Spooktober 2025: Remote

Previous Chapter Spooktober 2025: Chamber   The temple is in the mountains, thought they are quiet. Mor quiet that they should be, at least I think they are. It is night, but there should be some noise... right? I feel a cold winter wind blowing across my skin, but as I shiver I am realizing that I cant hear any creaking of branches from the surrounding evergreens. It is as if the area around the temple is so sacred, or profane, that the surrounding mountains want nothing to do with it.   Neither do I, I decide, and so I set off down the narrow, overgrown path that leads away from the temple. The staff helping me navigate the rough terrain. Once, when I stumble on a root-raised flagstone, I swear that I felt the carvings shift beneath my hand, a wolf inching closer to an eagle jaws spread in anticipation as the wind rippled through its fur... but no, it was likely just my hand slipping down the staff as I stumbled.   My feet carried me on their own down the mountain side, moving with the familiarity of a path walked every day for a lifetime, though one I couldn't remember. As I descended, the air grew colder, instead of warmer like one would expect. Glancing back, I was surprised to see that the temple was no longer there. No crumbled columns, no large stone door, no windows.   With the loss of the temple I stumbled, my feet no longer remembering the path that moments ago they had been so familiar with. My hands scrambled against the staff that was once again a stranger to them, and next thing I knew I slammed into the ground, my chest flaring in pain as my vision flashed white.   We were walking along the mountain path, torches guttering in the soundless wind, my companions and I hooded We were carrying something - a body, maybe - wrapped in a shroud painted with mystic symbols. My left shoulder ached from bearing the weight. A woman's voice whispered "let go of your hatred, lest you...   The vision faded as the world around me came back into focus, my chest still flaring with pain. I looked under my vest, seeing a large bruise on my chest, surrounding a small circular scab, as if I had been stabbed by a knitting needle and then punched by... something large.   As I pushed myself back to my feet, a sense of wrongness shot through me. That boulder, I swear should have been a carved head, some trees were to tall, and where others should have been were only rotted stumps, and there...   I shook my head as the vertigo passed... there was the animal trail that had fooled me into thinking it was a path. Ending at a spring-fed pond. I scrubbed the dirt from my hands and face as best I could. the cold water bringing awareness back as I splashed it on my face.   Then I paused, the noise had returned, at least that of the wind. As comforting as I should have found that there was something much more concerning carried on it - the heavy, deliberate footsteps of a regiment, approaching from somewhere down the mountain.   Unsure what would bring such a group so far from civilization, and have them travel at night, did my best to fade into the trees, hoping to spot the group before they spotted me...   Next Chapter Spooktober 2025: Foes