Entry 33: A deal broken

Dear Diary,
 
As we sat down for breakfast, it became clear that something was wrong with Alistan. His face was pale, and dark circles sat heavily beneath his eyes. He looked as though he hadn't slept well at all. It was the second night in a row that one of us had been plagued by nightmares. First Liliana, now him. Could it be a coincidence? I told myself it could be—the house was new, after all, full of strange sounds and creaky floors. But a nagging feeling gnawed at the back of my mind. Something wasn’t right.
 
For the time being, I pushed those thoughts aside. We had more pressing matters to deal with. As we finished our breakfast, Pim suddenly appeared, his wide eyes full of excitement. He informed us we had a visitor. Tharven Miller, the miller from Ravensfield who had recently taken over the windmill, had come with news. Apparently, while renovating the old windmill, they had uncovered a hidden cavern beneath the hill. And inside that cavern? A magic circle.
 
This grabbed our attention immediately. Intrigued, I grabbed a piece of cheese to eat on the way and motioned for the others to join me as we hurried to the site. The windmill loomed above us, its creaky old blades swaying slowly in the breeze. But it wasn’t the windmill that interested us—it was what lay beneath it.
 
Tharven led us to the entrance of the cavern, a narrow opening in the hill that we hadn’t noticed before. Inside, the air was thick with an odd tension, almost as if the very stones were holding their breath. At the heart of the small cavern stood three tall menhirs, ancient stone pillars carved with intricate runes. Between them was a magic circle, glowing faintly with a soft blue light.
 
As we approached, an eerie feeling washed over me. I knew these runes. They were almost identical to the ones we had seen at the DeLaRoost mansion in Hillfield. A chill crept up my spine as the memory of that place returned—of the strange magic, the lingering sense of something dark and dangerous beneath the surface.
 
We exchanged uneasy glances. Whatever we had stumbled upon here was no ordinary magical relic. This was something far older, far more sinister. The similarity between the two sites couldn’t be ignored, and a deep-seated dread settled over us as we inspected the circle more closely.
 
The discovery of recent offerings at the magic circle had already set me on edge, but seeing the tracks leading in and out of the cave without crossing the circle itself suggested that a villager—or someone from nearby—was secretly making offerings to a fey. My mind flashed back to the DeLaRoost family and the dark deal they had struck. Could this be something similar, transpiring right under our noses in our own territory?
 
Determined to get to the bottom of this, we decided to speak to the villagers, starting with Darrion Farrick. When we arrived at his farm, he greeted us warmly, as usual, but his demeanor quickly changed as we questioned him about the offerings at the circle. At first, he played dumb, feigning ignorance with an unconvincing smile. But as we pressed him, his agitation became more and more obvious. His answers grew evasive, and finally, he admitted to knowing about the offerings. However, he refused to say more, insisting we should simply forget about it.
 
His response made my suspicions flare. What could possibly make someone like Darrion, normally so friendly and forthcoming, clam up like that? As much as we pushed, it was clear we wouldn’t get more from him. Frustrated but determined, we headed to the next place on our list: the Royal Kennel.
 
Thomas Teller greeted us, clearly surprised by our sudden visit. We repeated our line of questioning, hoping for a different outcome. But the response was almost identical. Thomas, too, feigned ignorance at first, though he was far less adept at hiding his nervousness. When we mentioned the possibility of closing off the cavern, his distress became palpable. He stammered, shifted nervously, and glanced around as if expecting someone—or something—to overhear our conversation. Yet, like Darrion, he refused to say anything more.
 
It was then that a troubling thought crossed my mind. The way they both shut down at the mere mention of the magic circle, the fear and agitation that rippled through them—it wasn’t just fear of us. Could there be a geas, some kind of magical compulsion, preventing them from talking about it? A geas would explain why they seemed both desperate to speak and utterly incapable of doing so. If someone, or something, had bound them with such magic, it could mean that whatever we were dealing with was far more dangerous than we initially thought.
 
As we made our way back to the keep, my thoughts kept drifting to Liliana. Her strong reaction to the magic circle and her insistence on leaving it and the villagers alone was unusual. Normally, she’s level-headed, but this time, it felt different—almost personal. While I don’t think she’s hiding anything intentionally, her defensiveness over the situation in Neverhold is concerning. Could her loyalty to Neverhold be clouding her judgment?
 
I know she’s spent most of her life in service to Neverhold, far more time than she’s spent with any of us. Her brother, Alistan, is likely the only person she feels truly connected to. It’s understandable that she might feel more loyalty toward Neverhold than to Keralon or even Dogville. But if that’s the case, it could spell trouble for us in the future, especially if our goals or interests begin to clash with those of Neverhold. It’s something I’ll need to keep an eye on.
 
Once we reached the keep, we gathered to talk with Pim. Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t yield much new information. Pim, having lived in the keep for some time, was aware of the magic circle and the fact that villagers occasionally left offerings there as some sort of payment to the fey. But beyond that, he didn’t know who was responsible for the offerings or the reasons behind them.
 
The arrival of Darrion, Thomas, and Leen with the apple cake, claiming they wanted to "explain everything," immediately raised alarms in my mind. The situation reeked of some underhanded trick, and I wasn’t about to let us stumble into a fey pact just by eating dessert. When they refused to explain why we needed to eat the cake to hear their explanation, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
 
Reaching out with my mind, I probed their thoughts, searching for the truth they were so desperately trying to hide. It didn’t take long to uncover it. The people of Dogville had, generations ago, made a pact with a fey creature. In exchange for its help with the upkeep of the land, they offered food—essentially a tax in the form of offerings. The cake, made from ingredients grown with the fey’s assistance, was their attempt to bind us into this ancient agreement. By eating it, we would become part of the deal.
 
As soon as I grasped the truth, the effect was instantaneous and dramatic. The cake, once warm and inviting, began to rot and decay right before our eyes. The pact had been broken. Sharing the details of their fey bargain with outsiders, it seemed, was forbidden, and doing so had unraveled the deal.
 
While it seemed reckless to me that the terms of such a critical agreement could be so easily undone by something as uncontrollable as stray thoughts, I felt no regret for breaking it. The idea of being bound by a deal made by people long dead, and with a creature I hadn’t even met, didn’t sit well with me. The look of shock on the villagers' faces confirmed that they had never expected this outcome.
 
The moment the pact was broken, Darrion, Thomas, and Leen visibly deflated, their frustration clear. They hadn’t wanted this outcome, and I understood their concern. The fey had made their lands more fertile, ensuring good harvests in exchange for simple offerings. Now, with the deal broken, they feared the land might lose its bounty. I tried to reassure them, telling them that they no longer needed the fey’s help now that we were here to manage things. Still, their disappointment was palpable as they departed, uncertain about the future.
 
After they left, we decided to head back to the cavern to inspect the magic circle. Strangely, it remained untouched by the pact's dissolution, the runes still glowing faintly with power. That’s when the debate started. Gael and Liliana were deeply concerned about what might happen next. They feared that the fey, or even Neverhold, could retaliate for the broken agreement. Fey are unpredictable and dangerous, after all. But from what I knew about such deals, breaking them didn’t usually result in revenge—only the loss of whatever benefits the deal had offered.
 
Liliana, in particular, seemed passionate, arguing fiercely that it wasn’t our right to interfere with the villagers' agreements, especially with fey magic involved. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that her deep attachment to Neverhold was clouding her judgment. Yes, she had served them loyally for years, but her insistence on protecting their interests—even in the face of potential harm to the people of Dogville—was starting to trouble me.
 
In the end, I made it clear that, as the ones responsible for Dogville, it was our right—and duty—to guarantee the safety and well-being of its people. If that meant breaking dangerous deals with creatures like the fey, then so be it. Fey bargains are risky, and if Neverhold—or anyone else—wanted to punish us for protecting our people, then they were not the kind of allies worth keeping in the first place.
 
The tension between Liliana’s loyalty to Neverhold and the rest of us was becoming harder to ignore. This wasn’t just a disagreement—it felt like a deeper conflict brewing beneath the surface. If her heart truly lay with Neverhold, would she stand by us when things got difficult? Or would her loyalties pull her in a different direction?
 
For now, though, we had to focus on what to do about the cavern. Would we close it off, or wait and see if anything—or anyone—came through? Gael and Liliana remained cautious, but I couldn’t shake the sense that dealing with this now, on our terms, was the safer option. We couldn’t leave this hanging over our heads indefinitely.
 
As the sun began to sink behind the hills, casting long shadows across the ground, we made our decision: we’d spend the night at the cavern. Something had to come through the mysterious magic circle, right? It was the only way to find out what we were truly dealing with. Luke and Gael volunteered to head to Keralon, grabbing supplies and fresh food to replace what had been spoiled when we unknowingly broke the deal with the fey.
 
The day passed slowly. Everyone busied themselves in different ways. Luke and Gael set off for the city, while Alistan, trying to smooth things over, went to buy a dog from Thomas, hoping the gesture would help ease some of the tension after our awkward encounter with the villagers. I stayed behind at the keep, the quiet scratching of my quill on parchment the only sound as I focused on scribing a scroll for my brother. It felt strange to go about our day with this looming mystery hanging over us, but we all knew the night would bring answers—or, at the very least, something new.
 
When the stars began to twinkle in the darkening sky, we returned to the cavern. We settled in, tension buzzing between us, as the minutes ticked by. And then, just before midnight, it happened. The magic circle lit up, glowing with an eerie, pulsating energy.
 
A figure stepped through the shimmering portal—a summer eladrin, his golden skin radiant, like the very sun had blessed him. He was flanked by two redcaps, their twisted grins and bloodstained caps a sharp contrast to his elegance. The eladrin’s eyes swept over us, calm but piercing. “I hadn’t expected visitors,” he said smoothly, as if we were guests at a dinner party and not sitting on the edge of an ancient, fey-bound cavern.
 
He introduced himself as Gallaron and, with a flick of his wrist, got straight to the point. He was here to find out why the old deal, one that had lasted for generations, had suddenly been shattered. I stepped forward, and explained everything—how it had been an accident, how the villagers were never at fault. Gallaron listened intently, his expression unreadable, but I could feel the weight of his presence, like a storm cloud just waiting to break.
 
As soon as Gallaron mentioned offering a new deal to the villagers, the tension snapped like a bowstring. A heated argument broke out. The eladrin, with his calm but disappointed tone, explained that though the old deal had been broken, he was willing to negotiate a new one. I wasn’t having it. Not after what we’d seen and heard. Alistan and Luke stood firmly at my side, backing me up as we pushed against the idea. But, unsurprisingly, Liliana took Gallaron’s side, defending the fey and his intentions.
 
No matter how hard we argued, we were outmatched. The deal wasn’t something we could interfere with, not directly. Only those involved in the deal could know its details. In the end, Liliana and Gael decided they would go with Gallaron to negotiate on behalf of the villagers. I couldn’t help but feel frustrated as I watched them go. At least with Gael there, I had some hope he’d keep things fair. He was careful, and I trusted him to sniff out anything suspicious.
 
They returned some time later, their faces unreadable. When we pressed them for details, Liliana assured us that the deal was fine, but, of course, they couldn’t reveal anything specific. Typical fey trickery. For a brief moment, I considered diving into their minds, finding the truth for myself. But Gallaron was still there, his presence looming. I knew the risk—reading their thoughts would only escalate things, and I wasn’t ready to stir up more trouble with a powerful eladrin.
 
Before he left, Gallaron shared one last bit of information—a token of goodwill, he called it. The fey who ruled over these lands was named Quin, and he held court at the old church in the woods at noon on the dot. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A piece of the larger puzzle.
 
With that, Gallaron and his redcaps vanished into the night, leaving us to return to the keep, the weight of yet another fey deal settling uneasily on our shoulders.