Clutching the wicked little trowel in one hand, Jace checked his map again, tracing the spidery lines of the hedge corridors he'd charted. Then he set off once more, sandals slapping softly against the grass. Naked except for footwear and a murder-gardener's trowel, he was painfully aware of just how careful he needed to be about where he held the thing.
Eventually, the hedges opened onto something new: a well. It sat in the middle of a clearing, a squat circle of uneven bricks. The mortar between them was cracked and crumbling, weathered by years of neglect. Above it stood a wooden crank and bucket, equally worn, the wood gray and splintered with age.
Jace stopped to stare at it, tilting his head. For all the bizarre creatures and sinister loot he'd stumbled across so far, this was almost quaint. Picturesque, even—the kind of rustic feature someone might add as a centerpiece for their hedge maze to impress guests at garden parties.
Of course, in this place, that probably meant it would try to eat him.
Quest: [Stranger in a Strange Land]
Objective complete: Explore the hedge maze (1/1)
[Simple Pants] have been added to your inventory
Quest complete
Reward: 100 [Iron Spirit Coins] have been added to your inventory
Jace punched the air in triumph. "Finally!"
He summoned his new prize from his inventory, and in his hands appeared a pair of trousers. Well, "trousers" was generous. The fabric was plain white linen, soft and airy, with wide legs that ballooned out like sails. The crotch sagged low, dangerously close to knee level, cinched at the waist with a simple drawstring.
Jace held them up, grimaced, and muttered, "These look like if a Mennonite tried to reinvent hammer pants. Did I wake up in 1991 rural Pennsylvania?"
Fashion crisis aside, pants were pants. He stepped into them, tugging the drawstring tight. After a few experimental strides, he realized they were roomy enough that walking around didn't feel much different than his previous state of absolute nudity—just with the added benefit of not flashing anyone who happened to wander by.
He glanced skyward. "So… do I get a quest for some boxers? Maybe a shirt? Socks? Anything?"
He waited in silence for a few seconds, hopeful. No glowing window appeared.
"Worth a try."
Jace let out a resigned sigh and looked down at himself. The pants were pristine for all of thirty seconds before immediately absorbing the mess he carried with him. The fabric blotted with drying blood and smeared patches of yellow ointment, a tie-dye of survival. Still, they were pants, and pants were progress.
With his most pressing concern—nudity—at least partially solved, Jace finally allowed himself to think about his broader situation. He lowered himself onto the crumbling stone lip of the well and stared into the distance, chewing over the impossible chain of events that had brought him here.
There were only two plausible explanations, neither of them comforting. Option one: his brain had turned traitor. Concussion, psychotic break, hallucinogens slipped into his food—whatever the cause, his mind had divorced itself from reality. That would mean none of this was real: the monsters, the coins, the quests. Just fragments of his subconscious playing dress-up with his perception.
Option two: it was all real, which meant reality itself was fundamentally different than he had ever believed. Magic, quests, monster loot—all of it existed, and his most basic understanding of the world was somewhere between incomplete and catastrophically wrong.
Neither answer gave him much comfort.
Jace rubbed at his face and let out a slow exhale. He had to admit, the "I'm just crazy" option had its appeal. It was cleaner, easier. But he didn't feel like his mind was fractured. His thoughts were clear, focused. His memory intact. He wasn't skipping time or slipping into dreamlike hazes. His ability to reason remained intact, and he was painfully aware of every detail, every inconsistency. Of course, he also knew next to nothing about mental illness. For all he understood, this could be exactly what crazy felt like from the inside.
Still, the "brain broke" theory had one advantage: it didn't demand he rewrite the rules of the universe. The downside was obvious—if this was real and he treated it like a hallucination, he wouldn't survive long.
Jace drew in a deep, steadying breath, centering himself. "Alright," he muttered. "Whichever way it is, the only real option is to keep moving."
And so, pants and all, he pushed forward.
"Alright, Jace," he muttered to himself, squaring his shoulders. "What's next?"
Sooner or later, he would need to figure out a way out of this cursed hedge maze. But the fact that his quest had ended the moment he reached the well meant the thing wasn't just a decorative centerpiece. If this place had taught him anything, it was that rustic garden features probably came with strings attached—and sharp teeth somewhere.
He started with a cautious inspection of the structure. The wooden frame was simple, capped with a little peaked roof to protect it from the weather. A crank and rope hung from the crossbeam, with a battered bucket dangling from the end. Both rope and bucket had seen better days—the rope frayed and stiff with age, the bucket warped and blackened with rot. Jace tugged lightly at the rope, and it creaked ominously in protest.
The brickwork wasn't any more reassuring. He ran a hand across the lip of the well and watched as flecks of mortar crumbled away beneath his touch. The whole thing looked like it might collapse if someone leaned too hard against it. Picturesque from a distance, but up close it was the kind of rustic charm that came with tetanus.
Still, curiosity got the better of him. Jace leaned over the edge and peered down. Instead of a dark, featureless hole, he spotted iron rungs set into the inner wall of the well, forming a ladder that descended straight into blackness.
And right on cue, a new glowing window appeared.
New Quest: [Secrets of the Well]
You have discovered a ladder descending into the well. Do you have the courage to explore the depths?
Objective: Explore the well (0/1)
Reward: Awakening Stone
Bonus Objective: Don't die (0/1)
Reward: Essence
Jace blinked at the text, then scowled. "Don't die? That's not a quest objective, that's basic advice. Next you'll be telling me to keep breathing and avoid juggling chainsaws."
He shook his head firmly. "Bugger that."
The interface shimmered, offering an option.
Reject quest [Secrets of the Well]?
Jace's finger hovered, ready to decline, when the faint murmur of voices drifted through the hedge maze. He froze, heart lurching. The sound was close—too close.
I followed the lingering aura of the mandrake that stole my trowel," a harsh, gravelly voice muttered. "By the time I got there, someone had already slain the creature—and my trowel was nowhere to be found."
"Think it was those adventurers we captured earlier?" another man asked, his tone casual, almost curious.
"I don't care who it was," the first one growled. "Whoever's responsible, I'll gut them, roast them, and feast on their flesh."
"I was hoping to get a taste of that elf girl," the second man said with a chuckle. "But the mistress insists they're all to be kept for the sacrifice. Bloody waste, if you ask me."
"Elf meat's not worth the trouble," the first voice replied dismissively. "Skinny things, stringy meat, nothing worth chewing. That human girl, now—she's the prize. Lean, tender… perfect eating."
"Can't say I agree, Dougall. She looked wiry, like she'd put up a fight. And humans are common fare. I just want something different for once, you know?"
"Well, it doesn't matter what you want. This batch is reserved."
Jace, crouched low behind the stone lip of the well, held his breath until the sound of their footsteps and voices drifted away into the dark. Only then did he dare to exhale, his heart pounding in his ears. He tried to ignore the fact that they had mentioned elves at all, because the far more pressing horror was how casually they weighed the merits of eating people, as though it were nothing more than a debate over cuts of meat at a butcher's shop.
Cannibals?He gave the situation a moment's thought. Under normal circumstances, cannibals would rank right at the very top of the "things that are unhinged and need avoiding" list. But considering the bizarre parade of horrors he had already endured today, they almost felt like a familiar brand of nightmare—terrifying, yes, but at least recognizable.
He mulled it over while gripping the edge of the well and lowering himself onto the first rung. What kind of deranged madhouse have I landed in?
Jace wasn't exactly thrilled about his choices. A quest with the sole objective of "don't die" was already less than inspiring, but stumbling blindly through a maze patrolled by people who debated the texture of elf flesh struck him as even worse. What was his plan supposed to be? Fend them off with their own missing trowel? There were two of them, both larger and meaner-looking than that tyrannical pheasant he'd barely survived earlier. And that bird, monstrous though it had been, still didn't stand taller than his waist. Yet even then it had managed to draw blood with its vicious pecks. He'd had no weapon at the time, just pure desperation, forcing him to scramble behind it, lock his arms around its feathery throat, and—quite literally—choke the chicken into submission.
The memory wasn't encouraging.