Quest: Ghost inside the Well
Location: Village of Drosfen
Villagers report hearing voices from their dry well at night. One child had gone missing. Find the child and Solve the mystery of ghost.
Reward: 120 silver + supplies
Note: Discretion preferred. Do not involve the Church.
–––
As they stepped into Drosfen village, Nyr wrinkled his nose.
"So this is Drosfen village... looks older than my grandpa," he muttered.
Nyr and Senna accepted the quest 'Ghost Inside the Well.' With Senna's help, Nyr was also able to get quest credit—only 5%, but it was enough for now.
The cobbled paths were uneven, and half the cottages leaned like they were too tired to stand upright. A cold mist curled around their boots, and even the birds seemed hesitant to sing.
Senna's eyes scanned the village. "And probably smells like him too."
Nyr mustered "Charming."
The well stood at the center of the village, cordoned off with wooden planks. It was deeper than it looked—too dark to see the bottom—and the air around it carried a strange chill.
A hunched figure approached them, an elder wrapped in moth-eaten shawls.
"You came for the ghost, did you?" he croaked.
"Then you'll need more than courage. That spirit was wronged, and wronged deep."
Nyr shot a strange look at the old man, who was muttering to the empty air beside him. Senna scoffed as she walked toward the well.
"Nyr, this is exact reason, why you shouldn't drink too much," she muttered.
Nyr flipped her off. "Go to hell."
They reached the well and began peering around it, as if expecting it to wink back.
Senna wrinkled her nose. "This place reeks of creep."
Nyr nodded solemnly, as if agreeing with a prophecy.
They exchanged a glance, shrugged in unison, and without further ceremony, began climbing down into the well—because obviously, that's what you do when a place screams bad idea.
Senna conjured a small flame in her palm, casting flickering light across the well's interior. They looked around carefully.
Nothing. No ghost. No missing child. Not even a half-hearted rat pretending to haunt the place.
Just silence.
Then they noticed something stranger—there wasn't a single plant, no moss, no crawling insects. The kind of emptiness that felt intentional.
Only dirt and rocks. And the unsettling sense that even decay had packed its bags and left.
Senna glanced at Nyr, the flame still dancing in her hand. "What should we do?"
Nyr scratched his head, squinting into the shadows as if they might change their minds.
"Umm… let's go talk to the villagers. Maybe the kid's family knows something we don't."
He didn't sound hopeful. But it beat staring at empty dirt and pretending it held answers.
Nyr and Senna jumped out of the well—no one could forget how strong they were, extremely so.
Nyr might be one of the stronger A-rank adventurers with his lightning element, and Senna could rival A-ranks as well, thanks to her powerful bloodline ability.
After climbing out of the well, Nyr and Senna dusted themselves off and made their way through the quiet village streets.
There were only two shops in all of Drosfen—and they were headed to the more lively one.
It was, of course, a bar.
The sign above the door was crooked, half-faded, and simply read: Ale & Things. The place was dim inside, warm with the smell of woodsmoke and stale hops. A few tired villagers sat at corner tables, murmuring over half-empty mugs.
The sun was already low, painting the wooden floor in strips of gold through the dusty windows. As they entered, heads turned—but no one spoke.
Senna walked up to the counter, her boots clicking on the boards. The shopkeeper—a grizzled man with one eye and a rag that never left his hand—looked up.
Before he could speak, Senna leaned in and asked calmly, "What do you know about the well?"
The shopkeeper squinted at her for a moment, then spoke in a low, measured voice.
"Are you... adventurers? Well, that old well's said to be as ancient as Thyrm—goes back to the 304th Hero's Era, or so the stories claim."
Senna and Nyr exchanged a glance, then turned their eyes back to the man, eyebrows raised.
"Isn't that a bit of an exaggeration?" Nyr asked flatly.
The shopkeeper shrugged, wiping the counter with a threadbare rag.
"Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is, it's been here longer than anyone can remember. Older than the first church bell. Older than the forest road."
Nyr tilted his head and looked at the shopkeeper. "What about the village and Thyrm? I think I've heard that name somewhere... Oh! Isn't it a city or something?"
Senna turned toward him slowly, stared for a beat, then covered her face with her palm.
"You really don't know about Thyrm, do you?"
Nyr nodded proudly, like a child who just tied his shoes for the first time. "Nope."
" I mean did you ever wonder why fox are called fox not wolf."
Senna let out a long, patient sigh. "Idiot."
She turned back to the shopkeeper, gesturing loosely. "Please. Just tell the idiot whatever it is he's trying to ask."
The shopkeeper snorted but didn't hide the amused smirk creeping across his face.
The shopkeeper leaned on the counter, his voice lowering slightly as he began.
"As the legend goes… back during the age of the 304th Hero, when he had risen to full glory and was locked in war with the Demon King of that era, something unexpected happened.
Thyrm, the Monarch of Giants—an SSS-rank being—took advantage of the chaos.
He betrayed the Hero and stole one of his most invaluable artifacts.
No one knows exactly what it was, only that it was powerful enough to spark a war between monarchs.
The Hero didn't take long to discover the theft. He chased Thyrm across the world—through mountains, deserts, even the skies.
But the giant was cunning. When he had nowhere left to run, Thyrm came here, to this very region… and took his own life to keep the artifact from falling into the Hero's hands. He sealed it with his death.
The site of his death became known as Thyrm's Reach—a place cursed and sacred both.
Originally, this village was Thyrm… but over the centuries, the name shifted. The growing city farther east took on the title of Thyrm's Reach, and this place was renamed Drosfen, mostly to be forgotten."
He looked between Nyr and Senna, his voice dropping to a hush.
"But some say the original seal... it's still here. Beneath our feet."