East London's streets flowed past Marvin's window in a kaleidoscope of brick and neon. Compared to Phillip's pristine Kensington neighborhood, this area seemed to wear its history like a well-loved garment—comfortable, slightly frayed at the edges, but undeniably authentic. Marvin pressed his nose against the glass, fogging it with his breath as he scanned every alleyway and courtyard for potential magical significance.

  "Approaching thin place," he muttered, making a note in his journal as they passed an ancient-looking pub with lanterns that cast pools of amber light across the cobblestones. He felt it in his bones—London was practically vibrating with dimensional potential.

  The driver, who had maintained a diplomatic silence after Marvin's ten-minute explanation of how traffic patterns might correspond to ley line configurations, finally spoke. "We're nearly there, sir. Just a few more minutes."

  "Perfect," Marvin replied without looking away from the window. "That gives me time to attune myself to the local magical frequency." He closed his eyes and began humming softly, occasionally interrupting himself to mumble what sounded like fabricated Latin.

  The driver's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, then quickly back to the road.

  Soon they pulled up alongside a small park nestled between Victorian-era buildings. A wrought-iron fence surrounded the modest green space, its gate bearing a simple plaque that read "St. Mary's Garden – Est. 1843."

  "This is it, sir," the driver announced, relief evident in his voice. "The address from your envelope."

  Marvin surveyed the scene with the careful assessment of an adventurer approaching a dungeon entrance. The park appeared empty except for a solitary figure sitting on a bench near the gate. As instructed in Phillip's envelope, the person wore a blue scarf.

  "The NPC awaits," Marvin declared, gathering his backpack. He handed the driver a generous tip. "Thank you, fellow traveler. May the roads rise to meet you and the wind be always at your back."

  "Right. Enjoy your... game, sir." The driver accepted the money with a bemused nod.

  Marvin stepped out of the car and approached the park entrance with purposeful strides, adjusting his cloak so it billowed dramatically behind him. The figure on the bench—a thin man with a neatly trimmed beard and wire-rimmed glasses—watched his approach with increasingly wide eyes.

  "Hail, guardian of the gate," Marvin called out while still several yards away. "I seek passage to the Realm of Enchantment."

  The man stood, straightening his blue scarf. "Ah, you must be Marvin Preston." His accent had the crisp cadence of university education. "I'm Dr. Harrison. I'll be your guide for the evening's... experience."

  "Doctor Harrison," Marvin repeated with knowing emphasis. "A scholar of the arcane arts, no doubt."

  "I have a PhD in Medieval Literature, actually," Dr. Harrison replied, extending his hand.

  Marvin grasped it firmly. "The ancient texts hold many secrets. The boundary between fiction and reality is thinner than most realize."

  "Indeed," Dr. Harrison said carefully, seeming to reassess the situation. "Your brother mentioned you were... enthusiastic about fantasy gaming."

  "I've been training my whole life for this moment," Marvin confirmed solemnly.

  Dr. Harrison cleared his throat. "Right. Well, before we begin, I should explain the basic parameters of tonight's experience. The Realm of Enchantment is an immersive adventure designed to—"

  "Say no more," Marvin interrupted, holding up a hand. "I prefer to experience the gameplay without spoilers. I trust the LARP mechanics will become clear as we proceed."

  "Certainly, but there are safety protocols we should review—"

  "A true adventurer embraces risk," Marvin declared. "Lead on, good doctor. The night grows no younger."

  Dr. Harrison sighed, his expression suggesting this wasn't how his orientation speeches typically progressed. "Very well. Let's walk through the park, and I'll explain as we go."

  They entered the garden, following a winding path that meandered between flowering shrubs and ancient oak trees. Marvin noted with approval that the setting was appropriately atmospheric—the evening mist curling around their ankles, the distant sounds of London traffic muffled by the park's greenery.

  "Our company creates personalized adventures," Dr. Harrison explained as they walked. "Based on your brother's description of your interests, we've crafted a scenario involving magical portals, hidden worlds, and ancient prophecies."

  "Phillip has surprising insight," Marvin nodded appreciatively.

  "Your role will be that of a traveler from another realm who discovers..."

  Marvin's attention drifted as Dr. Harrison outlined what was clearly a simplified version of dimensional theory. Instead, he focused on the subtle vibrations he felt beneath his feet. This park had power—he was certain of it. Perhaps this LARP had been organized in this location precisely because it was a thin place?

  They rounded a bend in the path, and Dr. Harrison's voice suddenly faded from Marvin's awareness. Ahead, half-hidden by the mist, stood a perfect circle of mushrooms—their white caps gleaming in the fading light.

  "A fairy ring," Marvin whispered, interrupting whatever Dr. Harrison had been saying. "And an active one, by the look of it."

  Dr. Harrison followed his gaze. "Ah, yes. That's actually one of our set pieces for tonight's—"

  "Not now, doctor," Marvin said, raising a hand as he approached the ring reverently. "I need to document this."

  He knelt beside the mushroom circle and pulled out his journal, making rapid notes and sketches. "Perfect formation... approximately six feet in diameter... species appears to be Marasmius oreades... significant electromagnetic variance detected..."

  Dr. Harrison hovered uncertainly. "Mr. Preston, we should really continue with the orientation. The other actors are waiting at the—"

  "Other actors? Of course," Marvin nodded without looking up. "Don't worry, I'll catch up. I just need to finish these measurements."

  "I'm not supposed to leave participants unattended," Dr. Harrison objected.

  "Five minutes," Marvin promised. "Scientific documentation waits for no man."

  Dr. Harrison checked his watch, clearly torn between protocol and practicality. "Very well. Five minutes. There's a pavilion just beyond those trees where the rest of the group is gathered. Please join us there directly."

  "You have my word as a level twenty paladin," Marvin assured him.

  With one last uncertain look, Dr. Harrison continued down the path, disappearing into the mist that had grown noticeably thicker around them.

  The moment he was alone, Marvin closed his journal and stared intently at the fairy ring. "Finally," he murmured. "A chance to test my theories without Phillip's skepticism."

  He traced the circumference of the mushroom circle with his finger, careful not to disturb any of the delicate caps. According to his research, fairy rings represented natural weak points in the dimensional fabric—places where the boundaries between worlds grew thin enough to traverse under the right conditions.

  "The question is," he whispered to himself, "what are the right conditions?"

  In countless folktales, travelers crossed into the fairy realm by stepping into the ring at midnight, or during a full moon, or while speaking certain words of power. Marvin checked his watch: 8:17 PM. Not midnight. He looked up at the sky, but London's light pollution made it impossible to determine the moon's phase.

  "Words of power it is, then," he decided.

  Marvin stood and reached into his backpack, retrieving a small notebook entirely separate from his research journal. This one was labeled "Incantations & Evocations (Theoretical)." He flipped through pages of carefully transcribed phrases in languages ranging from Latin to Gaelic to what appeared to be his own invented tongue.

  "Ah, perfect," he said, stopping at a dog-eared page. "Celtic boundary-crossing invocation, ninth century, translated from the Book of Kells."

  Marvin cleared his throat, straightened his posture, and began reading aloud: "Tairsigh idir domhan, oscail do bhealach. Crann, carraig, agus tobar, trí gheatai na ríochta sí..."

  His pronunciation was enthusiastic if not entirely accurate. The mist swirled more thickly around the fairy ring, though this could have been a natural effect of the evening breeze. Marvin continued reciting, his voice growing more confident with each syllable.

  Just as he reached the final line of the incantation, a sound from behind startled him—footsteps, moving quickly. Before he could turn, a rough voice barked, "Hand over your wallet and phone, mate."

  Marvin pivoted slowly to find himself facing two men in hooded sweatshirts. The shorter one held a knife that glinted dully in the fading light.

  "Impressive character introduction," Marvin remarked, looking between them with genuine admiration. "Very immersive. The threatening posture is excellent—just the right balance of intimidation and urban authenticity."

  The two men exchanged confused glances.

  "What're you on about?" the taller one demanded. "I said wallet and phone. Now."

  "Oh, I see," Marvin nodded understandingly. "You're highwaymen. Classic fantasy trope, though usually they're on actual highways." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting modern adaptation. Very urban fantasy."

  "Is this guy mental?" the shorter one asked his companion, knife still extended.

  "Must be," the taller one replied. He turned back to Marvin. "Listen, weirdo, we're not playing. Empty your pockets or get stabbed. Simple."

  "Ah, no breaking character. Commendable dedication to the craft." Marvin beamed at them approvingly. "Let me play along."

  With theatrical slowness, Marvin reached into his cloak pocket and withdrew his wallet. "My meager traveler's purse, good sirs. Though I warn you, the royal guards of Kensington take a dim view of highway robbery."

  The shorter man snatched the wallet, quickly rifling through it. "Sixty quid and some American dollars. Where's your phone?"

  "Alas, my communication crystal was damaged in my journey across the great ocean," Marvin explained. This was actually true—he'd accidentally dropped his phone in the toilet at the Portland airport and hadn't bothered replacing it yet.

  "He's having us on," the taller man growled, stepping forward to pat down Marvin's pockets. He pulled out the small notebook of incantations. "What's this rubbish?"

  "Careful with that," Marvin cautioned. "Those spells haven't been properly stabilized."

  The man flipped through a few pages before tossing it aside. "Just some nutty scribblings."

  "Your loss," Marvin shrugged. "A simple translation spell would have revealed their true value."

  The taller man continued searching Marvin's pockets while the shorter one kept the knife pointed at him. They found his passport, room key, and the envelope from Phillip with the LARP instructions, all of which they stuffed into their own pockets.

  "What's in the backpack?" the shorter one demanded, gesturing with the knife.

  "Just adventuring supplies," Marvin replied casually, as if being robbed at knifepoint were a minor inconvenience rather than a potentially life-threatening situation. "Trail mix, water, research materials. The usual dungeoneering kit."

  The taller man grabbed the backpack and quickly rifled through it. He pulled out Marvin's research journal and flipped it open, squinting at the diagrams and notes. "Ley lines... dimensional boundaries... fairy rings?" He looked up at Marvin. "You really are mental."

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "Specialized knowledge often appears as madness to the uninitiated," Marvin replied sagely.

  The shorter man spotted something in the backpack and let out a low whistle. "Hello, what's this?" He reached in and pulled out the velvet box containing the second ceremonial dagger.

  "Careful with that," Marvin warned. "It's a family heirloom."

  The man opened the box, revealing the ornate dagger nestled in its velvet lining. "This'll fetch a nice price." He tucked the box under his arm.

  "I really must protest," Marvin said, his tone still conversational. "That was a gift from my brother."

  "Yeah? Well now it's a gift to me," the shorter man sneered. "What about the one on your belt? Hand it over."

  Marvin's hand moved protectively to the dagger at his hip. "I'm afraid that's not possible. A warrior never surrenders his primary weapon."

  The taller man laughed. "Listen to this guy. 'A warrior.' You're some middle-aged nutter in a fantasy costume."

  "Age is but a number, good sir, and fantasy is merely reality not yet understood by science," Marvin replied with complete seriousness.

  "Enough of this," the shorter man snarled, advancing with his knife. "Give us the other dagger or—"

  His threat was interrupted by a distant call: "Mr. Preston? Your five minutes are up!" Dr. Harrison's voice floated through the mist from the direction of the pavilion.

  The muggers exchanged alarmed glances. "Time to go," the taller one muttered, shoving Marvin's passport and wallet into his pocket. "Consider yourself lucky we're in a hurry."

  "Will you be rejoining the narrative later?" Marvin asked earnestly. "Your highwaymen characters add a compelling element of urban danger."

  "Stay away from the funny mushrooms, mate," the shorter one advised as they backed away, then turned and ran into the thickening mist.

  Marvin watched them disappear, impressed by their commitment to the role. It occurred to him that the loss of his passport, wallet, and Phillip's contact information might prove problematic if he needed to get back to Kensington on his own. I should probably report the theft of my identification at some point. Immigration might be tricky without a passport. But such mundane concerns paled next to the excitement of the adventure unfolding before him.

  Marvin watched them disappear, impressed by their commitment to the role. Now alone again beside the fairy ring, he realized his incantation had been interrupted. "Where was I?" he muttered, trying to recall the final line.

  Without his notebook of incantations, which now lay in a puddle where the mugger had tossed it, Marvin had to rely on memory. "Something about... crossing thresholds and... embracing the unknown?" He shrugged. "Close enough."

  "Siúil tríd an tairseach agus fáilte roimh an anaithnid!" he declared confidently, stepping into the center of the mushroom circle as he spoke.

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then Marvin noticed the mist around him beginning to swirl more rapidly, coalescing into spiraling patterns that seemed to glow with a faint inner light. The ground beneath his feet felt suddenly insubstantial, as if he were standing on a thin membrane rather than solid earth.

  "Impressive special effects," he murmured appreciatively. "The LARP company must have a substantial technical budget."

  The sensation of instability increased. The mist now encircled him completely, obscuring the park beyond the fairy ring. Strange lights pulsed within the vaporous curtain—blue, green, purple—colors that seemed to shimmer with otherworldly energy.

  "Holographic projections, perhaps?" Marvin wondered aloud, reaching out to touch the luminous mist. "Or some kind of advanced LED system combined with a fog machine?"

  His analytical musings were interrupted by a sudden lurching sensation, as if the earth had dropped away beneath him. Marvin felt the disorienting sensation of falling while standing perfectly still. The mist whirled faster, the lights within it intensifying until they became almost painfully bright.

  "Excellent immersion techniques," Marvin gasped, genuinely impressed despite the discomfort. "The sensory manipulation is quite convincing."

  A high-pitched humming filled his ears, growing louder until it seemed to reverberate through his entire body. The world around him—or what he could see of it through the swirling mist—appeared to stretch and distort, as if reality itself were being pulled like taffy.

  "Dimensional... transition... initiating," Marvin managed to say through gritted teeth, mentally taking notes for his research journal even as the strange forces pulled at him from all directions.

  Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the sensation stopped. The mist dispersed with a soft sighing sound, revealing... a forest. Not the small London park he'd been standing in moments before, but an ancient, sprawling woodland that stretched as far as he could see in every direction. Towering trees with silvery bark reached toward a sky that shimmered with colors no earthly atmosphere had ever produced. Bioluminescent fungi clung to the massive trunks, casting a gentle blue-green glow across the forest floor.

  The air hit Marvin's lungs like his first breath after being underwater—impossibly rich and alive. Where London's atmosphere had been a complex blend of exhaust fumes, restaurant cooking, and the lingering staleness of the Underground, this air tasted of sun-warmed pine, mysterious flowering plants, and an underlying metallic tang that made his tongue tingle. The sounds were different too—gone was the constant background hum of traffic and human activity, replaced by a symphony of calls, rustles, and whispers that no earthly forest had ever produced. Even the quality of the light was changed, softer yet somehow more vibrant, as if each color had an extra dimension his eyes had never perceived before.

  Marvin stood perfectly still, taking it all in. A flicker of uncertainty passed through him—this was remarkably comprehensive for a LARP experience. For a split second, a wild thought crossed his mind: What if I've actually crossed into another dimension? What if all my research was right?

  He quickly dismissed the notion with a self-deprecating smile. Listen to yourself, Marvin. Next you'll be thinking dragons are real too. No, the logical explanation was clearly superior production values and perhaps some mild disorientation from the dizzying transportation effect.

  "Now that's what I call production value," he declared, impressed but not the least bit alarmed by his sudden transportation to what was clearly another world entirely. "Phillip certainly didn't skimp on the experience."

  He looked down and noted with satisfaction that he was still standing in the center of a mushroom ring, though these fungi were larger and faintly luminescent compared to their earthly counterparts.

  "Consistent world-building," he approved. "The fairy ring as a dimensional constant in both realms. Very nice touch."

  Marvin took a deep breath, savoring the air that seemed somehow richer and more vibrant than what he was accustomed to. It carried scents he couldn't quite identify—sweet, earthy, vaguely metallic—an alien but not unpleasant bouquet.

  "Atmospheric scent dispersal system," he muttered. "That's devotion to detail."

  A soft rustling from behind made him turn. The underbrush parted to reveal a creature unlike anything Marvin had ever seen—and he had seen a lot of fantasy artwork in his time. It resembled a fox in its general shape, but its six legs and iridescent fur that shifted colors with each movement clearly marked it as something altogether different. The being regarded Marvin with intelligent eyes that glowed amber in the dim light.

  "Hello there," Marvin greeted it warmly. "Are you part of the welcoming committee?"

  The fox-like creature tilted its head, ears twitching with apparent curiosity. It made a sound somewhere between a purr and a whistle.

  "Animatronic," Marvin decided after careful observation. "Remarkably lifelike. The fluid movement is particularly impressive."

  The creature approached cautiously, sniffing at Marvin's boots. After apparently deciding he posed no threat, it sat back on its haunches and emitted another musical sound, this one more complex than the first.

  "Voice recognition might be expecting me to respond in the game language," Marvin realized. He cleared his throat and tried his best approximation of the creature's sound: a whistle-purr that came out sounding more like a tea kettle with hiccups.

  The creature's ears flattened against its head, and it backed away slightly.

  "Translation error. My apologies," Marvin said hastily. "Perhaps English is supported after all?"

  As if in response, the creature stood and trotted a few paces away, then looked back expectantly.

  "You want me to follow you? Classic quest initiation." Marvin nodded and adjusted his backpack. "Lead on, noble guide."

  The six-legged fox turned and continued deeper into the forest, pausing occasionally to ensure Marvin was still behind it. As they walked, Marvin observed his surroundings with the enthusiasm of a child at Disney World combined with the analytical eye of a scientist cataloging a new ecosystem.

  The forest grew denser, the trees more ancient and gnarled. Some had trunks wide enough that ten people holding hands could not have encircled them. Vines with softly glowing flowers hung from the branches, providing natural illumination as the forest canopy thickened, blocking the strange sky.

  "The attention to environmental detail is simply outstanding," Marvin commented as they walked. "The ecosystem feels genuinely alien yet biologically plausible. The bioluminescence clearly serves as an evolutionary adaptation to the reduced sunlight beneath the canopy. Brilliant design choice."

  His guide made no response beyond an occasional glance back, seemingly accustomed to travelers who talked to themselves.

  After what felt like an hour of walking, though Marvin's watch had inexplicably stopped functioning, they emerged into a small clearing. At its center stood the most extraordinary tree Marvin had ever seen. Its massive trunk twisted in impossible spirals, as if it had grown in defiance of both gravity and conventional botany. Instead of branches, it sported what appeared to be limbs—wooden arms ending in finger-like twigs that swayed gently despite the absence of wind.

  Most remarkably, the trunk featured what unmistakably resembled a face—knotted wood forming eyes, a prominent nose, and a mouth that seemed frozen in a thoughtful expression.

  Marvin's six-legged guide approached the tree, made a respectful chirping sound, then darted back into the forest, its job apparently complete.

  "Thank you for your assistance!" Marvin called after it. He turned back to the tree and studied it with open fascination. "Incredible animatronics. The hydraulic systems must be remarkably sophisticated."

  To Marvin's delight but not surprise, the wooden features of the face began to move. The eyes blinked open slowly, revealing orbs that glowed with a gentle amber light similar to the fox creature's. The mouth stretched and yawned, as if waking from a long sleep.

  "A visitor," the tree said in a voice that sounded like rustling leaves and creaking wood. "How... unexpected."

  "Excellent sound design," Marvin commented appreciatively. "The vocalization perfectly matches the physical form. Is it a speaker system integrated into the trunk, or more of a ventriloquism effect from hidden actors?"

  The tree's wooden eyebrows rose in apparent confusion. "I... do not understand your words, stranger. Are you well? The crossing can be disorienting for those unprepared."

  "Oh! We're already in character. My apologies," Marvin said, straightening his posture and adopting what he considered a more appropriately formal fantasy tone. "Greetings, ancient guardian of the forest. I am Marvin Preston, traveler from the realm of Earth, seeker of knowledge about dimensional boundaries."

  The tree blinked slowly. "Earth? The World Beyond the Veil? No human has crossed from that realm in over three centuries."

  "Really? The last LARP must have been a while ago," Marvin nodded understandingly. "Well, I'm delighted to be the first in recent history. Your Realm of Enchantment is most impressive."

  "Realm of... You speak in riddles, human." The tree's branches shifted in what might have been a shrug. "I am Willow, Elder of the Whisperwood. Why have you sought passage to Eldervale?"

  "Eldervale! Excellent name. Very evocative." Marvin beamed. "As for why I'm here, I was invited by my brother Phillip. Well, technically he arranged for a Dr. Harrison to guide me, but I got a bit sidetracked by some very committed highway robber NPCs."

  Willow's wooden features creased in bewilderment. "These names hold no meaning in Eldervale. Did the Council send you? Or perhaps the Circle?"

  "I don't believe so," Marvin replied cheerfully. "Unless they're working with the LARP company? The documentation wasn't entirely clear on the organizational structure."

  "LARP..." Willow tested the unfamiliar word. "Is this some kind of human magic?"

  "In a manner of speaking," Marvin agreed. "The immersion is certainly magical. The interdimensional transportation effect was particularly convincing."

  The tree was silent for a long moment, branches swaying thoughtfully. Finally, it spoke again. "Human, I believe you may be confused about your situation. The crossing between worlds is not a... performance or illusion. You have truly left your realm and entered Eldervale, a world separate from your own."

  "Excellent commitment to the fantasy premise," Marvin said with an approving nod. "The NPCs are clearly well-trained to maintain the illusion at all costs. Very immersive."

  Willow's wooden features arranged themselves into what appeared to be concern. "This is troubling. Humans who cross accidentally often struggle to comprehend their circumstances."

  "Oh, I comprehend perfectly," Marvin assured the tree. "I've been researching thin places for years. I understand completely how the LARP company has utilized the natural dimensional weaknesses created by fairy rings to simulate a transportation effect. Quite ingenious, really."

  "I see," Willow said slowly, though it clearly didn't. "Perhaps it would be best if I introduced you to someone who might help clarify matters. The Scholar has studied the boundaries between worlds extensively."

  "A scholar NPC! Perfect," Marvin exclaimed. "I'd love to compare notes on dimensional theory."

  "Very well," Willow said. The tree's root system suddenly shifted beneath the soil, causing Marvin to stumble slightly as the ground moved. A hollow opened in the massive trunk, revealing a space within that glowed with warm, golden light. "Please wait inside my chamber. I will send word to Talia Moonwhisper. She may be able to... assist with your confusion."

  "A hollow tree refuge! Classic fantasy element," Marvin said appreciatively as he approached the opening. "Though I must say, the hydraulic systems moving these roots must be incredibly powerful. The haptic feedback is extraordinary."

  "Please do not wander from this sanctuary," Willow cautioned as Marvin ducked into the hollow. "Eldervale can be dangerous for the unprepared, especially as night approaches."

  "Game boundaries established, got it," Marvin replied with a wink. "Don't worry, I'll stay put until the next NPC arrives to advance the quest line."

  Inside, the hollow was surprisingly spacious and comfortable. The walls glowed with a soft light that seemed to emanate from the wood itself. A simple bed made of woven branches and soft moss occupied one corner, while shelves carved directly into the wood held an assortment of objects—bottles containing glowing liquids, dried plants hanging in bundles, and several ancient-looking books.

  "The set designers deserve an award," Marvin murmured, examining the intricate details of the space. "The attention to detail is extraordinary."

  He settled onto a wooden stool, removed his journal from his backpack, and began documenting his observations with meticulous care. "Day one in Eldervale," he wrote. "Initial analysis confirms my thin place theories beyond all expectation. LARP experience featuring unprecedented sensory immersion and consistent world-building. Phillip has truly outdone himself this time."

  Outside the tree hollow, as twilight deepened into true night, strange calls echoed through the forest—sounds no earthly creature had ever made. Marvin documented them all, blissfully unaware that he had indeed crossed between worlds and that the dangers Willow had warned of were far more real than any game could simulate.

  Several miles away, in a clearing similar to the one where Marvin had met Willow, a solitary figure materialized in a swirl of green mist. Gruknor the Reaper stepped out of the vapors, adjusting his suit cuffs with fastidious precision. His human glamour had slipped further now that he was in Eldervale, revealing more of his trollish features—the grayish-green skin, the pronounced canines, the slightly pointed ears.

  He consulted a small device that resembled a compass, though its face displayed pulsing magical symbols rather than cardinal directions. The needle swung decisively toward the northwest.

  "Target has crossed fully into Eldervale," Gruknor murmured, his formal tones at odds with his increasingly monstrous appearance. "Unexpected but not insurmountable. The completion of this contract may require additional finesse."

  He tucked the tracking device into his pocket and removed a small leather case from his briefcase. Opening it revealed a set of vicious-looking darts with tips that glistened with some dark substance.

  "Shadow thorn venom," he explained to no one in particular, his professional habits including a tendency to narrate his methods. "Causes what humans frequently mistake for cardiac arrest. Untraceable in both realms. The Circle will be pleased with the efficiency."

  Snapping the case closed, Gruknor set off into the forest, following the tracker's guidance. His movements were eerily silent for such a large being, each step placed with predatory precision.

  "The hunt begins in earnest," he declared formally. "May the ancient code of the Blackrock Clan be honored through this worthy pursuit."

  Back in the sanctuary of Willow's hollow, Marvin continued his enthusiastic documentation, completely unaware that his LARP experience had become all too real—and that a professional assassin was methodically tracking him through the magical forest of Eldervale.