Lord of the Mysteries: Evernight's Tea Sessions

A Nighty Invitation

The air was filled with the gentle warmth of the sun, a soft embrace that heralded the arrival of spring. In this city, similar to a machine pulsating with life, the inhabitants moved like clockwork. Each were engrossed in their own worlds, confronting their unique challenges, savoring their private joys, or nursing their silent wounds. To them, the collection of individual stories interwoven around them seemed nothing out of the ordinary; glances were seldom exchanged, and curiosity about another's existence remained an unexplored path. Amidst the ordinary of daily routines, where every soul was a solitary pawn charting their own journey, there stood an anomaly.

A young man, donning a top hat, lingered in the flow of life. His features — chestnut hair, dark brown eyes, a figure neither imposing nor dismissible — suggested an age somewhere in his mid-twenties. Yet, it was neither his appearance nor his attire that marked him as distinct. It was the depth of his gaze, the deliberate slowness of his movements. Unlike the rest, he was not bothered in the web of his own affairs; his pace was unhurried, his attention unforgettable.

With a discerning eye, he surveyed the cityscape, absorbing the flurry of gestures, the veil of expressions, and the silent stories that each person unwillingly narrated. To the casual outside observer, he might appear a mere eccentric, a lost soul or a fool meandering through the city's veins — such sights were not uncommon in the endless bustle. However, this surface judgment would fail to unveil the truth of his essence. This young man, seemingly adrift, was actually able to see through the hidden face of this society, to understand the lies that lips never speak, and to recognize the habits unknown even to their owners.

While standing still on a unremarkable corner of the street, the young man let out a sight and closed his eyes briefly.

Right, I guess this is enough for today. he thought to himself

Without waiting a second more, the young man blended back into the crowd, indistinguishable from anyone else. His posture shifted, his expression altered, and he effortlessly adopted a new mannerism. Though his appearance remained unchanged, he seemed like an entirely different person.

In the heart of a city that never pauses to look deeper, no one noticed a thing.

Heading home, the young man confidently navigated his way without a backward glance. He boarded a second-class carriage on a train and soon found himself in the countryside. The landscape was lush and green under a bright sun, even as a storm loomed ominously over the distant ocean. With just a suitcase and a cane topped with gold, he approached the coast where a single wooden boat lay.

An old man awaited him there. Without a hint of surprise, the young man boarded the boat silently. The elder, seemingly unaware of his presence, began to row swiftly into the sea.

It seemed foolhardy to head into a storm in such a small boat, yet the two proceeded as if it were nothing out of the ordinary. Miraculously, the storm halted as they passed, a development that seemed coincidental, given the earlier signs of the storm calming.

The journey felt awkward, marked by silence. Eventually, a coast appeared on the horizon, revealing a modestly sized island with a small town—a place insignificant on a global scale. The old man silently returned to the sea after the young man disembarked. It was a striking image, the small boat against the vast ocean. The young man took his time, following the faint path to the town, greeted by a sign at the entrance.

Welcome to New Utopia

As he made his entrance into the town, the sun was graciously conceding its rule of the sky to the moon. The chestnut haired gentleman, distinguished by his hat, strolled leisurely through the town streets. The townspeople, though on the verge of retreating to their homes, lingered in the fading daylight.

He spotted a familiar figure amidst the small crowd—an older man of commanding presence, his attire echoing the young man's formality. Silver hair framed the elder's weathered, scar-laden face, standing absurdly tall among the rest. Seizing the moment, the elder initiated a warm conversation.

"Ah, Otis, you've returned sooner than expected. I was bracing myself for a few more weeks without my cherished books," he said, his voice tinged with cheerfulness.

"I had planned the same, but a pressing matter recalled me," Otis replied, offering a polite nod in greeting.

With a simple nod, the elder advised "It's getting late, and you must be weary from your journey. Rest now, the books can wait until morning," He then finished as his scarred, sturdy hand rested briefly on Otis's shoulder as he smiled.

Acknowledging the advice, the young man returned the smile and made his way to his modest seaside abode at the town's edge.

Upon entering, he swiftly hung his coat and hat, set aside his suitcase without a glance, and collapsed onto his bed, face down. Yet, scarcely a minute passed before a somber presence manifested beside him. Without alarm, he turned to face it.

In the shadowy room, a headless figure draped in a gothic, black gown stood hauntingly. The dress, ornate and flowing, wrapped "Her" form in darkness from neck to ground. More striking, however, were the four pale, identical blonde heads "She" held, each with unnervingly bright red eyes that stared back, piercing the gloom with their eerie gaze. The apparition before him was none other than Miss Messenger, an angel from the Church of the Fool, serving directly under Mr. Fool—more accurately, under Klein himself.

Upon recognizing the visitor, Otis's appearance began to change dramatically—his hair shifted to a darker hue, his eyes took on a deeper color, and his facial skin twisted on itself and altered, rendering him unrecognizable to those familiar with the old him. At this moment, he became Klein, not Mr. Fool, but the friendly neighborhood seer and he was prepared to greet his old friend.

"An invitation..." "From The..." "Queen..." "Of Darkness..." the four heads spoke in turn, their message clear to Klein.

He pondered Evernight, it has been a while.

"A coin for the–" Klein began, only to be curtly interrupted.

"She already..." "Paid the..." "Fees..." the heads informed him.

"Understood, and thank you for delivering this," Klein responded with a knowing smile, sparing himself a coin.

One of the heads presented a letter, dark with a black emblem showcasing a magnificent star. Klein accepted it, and Miss Messenger vanished. Opening the letter, Klein found it initially blank, only for two words to reveal itself.

Briefly Tonight.