The Labyrinth’s Shadow 

Depiction

The night falls quietly around the city. Doors shut, windows shuttered and all lamps extinguished except the shining stone outside their home. It will be time soon, and they waited for them to arrive. 

They sat alone on the floor in front of their altar, noticing at first the silence then the dark, then the cold. The candles in their home were still lit, but a thick fog of darkness enveloped them, and they could only see their breath in front of them. The hairs on their body stood on end and silence ate away everything but their own heartbeat. 

The entity could not knock but they could feel their presence behind their door. They opened it and the darkness flowed in like ink in water and around them there was nothing. 

What do they Fear?

They breathed in the darkness and whispered to it of their fears. They cannot help if they cannot know. 

Around them the darkness crept across their skin and they saw the past in their mind like a memory. A woman wandering endlessly through a corridor, twisting and unyielding. A child crying for help between two long walls to be met with laughter. A man stumbling before an open pit filled with the decaying bodies of strangers. A weathered grave with its name lost to time and the crooked smile of a man with a rusted crown. 

They saw before them the shadows of hundreds of people, all reaching out towards them all calling out their names, but they cannot understand them over the cacophony and they saw them disappear one by one.

They understood the fear of being Lost.  

What do they desire?

They reached out their hand in darkness and grasped at nothing but smoke. They closed their eyes and breathed in the dark and the cold, letting the shadow consume them before asking of their desire. 

They saw the shadows of the people again, each closer, reaching out and touching their face, their hands and their hair. Each hand drained away the warmth and breath from their body and they were filled with the loneliness of a grave. 

They whispered again as a chorus, each word and sentence incomprehensible except in tone. It was asking about them, wishing to know them. 

They understood the desire of Connection. 

How will you fulfill this Desire? 

They reached out to the shadows, touching each one gently before disrupting them on their approach to their altar. 

They sat upon it and offered the place next to them for the Shadow. It slid through the darkness and settled next to them, smoke enveloping across their neck and on their hands like a wanted companion. The shadow whispered into their ear in an unending chorus of questions. 

The Supplicant spoke of themselves, their name: We-Dream-Openly-Of-The-Night-Sky and of their family. They told the Shadow of their crest, the one for the family and the one for themselves and how their sign tied them to this life. 

They told them of their obligations: to ease, to comfort, and of intimacy. They offer a currency no other can grant and will shoulder  the burden of others that must be eased. 

They were given the opportunity of refusal but were shown the consequences. “There would always be others,” the supplicant whispers to the darkness, “there must always be a supplicant and it need not be myself. “

But upon them they were lent a crown and shown endless possibilities of times and futures in which they did not commune. They were a miner, a dancer, an architect, a teacher, a banker, a lord, and countless other lives, each ending with the tragedy of isolation and the consumption by a Being.

They turned and spoke to the darkness and the cold, their body exhausted and shaking. Their neck and hands were red from freeze but still they told the darkness of their acceptance. They know that this is their place and they enjoy the comforts of others and they of them. 

It was late then and the supplicant near their end. The shadows stroked them and they could feel the whisper of hands on their cheeks and lips on their forehead. They gasp in the smoke one last time before they fall into darkness and land upon their own bed. 

Offering

The supplicant had laid to rest for the evening and the shadow creeped to their altar. Upon it, the creature placed rings of iron, old, new, shiny and rusted. They pour forth from the shadow and clink like the chorus upon the altar and floor. 

The Shambler in the Dark 

Depiction

The night falls quietly around the city. Doors shut, windows shuttered and all lamps extinguished except the shining stone outside their home. It will be time soon, and they waited for them to arrive. 

It arrived much too suddenly, skittering and hissing across the alleyways outside before a flurry of banging knocks on the door. They know what it is before they open the door, for they had seen it before. 

Their hand turned the knob and the door frame is covered by one hand, then three, then ten then dozens more as the creature pushed its way into their home. It skittered again across their room, over their ceiling and then resting in the corner, facing them. 

“Ssssss… suuuu, suuuppplllliiiicaant,” it hissed through a maw too large for its body and cluttered with teeth. 

They could see in the light more legs and arms protruded from its body, and the surrounding skin covered with sightless eyes and coarse whiskers. 

What do they fear?

They stood before the creature, who towered over them in the center of their room, and held up their hand. It’s mouth was larger than they stood tall, and they knew themself to be safe, but their heart beat with a remembrance of a potential life. 

It reached out with it’s many hands to grasp them before they said to them to wait. It stopped, hands still reaching forward, enthusiastic but patient. 

They must know what it fears to help it and so they ask it. 

It shutters and from its body bones fell forth from the ground, they suspected they were human but did not inquire. The creature shambles, shaking and arranges them into a pattern on the floor. 

They recognized it as one of entrapment, a hideous spell to keep it locked away from sight. They had destroyed it and were free. They knew of the stories of the monster of the cave and knew it had escaped to see them.

They saw in their movement the fear and desire for closeness. They skittered and jumped from any sound and movement, always repositioning, always moving in some form. 

Their door was still open but they knew they shouldn’t close it. 

They understood the fear of Confinement.

What do they desire?

They reached out with their own hand towards the creature. It took it gleefully in theirs and reached towards them with more of their limbs. The creature stroked and rubbed their hand and slowly reached towards them with more. 

They see upon the creature’s limbs sharp claws, all carefully retracted and tucked away to not hurt them. More of its hands reach out but without contact and shifts itself forward. 

They understood the desire of Touch.

How will you fulfill this Desire?

They took it’s hand and led it up to their altar. They let go for a brief moment before pulling themselves utop it and standing above, looking face to face with the creature. 

It was still larger than them but they held out their arms wide, fingers stretched before them and nodded their head. 

One by one a limb embraced them until their body was intertwined in the mess of arms and legs. They could feel the creature’s limbs shifting and twitching against their skin as it pulled them closer towards its core. 

Its fingers intertwined in their hair and stroked their skin gently as the creature lifted them from their altar and held them close against themselves. 

The supplicant reached forth and placed their own hands upon its whisker-filled, leather skin and stroked it gently. It shuddered and held onto them tightly. They could feel each hand pressing into their skin and each of the creature’s arms wrapped around them, touching nearly every part of them. 

It held them for a long time, shaking and stroking, fingers under hair in the scalp, pressing their face into the thick skin. It was as strong as it was gentle and held them firm when they began to rock back and forth. 

It was near morning and they were asleep, cradled in the many arms of the shambling creature who placed them gently into their bed before rushing and skittering out their door, pausing only to place their offering upon the altar. 

Offering

The creature hesitated before shaking their form once more. A small purple stone tumbled down into one of their many palms and they placed it onto the altar. It shambled in a rushed furry out of the door, slamming it behind them. Upon the altar there were now two stones, then four, then eight, then soon the altar was covered in neat rows of stones. 

Voice Eater

Depiction

The night falls quietly around the city. Doors shut, windows shuttered and all lamps extinguished except the shining stone outside their home. It will be time soon, and they waited for them to arrive. 

They could see it creeping underneath the door before it knocked. Long twisting tendrils, breaking and reforming, the shape of a treebranch’s shadow, vibrated closer towards every creaking sound they made. 

Then a singular knock upon their door, one filled with hesitation and anxiety. They opened it and there he stood, what was once a man now a creature stretched out with limbs to long and too many. 

They offer them entrance inside with a sweep of their arm and he floats in on arms and hands where there should be legs and feet. 

The tendrils wisp of the body from all ends and vibrate towards any and all sound. The nightly sounds in the room are dampened and thick like hearing from underwater. 

The supplicant can see from their angle that their head has no face even though they cover it with their third set of arms and note the extra joints and bones in each. 

What do they fear?

He lifted an extra hand and all but one of the candles were extinguished. They could barely make out their guests in the dark but still they saw the creeping tendrils. 

They shout to him but they can only hear a faint whisper of their voice like it was miles away. They blink at him and for a moment they see the man he once was. One driven to this to save their loved ones. 

They see his features melting away one by one and becoming the creature in front of them. The tendrils vibrate and creep closer to them. They brushed them away and watched as they reformed themselves, unafflicted. 

They understood the fear of Losing Who They Once Were. 

What do they desire?

They look at him and the tendrils creep closer and closer, eating all noise around until they are unable to hear their own heartbeat. They think deeply about the creature in front of them until it repeats back in their own voice through the tendrils. 

“Tell me anything.”

They understood stories are what make us Human. 

How will you fulfill this desire?

They reach out and take one of the hands with too many fingers and guide them to the altar where they both sit. 

They start to sing, quietly at first then louder and louder for no one could hear them. They felt the vibration in their throat and saw the dance of tendrils around them but their ears were silent. 

They sang until they had run out of songs. Then quietly told of their favorite books, plays, and any small tale they knew. 

He listened throughout the night, never speaking again, but attentive and engrossed. 

When they found themselves out of stories and out of song they began to speak of themselves. They wondered about their future, about the creatures, about themselves, all while never hearing their own voice. 

They could feel their throat begin to rasp, their mouth dry, their lungs cough. He stopped them and sound returned to the world. It was deafening and they placed their hands upon their ears. He placed his extra set upon theirs and they could feel their throat begin to sooth and their mouth heal. 

Offering

They looked up at him, his face still covered and he brought their hands together and placed a small, tightly wound scroll, the size and shape of a tape measure into their palm. 

They didn’t see themselves lie down on their bed, but they felt the soft pillow against their face and heard the deafening close of their door as he left.