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    Landing inside the Screeching Shoals was surprisingly anticlimactic. I was half expecting to be attacked right off the bat, but glancing around, it was clear that we weren’t in any immediate danger. At least not from people. Environmentally though, there was still some hazards around, something that was pretty clear from the moment we landed.


    We were standing on a rocky outcropping, something you might generously call an island, if you had read that word in a dictionary and had never actually seen one. The sea around us was dark and choppy, completely opaque and covered with a thin film of mist. Away from our outcropping, several long wooden walkways extended into the obscuring fog lit at the edges with small lumps of blue green flame floating in the air just above the edges.


    “This place is super creepy,” noted Bethy bluntly. “I don’t love it. Not creepy like daddy likes things, but like…that weird kind of creepy where everything is secretly run by tentacle monsters.”


    I nodded. “Yeah, weirds me out too. A bit of advice that Desria gave me, stay away from the water. There are creatures in there, and I’m pretty sure they’re mostly C-rank. Stick to the walkways, apparently they’re protected.”


    “Good to know,” said Callie grimly. “You have a general heading for where they are?”


    I waggled a hand. “Sort of. I know the name of the town they were last passing through, but I don’t have a map of this place. We’re going to need to visit a city to check in. Based on what they told me, the whole setup of the shoals is kind of like a snowflake, radiating clusters of empty rock islands coming off small villages which themselves come off cities, which radiate away from a central continent type island.”


    “So…the whole place is on this creepy black ocean?” Abel said dryly. “Gosh, because that doesn’t seem like a bad omen.”


    Mel rolled her eyes. “Honey, shut up. No one is under the impression that this is an ideal situation. Your sarcasm isn’t helpful. At least wait until we get to somewhere less…terrifying.” She shivered. “I’m cold. But not like, physically cold. There’s this weird sort of spiritual chill that my flames can’t seem to shake.”


    Chelsea stepped up next to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. White purifying fire washed over our red masked friend, and she let out a groan of appreciation. Seeing my sister do her thing, I triggered Zagan, imbuing everyone within reach while she did the same. Making a quick and dirty technique to keep the fire clinging to them was easy enough, especially given Zagan’s flame and its life force enhancing properties.


    Abel, Mel, Chelsea, Bethy, Gabe, Serah, Holly, Callie, Bella, Dom, Sable, and Daysia. Thirteen people all told, for this trip. I’d really wanted to bring Benny and Jessie, but they were both still E-rank. Jessie was preparing for her D-rank breakthrough with a little help from Alyssa, and Benny was taking the fruit. He’d also caught the attention of Sebastian, who had become interested in Benny’s ability and Path and their similarities to his own, so I was expecting a big bump in his combat power when we got back.


    “Alright, everyone stick close,” I closed my eyes, Dantalion flickering out…and I immediately slammed my Perception closed and dropped the form, staggering. Callie caught me, looking confused, and I tried not to collapse as my knees got weak. “Holy SHIT,” I choked. “Ok, DEFINITELY stay away from the water.”


    The underside of the dark waves was…awful. The ocean was packed with horrifying twisted creatures, all of them starving and dying to feast on the flesh of humans. Some of them had fucking NOTICED me seeing them.


    Trying to shake off the sensation of being stared at by a million hungry eyes, I picked a direction. “That way,” I shuddered. “We need to go that way. It’s had the most traffic, so it should take us to a village at least. Just…be careful. Stay away from the edges. And stick together, I don’t like this place.”


    My boots crunched on the loose gravel as I led the way to the left hand walkway, the sound of my steps echoing strangely in a way they shouldn’t out in the open. Everyone grimly lined up, following me carefully, and we made our way down the walkway slowly, taking extra care to watch for danger. The protections on the walkways held, but we saw tentacles and eye stalks rise from the dark water to follow us, tracking our movements as if waiting for us to slip.


    In a literal sense, the trip across the first few bridges was probably only an hour or so, but it felt like eternity. When we finally caught sight of the larger island where the village was situated, we all sped up as much as we could without being reckless.


    Arriving on the island, there was an immediate sense of relief to be back on solid ground where it was safe. Or at least safer. The first village we came to wasn’t any less creepy than the rest of the dungeon, but it was more unsettling than terrifying, which was a win in my opinion. The village was, as the word might imply, small. A collection of run down dark wood buildings, mostly decomposing and clearly in heavy need of repair from constant exposure to the sea mist.


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


    As soon as we stepped onto the island, we were noticed. Windows slammed shut, the only gap being the space needed to peek out.


    Only one man emerged, coming out to meet us. He was old and gaunt, clearly not healthy and only E-rank. “What is your business here, strangers?” He asked in a reedy, shaking voice. “We have no food to share, nor gold to steal. You’ll find robbing us a useless endeavor.”


    I stepped up, holding my hands palm out to show I meant no harm. “Whoa there, no one is here to rob anybody. I’m looking for some friends and got turned around. I just need some directions and we’ll be on our way.” I cocked my head. “You get a lot of robbers around here? You don’t seem surprised to see us.”


    He chuckled bitterly. “Robbers, Mistwardens, Pale Men, there are always unwelcome things in the mists. The Mistwardens are ostensibly supposed to protect us, but Malzareth only cares about his tributes. The robbers and the Pale Men stalk the shoals, taking gold and living flesh as their due.”


    Lot of information there. But not enough. “Who is Malzareth?” I asked cautiously.


    This time his laugh was a full throated bark, though just as bitter. “Malzareth the Unceasing is the lord of Highhaven, the city to whom this village owes fealty. One of the undying generals under Skartaris the Weeper. You must be lost indeed not to know his name.” He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Very well. You may come inside. I suppose I couldn’t stop you in any case. You’re all clearly at least at the Mistwarden level.”


    I got the feeling he was talking about our ranks. If these Mistwardens were consistently D-rank, that would probably make them the main fighting force of this dungeon’s society. Malzareth would most likely be high D-rank or possibly C.


    Shooting my companions a look, I gave a subtle nod, and all of us marched into the village behind the man. It wasn’t a long walk, but he made it VERY slowly, so we had time to talk a bit.


    The man’s name was Wesley, and he was the mayor of this town, Rothook. They were apparently a fishing village, using some kind of net system to catch VERY small and innocuous creatures from the ocean. They caught enough to eat most of the time, if barely, but Malzareth charged them a monthly tribute. The fish from the black ocean was actually highly prized, especially their scales, which could be used to make fine but very durable armor.


    He also filled us in a bit on the Pale Men, essentially robbers who had fallen into the ocean and survived. Something they saw down there had driven them insane, and when they emerged, they had new and unsettling powers and a hunger for human flesh.


    I shuddered at the explanation, thinking of some of the things I’d sensed down there. I could see how some of those beings might be able to make a deal with a person.


    The Mistwardens were Malzareth’s guard, and they patrolled the shoals in the area adjacent to his city. They were supposed to hunt robbers and Pale Men, but they mostly just bullied the fishermen into offering them extra tribute. Fish from the black ocean didn’t rot, apparently (which I found even more unsettling than the idea of eating them to begin with), so the smallest kind, called groush, were used as a form of currency.


    Finally, we reached the house in the center of town. I’d have called it “nicer” but that would have implied it wasn’t basically a shack made of rotten boards, so I noted that it was at the very least bigger than the other houses. I didn’t say that out loud, obviously, I wasn’t a monster. I just complimented Wesley on his home.


    He seemed proud of it, and welcomed us inside. Apparently none of the other homes in the village would have been big enough to fit us all. Not just the ten of us and Wesley himself, but his wife Vanna and son Michael as well.


    Vanna was a thin, nervous looking woman with intricately braided hair and dark skin. Despite her obvious uneasiness, she was a warm and welcoming hostess, offering us all a fish stew she’d been simmering for, apparently months. That was another thing that threw me off. Apparently since the fish didn’t go bad, most families had a pot of stew boiling for their entire lives, adding new ingredients to it over the years and allowing it to cook down.


    As D-rankers, we were pretty much unpoisonable by something an E-ranker could eat safely, so we accepted hesitantly, though I insisted on giving them some supplies from my ring in return, stuff like bread and veggies to eat with their stew.


    To my absolute shock, the stew was delicious. It had this sort of uber permeated flavor that blended dozens of tastes in a way I’d never tried before, and I saw Callie looking regretfully at the pot, obviously wanting more but not being willing to ask. I mentally comforted her, telling her through the bond that I’d learn to make the stew myself.


    Michael was about thirteen and fascinated by us, especially Abel, for some reason. The kid couldn’t get enough of my mentor’s stories. All in all, it wasn’t a bad way to spend an evening, and the warmth of the stew helped chase away the chill of what I’d seen under the water.


    Wesley passed us a map of the local area, though it only covered the shoals around Highhaven rather than the entire dungeon. Still it was a godsend, and I copied it gratefully before returning it along with some gold. Apparently they still used it here, and I had a pretty decent amount stockpiled from years of travel where mortal money was literally worthless.


    Finishing up dinner, we bid them goodbye, deciding to head inward to Highhaven and try to get a hotel there instead of resting in the village. We were just getting ready to leave when we heard it. A twisted, horrifying scream. Wesley’s head jerked up, eyes going wide with terror. “No,” he whispered fearfully. “They’re here.” Turning, he bellowed back to the village. “PALE MEN! The Pale Men are coming! Retreat to your homes and light your candles!”


    He turned back to us desperately. “Friends, please, come back inside. You can take shelter under the light of our candle. We need to go, quickly. They’ll be here soon.” He shot a terrified glance out into the fog, and through the mist I could see shapes moving, human shapes, walking along the surface of the choppy black water. From the direction of the shapes, another horrible scream echoed. Huh, so THAT was why they called it the Screeching Shoals.