Bart set out from the abbey with enough provisions to reach Midena and a small bag of coins—enough for decent food or tolerable accommodations, but not both. The journey would take three days each way or two if he hurried, but Bart had no intention of hurrying.

  As he adjusted his pack and began his reluctant trek, he grumbled under his breath. Recruiting strangers to join a three-member demon-worshipping cult—two of whom didn’t even believe in it—was hardly his idea of a productive use of time. His best bet would be to find a couple of drunkards in Midena and coax them back to the abbey with promises of food and drink.

  Even that felt like a long shot.

  Bart sighed and trudged along, half-lost in thoughts of how Antonio might be convinced to eat goat stew instead of throwing delicious meat into the pit. As he rounded a bend, movement caught his eye—a young couple stepping out from the woods onto the road. They waved cheerfully, and Bart returned the gesture with minimal enthusiasm, his mood too sour for much else.

  When they approached, the man greeted him.

  "Hi, I'm Jack, and this is my wife Kleo. We're looking for an abbey in this area. Could you point us in the right direction?"

  Bart blinked, caught off guard by the fact he could answer their question. "Straight down the road behind me. You can't miss it— nothing else around for miles. I live there with my brother… and a priest."

  Kleo stepped forward, her expression friendly but curious.

  “Do you think we might be able to stay for the night? We'd love to clean up and share a meal. We’d happily exchange stories or lend a hand if needed.”

  Bart hesitated, studying them. They seemed pleasant enough, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something about them felt… promising. And then it struck him—Antonio had sent him out to find two recruits, and here they were, practically delivered to the abbey’s doorstep.

  The gods were smiling at him today.

  He broke into a wide grin, his earlier sullenness forgotten.

  “Of course! We’d be happy to have you stay for a night—or even a few. And as for food, you’re in luck. I’ve got a lamb stew simmering as we speak.”

  Jack’s eyes lit up. “That sounds fantastic. I’m starving.”

  Kleo laughed. “He’s always starving.”

  Bart chuckled. “You’ll fit right in. My brother Tholomew is the same way—always thinking about his next meal,” and he patted his belly for emphasis.

  Jack’s stomach growled audibly, and he gave an embarrassed laugh.

  “So, should we head there now? Because I wasn’t joking about the starving part.”

  Bart turned to lead them back but stopped after a few steps, turning back to face them. He shifted uncomfortably before speaking.

  “Listen, before we go, there’s something you should know. You’re more than welcome to stay—truly—but there are a few things you should be aware of first. It’s nothing terrible… well, one part’s a bit odd. But I’d rather explain it now than have you caught off guard later.”

  Jack and Kleo exchanged a glance, curiosity piqued. Jack gestured for him to continue.

  “All right, Bart. Let’s hear it.”

  Bart took a breath and began.

  “My brother and I wanted to get out of the city—away from all the stress and noise. That’s how we ended up here. We found this priest, Antonio, in Midena. He was recruiting for a demon-worshipping cult. Before you panic, my brother and I don’t take it seriously. We saw an opportunity for a quiet life in the countryside, and we took it. Antonio needed help, and we needed a place to stay. It worked out.”

  Kleo tilted her head. “But Antonio does take it seriously?”

  Bart nodded. “Oh, he’s all in. He spends most of his time holed up in his office, researching ancient rituals and trying to figure out how to summon his so-called ‘dark benefactor,’ goes by the name of ‘Morghadus.’”

  “And does he have the means to pull off something like that?” Kleo pressed, her voice calm but probing.

  Bart snorted. “To quote my brother: ‘Not a fucking chance.’” He winced, adding, “Pardon my language, m’lady. Slipped out.”

  Jack laughed, clapping Bart on the back.

  “No harm done. Honestly, I think we’re more curious than anything.”

  Kleo nodded, a faint smile on her lips.

  “It sounds… unique, but not a dealbreaker. Lead the way, Bart. And I hope that stew of yours lives up to the hype.”

  Bart grinned and turned back toward the abbey, relief washing over him.

  Bart led them through a narrow side entrance near the kitchen when they reached the abbey. The door creaked on its hinges, and the smell of wood smoke mingled with something savory and rich wafted to greet them. He guided them down a short stone corridor into a modest dining area off the kitchen.

  “Throw your bags down anywhere and grab a seat,” Bart said, gesturing toward the wooden table at the center of the room. It was sturdy but unpolished, its surface worn smooth from years of use. A colorful rug lay beneath it, a rare burst of warmth in the otherwise austere space.

  “I’ll see to the important stuff—food. Lamb stew and fresh bread are coming right up. Oh, and don’t get your hopes up—we’ve only got water to drink.”

  Jack and Kleo nodded, the promise of food already brightening their spirits. Bart disappeared into the adjoining kitchen, and they took a moment to look around.

  The interior of the abbey was bare, mostly exposed stone floors and walls, cold but clean. Jack wandered toward the main room, poking his head through the open doorway. The vaulted ceiling loomed high overhead, supported by thick beams that cast long shadows across the room. The floor was dominated by the inlay of an enormous pentagram, its lines etched into the stone with precision. Stacked chairs leaned against the far wall. The only noticeable embellishment was a series of tall, narrow stained-glass windows. Their vibrant colors painted the gray stone in patches of ruby red, sapphire blue, and golden yellow, the light shifting with the breeze outside.

  Bart returned, balancing three steaming bowls of stew in his hands. The aroma hit Jack like a warm embrace: rich, meaty, with a hint of spice. His stomach groaned, earning a chuckle from Bart.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Hold your horses, mate,” Bart said, setting the bowls down theatrically. “I’ll grab the bread.”

  Jack and Kleo exchanged smiles as Bart ducked back into the kitchen. When he returned, he carried a basket piled high with thick, crusty slices of bread. He gave a mock bow as he placed it on the table.

  “There you go—dinner is served.”

  They all sat together, the conversation pausing as they dug into the meal. The first spoonful of stew made Jack moan, his eyes widening in delight. The broth was velvety, the spices perfectly balanced, and the lamb melted on his tongue.

  “Bart, you’re a genius,” Jack said between bites. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

  Kleo nodded. “I agree. The cumin ties it all together.”

  Bart beamed, speaking around a mouthful of bread.

  “The cumin’s the secret, you see. Learned that from an old cook in Midena. Glad you’re enjoying it.”

  Jack tore off a hunk of bread and passed the basket to Kleo, who dipped hers into the stew, the crust soaking up the rich liquid. They ate in companionable silence, too engrossed in the meal to talk. The warm, hearty flavors filled the room as much as the soft clink of spoons and the crackle of the nearby hearth.

  Kleo and Jack helped Bart clear the table. Jack groaned, clutching his belly.

  "I couldn’t stop eating. Bart, that was an excellent stew—I hope it’s on the menu tomorrow."

  “Most days,” Bart replied, though his expression turned wistful.

  “We have goats, but…” He trailed off, a shadow of hesitation crossing his face.

  “Let’s save that story for another day. Grab your bags, and I’ll show you to the cottage. Nice little place across the courtyard.”

  Bart led them across the grounds, the abbey looming behind them. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of hay and distant livestock. The cottage, small and unassuming, came into view.

  Inside, the cottage was simple but cozy. The front room had a sturdy wooden table, a pair of chairs, and a narrow hearth stacked with cut firewood. Beyond it, the bedroom featured a thick woolen blanket atop a straw mattress, with a single lantern casting warm light across the space.

  “It’s very nice, Bart. Thanks again for letting us stay—and the meal was a joy,” Kleo said.

  Bart shrugged, scratching the back of his neck.

  “Thank you, Miss Kleo. Kind words are rare around here.”

  He gestured vaguely toward the abbey.

  “I’ll let Antonio and Thol know you’re staying in the cottage. That way, you can have a quiet evening—no Antonio giving you the hard sell. If you decide one night is enough, we can sneak you out before he notices.”

  “Thank you, Bart. A quiet evening sounds perfect. But I must admit, I’m looking forward to meeting Antonio. His research sounds interesting.”

  Bart and Jack spoke at the same time. “Really?”

  Kleo shot Jack a mild look of reprimand, and he raised his hands in surrender.

  “Yes, I spent a lot of time reading growing up,” Kleo continued. “Stories about gods, fates, and demons fascinate me—not that I put much stock in them, of course.”

  Bart blinked in surprise. “Oh. Well then, you’ll be Antonio’s new best friend. Good for me, honestly. It’ll keep him out of my hair.”

  They all chuckled, and Bart excused himself.

  “After that meal, I could go straight to bed,” Jack said, stretching. “But I guess it’s too early. How about some meditation to let the food settle?”

  “Sounds nice,” Kleo agreed.

  Before they could begin, the door swung open abruptly. Bart burst in, his face pale as moonlight. He slammed the door shut, leaning against it, his chest rising and falling as though he’d run a great distance.

  “Bart?” Kleo stepped forward, her voice calm but concerned. “What’s wrong?”

  Bart stammered, his voice a whisper. “I don’t want to alarm you, but… there’s a bear. A huge bear. Over by the goat pit.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow. “What’s a goat pit?”

  Bart waved the question away, his eyes wide with terror.

  “It doesn’t matter right now. We have to stay inside until it’s gone. It looks vicious.”

  Kleo moved toward the door. “May I?”

  Bart’s eyes bulged out of his head.

  “What? No! You can’t open the door!”

  Kleo nudged Bart aside. “It’s okay. I’ll take a peek.”

  She cracked the door open with steady hands and found herself face-to-face with Bitter.

  “Oh, hello, Bitter. I was wondering when you’d show up.” She opened the door wider, and Bitter peered inside, his amber eyes scanning the room.

  Bart stumbled backward, his jaw slack. “That’s… That’s not a bear?”

  Kleo turned, her expression calm. “Bart, meet Bitter. He’s a friend of ours. Don’t worry—he won’t harm you.”

  Bart didn’t seem convinced, especially when Jack added with a grin, “Unless we tell him to.”

  “Jack,” Kleo admonished, her scowl making it clear he wasn’t helping.

  She crouched and scratched Bitter’s ears.

  “Bitter, this is our new friend Bart. He’s been kind enough to let us stay here for the night. Would you like to come in?” Bitter gave Bart a long, assessing glare before heading into the bedroom with a huff, his tail swishing lazily behind him.

  Bart gulped, edging toward the door.

  “Well, I’ll… see you—three in the morning. Not too early. I’ll be serving Brunch around eleven.”

  As the door closed behind him, Kleo sighed. “Poor man. Bitter must have been quite the sight.”

  Jack chuckled, shaking his head. “What’s a goat pit?”

  Tholomew lay sprawled on his bed, eyes closed, hands folded behind his head. Bart had left for Midena hours ago, and Tholomew relished the rare quiet. Antonio was cloistered in his office as usual, leaving the abbey in an unusual state of peace. While Bart wasn’t thrilled about the trip, Tholomew figured a break would do him good. But as Antonio’s distinct, hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, Tholomew sighed. He’d tempted fate by hoping for relaxation.

  Antonio appeared in the doorway, his face set in its usual pinched frown.

  "Tholomew," he began, his voice edged with irritation. "Didn't your brother leave for Midena this afternoon?"

  "Yeah," Tholomew replied without opening his eyes. "Saw him go myself. About three hours ago, give or take. Why?"

  Antonio’s eyes narrowed, his expression almost triumphant.

  "Because unless I'm hallucinating, I can hear him clomping around the kitchen like a drunken mule. Heavy-footed, your brother. It’s unmistakable."

  Tholomew opened one eye, skeptical but intrigued.

  "Seems unlikely. But if you're so sure, let’s check it out."

  Antonio scoffed, his tone sharp.

  "Just like him, stalling instead of doing what’s required. He cares little for the sanctity of our mission. I’d have cast him out ages ago if he weren't your brother."

  "Most can only aspire to your passion, Antonio. He’s loyal, even if he doesn’t show it. And he’s a damn good cook."

  "That stew of his is hardly grounds for leniency," Antonio snapped. "We’re close, Tholomew. Two more recruits and I can begin the summoning. This is no time for distractions."

  Tholomew said nothing, though inwardly he smirked. He knew how unlikely Antonio’s "close" really was. Still, he followed as Antonio marched toward the kitchen with purpose.

  Inside, Bart was humming as he worked, a pleasant rhythm of chopping meat and vegetables filling the room. Oblivious to their presence, he didn’t notice Antonio’s growing ire until his name rang out sharply.

  "Bart," Antonio barked, his voice cold and clipped.

  Bart looked up, blinking in surprise before offering a sheepish grin.

  "Oh, hey, Antonio. Thol. Hungry? There’s still some stew left from earlier."

  Antonio’s frown deepened. "Why are you here? You left for Midena mere hours ago. I told you not to return until you’d recruited at least two new members."

  Bart shrugged, continuing to chop. "Yeah, I remember. And I did exactly that."

  Antonio’s eyebrows shot up. "You expect me to believe you found two recruits, convinced them to join the Cult of Morghadus, and brought them back here in three hours?"

  "Yup," Bart said. "Met a young couple on the road. They seemed keen. I put them up in the cottage to rest."

  Antonio’s disbelief was palpable. "You told them about the cult? The summoning? Morghadus?"

  "Yeah, the basics. Demon summoning, eternal glory, blah, blah, blah. They didn’t run screaming, so I figured that was a good sign. The girl even seemed interested in talking to you—said she was into that kind of thing."

  Antonio’s eyes gleamed with sudden enthusiasm. "She did, did she? Well then, bring her to me at once. I want to meet her immediately."

  Bart waved a hand dismissively. "I told you, they’re resting. Long day on the road. You can talk to them tomorrow over brunch—I’m prepping it now."

  "Brunch? Tomorrow? Preposterous," Antonio barked. "I’ll handle this myself."

  Without waiting for a reply, he marched toward the door.

  Tholomew turned to Bart, arching a brow. "You’re serious?"

  Bart gave him a withering look. "Yeah, Thol, I’m serious. I even gave them stew. You know I don’t feed good lamb stew to anyone."

  Before Tholomew could respond, Antonio stormed back into the kitchen, slamming the door behind him and leaning against it, his face pale and eyes wide.

  "Why," he hissed, trembling, "is there a bear sitting in front of the cottage?"

  Bart shrugged. "Not a bear. A wolf. He’s their friend. Don’t worry—he won’t bite you." He paused, then added with a sly grin, "Probably."

  Antonio’s mouth worked soundlessly for a moment before he stormed back to his office in a huff, muttering about wolves and lunatics.

  Bart chuckled and returned to his chopping, humming with newfound cheer.