The Shed

The hair raised up on Scagliola’s clammy skin as he read the note. The writing, if it could even be called that, was scratched into the cardstock. It was a stark difference from all previous notes, and he could feel the malice behind the words. He knew he wasn’t followed to the shed yesterday. He was also certain the Chorus, if not at least the Matron, would have warned him about being seen yesterday. He couldn’t risk meeting Sallus today, not until he could ensure the man’s safety and confirm the source of this final note. Barely taking the time to put on shoes, Scagliola rushed to return to the shed.

‘When I return tonight,’ He thought to himself, ‘I shall explain all to you, kin.’

____________________________________

Sallus rapped his knuckles against the door to a private room at the tavern, the only one presently closed.

“My kin…” He started, “I fear you have withheld some pertinent information about our shared situation…”

Sallus entered the room following the lack of response, finding its contents strewn about. Notably present were multiple cards scattered on the ground, seemingly dropped in haste.

‘Assuming each of these represented a repeating day,’ Sallus pondered as he counted the pile, ‘Scagliola must have been stuck at the tavern for almost a month, perhaps longer.’

Among the numerous tavern menus, five cards in particular bore wholly difference looked to be numbered. Sallus surmised that Scagliola must have marked each note both in order of appearance and which day they appeared in his room. Flipping through the five unique cards, the first three had the same message:

KEEP THE TALISMAN ON ITS FOREHEAD

So Scagliola was also aware of this supposed talisman…

Reviewing the writing, there was an intentional, almost romantic sense of feeling with the amount of care put into the lettering that was missing from his own. Reaching the fourth card, a new message was present:

SEEK BELOW

The script matched the notes Sallus had received each morning in his own room, and evoked no inferred emotion in its plainness. The last card, however, was completely blank. No writing, no damage, not even a watermark when placed on the windowpane. Curiously, there was a faint scent of cedar exclusively on this card. Sallus would not have noticed, save for an itch on his nose and the fact the surrounding forest contained no evidence of cedar trees in the vicinity.

Sallus held onto this single card, placing it onto the damp bed. He then pulled out a clear preserving jar from a small bag tied to his belt. Reaching in with his hand, Sallus pulled out a dark, earthy dirt. He drew a rudimentary triangle around the card with the dirt and incanted a binding spell.

“Sequi…”

A mote of light popped into existence just above the blank card, flashing slowly. The light circled the room a handful of times, gently floating down onto various articles of clothing as well as the other cards, before blinking rapidly and flying through the closed door. Sallus followed the mote out of the tavern as it headed toward the woods. It led him away from the Salt Road as an unnatural stillness began to surround him. The mote had since returned to slowly flashing, but Sallus noted the frequency was slowly increasing as they headed further into the undergrowth.

After 10 minutes of uneven travel, Sallus found himself coming up to a derelict shed in the middle of a small clearing. The mote was at a distance almost halfway to the structure, when he noticed a second figure peeking out from behind.

“Scagliola!” Sallus cried out, the mote now just reaching the closest threshold of the building. As he got closer, he noticed the figure was wearing little more than smallclothes and shoes; His manicured beard giving away his identity.

Scagliola hushed Sallus, eyes wide and pupils dilated. He stepped back warily, his feet catching on stray rocks and twigs. With one hand he maintained a finger to his lips, pleading for silence. With his other, he switched between beckoning Sallus forward and pointing toward the shed. He waited for Sallus to begin his approach before lowering his finger.

“You shouldn’t be here!” Scagliola hissed, his brow drenched in sweat.

“I need answers,” Sallus responded “and I need them now.”

“Shhhh!” Scagliola pressed his hand to Sallus’ mouth, “It is here.”

Sallus watched as Scagliola’s eyes shifted back to the shed. The mote had seemingly ignored both men, instead choosing to float through the wooden wall of the shed to the interior. The light was flashing rapidly, illuminating the interior. Sallus could not discern any details between the gaps in the planks but understood whatever gave Scagliola the blank card was inside that building.

“How do we get in?” Sallus whispered, choosing to match his partner’s volume.

“There…” Scagliola pointed toward the backside of the shed, where two planks lay lower than the rest. He crept back toward the structure and grabbed the closest plank, revealing it to be completely detached. Sliding it away, Sallus bore witness to It.

The mote continued flashing as it orbited the figure standing inside the shed. With every pulse, new details were revealed. The first thing both noticed was the pose; It was standing completely still, upright, with arms bent out forward. It was not dissimilar to one receiving alms at a temple. The head was cocked back, facing upward, and its jaw was slack. There appeared to be no clothing on the figure, and the skin was pallid and wrinkled. A faint stench wafted out from the interior, sickly sweet with undertones of cedar.

Not once did the body move, not when the mote first entered the shed, not when Scagliola moved the plank, and still even after both he and Sallus stared at it for what felt like an eternity. Suddenly, the mote stopped in between the hands of the figure and its flashing became more rapid. Both men held their breath and stared intently, straining to keep their eyes open. The flashing increased in speed and intensity, transforming the mote into a searing light that rivaled the sun above. Sallus and Scagliola were forced to look away, lest they be blinded, and an echoing pop heralded the light’s disappearance.

Rubbing his eyes, Sallus looked back into the shed to find it empty, but he did not feel any less alone than when Scagliola first removed the plank. He shifted his gaze toward Scagliola to get the answers he was owed. Where once he saw a wretch, wrought with paranoia and fear, now stood a man of conviction, standing tall and staring intensely past Sallus.

'The figure never left.' The realization echoed through Sallus' head.

"You have brought ill fortune with you, stranger..." A hollow death rattle gave the final confirmation.

'It's right behind me.'