The village was scared, that much Grimmyr could sense. While by now he was used to many of the peoples of Golarion being intimidated by his towering form, this fear had nothing to do with him. It had clearly seeped into the community long before he arrived. The faces of the townsfolk were pale and tired. Their movements were slow and languid, as if a heavy weight pressed down upon them. It even seemed to affect the atmosphere—dark clouds gathered overhead, and the flowers ringing the small stone plinth at the center of the village green were wilted and dying. Grimmyr’s heart ached to see such distress.

It was with supreme regret that Ulka concluded the younger Blackjackets were looking at her with admiration. Not a revelation she wanted to have on the battlefield, especially while splattered with ghoul blood. She grimaced and wiped the flecks of crimson sludge off her arm, tinting streaks of her green skin black. The length of her polearm usually kept the mess at bay, but these rotbags were full of more fluids than she was used to, and they tended to burst.

“Auntie, below you!” Nahoa’s spear crackled, lightning scouring its barbs free of blood and gristle as he pulled it from a spined skull. The boat rocked under his feet as the creature spasmed and slid below the waves.

The local apparitions were increasingly inhospitable as Samo and Nahoa made their way to the feet of the mountains and into the sun-blasted wastes that the orcs of Belkzen claimed as their hold. Though her grandmother’s spirit was with her as always, the little spirits she knew best from the north—those of river and wave or those who hid in the shade of the taiga—had stayed behind in the places to which they were accustomed when Samo headed south.

Among piles of stacked books, Marbrook heard the tingle of the front door chimes. The front door whose OPEN sign clearly faced inward. The pair of entrants, a goblin in goggles and a human with a coat and cane, made themselves at home browsing the bookstore’s shelves. Or they were casing the joint to rob. If they were going to rob her later, they would be the second most audacious thieves Marbrook had ever witnessed. The most audacious thieves, meanwhile, were those the two would be if they were to rob her in this very inconvenient moment.

“Fire,” the professor whispered. His hands shook as he traced the runes etched onto the walls.