It’s been fifteen years. Fifteen years, four months and twelve days to be exact. And yet, this place still smells exactly the same. Salt from the sea, ash from the fire, and a metallic tang hangs in the air. The whole journey here, I tried to convince myself that returning would bring me closure. That it would allow me to move on from that fateful day. Now, as I stand in the rubble that was once the bustling market in the middle of town, I know that I was wrong. I should have stayed away. Not that I had much of a choice. At first, I was ecstatic to finally find another survivor of ‘The Shoreville Disaster’, that’s what the country called it. The years had been much kinder to him. I listened enraptured as he recounted how his path crossed with a traveling merchant as he fled the fires. How he was able to rapidly build a booming trade convoy under the tutelage of his adoptive master. When he asked me my story, I tactfully left out how I had fallen in with one of the many criminal organizations that polluted the underbelly of the capitol. Instead, I focused on my slow rise from guard to foot soldier, to my current position as a mercenary. Not quite as glamorous as his life, but I get by. It wasn’t until we met for a dinner at his estate a few days later that he revealed the true nature of our meeting. Apparently, he already knew of me and my current line of work. He wanted to hire me for a retrieval mission. He wanted me to go… back there. After that point, the conversation was a blur. Descriptions of what he wanted me to find. Possible locations in the town where it would have wound up. And my fee. We settled on an incredibly generous number, more than I could possibly refuse. I shake off the memories and try to focus on the task at hand. I start to sort through the rubble of the first possible location as I question whether this was really worth it. Even beyond the money, making a high-level connection like him is a huge opportunity for future contracts. Occasionally as I dig I stop to cast a simple location charm. I’ve never been super proficient in magic, but I’ve picked up a handful of tricks along the way. As I move from location to location, I realize why he sought me out. The destruction of the town was so thorough that without prior knowledge of the layout it would be impossible to pinpoint any one location. The day stretches on, and my sense of dread slowly increases. I had intentionally ordered the locations to search to avoid having to go near the Eastern District. To avoid going near the epicenter of where it all happened. The metallic scent grows the closer I get. My stomach turns, knowing that I’ll probably wind up having to get right into the thick of it. The last few locations are deep in the Eastern District. As I round a corner, I see it. The main road gives me a clear line of sight straight to the crater that replaced the handful of homes that were right in the path of the obelisk that wrought Shoreville’s end. The walls of the crater are too high to see inside, but the flickering lights emanating from it bounce off the temporary structures the townsfolk set up in an attempt to contain it. No one is really sure where it came from. The crater seems to imply that it fell from the sky. But the people that were closest to it swear that the ground sunk around it, revealing the black obelisk. Those that lived in its immediate vicinity were rightfully wary, especially those whose homes had been destroyed. It was almost a week before anyone noticed what was happening. But by then it was too late. It started simple. Strange fluxes in magical energies around the town. Easy enough to write off. Soon though, pets started disappearing. Then some children. It wasn’t until debris started moving toward the obelisk on its own that people realized what was happening. It was hungry. The attractive forces got stronger and stronger. By the time that the capitol city finally sent a group of mages to assist, the obelisk was strong enough to rip objects from people’s hands if they got too close. Building were starting to lean and crumble under the forces. All down into the crater, to be absorbed by the obelisk, never to be seen again. The containment field the mages set up still seems to be in place, because I don’t feel the forces that used to draw things inward. Unfortunately, the containment field was plan B. Their first thought to handle this thing was to destroy it. That’s when we learned that it could feel more than hunger. We made it mad. I shudder, pushing the memories of that night from my mind. I pick up the pace, searching more ruins before finally finding what I had been sent here to search. A scroll case, made of skymetal and covered in protective runes. I wasn’t told what was inside, and I didn’t ask. That’s the first thing you learn as a mercenary. Only ask for enough details to be able to complete the job. Despite the sun being mostly set, I push myself to make as much distance as possible before setting up camp. I’d rather set my tent up in the dark than have to see what used to be my home on the horizon. As I finally close my eyes, I plan all the ways I will spend my fee to drown and numb the pain.