My Fanfic Stash and Favorite online quests

One of the best indie games out there that were never appriciated enough was Cultist Simulator here is a Sı fic on this interesting mysterious universe

Words: 20k+

Link: https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/28584

https://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/across-history-cultist-simulator-self-insert.1133401/

https://forums.sufficientvelocity.com/threads/across-history-cultist-simulator-self-insert.125590/

(In which a young man is dragged across History into a world he has seen before and must explore the House of the Sun)

A New World and Old Time

I was walking the streets of Vienna, a smile on my lips as I breathed in the cool air. It was Christmas time, and I had talked to my parents and managed to get a day free on the streets of this city.

It was simply beautiful. I didn't understand the intricacies of architecture, but I could find joy in the sheer age of these buildings and how they stood the test of time.

I checked my red hoodie's pocket to ensure my phone was still there. I didn't expect it to be gone, but at this point, it was a habit to run a thumb across the back every few minutes.

I had some money in case I needed it, but I wasn't expecting to buy anything except maybe a cup of hot chocolate. My extended family had pointed out a reasonably good place to buy drinks the other day, and a warm drink was always lovely.

Making up my mind, I started heading towards that cafe. I was forced to double back and check street signs a few more times than I would admit when talking about this later, but I eventually managed to find my way.

Stepping inside, I smiled at how the heat caused my fingertips to tingle as I joined the small line that formed. A few minutes later, I spoke in halting German and, after exchanging some money, had a nice cup of hot chocolate.

I wasn't the best at German but knew enough to get by, even if casual conversation was difficult. Heading back outside, I sat at one of the tables and leaned back in the chair.

Taking a sip of the steaming drink, I coughed slightly. It was hot, and I tended to drink such things too fast. Taking in a breath of cold air, I set the drink down; a minute or two of cold air should have it warm instead of steaming hot.

Sticking my hands in my pockets, I found my gaze trailing over the people in the street when I noticed something. It was a figure dressed in brilliant magenta robes looking around in confusion. He seemed baffled and confused, so I picked up my drink and walked over. There was no reason why I couldn't offer a bit of help, even if he was somewhat weird.

"Hello, can I help you, sir?" I asked in German, to which he blinked up at me, seemingly noticing me only as I spoke to him. "ah, what day is it?" he asked in broken German.

"21st of December," I told him, and it was only at that moment that I noticed his hands, which he had carefully been keeping in his pockets, slipped out and were stained with a red fluid that looked like blood.

As the man snarled to himself and swore in a language I didn't know, French, maybe, I took steps back. I didn't know who he was, but talking to somebody who had blood on their hands was terrible news.

He then looked up at me, slowly backing away, and furrowed his brow in confusion before looking down at his hands. He then sighed, and as I turned around, I heard a strange noise that almost sounded like the fluttering of nascent wings, and everything went black.

I woke up to a dry mouth and a pain across my wrists. Blinking my eyes, I saw the magenta-robed main flipping through a well-worn book as he drew on my now bare chest.

"Please, I didn't do anything," I whimpered as I tried to free my wrists from the rope used to tie my hands to this chair. I didn't know all that much about ropework, but from how I was picking at them and it was working, I assumed he was likely not expecting to be working for long.

As his words in some older language sped up, I caught faint half-remembered words of Latin and sped up, trying to free my hands. I didn't know what the hell was going on, but I didn't want to get involved with some cultist.

As his voice peaked and he moved the elegant dagger just above my chest, I managed to free my hands. Stumbling to my feet, heedless of the dagger now drawing blood on my bare chest, I took a swing; while I was no fighter, I had a few inches on him, and so my fist took him in the face.

Stumbling back, he shouted in the earlier language he had sworn in and clenched his nose. I couldn't feel any pain in my chest from the dagger as I reached down and picked it up; lunging forward with it, I buried it in his ribs.

As his blood rushed out, I felt bile climb up my throat. My hands were stained, but the man, while injured, was not dead or incapacitated. He tried to wrestle the knife away from me as he shouted in what I suspected to be Latin.

We fought over the knife for what felt like hours but was likely only a few seconds, slicing up my arms while he was protected by his robes, but I managed to gain the upper hand and slam the dagger in his heart.

Twisting it sideways, bile rose in my throat as his warm lifeblood stained my bare chest, and the room seemed to swim around me. It was only as I pushed myself to my shaky feet and noticed that we were not in Veinna and heard the screams of people seeing the dead body that I realized something might be up with that cultist garb he was wearing.

The next few hours were a blur as the cops soon arrived, and I was hauled away still in a daze. One thing I did remember was throwing up my breakfast on one of the officer's shoes, which he did not like, and beyond the ones needed to haul me into the back of some old-timey car.

I simply lay slumped in the back seat, my arm and chest bandaged with my mind in a fog. I was broken out of it when an older fellow sat across the table I was cuffed to and sighed.

"Greetings," he said, a hint of compassion in his eyes as he removed his somewhat ridiculous hat. I had managed to connect a few of the clues on the drive over and was starting to think that I was no longer in Vienna or in 2022.

"Given that you are the victim, no charges will be pressed," he stated, causing me to look up and blink at him, confused. "I killed him, though?" I asked, my voice raspy, to which he waved his hand as if brushing that aside.

"Self-defense," he stated in a tone that told me the manner had been settled. "Now, do you know anything about the man?" he asked, leading me to close my eyes and think what I could remember about him.

"He seemed confused and spoke in another language, French and Latin, maybe?" I told him, causing him to nod as he scribbled that down in a little notebook. "Anything else?" he asked to which I shook my head no. He sighed in a manner that suggested he suspected such a thing.

"Very well then, you're free to go. I would recommend staying with a friend," he said, unlocking my handcuffs. I kept my mouth shut because mentioning that I was from another country or, even worse, another year was likely to end poorly.

The next few minutes were filled with the paperwork that involved signing me out, and soon enough, I was out on the streets wearing my sweatpants, sneakers, and nothing else.

The weather was cold, and I knew if I tried to stay out at night, I would likely end up dead. However, I didn't know anybody here in what I was coming to suspect was London.

Taking a deep breath of cold air, I closed my eyes; I would try to wander about for a bit and see if I could find a place to stay for the night. I wandered through the darkening streets of London, my fingers growing colder as my eyes and ears grew red, until I nearly ran into a woman closing up what appeared to be a bookstore.

She looked to be in her mid-fifties with her grey hair tied up in a bun. She wore a simple blouse and long skirt, both a drab grey and a pair of well-made glasses perched on her nose.

"Oh, dear," she said, shaking her head as she grabbed my numb hand, "Come inside, and I'll get you something warm to drink," she told me, too cold to argue. I stumbled after her and soon ended up nearly swallowed by a plush seat and drinking warm tea.

"Going by your dress, I assume you don't have anywhere to stay?" she asked as she took a sip from her cup of tea. My slowly warming hands were clasped around my tea.

"Yes," I told her, nearly inhaling the tea as the hot liquid traveled down my throat and into my stomach, where it warmed me from the inside. Smiling, I sank further into the seat as I watched the lady. I didn't think she would try anything, but I had already been attacked once today and bore the wounds to prove it, so I wanted to be safe.

"In light of that, I am willing to offer you a place to stay and some work until you are able to get on your feet," she said, setting down her tea cup with a soft clink as she looked me dead on.

I coughed slightly on my drink in response before thumping my hand on my chest twice to clear any leftover drink. "Why?" I asked, setting my own drink down.

She only smiled softly, "Why should I not help somebody if I am able? Besides, I am getting on in my years and could use some help," she told me, and I eyed her somewhat skeptically.

However, I didn't really have any other choice; I wasn't all that good at manual labor, and trying to get another job in London would likely not pan out well.

In addition, I was known to the cops. While it was unlikely they remembered me all that much about me, given how apathetic they seemed, I didn't want to be caught attempting to steal anything, which is very likely how I would end up if I refused her offer.

"Very well," I said, provoking a smile as she reached out a hand to seal the deal. "Morland," she said as we shook hands, a small smile curling up on her face. "Aidan, it is a pleasure, Ms. Morland," I replied.

"Now, let's get you settled in. You'll need a new shirt, and I do believe I have a few spares," she said, leading me upstairs. The next thirty minutes were spent with her, making sure I had enough clothes and ensuring what was clearly a long unused room was properly cleaned for me to sleep in.

"Now you'll eat with me in the morning. The shop opens at eight, and you'll be manning the counter. If somebody asks for me by name, just ring the bell. You'll close at eight, and then we will have dinner. You'll be paid every Sunday. Do you have any questions?" she rattled off, and when I shook my head, she nodded.

"Wonderful, now get some sleep. Tomorrow's going to be a busy day." She said before turning around and heading to her own room. Walking back inside my own small room, I closed the door behind me and sat down, dropping my head in my hands.

I was in what I assumed to be London very clearly, at least a hundred years in the past. There was some form of magic, given that the magenta-robed man had managed this entire deal in the first place.

I also had nothing from home except my sweatpants, shoes, and socks, given that the man had stolen my shirt, hoodie, and phone, which also held my money.

I didn't know how deep this magic went, but I needed to get a bit of money before I started poking around, and Ms. Morland was nice enough to give me a place to stay.

Unfortunately, I didn't have anything to jam under the door in this room, and I didn't think heading out to grab something for that purpose would be a good idea. That meant I would have to just sleep lightly so she wouldn't be able to jump me if she planned anything.

Crawling under the covers, I rolled so I faced the door and shut my eyes. I would need to get sleep tonight if I wanted to work well in the morning; however, sleep that night was hard to find.

Aidan, a man from a strange place and stranger time [You might be able to recruit this acquaintance as a follower.]

Officially in the Know

I woke up to a bed far too small for me. I had to carefully reach down beside my bed and scoop up my glasses. This prescription would be near impossible to get currently, and while I was not entirely blind without them, reading would be nigh-impossible, which, given that it was currently my job, would likely leave me thrown out.

Yawning, I put my shirt on and made a mental note that I would need to buy some pajamas and a few more pairs of clothes. The shirt may be slightly itchy compared to my pants, but I would need more than one pair of clothes.

Walking downstairs, I saw Ms. Morland reading a newspaper with two plates of food on the table. She looked up at me and seemed to make a few mental notes before nodding her head at the food.

"You'll need a shave and a trim tonight; head to the barbers a block down and tell him Morland sent you," she said in a tone that brokered no disobeyed so while I had been trying to grow out a proper mustache for almost half a year I nodded my head and sat down.

The food was good even if it was somewhat cold, it had eggs which I was not the biggest fan of, but complaining about food to Ms. Morland, who had taken me in, would be a very assholish thing to do, so I merely ate the food.

"Thank you, that was very good," I said truthfully; while I may have disliked the eggs, the rest of the food was good. "Thank you," Ms. Morland replied as she picked up her plate, with me following along.

We then placed it in what appeared to be a dishwasher, causing me to look at it closely. I had no clue when the dishwasher was invited, but given how the cars were, I would guess the early 1900s, which I thought was before the dishwasher; nonetheless, I would not be complaining.

"Now you have a half hour before you need to open, so I recommend getting familiar with the shelves. You may also read while there are no customers, but when they step inside, I expect to see the book put away," she said in that same no-nonsense tone, and just like before, when I nodded, her expression softened slightly as she patted me on the shoulder and moved passed me.

I then headed to the front of this house/store mix and started poking around the shelves. By the time eight rolled around, I was developing a slight headache but had managed to get a somewhat decent idea of where certain books were, as well as snagging a small book I could read while I waited.

My shift was twelve hours, and I was a fast reader, which meant I would likely need to snag more books, but until then, I would sit on the stool behind the counter and wait for people to come in.

That was how the first few hours passed. I had flipped the sign around to show that Morland's Shop was open, but nobody even gave it a passing look, so I buried myself in the book while still keeping an ear out for somebody else.

I eventually heard the small bell at the entrance tingle and quickly tucked the book under the counter. Walking up to the counter was a towering man with wrought iron muscles that looked like they could easily pop my head off.

"I wish to speak to a Morland," he said, to which I nodded and tapped the bell that rang gently, "Of course, sir, she'll be out soon," I said and looked up at him as he leaned back on his heels and folded his arms.

A few minutes later, Morland left the back rooms and gave me a slight nod, "Come on," she said to the massive man and jerked her head, directing her to follow him back, which he did.

Time then continued to pass, with a few people coming in and asking my help to find a few books, which I did my best to point out. Nobody else asked for Morland, and when I flipped the sign closed and locked the door, I saw Morland leaving a basement.

"I will be cooking dinner; when you get back from the barber, your food will be on the counter," she said, holding out a hand for the key which I placed in her hand. "Understood, Ms. Morland," I said, giving her a polite nod before heading out.

Thankfully, her directions were simple, and I found the barber in the middle of cutting a customer's hair. "One moment, sir!" the very thin and immaculately groomed man said as he made a few more cuts.

I sat down in one of the few chairs, and around twenty minutes later, money exchanged hands as the man in the chair left, seemingly content with his haircut.

"How can I help you, sir," the man said with a hard-to-place accent; however, I pushed that out of my mind. "I need a trim and shave, Ms. Morland sent me," I told him, feeling somewhat sheepish about not having money.

The man then laughed as he gestured for me to sit down, "Ah, Madame Morland, how is she doing," he asked as he got to work. I didn't quite like how close the sharp blades were getting to my face, but they wouldn't have all the implements I knew from the future here, so I pushed aside my discomfort.

"She is doing wonderful; took me in and offered me a job," I said truthfully. I may have a few suspicions about why she took me in, but that didn't mean I would voice them, especially not to a friend of hers.

"Ah, of course, she has always had an eye for talent," the man said, and after that was silence and the sound of a blade moving across my skin and a pair of scissors cutting.

Thankfully, the main was skilled, and my long hair was trimmed slightly with my mustache shorne off soon after. "Thank you, sir," I said to the man as he showed me my face in a mirror.

However, as I went to leave, he pressed a lock of hair into my hand. "A good luck charm; put it under your pillow," he said, to which I blinked before tucking it away.

"Of course, I need all the luck I can get," I told him, causing him to laugh and pat me on the back. "Don't we all," he said as I left. I didn't know this custom, and while it niggled at the back of my mind, I decided to do it.

There was no harm in it, and if magic was real here, then there was a chance this good luck charm was real. Walking the street over to Morland's Shop, I entered an empty main flow with a small meal sitting on the counter as she had promised.

I ate it quickly and placed the dish in the dishwasher before heading upstairs. It was only eight, but getting a full ten hours of sleep would help, so I got undressed down to my underwear before tucking the hair under my pillow. Laying down, I was fast asleep almost immediately.

That night, I dreamed a strange dream. I rooted in the soil of a deep and black woods. I was searching for something, but fat moths kept crawling out of my ears and down my throat as if to block my sight.

I coughed, and my hands kept digging until they were raw, and I shed my skin to dig anew as my old skin melted into newborn moths that fluttered off, and I seized the scrap of bark.

Reading the words on the bark, I saw and understood. I stood upright as I remembered fire and civilization. The moths fled my orifices as my hands were raw and red, and I awoke.

I shot up in my bed with my head swimming and coughing. Stumbling out of my bed, I looked around with blurry eyes. I didn't remember most of that dream, but I thought for the briefest moments I could see strings at the ends of my fingers and coiled around my limbs and faint readings about a loom that braided hair.

However, that memory faded like all dreams do, and I dropped back into my bed. I didn't know what the hell that was, but I was starting to guess; I didn't want to voice my thoughts because they sounded crazy. However, tomorrow morning, I will look around the shop for a few books on the occult, and if I am correct, I will find something.

Taking a deep breath, I laid back down and threw the cover over me. However, before I went back to bed, I reached under my pillow for my lock of hair and found it empty. Frowning, I fluffed my pillow and closed my eyes before drifting off.

Thankfully, I woke up what felt like a few minutes later with nothing waking me up but the sun rising outside the window. It was likely closer to six. I didn't know how to read time by the sun, but I could make a guess.

Getting dressed and ready for the day, I headed downstairs, seeing Morland like the day before, reading a paper and drinking tea from a cup. She looked up at me and hummed before returning to the paper.

I quickly ate the meal she had made, placing the dirty plate and silverware in the dishwasher. "Thank you, Ms. Morland," I said, receiving another hum as I walked past her.

Checking the clock as I entered the shop proper, I saw that it was nearing half past seven, which meant I had more time to peruse the shelves. Doing just that, I familiarized myself with where the books were, along with searching for perhaps other more occult books.

After a mere twenty minutes of perusing the shelves, I found a small book tucked away. It was plain, and the title was plain as well. Travelling at Night(Vol. 1) read the cover, but it caused my hands to shake.

Holding it in my hand, I nabbed another book to read; this one, however, was not of the occult variety. I didn't want to be seen reading Travelling by Night during work, so I tucked it under the desk before flipping the sign to open.

I would have liked to say the day passed quickly; however, it didn't. I was always bad at standing around, and while I had a chair to sit on and no clocks to stare out, it did seem like the hours dragged on.

Thankfully, while people did trickle in from time to time, there was nobody who wished to speak to Morland directly, and soon enough, I was closing and locking the door.

I then joined Morland for dinner after ensuring I had snuck Travelling by Night back to my room under the guise of removing my shoes, which was true but not the whole thing, and while I didn't like it, if what I suspected was true then my days staying here in this shop were likely numbered.

We were soon sitting down for dinner, and I ate it with the gratefulness of somebody receiving this for free. "Thank you, this is wonderful once again," I tell her, to which Ms. Morland smiles in that small way. I was coming to understand that's just how she smiled.

"Thank you. It is always good to have one's food appreciated," she said as we both stood up and cleaned the dishes. It was approaching nine, which gave me an hour to read the book I had smuggled upstairs, which, given its size, meant I should be able to do so easily.

Settling in my bed a few minutes later, I jammed the pillow where my back met my neck and cracked open the book. The first words I read caused my throat to tighten.

The Wood lies outside the walls of the Mansus. As any student of Histories knows, the Mansus has no walls. That was what was on the inside of the cover, and it set my heart thumping.

Flipping through the small book, it was easy to tell that it was less a proper book and more a collection of notes that had been gone over and annotated later.

However, it truly proved to me where I was, London 1920, in one of the five Histories. This was very bad; while from the comfort of home, I was fascinated by the lore and adored the game, the world itself was deadly.

This was not helped by the fact that I knew enough to immediately get my feet wet while not knowing enough to have all that many cheat codes. I knew, for example, about things like the Frangiclave or Teresa Galmier, but that knowledge didn't translate out of the game very well.

However, I didn't really have any recourse, but to keep moving forward, I wanted to head home someday, so I needed to climb the House of the Sun, and what better way to start than learning the basics of Moth?

I flipped the book open and started to read through it once again, this time keeping an eye open for the more Moth-touched phrases and passages.

It was hard because while Christopher Illopoly may be known as the only readable occultist, his dream journals were interspersed with ramblings and a fair few poems about The Baldomerian, who I knew to be Teresa Galmier, his lover and Name, and holder of perhaps the best romance in the world of Cultist Simulator.

Thankfully, I did manage to find the scrap that contained the usable information and slipped out of my bed. Creeping into the small bathroom in the hall, I retrieved the small pair of scissors I had found this morning and cut off a tiny bit of my hair.

Returning to my room after tucking the scissors away, I placed the book on the floor next to my bed with my glasses perched atop it. Tucking the hair under my pillow, I lay back under the covers and closed my eyes.

Christopher had described trying to dream your way into the Mansus as trying to think your way to love, but his notes provided a way to do just that; the trick was simply not to think.

Bury a lock of freshly cut hair under your pillow and let your thoughts flit about through your mind, and when you drift off, your mind will come to dwell outside the House of the Sun.

I awoke within the Woods, a smile on my lips; I was dreaming and was officially one of the Know even if I knew much much more. I moved through the trees, ducking low almost on all fours to avoid the birch-like branches from scrapping me up too bad.

I wandered through the Woods before stumbling across a massive rock which I knew of. It was the Temple of the Wheel the Hour that the Moth usupred from within and stole its skin. Walking closer, I could see that massive and jagged rock that served as a memorial for dead gods in much clearer light.

Walking around, it placed a hand on its cracked and weathered surface allowing them to split like wounds I stepped through. Standing inside this memorial with what I knew, I could hear the faint beating of a Heart before I awoke.

I shot up in bed, my heart in my chest moving a smidge bit faster as the door to my room opened slightly. Hopping out of bed with a smile on my face, I attempted to close my door to no avail.

I had explored the Woods without being devoured by the spirits that dwelled within or even gaining the attention of the Velvet, who no doubt would take notice of my many secrets.

However, my energy and the door in front of me refusing to close all the way showed that I had managed to pick up the base influences, and while I didn't remember their names, it proved I could successfully move forward.

With a smile on my lips, I headed downstairs with a faint pop in my step before almost tripping over my unlaced shoes. Knowing it would be futile to tie them before the influence faded, I kept moving, ready to start my third day in this world, just a bit more ready to face the world.

Seven New Words and a Single New Wound

Walking downstairs, I noticed that while breakfast was set out, Ms. Morland was absent. There wasn't anything I could do about that, so I quickly ate the food before washing the plate and silverware.

I then headed into the shop proper and checked the time. It was seven, meaning I had an entire hour to search for books in this place. I then did exactly that and spent almost all my time before I opened the shop searching for occult books.

I also made sure to tuck Travelling at Night back as while I doubted I put it back in the same place, having it not missing would prevent Ms. Morland from being suspicious that I read it and thinking that I merely moved it.

It was as I was looking through the shop I realized why it took so much time in the game; Morland had no sorting system I could decipher beyond a vague grouping, which, aside from making my job much more challenging, also made it near impossible to find the books I was looking for.

That was also not helped by the fact I didn't even know the exact books I was looking for. I knew that her shop should have a book on the basics of Lantern and Heart, two of the basics I would need to keep me mostly safe.

Lantern would allow me to ascend further into the House of the Sun and learn quickly, while Heart would keep me alive. Edge was also an option, but from what I remember, Edge was found on expeditions and the auction house, neither of which I could access.

So I kept searching, and just a few minutes before I would have to give up my search, I stumbled across The Locksmith's Dream, which was the series I needed. However, the book itself was called Portions and Proportions, and a quick skim through the first dozen pages revealed it to be Knock and not Lantern.

Tucking it under my arm, I quickly headed back towards the desk and put the book under the counter. I then flipped the sign and readied myself for another day of work; thankfully, by now, the Influence had faded enough to be unnoticeable.

The day chugged along in a manner that I suspected would be familiar, given a few more days. A handful of people trickled in and searched for mundane books, and when I could only point them in a vague direction, they left.

However, a few stayed and would emerge anywhere from a few minutes to over an hour later, holding a book in hand. They would then pay a fairly large sum of money for the book and leave happy. It seemed to work well for Morland as well as for me, given that while they were searching, I could read.

The book I had nabbed was Teresa's second work and was filled with musings and speculation, with a handful of dreams recorded. However, what was invaluable was the seven words recorded at the end.

Teresa admitted they were a crutch, and anybody who knew the Princpels well enough would be able to bypass saying the words about how they would serve until you learned further.

I cleared my throat and very carefully read them out loud, and when nothing happened, I frowned. It was then I was cut off by the bell ringing and had to return to helping customers.

I was unfortunately pulled away from my book for nearly an hour as a well-dressed man talked about what he wanted in exacting detail, and while I managed to find it for him, he was an ass which was annoying.

Thankfully, when he left, nobody else had come in while I was helping him, meaning I could return to the book. Flipping it open to the back once again, I very carefully and, over the course of a minute, spoke the seven words.

When I finished, I felt a bump against my rib and saw that the drawer next to me had opened. Closing it, I kept an eye on it as I recited the words again, and just as before, it opened.

I bit down on my tongue to restrain myself from cheering; last night, I may have proved that I was in this world I knew, but that was undercut by the dread of knowing the setting. This was magic; I had spoken seven words and opened a drawer.

I then continued practicing as hours flew by. My habit of butchering words that I had only read when I tried to speak both helped and hurt me. The words themself were not important so messing them up as I channeled the feeling would help in the long term and prevent any bad habits but in the short term, it would hinder any attempt at quick spellcasting. Thankfully, with this being the most basic of tricks, by the end of the day, I could open a nearby gently closed thing if given a dozen seconds and no stress.

Nothing major and not something I would likely use, but it was the very first step as well as allowing me to hopefully soon access the House of the Sun proper.

I didn't want to go trawling around in the Woods, given that Velvet made her home there. The secrets I held in my skull would likely see it split open and pulled out; me knowing things like where the Worms came from and that the Wheel still turned was a partial death sentence in certain cases.

Closing up shop, I returned to the small back section to see Ms. Morland waiting as she had yesterday hand outstretched for the keys. "Everything well?" she asked as I plopped them in her hand. "Yes, no issues today," I told her, provoking a hum in response as we both sat down at the table.

Tonight was a simple fare, a pork sandwich that had been lightly toasted on each side. It was delicious, and while even back home I had skipped a meal, I was very hungry tonight. Eating it as quickly as I could while still being polite, Ms. Morland and I had small talk.

I avoided any mention of the occult as while she was very likely to be involved in it, I didn't want to force her hand, so I simply spent the time talking about the people I served and the non-occult book I read, which was Sherlock Holmes.

I did enjoy those works ever since a few years ago when during a summer camp I had forgotten to bring enough books and so had borrowed a fellow campers collection of Sherlock Holmes stories and read them obsuisvly over the course of the two weeks.

Soon enough, we were both done and had cleaned up. She then placed a handful of coins in my hand. "Your first few day's wage, you'll get a full week's payment next week," she said before heading up the steps.

Very carefully, making sure not to spill a coin, I tucked the money away and headed back up to my room. Laying the coins out on the bed, I wracked my head to remember what the signage system was called.

Pounds, Shillings, and Pence, from what I remember. The coins I was going to assume were Shillings given that they are more silver; however, that was only a guess.

Nonetheless, having my own money was good, even if I didn't know how far a single Shilling would go. However, I didn't pay for anything currently, which meant I could save my money for when I needed it, like some new clothes,

I then very carefully removed my shirt and pants, leaving me in my underwear before climbing under the covers and rolling on my side to face the door. I then quickly drifted off into a deep and dreamless slumber.

I woke up once again and slid out of bed before heading into the bathroom. A quick shower, and I was ready for the day. Heading downstairs, I saw Ms. Morland reading the paper as she normally did while drinking tea.

I quickly ate before cleaning off my dishes and thanking her for breakfast. I then headed into the shop and returned The Locksmith's Dream back to its old spot as I searched around for another book.

I did manage to find one, but I couldn't even read the title or any of the words inside. However, based on a few things I faintly remembered, I guessed this book to be written in Latin, which only reaffirmed my desire to learn Lantern.

Learning a language could take years, and I was no polymath, meaning it would take months for me to learn even the basics. However, I speculated that Lantern's aspect of learning and knowing would allow me to bypass languages in the act of learning.

I did have to open shop at this point, which meant instead of progressing further in the Invisible Arts, I spent most of my days reading Sherlock Holmes and helping customers.

Unforantly, I was interrupted near the end of one of the cases by a fairly unpleasant shock. The same officer who had interrogated me was stepping inside the shop, a small frown on his face.

I quickly made sure everything was hidden before turning to face him. I hadn't noticed that day when he had talked to him due to my shock and my slumping, but I had almost half a foot on him, which I chalked up to time differences.

"How can I help you today, sir?" I asked, giving him a polite nod that he didn't bother to return as he looked around. "I'm looking for a fellow to talk to; he is tall and bald and has skin that is dark like coal," he replied in an even tone that had my heart pounding harder.

He was likely talking about the man who asked for Morland a few days ago, and given what I knew now, he was also likely a Forge disciple. However, I couldn't do anything except talk to this man and not get the possible occultist in enough trouble that he tracked me down.

"I think I do remember him," I said slowly, like I was dredging memories up. I was no expert liar, but as long as this man didn't know my tells, I should be able to get by.

The man merely nodded as I said that and pulled out a small pad of paper he started writing on. "I don't remember what he did; he simply looked around for a book and then left," I told him, giving him a helpless shrug even as I had to resist the urge to rub my chest as my heart pounded.

The man hummed low and deep in his throat before giving me a small nod and tucking his notebook away. "Thank you for that information," he said before turning around and leaving Morland's Shop.

I slumped back against the wall, my heart pounding in my chest. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice me, which was good, given that getting on the Suppression Bureau's bad side was a good way to end up in a cell for the rest of my life, and I didn't have any method to escape beyond running which would not get me far.

The rest of the day passed by like normal, and soon enough, I was eating dinner with Ms. Morland. We made small talk like usual, except she stopped when I mentioned the officer.

"He came in and asked about that man you talked to the other day," I told her, and when she raised an eyebrow, I rushed to explain, "I just said he looked for a book before leaving," I said, causing her to hum as she set down her knife and fork to pat me on the shoulder.

"Thank you, Aidan, that was good of you," she said before returning to her meal. Meanwhile, I was mentally wiping my forehead. I didn't want to get in trouble with my boss as that way lay poverty and dying on the streets, not even accounting for all the occult ways to die.

Soon, we both finished and, like normal, went our separate ways. Unfortunately, I didn't have any books to read before or study, and I didn't want to go rummaging around her shop this late, so I headed upstairs and, after getting undressed like normal, slipped under the covers, ready to sleep and have normal dreams.

I awoke in the Woods to my shock and almost immediately saw something step forth from the brush. I didn't know what it was, but I turned and bolted the branches from the tree scraping against my face and drawing thin red lines as blood welled up and dropped to the forest floor.

My bare feet slipped in the muck, and I barely caught myself as I looked up in search of Glory and found nothing. I didn't want to be caught by whatever that creature was, and while I could hear its wings beating, it seemed like it couldn't just swoop down and grab me.

Words slipped from my lips as I fumbled through the seven phrases. I needed a way out, and Knock might be able to provide it. Skidding to a stop, my eyes darted wildly about as more and more wing beats filled the air.

I reached down and grabbed a small rock from under the roots of a tree. My heart was pounding, but with great effort, I slowed my speech and spoke as I used the sharp rock to slash a Wound in the palm of my hand; I then tore a tuff of hair from my head and mixed the blood and hair.

The wounds on my face opened as well as I thought on the House of the Sun and how I had opened a door to leave. A wound was an open door, and I had just opened it with sacrifice and blood and change. I stood there, my heart pounding as blood pumped out of my hand, chest, and face as I prayed with seven words over and over as creatures kept a faint distance but with beady eyes locked on me.

I awoke with a bloody wound carved into my hand, and I knew that this wound would not heal. Perhaps in a few months, it would close somewhat, or I could scar it over with Edge lessons, but I had spilt blood and freshly shorn hair in the Woods.

That sort of expression had power, and while it had allowed me to escape with my mind untouched from what I suspected was a minor creature of the Velvet, it had also marked me with Knock; this wound would serve as a tool to channel Knock, but at the same time, it was a wound and would impede me.

Clambering out of bed, I shuffled into the bathroom, holding my left hand to my chest before fumbling around and managing to find a bandage. Wrapping it tight around my hand, I made sure that it wouldn't come loose before heading back to my room.

While I could use the sleep sitting down in my bed, I knew that sleep would not come that night, and as I stayed lying down in my bed, eyes wide open, and sleepness not clouding my mind, I was proven right, I didn't get a wink of sleep that night.