Morningstar

[CH. 0005] - The Arrival

"Oh, sweet eldritch child, you have no clue where you are," - Adamastor

Nord stepped slowly into the room, the overpowering stench hitting her nostrils like a punch in the nose. A noxious cloud of decay and rot filled the air, invading her nostrils and threatening to overwhelm her senses.

She tucked her nose under the collar of her nightgown in a desperate attempt to shield herself from the smell, but it was no use. The odour was too strong, too intense, too all-encompassing. It was inescapable, undeniable, unignorable.

With suspicion, she moved closer, her eyes inevitably drawn to the figure on the bed, her heart pounding in her chest. An old woman lay there, her face sunken, her body withered and frail, her skin dry and cracked. Time had ravaged her, age had etched itself into her very being, and death had come to claim her at last.

The old woman appeared to be asleep, her expression peaceful, her demeanour calm and relaxed. Her white hair framed a face that seemed almost gentle in repose. She wore a nightgown very similar to Nord's.

Nord's gaze roamed the room. Everything was untouched, in perfect order. Clothing was meticulously arrayed, closet doors stood slightly ajar, and the furniture was free of dust. It was as if time itself had halted, preserving this room in a moment of stillness. Or someone kept the room clean and neat.

Everything was in place. Except for the body.

It was an anomaly, a contradiction, a paradox. It didn't belong, it didn't fit, it didn't make sense. It was a question, a riddle, a puzzle. How long had she died? The woman on the bed seemed old. It was as if she had been there for years.

How long ago had she died?

"I haven't managed to arrange a fitting funeral since the mortuary shuts during the night. I kept hoping someone would show up and I could beg a favour, and help me, but no soul appeared. Strange, really, as she was adored by everyone."

Nord peeked over her shoulder, watching the man from earlier casually propped against the doorframe.

"What's her name?" Nord asked.

"Rosemary. She ran this establishment," the stranger replied.

"Rosemary?" Nord echoed, the name ringing some distant bell in her mind.

"Morningstar, Rosemary Morningstar. That woman was a friend, the truest friend. She never turned away anyone who knocked at her door, any time, day or night," he declared, breaking into a chuckle, "damn it, she even helped me!"

"How long has she been... like this?"

"Ten years, more or less. Pretty sure she went peacefully in her sleep. After Frank's death, she wasn't herself. Mournful all the time; I reckon she was just biding her time to be with him," he mused, moving closer to the bed, "Such a gentle soul she was. Frank, that lucky Hobruin got a fine woman for life."

"A what?" Nord interjected, bewildered.

He gestured towards a wall adorned with various picture frames depicting a joyful couple. Photos from their wedding night, in front of a steam train, some with friends, others of the two of them alone. But one figure stood out the most prominently - a bear. A fully garbed bear stood beside a captivating fair woman with flowing blonde hair and the widest smile. A striking resemblance to Nord's sister, South.

"Frank was... a bear?"

"Hobruin."

"What?"

"I didn't ask your name, did I?" he interrupted, extending his hand, "Adamastor, by the way."