Entry 3

The last time that James and I had crossed paths, he was living in that two-room farmhouse out past the wheat field to the east. His mother died the winter prior from some affliction or another, the kind that sends perfectly healthy people into fits of bloody coughing within days. His period of mourning lasted longer than was normal, but no souls in town were willing to confront him about it. He was completely alone, and every bit of responsibility that his mother once shouldered had now fallen upon his own. That kind of weight can't be healthy for a person in such a fragile state to handle. Apparently he thought the same thing, as he disappeared into thin air around mid-March. Whether he'd been kidnapped or simply ran off in the dead of night, Tresin did its best to forget about him. To the people who knew his pain, knew the emptiness that the town brought him, wherever he went had to have been better than here.

Which made me all the more confused as to why he had returned.

His footsteps were easy to follow; if not by the sound, then by the tracks. His boots left deep prints as he hurried towards some unknown goal, bobbing in and out of sight to avoid anyone from the market seeing him through the scattered alleyways leading back to the courtyard. I remember thinking to myself What is he so afraid of? No one here knows him, most of them are probably too focused on their next meal to bother with some stranger. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on me as I, a relative stranger, tailed him down a back alley.

I could tell that my stroll was reaching an end as James began to slow down, before stopping altogether, hovering over a small hatch set into a wooden frame on the ground. It leaned at an angle against the rear of the building that it lay situated behind, yet didn't look nearly the same age as the building. If the rotting wood and rusty hinges were anything to go off of, it was definitely older. Much older. Still keeping at a safe distance, out of sight behind a collapsed section of wall - likely left in a crumbled state by the previous occupants - I watched as he slipped a small key out of a pouch at his waist and carefully rotated it inside the lock. After what felt like hours of painstakingly slow lock maneuvers, a small click signaled success for James; easing the wooden hatch up and descending down a set of stairs, closing it behind him.

Luckily for me, the view I got of the hatch's other side didn't show any obvious internal locking mechanism. I moved out from behind the crumbled section of wall and arrived at the hatch, mentally preparing myself for whatever I might see down there. The whole situation felt weird, especially from James; and he was never an especially weird person. Something was going on, and I intended to find out.

Making sure to close the door behind me, I descended into the dark stairway. I had no clue how long it would be until I reached my destination, but it couldn't have been more than two minutes before a light shone from behind the stairs. My steps slowed and my breathing quieted as I tried my best to remain silent. Steadily, I reached the bottom of the stairs, and the source of the light I had seen from before became apparent. A candle, flickering brightly and wildly on a bedside table. James stood at the opposing wall with his arms crossed, passing his gaze quickly between me and the figure lying on the bed. My eyes followed his, and I immediately wished they hadn't. Today just isn't my day, is it?

But I already knew the answer to that thought before it finished. Then again, she seemed just as surprised as me.

"Phillip?"

"Mother?"