I'd heard of such things before: messages written with an orange soapstone, a curious relic that could supposedly leave messages that transcend the very planes of existence, leaving their mark on parallel dimensions and alternate realities. There was a great deal of speculation and theory surrounding such things, but this was certainly my first encounter with an *actual* "soapstone message." But I'm getting woefully off-track. The message itself:

"The unseen blade cuts deepest."

What does it mean? Who would have left such a message here and why? I pressed forward in a crouch, not wanting to reveal my head to the distant archer, and peered around the corner that the cryptic guidance had been left in front of.

My eyes met the back of a cloaked figure, leaning against the wall for support, his right hand nestled amongst the dying climbing plants that fell from the cliff above. If this message was indeed from a parallel dimension, it now made a little more sense. This was a Hollow—another lost soul waiting to mindlessly attack any person who might enter his "territory." The message was now a clear sign to attack him from behind, exploiting his vulnerability, before he had a chance to harm anyone else. I crept up the staircase, shield already raised, and slowly lifted my club. And then I noticed it: the Hollow was trembling, as if in the middle of sobbing, his shoulders quaking with some secret misery. My brows furrowed and I lowered the club a fraction.

And then I remembered how I had died. My throat, slashed with a single stroke, leaving me to bleed out in the river, from a Hollow dressed just like this one. No. There was no time for sympathy for forsaken such as these, no room for pity. Determination swelled in my breast, and I reared my club back. I stepped forward and swung, smashing it into the base of his spine. He pitched forward and jerked in obvious pain, barking out a wheezing groan. I'd caught him by surprise.