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A foreword from the author

This book started as a hobby. It was something I could enjoy with a close friend of mine, and as such, it was not meant to be read, much less understood, by anyone other than we. So, I feel the need to add some kind of foreword, to explain some of the background that she and I discussed, background that would be difficult to properly work into the story. This book takes place on not-quite-earth. On the surface, it'll look like our home. The same plants, the same people, the same oceans. It is a world that evolved on similar biological, cultural, and technological arcs to our own. That said, it is a different kind of world.

It always bothered me, how books set in modern time had to be on earth. Earth geography, Earth physics, earth standards. A time, a place, a common ground. Iron Age fantasy usually comes with a unique realm, and future sci-fi always invents new planets for adventure, but if you try to write in the "now," then it's assumed that you're using our world as the backdrop.

This is not one of those stories. Paenitentia is a world quite similar to our Earth, but it is fundamentally different. I could list the many differences here, in an uninspiring block of text, but that would be a disservice to you, the reader, as many such differences end up being irrelevant to the story. Instead, I will provide you with the seeds, the ideas that grew to shape everything. Firstly, Paenitentia is the only planet in its system, but it has a moon like ours. Secondly, an expansive landmass stretches west from the Rocky Mountains, commonly known as the Pacific Desert (there's more than just desert, but the desert is what it's famous for.) And finally, this is a fantasy story, and what good fantasy doesn't have a little magic?

But surely, you want to read a story, not listen to me ramble. All I may say is that Paenitentia is a modern world, built upwards from the skeleton of a long dead fantasy. It helped me through some rough times and taught me a few valuable lessons. I offer it now to you.

Prologue

Four stage lights cast an artificial dawn on the final act, like so many small suns glaring upon the stage. Shouyousei Murasaki knew the dance well enough to perform it blindfolded; a necessity, since portions of the script called for her to dance with her eyes closed. A few moments left now, before her curtain called to her. Envious glares from other dancers drilled holes in her back, passing straight through her like so many arrows through a cloud. This was her moment and this was her stage. Not because she was the thinnest. Not because she was the best dancer. No, she played the main part because when she stepped forwards into the blinding incandescence, her entire world shrank into the boards beneath her feet. No spectators, no competition, no stage directors, just the music, her heartbeat, and the dance.

Other girls made the mistake of dancing with their feet, dancing with their brains. They were pretty, they were skilled, and patrons of the fine theatre marveled at their skill. Not so with her. When she danced, it was a work of emotion. Just as a Father might pour his soul into whittling a toy for his child, Shouyousei poured her soul into her movements. The world revolved around her as she spun, and for those few moments, life was simple, and she was content.

And then her curtain fell. A thunderous applause beat against the heavy curtains laced through with the quiet criticisms of those who thought they deserved her honor. Without the stage, without the music, without the dance? She was just another woman, suddenly small and alone, fatigued beyond measure, and absolutely unwilling to pretend to get along with the parasites who leeched against her good mood. She heard the theatre owner's voice call out from behind the curtain, and the stage director gave her a curt nod and a smile. That was enough.

She slipped through the dressing room quickly, as the post-show slump rolled over her like a wave. The final night of any show always felt somehow more exhausting than the entire week that proceeded it, and all Shou had in mind was a nice bar, a nice drink, and maybe a nice guy to flirt with for a while. That last element had been missing from her life, and she honestly wouldn't have minded if a handsome stranger tried to talk his way into her life.

Of course, by the time she actually got to a bar, none but the most dedicated of drunkards were left. "I'll have a Long Island Iced Tea." She chirped as she slipped into a stool. The bartender eyed her sideways and she reached for her ID as she continued. "And I'll take a side of gossip, if you have any."

He glanced over her card and slid it back with a chuff. "Well, the Demon of Wheeler Peak's been sighted again. Third time this year, and we ain't even through summer yet."

Shou knocked back the drink with a grimace, then a happy sigh. "Please, don't tell me you believe that hogwash. Neither private detective nor ghost hunter ever found any solid evidence." At least, none of the respectable ones did. Charlatans were more than willing to falsify some footage to sell views, and keep the old legend alive.

The barkeep shrugged and grabbed a glass of water for himself. "He don' seem to care who does or doesn't believe in him. Had a feller come in here today scared stiff. Drank till his card got declined and his wallet was empty, poor sop."

Her eyes perked up and she leaned forwards conspiratorially. "Oh really? What is it this time? A silver miner who died in a cave in? A native, shot in the back by conquerors?" She signaled him to make another drink with a smirk. "It's a different ghost every time someone comes off that mountain, surely if he existed he'd be a bit less..." a noncommittal handwave. "Sporadic?"

The barkeep gave a second, identical shrug to match the second, identical drink. "Hey, you asked for gossip, lady. Guy said he'd never set foot on the west face ever again."

She took the second glass slower, musing over the idea. A good breath of mountaintop air might be good for her... she paid her tab, found a taxi home, and packed a sandwich for the next day before collapsing into bed.

Morning washed over the city with more quiet than awakening. To the many clubs, bars, and nightlife hotspots across the city, dawn signaled the end of the night more than the start of the day, but to Shouyousei Murasaki it was neither. Not an end nor a beginning, but another moment, slept through until the rising light pulled her from her slumber. The lingering fatigue of performance still clung to her, like a shawl of cobwebs wrapped around her bones, but she shook free from its grasp and got started on her morning routine.

Brushing out her hair in front of the mirror, she looked herself over. Clocking in at five feet and change, she weighed just more than the other dancers. She wasn't fat though; far from it, her homely curves could be called nothing short of beautiful. Rather, her 'fellow' performers seemed to compete to see who could weigh the least without fainting mid-performance, and they were always quick to point out the weight difference. It was one of a few nagging doubts, gnawing at the back of her mind, but she refused to starve herself just to try and fit a stereotyped image, especially one that wasn't healthy.

It always took her hairdressers some careful planning and skill to conceal the violent purple streak dyed into her hair, but she needed that extra bit of color. It helped normalize her eyes; Her irises were a bright, almost metallic purple, surrounded by a pitch-black sclera that lent a supernatural air to her face. They had made breaking into the professional dance scene difficult, but she was skilled and diligent enough to earn her place.

She remembered being prodded and examined by doctors as a child, under her mother's matching eyes, but they could find no better explanation than the Murasaki family legend. The unusual eyes were a birthright supposedly dating all the way back to the Sengoku Jidai: the age of warring city-states and samurai vying for power. They had made a deal with a great guardian spirit, a keeper of hearth and home; he would protect the Murasaki family, and their descendants for eternity, but in return, the firstborn female of the Murasaki line would belong to him, and bear his mark in the color of her eyes. As an only child, Shou had inherited her mother's eyes, as she did from her mother before her, in an unbroken line that had lasted for more than five hundred years.

It was a nice story, and certainly more pleasant to believe than the doctors quiet whispers of genetic mutation and potential health complications. Either way, she didn't let it bother her; either she'd go blind in fifteen years, or her daughter would inherit the family legacy. It made for a good icebreaker, if nothing else... far too much had gone wrong with her life for her to believe some ancient spirit was watching over her.

Shou's eyes certainly didn't detract from her looks though, especially not with the stage makeup accenting her face. It made her striking features even more dramatic, and it was perfect for hitting up a club and drawing a few wanted stares, but she was already planning her mountain hike. After so much time in the limelight, she needed to escape the city, escape the world... and nothing worked quite as well as the physical distance one achieved from a mountaintop. She finished packing lunch, and added plenty of protein bars, snacks, and water bottles in case she didn't quite make it home before dinner. She knew herself well enough to plan ahead in that regard.

Wheeler Peak was beautiful this time of year and she felt stress melting off her with every step upwards. Some brief google searches suggested that "The Demon of Wheeler Peak" was, of course, always sighted in that central mountain range, usually far off the beaten path by adventurous souls seeking the true untamed wilderness. So, she grabbed her hiking boots dialed in an Uber. She'd take Middle Fork trail up to the appropriately, if unimaginatively named Middle Fork lake, then strike south, towards Wheeler Peak. As an afterthought, while waiting for her ride, she grabbed her sketchpad and a blanket and stuffed both into her pack. Just in case.

~~~

Gazing out over the mountaintop lake, Shou had to begrudgingly acknowledge that there was good reason this was a popular tourist spot. Standing on the bank, one could look far and deep into the crystal-clear water. It was the perfect spot for a sandwich break, and to contemplate exactly how much further she'd go. The sun was worryingly close to its zenith, and she couldn't go much further if she planned to turn back the way she'd come. She could just spend an hour or two sketching the lake and call it a day well spent... but a familiar urge called her forwards. She'd always been a thrill seeker, always willing to push the boundaries; as a child she'd climbed a little higher, run a little faster, and broken a few more bones than the other kids, and while age hadn't tempered her reckless streak, it had at least provided her with the caution to plan ahead. She glanced at the blanket sitting in her pack and smiled; a night on the mountain certainly wouldn't be comfy -or- safe... but she had enough food and water for at least dinner and breakfast, if she absolutely needed it. With a faint chuckle, she packed up her lunch remnants and set off south, straight into the unknown.

Two hours further and the sun was well past its peak. With every step she had that nagging thought that if she turned around now, she could probably make it back down before it got too dark, but her feet stubbornly persisted forwards, heading in the general direction of the summit, for lack of a better destination. With every step, she felt something almost dragging at her heels, but she pursued a meandering path forwards. She wanted to find -something- worth making a painting of, and while she doubted she'd encounter some local folk legend, she at least wanted something. A tree struck by lightning, or a set of sun-polished bones. Something wild and untamed. Something exciting. It was perhaps another hour later when she got her wish.

The area had first been settled by silver miners seeking glimmers among the dust, and mining tunnels dotted most of the mountains nearby. They were one and all condemned, with a bad enough reputation for swallowing up hikers that warning signs were posted at the start of most trails. A dark hole bored into the mountain like a bullet wound, half healed over with dirt and shrubbery. There were precious few natural caves here, and after peeking her head in the entrance, the presence of half-decayed wooden supports confirmed it; she'd stumbled across an old mining tunnel.

Here again, her seemingly unquenchable thirst for excitement warred with self-preservation, but even before making a conscious decision, Shou knew she'd go inside. She tried to talk herself out of it, but a familiar inner voice whispered of adventure and uncertainty, of wild freedoms lost in the modern day. Tension gripped her as she pushed back the bushes and stepped into that yawning maw of rock.

This was a proper mining tunnel it seemed, stretching back into the darkness far beyond what the sun's fading light could reach. She was on the east face still, and the mountain cast a deep shadow despite the sun still being relatively high in the sky. No time to explore now, with it almost dark... but it would make good shelter if she decided to stay... and she did have that blanket... after chewing her lip for a few minutes she decided to answer adventure's call. She'd spend the night there, just inside the mouth, maybe poke around a bit once the sun rose, and then descend; she'd be home in time for lunch.

What remained of the daylight was spent sketching out the entrance to the mine as she'd first seen it, imprinting the scene into both mind and paper so she could better put it to canvas later.

By the time she'd filled her pack with leaves, the sun had already slipped past the mountain. It wouldn't be true night for another few hours yet, but the earth's stone teeth cast deep shadows, and she'd soon need her flashlight if she wanted to see anything. She cracked another bottle of water and drank freely; if anyone had glanced into her backpack at the outset, they might have accused her of planning to spend a night in the wilderness, but really, she just recognized that she never knew when to call it quits.

At any rate, she wasn't worried about food or water, and while a night sleeping in the dirt was far from comfortable, she'd still make it home tomorrow with no more than a little dirt and sweat on her. When she did get back, she'd start a proper painting of the mineshaft's entrance. She could see the piece forming already, shadows against the sunlight. Dark evergreens and darker cave mouth, contrasted by the sun streaming down through breaks in the trees. She may have been a day's journey up a mountain, sleeping in the dirt, but in her mind, she was already painting, trying to capture that moment of surprise and exhilaration, the discovery of the unknown.

~~~

Fascinating... do you see the way she dreams? She has the soul of an artist and the spirit of a thespian! I mean, look at how the colors form together! That on top of everything... she traipsed right on through my subliminal aversion aura and headed straight for the entrance like she knew it was there, but nobody could fake the sense of surprise she felt on finding it! Truly, I've never seen one of their kind quite like this. It's almost a shame we must get rid of her.

Demons haunted her footsteps, wolves baying in the dark as she sprinted downwards, ever downwards. No time to turn around, she could hear them, slavering fangs snapping at her heels as she struggled to escape. Panic crashed through her as she desperately sought refuge, but found only the edge of a cliff-

She awoke from the nightmare with a start, heart pounding as the shrill threat followed her into the waking world. Hands shaking faintly in the dark, she scrabbled for her phone and sent a beam of light scattering across the roof of the cave. Her eyes darted, chasing shadows from their corners as she grabbed a more traditional flashlight and shone it down the cave's throat, only to find... nothing. Behind her, the nightlife wilderness made a quiet white noise: there was the familiar whoosh of the mountain wind in the pines, the occasional bird flitting through the branches, the shake and tumble of critters in the underbrush. Ahead of her, there was naught but cold stone, silent and empty, a wound hewn from obstinate rock that had never healed. With conscious effort, she mastered the panic biting at her heels, trying to remember. She'd dreamed of being hunted, dreamed of a monster in the dark, but with the waking, it seemed hazy and oh so far away. Already half forgotten, she struggled to remember anything at all, until nothing remained but the memory of her reaction, a fear-soaked stain upon her mind.

Leaving the shaft was out of the question. It was pitch black outside, and she was liable to fall and break something if she tried to hike down now. She had to wait until morning. Option two then, was to ignore the echoing sense of danger in her gut and go back to sleep... but what had woken her in the first place? Hands still shaking, she gathered her lights and aimed both forwards, into the empty stone. Was there some animal in here with her? She hadn't seen an obvious trail... but she was no wildlife expert. She needed to explore deeper, to be sure she was alone. There weren't any branches visible yet, maybe it wasn't very deep. If she found a forked path, she'd turn around and go back to the mouth.

With this justification in hand, she once again strode towards danger. It wasn't a conscious choice. She hadn't planned to pass the point of no return, hadn't planned to spend a night on the mountain, hadn't planned to go spelunking in mineshafts which already gripped the bones of the foolish in their depths. Her feet made the choices for her, it seemed, and by the time she stopped to question them, she was far enough along that it seemed a waste to turn back.

Even now, terror dripped into her mind. Every step forwards felt like a step towards a coiled rattlesnake, but step forwards she did. She had light on her side, and if there was danger here she'd rather find it awake than asleep. And yet her fears pulled on her, dragging on legs like floodwaters, urging her away from the mine, down and off the mountain. She turned a curve and found her first real sign of danger; bones, polished clean by scavengers and bleached by the sun, lay in a haphazard pile near the corner. Surely then, this was some beast's cave that she intruded upon, but something about the remnants of life didn't quite add up. She smelled no fur, no dark reek of decay, no miasma of death and hunger. More than that... she flipped her lights off just to be sure. If anything, she smelled... what was that? Jasmine? But laced with an almost minty sharpness... and was that light? Ever so faint, but in the absolute darkness of the cave, she was sure of it, a faint glow off the rocks up ahead. Bringing the light back up to be sure of her footing, she pressed forwards, with every instinct but one screaming to turn and run. That one last voice instead whispered, forwards. Seek. Find.

Moving closer, she was sure of her eyes; a pale blue glow, barely there at all, bouncing off the rocks around the next corner. It vanished whenever the lights were on, but in true darkness, she could see it just there, a wicked will'o'wisp beckoning deeper into the darkness. Her mind was blank with raw terror now, barely even able to form coherent thoughts as he body pushed forwards into the unknown. Fear churned like a whirlpool through her, but the faster it roiled, the harder and more resolute that innermost voice became. Forwards... Forwards. Her vision had darkened to tunnels as she finally reached that turn. Every nightmare known and not yet imagined waited just around that corner, but nothing short of an iron chain could keep her from it now. Beyond reason and madness both, she stepped forwards, and turned the corner to feast her eyes firsthand on manifest terror.

And there, she saw a man. He stood directly in the middle of the path arms crossed, with a look of mixed bewilderment and frustration on his face. She had no mind to glance at his clothes, she was too enraptured by that face. His skin seemed permanently bronzed by some distant sun, darker than any European and too light for African, but that face certainly wouldn't have fit anyone of Asian descent. He was clean-shaven, his gaunt, angular face framing eyes unlike any she'd seen before, save in her bathroom mirror. His eyes looked like cracked steel marbles, their surface gleaming an unnatural silver. In the center of each reflective globe sat a hole filled with blue fire, looking for all the world like it had burst outwards from within, a theme echoed by the myriad of valleys and cracks spreading outwards from that point of rupture. It had the effect of looking like a cracked coal, silver surface shattered to reveal the pale fire held within. She stared into his eyes, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she felt more than saw the image of a coiled snake, ready to strike.

"Your... your eyes..." She only managed that faint utterance before words failed her. Something twisted in her skull, and the world finished its slow descent into darkness with a dramatic downwards plunge. She was faintly aware of him catching her as mind collapsed inwards. She slipped deeper, past sleep into true unconsciousness, the sight of his glowing eyes haunted her, chasing her all the way down.

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