For starters, Lea threw a brick, smashing the window of the house. Her heart beats faster as excitement grows, embracing the whispers of malice in her head.

  The lights turned on as footsteps came down. Lea closed her parasol and hid in a dark corner cast by the house. Her body trembles, watching the door open in anticipation.

  "Who?!", he got out, his face tense with annoyance and nervousness.

  He went out to check the surroundings... Lea took the chance to slip in, moving along the shadow. She quickly came into the kitchen, hiding in the darkness...

  =0=0=

  Dan is holding his right hand where the brick hit. He was sleeping early for tomorrow's work, so some rascal decided to throw. Muttering curses under his breath, he stepped further outside, looking left and right, squinting into the shadows.

  Inside, Lea’s breath was shallow, her ears ringing with the rhythm of her racing heart. The whispers urged her... strike now, bleed him...

  She clenched her fist tight enough that her nails dug into her palm, grounding herself. Not yet...

  She scanned the kitchen. Clutter on the counter, a knife rack glinting faintly in the moonlight. Her trembling fingers reached out, slowly sliding a small paring knife free. Its weight was insignificant, but in her hands, it pulsed with promise.

  The sound of Dan’s footsteps returned— slow, cautious, floorboards creaking as he stepped back into the house.

  "Damn kids… I’ll wring their necks.",he muttered, shutting the door behind him. He went for the light switch in the hallway, flooding it with a dim orange glow from an old mp.

  Lea pressed herself against the wall, just beyond the doorway of the kitchen, her shadow blending with the gloom. She could hear his breathing, uneven, irritated. Each second that passed stretched unbearably long, her bloodlust scratching at her sanity.

  Dan’s hand trailed across the wall as he made his way toward the kitchen. His footsteps grew louder, closer, the wood groaning beneath him.

  He stopped, "...Who’s there?"

  Dan’s voice trembled this time. The hair on his arms stood on end. He could feel something, even though he couldn’t see her.

  Lea’s eyes widened. She realized she was trembling, not from fear, but from excitement— anticipation so thick it almost spilled over into action.

  The whispers in her head screamed for her to lunge.

  But the malice within her smiled. Draw it out. Make him squirm.

  Dan lingered in the hallway, peering toward the kitchen. The silence pressing against his ears made his skin crawl.

  "…Must’ve been the damn kids.", he muttered, forcing a shaky ugh, "Not worth it… not worth it."

  He rubbed his sore hand and backed away from the kitchen. Instead of investigating further, he climbed the stairs in hurried, uneven steps, each creak echoing in the quiet house. The lights flicked off behind him, leaving the lower floor in darkness.

  Lea exhaled slowly, lips curling. Coward... It saved her the trouble of weaving around his watchful eyes.

  She followed. Every step was measured, each shadow wrapped around her like a cloak. Dan never looked back. He was too focused on reaching his bedroom, too intent on pretending nothing had happened.

  When his door finally shut, Lea waited. Five minutes. Ten. Then silence softened into the rhythm of sleep.

  She slipped inside.

  The room was dim, pale moonlight spilling through the cracked blinds. Dan y sprawled under his sheets, his breath uneven, still ced with nerves.

  Lea leaned close, not touching, her lips brushing the edge of his dreams. The whispers dripped like poison.

  Mockery came in full force.

  "You are guilty..."

  "Everyone knows what you did..."

  "How can you live with yourself?"

  Dan twitched in his sleep, face scrunching, muttering something incoherent. Sweat gathered at his brow. His breathing grew ragged, his body fighting shadows only he could see.

  Lea’s heart fluttered with delight. She stepped back, watching him writhe, the seed of fear pnted deep. One night would never be enough— no, this was the beginning.

  She turned toward the door, parasol in hand, her eyes gleaming with cruel satisfaction. And unconsciously, she came to the Rule of Malediction.

  Do harm, but stay out of reach.

  Like a curse, she must break him down over time, to sink him into further paranoia.

  With quiet footsteps, she left the room. But her ritual was not over. Throughout the house, she made minute changes to his house, turning decorations a little, putting things in different pces.

  She began in the living room. The picture frames on the wall—family photos, cheap ndscapes—were turned just slightly askew, crooked enough to catch the eye but never enough to seem accidental. On the coffee table, she shifted the magazines into a strange pattern: one upside down, another tucked half beneath the third. The remote control she pced behind the couch cushions, not hidden, but wrong.

  Especially the kitchen, she rearranged where he put his food and ingredients. The kitchen was a pyground. She yanked the fridge open and scoffed at its bnd disorder.

  Everything was tossed in carelessly, but not the right kind of careless. Lea began pulling items out and jamming them into pces they didn’t belong. Bread shoved into the vegetable drawer, half-crushed. She scattered his eggs loose among the shelves like a game, then tossed a half-empty bottle of sauce into the freezer just to amuse herself.

  Drawers came next. She yanked them open one by one, stirring their contents with restless fingers. Forks cttered in with spoons, knives left dangling half out of their tray. The junk drawer she dumped out entirely, scattering screws, tape, and receipts across the counter like spilled entrails.

  A letter opener she stuck point-first into the wooden surface, a mocking little fg.

  The hallway came next. Lea tugged the rug askew, leaving one corner folded under, then cracked open a small drawer by the shoe rack.

  Old letters and bills y inside. She shuffled them like cards, pcing envelopes out of order, sliding one into the back of the drawer that hadn’t belonged there.

  Upstairs, she didn’t need to enter his bedroom just yet, but temptation tugged at her. She resisted, for now, but instead opened the spare-room closet, shifting coats from one side to another, dropping a single shoe in the middle of the floor.

  Every act was minor, trivial, meaningless on its own. Yet each carried her scent, her will, her cruelty. When Dan saw these things ter, he would question not just his memory but his sanity.

  Was the frame already crooked? Did he forget to put the eggs away? Did he shuffle those papers himself?

  More and more, she indulged in the chaos she caused.

  After everything was done... Lea kicked the door open, making a loud noise... and she bolted, running away from the scene of the crime...

  =0=0=

  While the expedition was in preparation. Dawn was once again at her table, looking for more information on the gods and other divine entities.

  First, she listed the recognized orthodox gods. The Three Rings, God of Water, Goddess of Madness, God of Knowledge, The Blood God, The Light Seeker, The Sacred Fme. There was plenty of information about those gods.

  The Maker's followers, the Wondertainment Troupe, were a constant source of trouble for the Ryteline Kingdom. Corrupting people through theatrics and effects that drive people insane and desperate for more. So she compiled information about them first for the enigmatic gods.

  Then, the Goddess of Fortune, a widespread folk deity with many stories and names attributed to her. She does not believe that this is a true divine entity, but she included them just in case.

  The Steam Bat is one of the divine entities that has been spotted many times during the Second and Third Eras, but it is usually seen in Lacrosa, perched atop the highest tower. Dawn even saw it herself when she visited the city.

  The Tome of Light is one of the more enigmatic divine; some say it is a book tempting people with knowledge, yet always out of their reach, taunting people with half-hearted knowledge to the point of madness. The academics always discuss whether this being was something from the God of Knowledge or a separate entity altogether.

  She entertains the thought that Lady Keter might be the true form of the Tome of Light. But she shook her head, banishing that thought away.

  And the Chalk Princess, the newest divine entity who appeared near the end of the Third Era. Some say She might be the one responsible for the beginning of the Fourth Era with the sudden boom in technological progress. As a new god, She does not have temples or churches dedicated to Her, only cults scattered here and there, yet to be unified.

  She stared at the window; it was night already. Her gaze focused on the silver moon... should I include it? She thought to herself. Something tells her it was not that simple...

  But she did not include the moon.

  Looking down at her notes, she was suspicious of the being who performed a miracle at Sessora. She has little to no information about this being; perhaps it was a Pathstrider who did it.

  She remembers her first time visiting the Library, where there was a Log with the Path of Salvation. It was numbered '142', the final Log. Dawn had concluded that achieving the First Step is impossible for normal humans, 'Create a Miracle without external influence'.

  She will be able to investigate it in three weeks, and she hopes to receive something from the Lady of the Library. Lady Keter is quite a generous person.

  Dawn also debated whether the Chalk Princess was Charlotte the Heretic, due to the Era of that god's ascension. But being an Erudite, she knows the timing doesn't match up - someone from the beginning of the Third Era couldn't possibly take that long to become a god, especially the Mother of Mysticism.

  Then there is "Miss Mashhith"; Dawn isn't sure what that creature is. Thinking about it hurt her brain, like some sort of haze when she thinks about the other residents of the Library.

  Though there is one other being she wants to know about... The Admirer, even though Lady Keter mentioned it multiple times, when Dawn asked who The Admirer was, the Lady said to reach the Seventh Step.

  Being an Erudite, Lady Keter had warned Dawn repeatedly not to delve deep into the mystical side of the world. "Knowledge is poison and understanding is insanity". The whole reason why Lady Keter wants them to reach the Seventh Step is to endure the recoil from the information.

  Out of habit, Dawn began to work deep into the night.

  =0=0=

  Dan jolted awake at the violent sm of his front door. His heart lurched into his throat, blood roaring in his ears. For a moment, he thought it was thunder, but the silence that followed was too sharp, too heavy.

  He grabbed his nightstand mp in both hands, holding it clumsily like a weapon, and stumbled down the hallway. His chest heaved with each breath, the stairs creaking beneath his hurried steps.

  The sight that greeted him at the bottom froze him cold.

  His living room was wrecked. Pillows on the floor, rug folded and bunched, magazines spread open and bent.

  “What the…?”, His voice cracked, disbelief sour on his tongue.

  He turned to the kitchen, and dread curdled into nausea. The fridge hung wide open, cold air spilling into the room. Its contents were scattered in chaos—milk tipped over and dripping, eggs out of their carton and stacked in random spots, condiments jammed in at odd angles. A bottle of sauce, half-empty, sat in the freezer like a forgotten joke.

  Drawers gaped open. Utensils tangled together in the wrong pces, junk strewn across the counters. Screws, tape, and old receipts littered the surface as though someone had shaken his life out and left it to rot. The letter opener was stabbed point-first into the wood, crooked and mocking.

  Dan’s throat tightened. His eyes darted everywhere—shoes out of line in the hallway, papers spilled across the floor, corners of pages bent and torn. Nothing was taken… at least nothing obvious. But how could he even tell? The mess made it impossible to know.

  His breaths came ragged, short, too quick. He pressed his back against the wall, clutching at his hair with trembling hands.

  “Why… why would someone…?”, His voice was barely a whisper.

  It wasn’t theft, not that he could tell. Whoever had been here wanted him to see it. Every overturned cushion, every out-of-pce object was deliberate, purposeful.

  Dan’s gaze snapped toward the dark corners of the house, convinced eyes were still watching him. He couldn’t shake it, the sense that his home was no longer his own, that someone had crawled through it, spread themselves across it like a disease.

  He needed to contact the police right away.