Chương 82: The Threshold

The deeper the party went into the forest, the older Hanza looked. The veil was still doing a remarkably good job of hiding the Shaman's face. But it could do nothing about his unstable gait, his hunched back, or the rasping sighs that escaped with increasing frequency. It got so bad that Pewter now took on full-time give-Hanza-a-shoulder-to-lean-on duty. While Jordan acted as the party's point man and muscle rolled into one, stopping only occasionally to swing his cauldron and scare away more ghosts.

Because, yes, the ghosts kept on coming. The deeper the party went into the forest, the more Jordan became convinced of something funky going on that hadn't been the case this time two days ago. Ghosts, spirits, apparitions, whatever-you-wanna-call-'ems—they now came out in droves, apparently determined to haunt the party or at least one member among them. It didn't take a genius to figure out what was different about today. Hanza Padma. The Shaman who'd lived a hundred lives.

The sitting lord of a house allegedly built on plundered land. Not to mention the heirloom dagger he yet carried upon his increasingly frail person, the 1, 800-year-old blood of a grudge-bearer long dried upon its blade. The why of it seemed fairly obvious, even to an outsider like Jordan. But that still left the questions of…" How is this happening?" he demanded after the latest round of keep-away against vengeful ghosts." Where are these ghosts coming from? Or maybe the better question is…

who is sending them here?" Prior to this, Threestone Forest and its creepy hazards had felt almost like a natural phenomenon. It had seemed as though this was just the way things were, and Jordan would just have to deal with it like he would a rainstorm or a bad fog. But seeing how the ghosts seemed to target Hanza in particular, Jordan couldn't deny a kind of sentient presence behind the magic.

In other words, he now realized that the onslaught of ghosts had less in common with a natural rainstorm and more with a tornado whipped up by a certain cauldron-bearer.

"You speak of the progenitor of the curse," Hanza picked up the thread, voice growing as feeble as his physical condition, "and you ask whether his will and his powers may have possibly survived for 1, 800 years, to be then embodied by a spellcaster in the present day. Well, I would argue that I myself am living proof that magic can indeed be inherited through the ages. Let us hope then, Gatekeeper, that this spiritual descendant of sorts is more open to reason than his distant ancestor."

A disquieting thought, to say the least. A spellcaster who had inherited the will and powers of the hateful Shaza Padma. Who now wreaked havoc in the present day by slinging ghosts and deathtouch upon innocents far removed from the region's bloody history. Assuming that this was a real person, where had they been hiding all this time? Was it someone Hanza knew, perhaps? Could it even be someone Jordan and Pewter had met? Too many questions and no way to answer them… other than to keep moving.

Get back to where it all started, the better to put to rest an 1, 800-year-old grudge. Yellowspring Grotto looked exactly how the Gym Rats had left it two days ago. Quiet, desolate, darker than dark. The trees around it still had that strange flattened appearance like a storm had passed through them. But this time, said trees stopped short of gathering themselves up into a guardian Twigman. This was also where all ghost activity ceased.

For all the venom and aggression Hanza had attracted throughout his forest hike, he was now allowed to walk (dodder) freely toward the cave opening. And as the lord of House Padma—the bearer of the fateful heirloom dagger—stood at its threshold, Yellowspring Grotto responded by… … doing absolutely nothing.

"Huh," Jordan remarked, both relieved and disappointed.

"I kinda figured that our arrival would be, you know, more dramatic than this."

"This is the threshold between life and death," Pewter gave his two coppers, looking and sounding as appropriately awestruck as ever.

"One does not cross it without just cause, and that should go for beings on either side of the divide. There must be more ceremony involved than simply making our presence known."

"Couldn't have said it better myself." This from a slightly trembling Hanza, still catching his breath after that long hike.

"We are asking the spirit-gods to open their doors to us. It's only right that we offer something of ourselves in return." Jordan thought back to his and Pewter's experiments.

"Well, good thing we didn't show up empty-handed. I've still got the [Keepsake] with me, and you've got that dagger of yours. We can't just drop them on the ground though, could we? Should we try that thing where we turn around and leave? Maybe the spirits will try to pull us in, like last time."

"No." Hanza's response was prompt and confident, this despite the man himself looking weaker than ever.

"I'm not here to taunt the spirits into chasing me. No, what I aim is to entreat them face to face, as a guest inside their house. To that end, I need to go into the Yellowspring Grotto." Jordan stared at Hanza. The Shaman's expression was unreadable behind the veil, but there was no mistaking the sincerity behind his words. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"You can't be serious."

"Oh, but I am. It's what I'd set out to do, and I intend to see it through."

"But Lord Padma!" Pewter.

"Are you not worried that you might never come back?"

"That is certainly a distinct possibility. But am I worried about it? No. I'm willing to accept that as the outcome, as long as I trade back cure and protection for my people." The Shaman's expression was unreadable behind the veil, but there was no shaking the resolve behind his words. Dude is dead serious about this. He only brought me and Pewter along as literal bodyguards—always intended to go it alone once we got to the cave. But there's no way I can just let him do that… right?

Dexterity DC 10: success Nezha:"But what's the alternative, human? Are you really so selfless as to risk your own life for the sake of this nobleman and his brood? Not saying you aren't up for it, but it does bear a second thought, no?" Constitution DC 12: success Xihe:"No second thought needed. Your only thought should be to turn around and leave, earthborn. You are a mortal of the mortal realm. Your body, your mind, your soul—they belong to the earth beneath your feet and no deeper than that."

Strength DC 14: success Zhurong:"Pah! Spare me such weaselly prevarications! Before you is a challenge of the highest order—a venture into the unknown and all that you may yet learn and gain from it. You reject it at your own peril, manling, for caution and self-preservation pave a slippery slope toward cowardice!" Always annoying when the gods all passed their checks and still managed to disagree with each other. On this occasion, however, Jordan needed but to listen to the god who told him what he wanted to hear.

This isn't some kind of self-destructive altruism. No, it's simply an adventurer choosing adventure above all else. Strength DC 14 Roll: 11 Final: 14 Result: success"Nah, fuck that," Jordan announced, as decisive as the resolve firming up in his own mind.

"I didn't bust my ass until the fourth quarter just to sit on the bench when the game is hanging in the balance. If you won't put me in, coach, I'll do it myself. I'm nether-realm-diving with you whether you like it or not, Hanza. As for you, Pewter…" Jordan thought he knew what he was about to say. Upon seeing the look on his friend's face, however, he knew he'd thought wrong.

"… You're coming too, yes?"

"Yes."

"Hear that, Hanza? So, that's what we're doing. Ready when you are." For a moment, the Shaman in question swayed precariously on his feet. Which only made it more ludicrous that he'd wanted to do this alone. He took but a moment to steady himself, however, before producing a wooden box—his Box of Remembrance.

"Very well," the nobleman said with as much authority as he could muster in his current state.

"You've both proven yourselves to be as gallant as you are capable. As such, I've no reason to decline your assistance. Before we go in, however, allow me to cast a spell on you. Something to temporarily bolster your connections to your past lives, that you might better acclimate to the otherworldliness inside the nether realm." HANZA PADMA cast: Enhance Sixth Sense. Target: JORDAN YU. HANZA PADMA cast: Enhance Sixth Sense. Target: PEWTER SAPLING. The effect felt like…

well, funnily enough, Jordan's closest reference point was [Voidcross]. It began with that familiar chittering susurrus, which lasted only as long as it took for a strange weight to settle upon Jordan's person. His breathing, his movements, even his thoughts felt a little heavier, like he was doing everything for two people or perhaps even more.

"Huh," he remarked for the second time today.

"I do feel different, but not… as different as I might have expected to. Does that make any sense?" Hanza smiled from behind his veil.

"It makes perfect sense, and it also means that my spell has succeeded. There are those of us in the mortal realm with a stronger sixth sense than others, but it's not as if we've opened a third eye or sprouted an extra ear. You are as you always were, Gatekeeper, only somewhat better-equipped to see, hear, and touch that which has long departed from the physical world."

"Alright. Thanks, I guess."

"Don't mention it. It's the least I can do for stout friends who would brave the unknown with me."

"But Lord Padma," Pewter observed, "you haven't cast the spell on yourself!"

"No need. Despite my poor showing on the road, I'm not a Lv. 20 Shaman for nothing. Rest assured, Tetherer, that I have my own ways of navigating the nether realm." Jordan nodded, harboring no doubts about Hanza's abilities when it came to all things shamanism. Which would soon be put to the test, anyway, as the party faced the darker-than-darkness before them.

"Shall we?"

"Let's get it." Together, the party crossed the threshold into Yellowspring Grotto, leaving behind what was in search of what could still be.