was drawn to a figure in a black hooded cloak standing in the corner underneath flicker lights. They beckoned me through the room's only door and led me down a flight of stairs into an enormous rectangular room containing an assortment of faceless people along with some regular citizens who I assumed to be fellow hopefuls. The one who had led me down held up a hand, which I assumed to be an order to wait, and slipped off through the crowd. I stood awkwardly, looking around and wondering what I was supposed to do.

Looking around, I came to a sudden realization. I would not be able to find the girl I had followed to Ginsinger Place. I did not know what she looked like, and the faceless cloaks revealed little enough of the person underneath that I knew I would not be able to recognize her. I did not know what I was doing.

“One step at a time, Flight,” I whispered to myself.

A minute later someone I believed to be the same person who had led me down into the hideout returned, followed by another figure, this one looking somewhat more feminine. They exchanged a couple gestures, and the newcomer silently beckoned away while the first person went back upstairs, presumably to await more potential recruits.

I followed my apparent guide into one of the side rooms. The chamber was small and empty except for a table with a metal case and a chair on either side of it. It looked, I noticed with distaste, disturbingly like the sort of room in which a person might be interrogated. The girl gestured for me to take a seat, and I did.

“There is a test,” she said, her tone emotionless and formal. “You must pass if you wish to join. Do you agree?”

I nodded slowly. I had no choice. “I agree,” I said.