The heavy wooden door groaned softly as it opened, its hinges sounding deliberate rather than neglected, as though the tavern itself had been waiting for someone to enter.
The adventurers stepped inside one by one, shaking rainwater from jackets and bags, and were immediately greeted by warmth; not from heat, but from atmosphere. The interior of the tavern was clean and orderly, yet unmistakably lived-in. It didn’t feel like a staged set piece. It felt like someone had simply stepped out for a moment and forgotten to return.
A large stone fireplace dominated the first floor, its hearth wide enough that several people could easily gather around it. The stones were darkened with soot, and a stack of split firewood sat neatly arranged beside it, ready for use. The scent of old smoke lingered faintly in the air, mixed with the comforting smell of aged wood and something faintly herbal that Kyrie couldn’t quite place.
Behind the long wooden bar, a pair of swinging doors led toward the kitchen, their surfaces marked with faint scratches and wear from long use. A second door further back led outside toward the shed, barn, and woodpile; the dark world beyond the tavern walls.
Kyrie’s eyes were drawn upward almost immediately.
Mounted above the fireplace on the second-floor balcony hung a large, ornate clock. It was framed in dark carved wood, intricate and almost baroque in its design. Instead of numbers, strange astrological symbols marked near the hours: constellations, unfamiliar sigils, and small etched phases of the moon.
But what stood out most was that the hands weren’t moving. The clock read five minutes to twelve. Kyrie frowned slightly. It was already seven in the evening.
She watched for a moment, expecting the hands to shift forward… but they didn’t. No ticking. No subtle movement. Just stillness, like time itself had been paused.
“Is that part of the puzzle?” Phillip asked quietly, following her gaze upward.
“Or just broken?” Alicia replied, though she didn’t sound convinced.
The walls surrounding them were crowded with decor. Strange beasts were mounted between beams and lantern sconces; creatures that looked unnervingly real, yet entirely unnatural. One resembled a wolf with branching antlers. Another looked vaguely feline, though its elongated jaw and layered rows of teeth made that comparison unsettling at best. A bird-like creature with leathery wings perched above one doorway, its glass eyes seeming almost watchful in the dim light filtering through the windows.
None of them looked artificial. None of them looked like anything Kyrie recognized.
Between the creatures hung coats of arms, painted shields, and crossed weapons: swords, spears, and even a few implements Kyrie couldn’t quite identify. Several oil paintings dotted the walls as well, depicting landscapes, battles, and figures dressed in clothing that leaned heavily into fantasy: knights, travelers, and cloaked figures standing beneath unfamiliar skies.
“Okay… they went all out,” Amanda murmured quietly.
“Yeah,” Casey agreed, scanning the room carefully. “This is either extremely committed… or extremely weird.”
The wooden tables and leather-backed chairs were arranged near the fireplace, positioned to invite conversation and warmth. The mantle itself was unusual: a wide stone shelf that wrapped around the corner of the fireplace and extended seamlessly into the bar area on the other side. The craftsmanship was impressive, the stone smoothed and polished by years of use.
Several bottles rested along the mantle; half-consumed, their corks still loosely set in place. They appeared to be of decent quality, not cheap novelty props. A few glasses sat nearby, one of them with faint residue still clinging to the bottom as though someone had set it down mid-drink.
Phillip leaned closer, eyebrows lifting. “Are… are those actually open?”
“Probably part of the experience,” Alicia said, though her voice carried a hint of uncertainty.
Above them, a staircase led up to a balcony overlooking the common room. The railing was solid wood, worn smooth where hands had likely rested over time. A single door led off from the balcony into a hallway beyond.
Curiosity pulled the group upward soon enough.
The second floor opened into a narrow corridor lined with six heavy wooden doors. Each had a parchment tacked neatly to it, the paper aged to match the rest of the tavern’s aesthetic. Written in careful ink were the guests’ names, assigning each room.
Phillip & Alicia
David & Erica
Patrick & Jennifer
Amanda & Casey
Kyrie & Mark
Kyrie paused when she saw her own door. For a moment, something in her chest tightened.
Mark had been excited about this trip. More excited than she had, honestly. He’d been the one to find the listing, the one who convinced her to take the time off, the one who joked about finally getting to live inside a fantasy novel for a weekend. Work emergency, he’d said. Last minute. Nothing he could do.
She stared at the parchment for a moment longer before quietly exhaling and moving on.
The final door remained unassigned, its parchment blank.
Downstairs again, Kyrie noticed the lighting situation more clearly. Lantern mounts lined the walls, each holding a simple metal frame designed for candles. A small supply of unlit candles rested in trays nearby, ready for use.
With the trees pressing close outside and no electricity to push back the darkness, night here would be… different. The tavern would be illuminated only by flickering candlelight and the glow of the fireplaces. Darker than most of them had likely ever experienced.
Kyrie glanced toward the windows. Even now, the drizzle and forest had already begun dimming the outside world. By full nightfall, the woods beyond the glass would probably become a solid wall of black.
Her eyes drifted back up toward the clock. Still five minutes to twelve. Still unmoving. And for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, that bothered her more than anything else in the room.