Forge woke to strange sounds from upstairs.

  Not screaming. Not violence. Just movement. Footsteps. Things being moved. The occasional muttered word in a voice that was Jonas's but not Jonas's.

  He had slept for fourteen hours. His body had demanded it. Had shut down completely the moment he found a bed on the second floor and collapsed into it. No dreams. No nightmares. Just deep, exhausted unconsciousness.

  Now he was awake. Rested enough to think clearly. And the sounds from the third floor were concerning.

  Forge sat up slowly. Listened. Tried to identify what Jake was doing up there through audio alone.

  More movement. Something dragging. A thump. Muttered words too quiet to make out.

  Nothing immediately threatening. But with Jake, "not immediately threatening" was a low bar.

  Forge stood. Stretched carefully. His muscles ached from two days of stress and minimal sleep before his collapse. But the rest had helped. He felt functional again. Capable of dealing with whatever fresh madness awaited him.

  He moved quietly through the second floor. Past the library where he could see books scattered across the desk. Past other rooms he had not bothered exploring. Toward the stairs leading up to Jonas's bedroom.

  The sounds continued. Consistent. Rhythmic almost. Like someone working on a project.

  Forge climbed the stairs carefully. Each step deliberate. Quiet. Just checking. Just making sure Jake was not doing something horrible. That was reasonable. That was smart survival thinking.

  He reached the third floor. The door to Jonas's bedroom was slightly open. Forge could see movement inside. Could hear Jake's voice more clearly now.

  Still muttering. Still moving things around. Still engaged in whatever task had occupied him.

  Forge pushed the door open wider. Looked inside.

  Jake stood in the center of the room. In a puddle. A wet, spreading puddle that was definitely not water. Blood ran down his arm in dark red streaks. Fresh blood. Still flowing. A rusty knife was raised in his hand. Held high. Like he was about to bring it down on something.

  And he was smiling. Wide. Genuine. The expression of someone who had just discovered something wonderful.

  Forge's brain tried to process the scene. Tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Tried to find a reasonable explanation for why Jake was standing in what was clearly his own urine holding a bloody knife while smiling like he had just won something.

  His thoughts started forming. Questions. Observations. Horror.

  Then stopped.

  No. Do not think. Do not speak. Do not give the inner monologue problem anything to work with. Mouth shut. Mind blank. Just. Do not. React.

  Forge kept his face neutral through sheer force of will. Kept his thoughts carefully empty. Not thinking about the puddle. Not thinking about the blood. Not thinking about the knife or the smile or the absolute insanity of this scene.

  Just. Blank. Survival mode. Do not engage.

  Jake noticed him. The smile shifted slightly. Became almost sheepish.

  "This is not what it looks like!"

  Forge said nothing. Did not trust himself to speak. Did not trust his thoughts not to come spilling out if he allowed himself to think them.

  He started backing up. Slowly. Deliberately. Maintaining eye contact because breaking it felt dangerous. Keeping his mind carefully empty of any observations or judgments or screaming internal panic.

  One step back. Two steps. Three.

  "What the fuck does this even look like?" Jake asked.

  Forge reached the door. Still moving backward. Still maintaining that careful mental blankness. Still refusing to engage with the situation in any way that might produce thoughts he could not control.

  He backed into the hallway. Reached for the door. Closed it firmly.

  Then moved. Fast. Down the stairs. Away from that room. Away from whatever Jake was doing. Creating maximum distance.

  Only when he was on the first floor, behind a closed door, in a room that felt reasonably secure, did Forge allow himself to think again.

  “I made a deal with an insane corpse wearing monster.”

  The thought came with perfect clarity. Perfect certainty. Perfect horror.

  “Two months. I have to survive two months of this.”

  Forge sat down. Put his head in his hands. Tried to process what he had just seen without letting his mind spiral into panic.

  The creature upstairs was not stable. Was not safe. Was clearly engaged in activities that involved self harm and bodily fluids and smiling about it.

  But the deal was made. The handshake done. Two months until the Pantathian representative arrived. Two months of living in this tower with whatever Jake was becoming.

  “Gods help me.”

  Jake found him several hours later.

  Forge had spent that time carefully not thinking about what he had witnessed. Carefully maintaining mental discipline. Carefully preparing himself for the inevitable conversation.

  Jake looked clean now. Had washed. Changed clothes. Wore a fresh black robe from Jonas's collection. The blood was gone. The puddle presumably dealt with. He looked almost normal except for the wrongness in his expressions. The way Jonas's face moved in patterns that did not match the person Jonas had been.

  "Hey," Jake said casually. Like the earlier scene had not happened. "I need a favor."

  Forge waited. Did not speak. Did not trust himself yet.

  "Jonas kept a journal. A personal one. It’s on his nightstand and we are gonna need information from it about the Pantathian visiting schedule. Protocols. What he reports. How the meetings work. Everything that could help me prepare for taking over the representative."

  That made sense. Strategic. Practical.

  "Can you read it for me?" Jake asked. "I just can’t risk it. Too much personal connection to Jonas. Even reading his thoughts secondhand might contaminate. Might bring his personality back. I am not taking that chance."

  Forge looked at Jake. At the creature wearing Jonas's face. At the thing that had killed a troll and driven gremlins to slaughter and now needed help reading a journal.

  "I… I can’t read," Forge said quietly.

  Jake blinked. Processed. "You can’t read. Like, at all?"

  "Never learned. Didn’t need to. Swamp rangers track animals and kill things that threaten the town. We don’t need letters for that."

  The defensiveness came through despite Forge's attempt to stay neutral. It wasn’t shame exactly. Just the awareness that literacy marked a divide. That education separated people into categories. That Forge existed in the practical world of survival while others dealt in written knowledge.

  Jake's expression shifted. Not mocking. Not superior. Just calculating. Processing new information and adjusting plans.

  "This is actually a problem," Jake said. "I need that information. And I can’t get it myself."

  He paused. Thought. Arrived at conclusion.

  "Kandis. She can read. Right? The town leader probably has education."

  Forge nodded. "She’s not the town leader, but yeah, she can read. Writes the reports for the Shadow Conclave. Handles all the documents."

  "Forge, she’s the town leader. Everyone knows that and your not giving secrets away here. I am on your side. But we need to get her here. Bring her to read the journal. Also she should probably meet me anyway. If I am going to be your spy inside the Pantathians, she should assess whether she trusts me. Whether this deal is worth it."

  That. That made sense. More sense than Forge wanted to admit.

  "There are other reasons I should go as well," Forge said slowly. "The four people in the basement. Their families need to know. They would want closure. And two men were exiled. Accused of murder. They were innocent. The town owes them."

  Jake nodded. "Justice. Closure. Yeah. Good reasons. So you go back to Hawth. Bring Kandis here. She reads the journal, meets me, we establish some semblance of a working relationship. Problem solved."

  "I can’t go back to sleep anyway," Forge said. "It’ll take a few days. Maybe five. Two to get there, one or two to rest… No idea how She will even feel about it. But yeah. You definitely can’t go."

  "Fair enough. You just slept for half a day and still look like shit. Which is saying something coming from a guy wearing a corpse." Jake paused. "And, I know. Jonas wouldn’t be welcomed at all, much less someone wearing a Jonas suit. Also. You need to fix your inner monologue thing before you come back."

  Forge stared. "My inner monologue thing? You are the one who infected me with it!"

  "Yeah, and I can’t fix it. Trust me, I’ve been trying. But you need to figure out how to control it or spending two months together is going to be impossible. I can’t deal with hearing every thought you have. And you clearly can’t deal with saying every thought out loud. So. Work on it. I was thinking about when I hit you with my fear aura. You seem to have gotten half ass immune to it pretty quick. Try doing that."

  The audacity was stunning. Jake had caused the problem and was now demanding Forge solve it.

  But he was also right. Two months of complete honesty between them would be intolerable. For both of them.

  "Fine," Forge said. "I will work on it."

  "Good. Now go. Get Kandis. Bring her back. I will be here doing magic practice and trying not to piss myself again."

  Forge decided not to ask about that. Just nodded. Started gathering his minimal supplies. Prepared to leave.

  "Oh," Jake called after him. "I need a pig. You guys have pigs in Hawth, so bring me a pig. I’m not starving for brains but by the time you get back, I might be."

  Forge considered it and suddenly spoke, “I’m not your fucking errand boy!” then closed his mouth. They both knew what just happened. Forge grimaced and just nodded.

  "Understood."

  Forge left the tower. Stepped into the swamp. And started the journey back to Hawth with relief that surprised him.

  A whole week away from Jake. A week of normal thoughts staying internal. A week of not wondering what fresh horror awaited around every corner.

  Small blessings.

  The change was gradual.

  Forge walked through the swamp. Following familiar paths. Avoiding known dangers. Moving with the practiced efficiency of someone who had spent years learning this terrain.

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  And his thoughts stayed internal.

  He tested it carefully. Thought something deliberately. Something he would never want to say aloud.

  Jake is terrifying and I should crush Jonas’s skull while he sleeps.

  Silence. The words stayed in his head. Did not escape his mouth. Did not betray him.

  Forge stopped walking. Really tested it. Thought the most embarrassing thing he could imagine. The kind of thought that would mortify him if spoken aloud.

  Still nothing. Still internal. Still private.

  "Oh thank the gods," Forge said aloud. To himself. Because he could speak when he chose to instead of being forced to vocalize every thought.

  It was proximity based. Had to be. The effect only worked when he was near Jake. Some radius. Some area of influence where the inner monologue problem manifested.

  Which raised new questions. What was Jake radiating? What kind of force affected people's ability to keep thoughts private? Was it intentional or another accident?

  Did it matter?

  Forge kept walking. Kept processing. The further he got from the tower, the more normal he felt. The more control returned.

  By the time Hawth came into view, Forge felt almost like himself again. Tired. Traumatized. But himself.

  Falen saw him first.

  The young town handyman was on perimeter patrol. Part of the rotating guard the town maintained since the Culling had taught them about being unprepared. He spotted Forge emerging from the swamp and immediately raised his spear.

  "Stop right there! Identify yourself!"

  Forge stopped. Raised his hands. Tried not to feel insulted. "It is me. Forge. I am back."

  "How do I know you ain't got no worm in your head?" Falen called back. Still pointing the spear. Still maintaining distance.

  "Falen, it is me. I was gone less than a week. I’m fine."

  "That's just what a worm would say, I bet!" Falen's voice pitched higher. Nervous. Convinced he was onto something.

  Forge sighed. Lowered his hands. "Why would a worm know about the time you got drunk on Kandis's elderberry wine and tried to fight that tree? The big one by the market. You lost. The tree won."

  Falen's spear lowered slightly. "A smart worm could ask questions. Could learn things."

  "Falen, I am going to hit you."

  "WORM VIOLENCE! THE WORM IS ATTACKING!"

  Other guards appeared. Marcus the blacksmith. Gregor the carpenter. Old Carrick who was too old for patrol but insisted anyway. All of them armed. All of them wary.

  "Is that Forge?" Marcus asked. Squinting. "Or something wearing his face?"

  "It’s me!" Forge's patience was wearing thin. He had walked through a swamp. Had spent two days with a brain eating monster. Had seen things no person should see. And now he was being interrogated by people who knew him.

  "Prove it," Marcus said. Moving closer but keeping his weapon ready. "Tell us something only the real Forge would know."

  Forge thought. Tried to come up with something sufficiently specific. "Marcus. Your wife caught you practicing sword forms naked in your forge. You said you were testing mobility. She said you were being an idiot. You made her promise never to tell anyone. She told me anyway because she thought it was hilarious."

  Marcus's face went red. "Okay. It is him. The worm would not know that."

  "Unless it ate my brain and got my memories," Forge pointed out. Too tired to care about logic.

  "I knew it!" Falen yelled, raising his spear again.

  "I do not have a worm in my head, Fallen! I am fine. I am back. I need to speak with Kandis. Where is she?"

  The guards exchanged looks. Something passed between them. Information Forge was not privy to.

  "She is at the council hall," Gregor said finally. "But Forge. Everyone knows. About the weapon. About the plan. About everything."

  Forge's stomach dropped. "Everyone?"

  "Everyone," Gregor confirmed. "Falen told his mother. She told the baker. The baker told. Well. Everyone. The whole town knows the Shadow Conclave sent you into the swamp with a secret weapon to use against Jonas."

  Forge turned slowly to look at Falen.

  Falen backed up. Hands raised defensively. "I did not think she would tell! She is my mother! Mothers keep secrets!"

  "SHADOW Conclave," Forge said quietly. Dangerously. "The word SHADOW implies secrecy. Implies hidden. Implies not telling the entire fucking town."

  "I’m sorry! I can’t lie to me mum…"

  "Sorry does not help. Sorry does not unfuck this situation. Sorry does not put the secret back."

  Marcus stepped between them. "Easy. What is done is done. We need to know what happened. Is Jonas dead? Is the weapon contained? Are we safe?"

  Forge took a breath. Forced calm. He could strangle Falen later. Right now he needed to report.

  "Jonas is. Complicated. The weapon worked. Sort of. It is complicated. I need to speak with Kandis. All of you. Council hall. Now."

  They moved together. A small group walking through Hawth's narrow streets. People stared. Word had already spread that Forge was back. The gossip network in a small town was faster than any messenger.

  By the time they reached the council hall, half the town was following. Watching. Waiting for news.

  Marcus fell into step beside Forge. Spoke quietly. "You look like shit."

  Forge glanced at him. "Why does everyone always tell me that?"

  "Mostly because it’s always true.” Marcus grinned. Friendly. The grin of someone who had lost countless card games and sparring matches. It was a welcome sight after what he had been through.

  The council hall was packed.

  Not just the Shadow Conclave. Not just the official members. Everyone. The entire town had crammed into a space designed for maybe thirty people. Easily sixty packed in now. Standing room only. Pressed against walls. Desperate for information.

  Kandis stood at the front. Tall. Severe. Her black hair pulled back tight. Her face showing the lines of someone who had led through crisis. Who had survived the Culling and rebuilt. Someone that looked much older than she was due to the weight of that very role.

  She saw Forge and her expression sharpened. "Clear the hall. Conclave members only."

  Protests erupted. People demanding to know. Demanding answers. Demanding their right to hear.

  "OUT!" Kandis's voice cut through the noise like a blade. "This is Conclave business. You will hear what we decide to share. AFTER we decide. Now OUT!"

  The crowd filed out reluctantly. Slowly. Casting looks back at Forge like he might vanish if they looked away.

  Finally just the core remained. Kandis. Marcus. Gregor. Falen looking guilty. Old Carrick. A few others. Ten people total. The Shadow Conclave in its entirety.

  "Report," Kandis said simply.

  Forge took a breath. Started from the beginning. "I put the creature in my snuff tin. Carried it through the swamp for two days. When I arrived, Jonas let me in. Was pleasant. Offered tea."

  "Jonas offered you tea?" Marcus interrupted. "The hermit necromancer who threatened anyone who came near his tower offered you tea?"

  "He was being strategic. Wanted to know what I knew. What the town suspected. I told him we thought he was a traitor."

  Murmurs around the room. Some satisfaction. Some concern.

  "He denied it. Got defensive. Started making threats. Said if I did not leave, he would make an example of me. Then he would enslave Hawth. Use necromancy to turn the entire town into his personal army of undead servants."

  Silence. Absolute. The threat was not new. They had all feared it. But hearing it confirmed was different.

  "That is when I released the creature," Forge continued. "Put it in his ear. Watched it enter. Jonas started screaming. Threatening. Then he just. Stopped. Went quiet. Vegetative."

  "The creature killed him?" Kandis asked.

  "Yes and no. Jonas's body is alive. Breathing. Functional. But Jonas himself is gone. The creature destroyed his consciousness. Turned his brain into. I do not know. Paste. Something. Jonas is not there anymore. Just the body. And the creature controlling it."

  Gregor leaned forward. "So the weapon worked. Jonas is neutralized."

  "It worked," Forge confirmed. "But the creature. Jake. It calls itself Jake. It is not simple. Not controllable. It is intelligent. Self aware. Human, or was human, from somewhere else. It has goals. Agendas. And it can talk."

  That got reactions. Eyes widening. Postures shifting. The idea of an intelligent weapon was more threatening than a mindless one.

  "What does it want?" Kandis asked.

  "A new host. Better than Jonas. It wants the Pantathian representative who comes for quarterly reports. Wants to take them. Become them. Go into the Pantathian hierarchy as a spy for us."

  The room erupted. Questions. Objections. Demands for clarification.

  Kandis raised her hand. Silence fell immediately.

  "Continue," she said to Forge.

  "After Jonas went down, I barricaded myself in another room. Waited. Eventually went to check on the creature. Found it in Jonas's body. Talking. Able to use magic. It made me an offer. A deal. It stays in Jonas's tower for two months. Prepares. Studies. When the representative comes, it takes them. We get a spy inside the Pantathians."

  "If we can trust it," Marcus said.

  "If we can trust it," Forge agreed. "But there is more. Before the deal. I went to Jonas's basement."

  The temperature in the room seemed to drop. Basements meant experiments. Meant horrors. Everyone knew what necromancers did in basements.

  "There were four people there. Four townspeople. Kept as. Experiments. Zombies. Walking dead."

  The silence was different now. Heavier. Grief already forming before Forge named them.

  "Which four?" Old Carrick's voice was barely a whisper.

  Forge met his eyes. "Chanse. Your nephew. He has been there for almost ten years."

  Carrick's face crumpled. He had raised Chanse after his parents died. Had taught him to hunt. Had mourned when the swamp supposedly took him. "Ten years. My boy was there for ten years and we never knew."

  Marcus gripped Carrick's shoulder. Silent support.

  "There was another hunter," Forge continued. "I could not identify him. Too. Too damaged. But he wore hunter's leathers. Probably went missing six or seven years ago."

  Gregor's face went pale. "Could be my cousin. Derick. He disappeared seven years back. We searched for weeks."

  "Maybe. I am sorry."

  "And the other two?" Kandis asked. Her voice steady but her knuckles white where she gripped the table.

  "Trace. She worked at the tavern. Went missing four years ago." Forge paused. Looked at Falen. "Your sister suspected those two merchants. The whole town suspected them."

  Falen looked sick. "We drove them out. Ran them from Hawth because everyone thought they murdered her."

  "They did not murder her. Jonas took her. Kept her. Used her." Forge's voice went flat. Clinical. The only way he could say it. "She was. The scene was arranged in a way that made Jonas's. Preferences. Very clear."

  Someone made a choking sound. Might have been Falen. Might have been someone else.

  "The fourth was just bones on a table," Forge said. "Entrails exposed. Some kind of experiment. I could not identify them."

  Marcus stood abruptly. Walked to the corner. Stood there breathing hard. Trying to control himself.

  "Jonas," Kandis said quietly. Dangerously. "Did you confirm his betrayal? Confirmed he was reporting to the Pantathians?"

  "Jake. The creature. It read Jonas's memories before destroying his mind. Confirmed everything. Jonas was captured during the Culling. As a boy. The Pantathians experimented on him. Conditioned him. Made him a deal. He reports on Hawth, they teach him necromancy. He has been their spy for twenty-three years."

  Kandis's jaw clenched. "Twenty-three years. Since he was exiled from Hawth. Since we told him to leave or die."

  "He went to them. Became their tool willingly. Saw it as protection. Saw himself as keeping Hawth safe by giving them information. He deluded himself into thinking he was the hero."

  "Hero," Marcus spat. Turned from the corner. Face twisted with rage. "He kept our people as experiments. As toys. As corpses to play with. And thought he was protecting us?"

  "He convinced himself. Made it make sense in his own mind. The creature told me how Jonas justified everything."

  Gregor stood. Paced. "The two men we exiled. The ones we thought murdered Trace. We need to find them. Need to bring them back. Need to. Gods. How do we even apologize for that?"

  "We cannot," Kandis said. "We cannot undo that damage. But we can try. Send messengers. Searchers. Offer them everything we have. Beg them to return."

  "If they are even alive," Old Carrick said. His voice hollow. Broken. "Two men alone. Exiled. No community. No support. They could be dead."

  "Then we owe their memory," Kandis said firmly. "We acknowledge our mistake. We tell their story. We make sure everyone knows they were innocent."

  Silence fell again. The weight of collective guilt pressing down.

  "The families of the four," someone said. "How do we tell them?"

  "Carefully," Forge said. "Gently. With the full truth. They deserve to know what happened. What Jonas did."

  "I will help," Falen said quietly. "Trace's parents. I should be there. We all suspected those men. We all share the guilt."

  Nods around the room. Agreement.

  Kandis looked at Forge. "And the deal? With this creature? This Jake?"

  "Two months. It stays in Jonas's tower. Learns magic. Prepares. I am supposed to bring you back. It needs information from Jonas's journal but cannot read it itself. Too risky. Might absorb Jonas's personality. It wants you to read the journal. Extract information about Pantathian protocols. Meeting schedules. Everything."

  "It wants me to come to the tower," Kandis said flatly.

  "Yes. But it cannot come here. Absolutely forbidden near Hawth. Too dangerous."

  Kandis considered. Her face showing the calculation. The risk assessment. "I need to meet it. Need to judge for myself if this deal is worth the cost."

  "It might kill you," Marcus said bluntly. "Might eat your brain like it ate Jonas's."

  "It might," Kandis agreed. "But if this creature can truly infiltrate the Pantathians. If we can get real intelligence on their operations. Their numbers. Their plans. That is worth the risk."

  "Your father," Gregor started.

  "Died in the Culling. Along with my husband. My brother. Half this town." Kandis's voice was steel. "The Pantathians took everything from us. If there is even a chance to strike back. To hurt them. To gain advantage. I will take it."

  She looked around the room. Met each person's eyes. "We vote. Do we proceed with the deal? Do I go to the tower? Do we risk trusting this creature for the potential of a spy inside our enemy?"

  Hands rose. Slowly. One by one. Until everyone had voted yes.

  Even Falen. Even Marcus. Even Old Carrick with grief fresh on his face.

  "Then it is decided," Kandis said. "Tomorrow. After Forge has rested. We go to the tower. We meet this Jake. We read the journal. We decide if we proceed or kill it where it stands."

  Could they kill Jake? Forge doubted it. But Kandis did not need to know that yet.

  "Agreed," Forge said. "Tomorrow. After I rest."

  "Good. Now go tell the families. Do it gently. They deserve that much."

  Telling the families was the hardest thing Forge had ever done.

  Chanse's wife had remarried. Had moved on. But the grief returned when Forge told her. Raw. Fresh. Like the wound had never healed, just scarred over.

  The unnamed hunter was easily identified with more information. His name had been Randolf and his brother broke down at the news. Sobbed. Said he had always hoped. Always believed his brother would come home.

  Trace's parents were old now. Fragile. The news broke something in them. Their daughter had been gone four years. They had mourned. Had buried an empty grave. And now they knew the truth was so much worse than they had imagined. Forge spared them the monstrous details of what she must have gone through before and after Jonas had his way with her. Some things are much better left untold.

  The experimental subject had no one. No family Forge could find. Just a stranger who had died alone in Jonas's basement for reasons unknown.

  By the time Forge finished, he felt hollowed out. Empty. The weight of delivering that news had taken something from him.

  He found his friend Markus at the smithy and they walked together toward the tavern. Normal routine. Normal comfort. The kind of ordinary interaction Forge had missed.

  Inside, the questions started immediately. Everyone wanting details. Wanting to know what happened. What the weapon was. Whether they were safe.

  Forge deflected. Said Kandis would share what the Conclave decided. Said he was too tired to talk. Said everything and nothing.

  Falen approached cautiously. Still guilty. Still expecting punishment.

  "I really am sorry," he said quietly. "About telling. About the secret getting out."

  Forge looked at him. Considered staying angry. Decided it was not worth the energy.

  "Just. Think before you talk, Falen. THINK. Consider consequences."

  "I will. I promise."

  "Good."

  Eventually Forge escaped. Made his way to his own small house on the edge of town. Unlocked the door. Stepped inside.

  His own space. His own bed. His own quiet without life signatures pressing against his awareness or thoughts threatening to escape his mouth.

  Forge collapsed onto his bed fully clothed. Exhaustion taking him before he could even remove his boots.

  His last thought before sleep was simple.

  A day of rest. Then back to the tower. Back to Jake. Back to that thing.

  Two months.

  Gods help me survive two months.

  Sleep took him. Deep and dreamless. The sleep of someone who had delivered terrible news and fought and survived another day.

  Tomorrow he would rest more. Would prepare. Would steel himself for the return.

  And he couldn’t forget about that pig.

  - - -

  End of Chapter 37