Chapter Text
You’d heard the stories, of course; everyone in Esperia had by this point.
They said if you ever walked somewhere alone at night, to keep moving should you hear the sound of bells or laughter on the wind. They said that if you looked back, your fate was sealed. They said you’d be in the clutches of a Hypogean most vicious.
But that was just a faerie story, right? Just a tall tale parents told their children so they came home by dusk… right?
Well, you weren’t so sure now. The streets were devoid of life, the wind whipping around you as you locked up the tavern you helped manage for the night. Cedartown was once again being inundated with snow, and you longed for the warmth of your fireplace, the soothing aroma of tea from a kettle over the flames…
You were drawn from your reverie by what sounded like… chimes? Well, that wasn’t unusual, especially when the wind whipped everything around like this. Shivering, you pulled your scarf closer to you. The chimes sounded again as you stepped into the street. No wait, those weren’t chimes. No, they were… bells.
Suddenly hyperaware of your surroundings, your heart shot into your throat as you squinted through the snow to ascertain which way to go. The lanterns hanging from poles above provided some scant light, a lifeline of sorts to follow. Having lived here your whole life, you knew your way by heart. A little snow couldn’t hurt you.
What very well could hurt you, however, was the sound of bells that were slowly approaching your location. Every time they chimed, they were a bit louder. As the story said, they were right behind you.
No, it’s just a story, you thought as you forged ahead. It’s just a late night carriage sounding the bells to warn people in this whiteout. You clung to this shred of denial as the wind began whipping in the direction opposite where you needed to go. Every snowflake that hit your face made you grit your teeth in frustration and discomfort.
It’s not real, it’s not real…
The first peal of laughter rang out, a few hundred feet away at most. You quickened your pace despite the wind.
It’s not real, it’s not real, it’snotrealit’snotreal-
Another peal, closer this time. The faintest hint of music reached your ears, and you stopped caring if the story was real or not as you took to outright jogging down the road.
Get home, get warm, lock the door, keep going-
Another pair of footsteps crunched in the snow behind you, almost matching your pace but not quite. It was an orchestra of steps that wasn’t in sync, and it was enough to make you break out into a sprint.
All the sounds behind you doubled in intensity, and you all began to cry tears that chilled on your face instantly. Either the story was real and you were being stalked by a monster, or someone very cruel was playing a trick on you. You desperately wanted to turn around to at least figure out what was following you and how close it was, but you couldn’t. No, that’s how you’d die. Either the monster got you, or you slipped on ice or snow due to not looking and the cruel human bastard scaring you got you.
Please, oh please, I can’t die like this. Every building you passed looked the same, the edifices glowing with warm light emitted by the lanterns of people smarter than you who’d gone home before dark.
You spotted a faint glow down an alleyway; the light, the promise of safety. Without a second thought you turned to your left and began your way down the alley, no longer caring if you slipped or not. You just needed to get home, get warm, lock the door-
As the walls of the alley both encroached upon you and shielded you from the wind, you realized the light at the end was being emitted by the cherry of a cigar. It was another person, out taking a smoke break! You were saved! The monster preferred going after people who were alone, you recalled. Conversely, the addition of a second person would deter any human aggressor from getting closer.
But as you approached, you began to think that maybe the monster was the better option. Yes, as you came into view of the mystery smoker, you realized they were none other than the rowdy customer you’d thrown out of your workplace earlier this evening for drunkenly harassing staff and customers alike. He’d thrown quite a few salacious comments your way, ones that made your skin crawl. Currently, he was leaning against the wall and taking a long drag from his cigar. His eyes were shut as he drunkenly nodded off mid-smoke, and surprisingly he hadn’t seemed to notice you yet. Maybe if you were quiet, you could just sneak past-
Your plans were dashed as you stepped on and broke a bottle hiding under a few inches of snow. Doubtless it belonged to the man in the alley, the one whose eyes shot open and whose cigar snapped in half as he gazed upon you with a drunken, lecherous glare.
“I know you… yer that bitch from the tavern.”
You blurted out the first thing you could think of. “No I’m not!” you cried without a shred of convincingness in your voice.
The man snorted in derision. “Nah, I’d remember you from anywhere.” His eyes roamed all over your body and even under the thick layers you wore you could sense he was mentally undressing you.
Oh yes, you’d take the monster instead. But you were frozen in place by both the cold and the fear as the man approached. “P-please, there’s a Hypogean approaching and-”
He laughed mockingly, a different sort of laughter than the haunting lilt that drew nearer to you every moment. “I don’t hear nothin’,” he quipped. “Yer makin’ it up. You really believe that story?”
“Please move,” you said, barely able to be heard above the wind. How could this man not hear the cacophony behind you? Were you hallucinating, or was the noise only audible to you?
“I don’t think I will.” He threw down the half of the cigar he still held and approached menacingly. This close, you could smell the repugnant mix of sweat, body odor, alcohol and cigar cloves. “You owe me, missy.” Before you could react, his hand shot out and grabbed you by the collar.
You screamed, trying to wrench away from his grasp. In desperation, you shucked your coat off only from him to latch onto your scarf instead. “No, get away from me!” you shrieked, but it was no good.
“Yer comin’ with me. You’ll be real warm and safe from the ‘monsters’ inside,” he leered. “We can even have some fun.”
The sound of heavy breathing came up behind you, and to your surprise you didn’t have to debate with yourself. With strength you didn’t even know you were capable of, you pulled yourself free. You barely registered the sound of your favorite scarf ripping in half as you made your choice.
You turned around.
You chose the monster.
Whatever it was you were expecting to see upon whirling around, you weren’t sure. But what you weren’t expecting was an inky wall of magical darkness. The other end of the alley was no longer visible, the lights of the street lamps snuffed out by whatever foul magicks this Hypogean wielded.
(And now you were sure this was the Hypogean from the stories, and not some human trickster who just wanted to scare you.)
The wall pulsated with the sounds of breathing that now surrounded you.
“Wh- Th- I-” the man stammered. Apparently now he could see and hear the horrendous creature that had been stalking you.
The center of the wall shimmered, revealing two glowing purple eyes and a jagged grin. You took a half-step backwards and away but your back hit some sort of invisible force; it seemed the creature was keeping both you and your would-be assaulter captive with some sort of barrier.
“This is hardly sporting, now is it?” the wall crooned in a voice that managed to raspy and melodious at the same time. It sent a jolt of fear down your spine. “Here I was, about to close in and you decided to interfere. I saw her first, you know.”
Oh Dura above, the creature was talking about you. How long had it been following you, waiting for the moment to pounce?
The man was quivering where he stood, all bravado leaving him as he lost control of his bladder from sheer fear. The dark stain spreading from his beltline down was all you needed to see to know this man was terrified.
(Good, an unhinged part of you thought; if you were going to die, he deserved to die with you.)
“Y-you can have her, mate!” the man shouted, tossing an empty bottle at the wall. It passed through harmlessly and landed with a thud behind it, presumably cushioned by the snow. “She’s probably a bad lay anyhow!”
The wall scowled. “That’s not what I want. As far as scares, pain and suffering go, that’s a downright cheap way to go about it, ‘mate’. You’re boring.” It rolled its eyes.
With a horrid ripple, shadowy hands burst out of the wall and… went around you, grabbing the man and lifting him like he weighed nothing. “No!” he screamed. “I’ll do anything! M-money, booze, girls… anything! Anything you want!”
“Useless to me,” the wall scoffed, bringing the man up to its face and examining him like he was a collectible it was discerning.. Its eyes then alighted in mock realization. “Oh, I know just the thing you could give me! I think I’ll take your essence instead. That sounds like fun!”
The man screamed as the creature pulled him into itself. The man’s panicked pleas soon turned to gurgles and then a death rattle as the sound of tearing flesh and messy chewing accompanied the bells and music that swirled around you, now nigh deafening in its intensity.. Something that looked suspiciously like a severed limb was spat out of the darkness with an exaggerated gag from the monster and landed next to you. You looked down and shrieked at the sight as you tried to move, leave, anything-
And then the wall looked to you, expression as contemplative as a monstrous Hypogean manifestation could manage.
“Hmm… you’re an odd one. Such a unique essence. Whatever shall I do with you, I wonder?”
As more hands reached out for you, noticeably gentler this time, you finally blacked out from fear. The last thing you remembered before the darkness took you was the ground rushing up towards your head (or rather you falling down) and the creature’s magic enveloping you with a sinister chuckle.
~
You awoke with a gasp in your bed, eyes shooting open to face the familiar beige of your bedroom wall. The soft light that leaked in through your window told you that dawn would soon burgeon over the horizon, and a new day would arrive in Cedartown.
So… it was a nightmare? It must have been, you were home safe in your bed, not in an alleyway with a Hypogean monster about to devour you. But it was strange… you didn’t remember getting home last night and falling asleep, and you were, for some reason, still in yesterday’s clothes.
At least I’m alive, you thought as you turned over in bed to face the nightstand… which now sported a severed head on it.
“Greetings to you!” it exclaimed, somehow alive and well despite missing its body. The dark complexion and jagged purple grin told you that maybe your nightmare hadn’t been a nightmare after all.
The wall wasn’t a wall anymore. Instead, it sported a head of dark, wavy hair as well as a festive top hat. Very classy, very Hypogean.
You shrieked at the top of your lungs, reaching out and pummeling the head with all the strength you had.
(Which wasn’t a lot, considering you’d likely almost succumbed to the cold last night.)
The head was wrenched up and away from you. “Hey!” it snarled at you. “Is that any way to thank the person who saved your pathetic mortal life out there? I could have left you to die, you know.”
Your eyes trailed away from the head to realize it sported a body now. It (he?) was slender and dressed in alternating patterns of green and purple. He looked like some sort of demented jester, which you supposed fit his personality.
He sat cross-legged on your dresser, examining you with mild interest much like he had the night before. You felt like an ant under his intense gaze.
And… if you weren’t so afraid for your life right now, you might have consciously realized that despite his demeanor, you thought he looked rather dapper.
You grabbed the first thing you could reach on your nightstand, which turned out to be a hairbrush. Trembling, you retreated to the corner of your bed, pressed up against the apex of two walls as you pathetically brandished your ineffective improvised weapon. All in all it gave you maybe a foot and a half more space between you and him, hardly any sort of clearance for you to make a break for it. Given how agilely he’d seized and dismembered your attacker last night, he’d be on you before you even got halfway to the door.
And so you stared at him, and he stared at you. After an agonizing moment of terrifying silence, he rolled his head off his neck once again. You flinched as he rolled it up and down his slender arms and shoulders as if he were doing some sort of sportsball trick, cackling all the while. With one last hum and a bounce, he caught his head on his neck once more… only now it was completely backwards.
This hardly fazed him, as he reached up and turned it around to face you with a snap. “Oh, your fear is delectable, my dear! I knew I made the right choice by sparing you.” His voice was less raspy than it had been the night before, but it still retained that sonorous quality. It was surprisingly pleasing to the ear.
The monster had apparently decided you weren’t worth killing, you realized. “W-why did you save me?” you managed after another moment of terse silence.
“Why does anyone do anything?” he quipped back with an exaggerated shrug that made his head bounce up and then down again as if there were nothing actually securing it to his neck. “A mere whim, that’s all. You aren’t special, human. If you must know, I just don’t see the fun in devouring a victim if they aren’t awake to feel every last bite,” he said, lunging forward and stopping inches from you only to withdraw with a cackle as you scrambled back with a yelp, dropping the hairbrush and losing it in your sheets.
“P-please don’t eat me…” you whimpered, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes.
The monster laughed uproariously, slapping his knee like you'd told him the best joke he'd ever heard. “Now, why would I do a silly thing like that?” he asked as if you hadn’t watched him tear apart and devour a man right in front of you just a few hours before. “I’m full. I had a bit of a midnight snack, you see.”
You gulped, racking your brain for something to say that wouldn’t anger the Hypogean and make him decide you were worth eating after all.
“T-that man…” you said, petering out before you could manage anything else.
“-is dead and gone!” the creature exclaimed, spreading his arms as if giving an encore. From all around you, the sound of phantom cheers filled the room. “No one will miss that dreadfully dull waste of space troglodyte.”
He got up from his sitting position and started floating around your room, much to your horror. As if his other powers weren’t awful enough, he could fly too? Stretching lazily, he settled in the air as if entering a comfortable hammock.
But then he craned his head down and looked at you, hat somehow remaining firmly on his head. With a sickening crack, he rotated it so that his face was upright and looking at you despite the rest of his body still lounging on his back in the air. “I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘thank you’, human. Don’t test my patience.” He impossibly turned his head to the side with a scoff and you noticed that in tandem with his glowing eyes and mouth, he sported an exaggeratedly long, thin nose.
All in all, for a Hypogean, he had a surprising lack of grotesqueness.
(Wait, what?)
You blinked at him dazedly for a few seconds before you realized he’d been prompting you. “T-thank you,” you stammered, hoping this would placate him.
He grinned widely, wider than should be possible. You gulped. “See, was that so hard? A little gratitude can go a long way,” he crooned. He spun his head around a few more times for good measure before rising and returning to a cross-legged position, albeit in the air. It seemed this creature wasn’t able to stay still for more than a few moments.
Steepling his fingers under his chin, he studied you for a few moments. Slowly, your heart rate dropped back to something just a modicum above normal. For now, it looked like the Hypogean wasn’t going to kill you.
“W-what are you?”
The monster scoffed. “Surely you know what I am. I’m a Hypogean, and a rather powerful one at that.” The tail you just noticed he had lashed behind him in mild irritation.
Well, that much was obvious. You felt your cheeks heating up in embarrassment over your stupid question. This only made the Hypogean grin wider. “You’re fun.” He quipped. “I think I’ll let you live… for now.”
A weight lifted off your shoulders as you sighed in relief. It was just a stay of execution, but at least it meant he wouldn’t be painting your bedroom walls crimson with your blood… yet.
You bit your lip, wondering if you were treading into dangerous waters. “N-no, I, uh… I meant your name.”
The creature quirked an invisible eyebrow. “My, my… that’s a bit personal, don’t you think?” He smirked at you and you felt your heart thrumming in your chest in what you were pretty sure was fear. “Hmm… but I’m in a good mood, so I suppose I’ll oblige you.”
A drumroll sounded from nowhere as he rose to a standing position, still in the air. Wings surprisingly low on his back fluttered softly as he did. With a flourish and a little dance, he placed his hat on his head and to your horror and amazement, it grew to envelop his head entirely.
He extended it out with one hand, manifesting a stage magician’s wand with the other. With practiced ease, he tapped the hat with it, then vanished it just as easily as he’d summoned it. He then proceeded to rummage around in the now-seemingly bottomless hat with an exaggerated grumble you could still hear despite the Hypogean now being headless once more.
Cheezy magic props littered the floor of your bedroom as he tossed them out one by one. Handkerchiefs, trick rings, cards… oh Dura, was that a live mouse?
(Whatever it was, it quickly scurried away.)
Finally, with a joyous little “aha!” he finally pulled his entire head out of his hat, which rotated in his grip to face you. “I am the great and terrible clown, Berial!” he exclaimed, rolling his head on his shoulders once more before bumping it loosely back onto his neck with more phantom applause sounding around you.
To the Hypo- Berial’s apparent surprise, you couldn’t help but laugh softly. “You’re talented,” you said with what you hoped looked like a kind smile. Maybe if you appealed to his ego, he’d leave and let you live another day.
His eyes widened slightly before returning to their neutral state. “I know I am,” he said, preening as he leaned back in the air onto his folded arms. “But thank you for noticing, human. It’s been an age since I’ve been able to do that one. Most mortals run screaming before I can even get to the part with the mouse!”
You looked to where you’d last seen the mouse. “Was that, a… uh…”
“An actual mouse? Why yes, thank you for noticing! I take great pride in the authenticity of my tricks. It’ll probably scurry off outside and freeze to death, don’t you worry,” he said casually with a wave of his hand, and it reminded you that despite Berial’s seemingly affable nature, he was still a twisted, corrupted Hypogean.
“I-I see…” you managed, wringing your hands. “So… you’re a magician?”
Berial rolled his eyes. “I’m a clown . A jester if you insist but really I prefer clown. I’m an entertainer by trade, relishing in both the cheers and screams of the mortal masses. And I have been so starved for the former as of late. Why, you haven’t even tried to escape yet. Which is fortunate for you, as I could eviscerate you in a flash!”
“I-I know you could. That’s why I’m not running,” you said, trying to meet Berial’s gaze with feigned confidence. His eyes were endless swirling pools of purple, and you had to tear your gaze away lest you get lost in them.
“You’re sharp… for a human. Once every few decades a bright one like you comes around. The dumb ones are a gold piece a dozen. They’re fun to mock, sure, but I long for riveting conversation, you see.”
You nodded numbly. Maybe this was a second nightmare, and you’d wake up in bed again only this time without a monstrous clown haunting your bedroom. But you had no such luck, and unfortunately this was your reality. “... How did you know where I lived?” you asked cautiously.
Berial giggled darkly, making you shiver. “I’ve been observing you for a bit.”
Suddenly you thought back to a few times over the past few days where you’d sworn you’d seen a shadow in a dark corner ripple, or when you felt like you were being watched despite seemingly being alone.
“So those creepy vibes I was getting… that was you?”
“Oh, did you pick up on that? Interesting... Most don’t. They don’t even know I’m there until I start my little performance. And by then, it’s usually too late!” He cackles menacingly. “You got lucky.”
Why did this feel so normal? This man(?) could kill you with a wave of his hand but here you were, bantering with him. Better bantering than battering, I suppose.
“I always lock my door behind me.”
Berial snorted. “As if a flimsy little door could keep me out. I merely took to the shadows and slunk in while carrying you.”
(So much for your determined plan to get home and put a door between you and him.)
“B-but everyone who’s said they’ve heard you says that when they get home…”
“It’s all a game to me,” Berial said with a casualness more befitting someone talking about the weather rather than murder, repositioning himself so that he was now somehow sitting upright against your wall. You craned your neck to keep an eye on him, still too afraid to leave your bed lest he attack you. “If they make it home, they win! If they look back or let me catch them… they lose.” He laughed darkly, all the light around you dimming as he seemed to absorb it. And then just as quickly as it had darkened around you, everything returned to normal. “A game isn’t any fun if it’s rigged like that, you see.”
Well, that made sense to you, but… “But I lost,” you said. “I turned around.”
Berial shrugged. “I was impressed by your creativity. Your resolve was strong enough that you’d never would have if that cretin hadn’t forced your hand. You thought quickly, deciding that little ol’ me was preferable to that lout. And you were right! He cheated and therefore the round was forfeit. And I punished him!” A long, dark, forked tongue darted out to wet what passed for his lips as he seemed to recall his victory and subsequent feast.
You found yourself transfixed on that, watching him slither his tongue about like a snake. But then you came back to yourself and looked back up at his eyes, which all but twinkled with amusement as he pulled himself back up and longed midair like he was modeling. He winked at you. “If you commission a painting, it’ll last longer,” he quipped.
Busted. You shook your head. “N-no, it’s just-” Why were you flustered?
“I’m terrifyingly handsome, aren’t I?” With a mocking cackle, he twirled around and came to rest positioned like an adolescent girl would while daydreaming on her bed, complete with legs kicking in the air. The bells on his curled shoes jingled with each little kick and you realized that that was where the jingling chasing you last night must have come from. “I’ll have you know that in Hypogean society, I’m irresistible.” He preened, taking off his hat and running a hand through his (admittedly nice) hair.
“Well… you certainly are terrifying, that’s for sure.” Was that considered a compliment in his culture? You weren't quite sure what you could and couldn't say to a Hypogean without offending them.
He laughed as he replaced his hat. “Flattery will get you nowhere with me, my dear,” he quipped. “After all, what use are honeyed words when I could just rip out your tongue?” He lunged forward again, stopping just short of you once more as you tumbled backwards with a scream. Wait, when had you scooted forward and left your little corner?
“Ohoho, too easy!” Berial chirped, now standing up once more and doubled over with laughter at your expense. “Rest assured, if I’m going to kill you it’s going to be theatrically! Yes, you must go out with a blaze of glory on the stage under the lights, adoring fans all about!”
You slowly got your breathing and heart rate back to normal. “Stop doing that!” you snapped, mentally biting your tongue as soon as the words left your mouth. Were you really in a position to be giving a centuries-old Hypogean orders?
He scratched his chin in mock thought, tilting his head this way and that in a manner that caused it to spin all the way around once in each direction. “Hmm… no, I don’t think I will,” he said with a jagged grin. “Your fear is much more tantalizing than most. Maybe that’s because I’m a known entity to you now. As they say, the Hypogean you know is far better than the one you don’t, don’t you think?”
“Uh…”
Berial snickered. “It’s a rhetorical question, don’t you worry. Now…” He swiveled his head around to look at your room rather than turn his body, and you had a feeling he was just doing that to creep you out now. “Hmm, very plain, quite drab. This simply won’t do!”
You stared at him blankly, confused. “What won’t do?”
“This boring house you have! If I’m to stick around, I must redecorate!”
Panic started to rise in your chest. “W-wait, stick around? I never said anything about you sticking around!”
“But I did!” he said, putting his fingers in his mouth to pull his cheeks back to stick that strange tongue out at you again.
(You averted your eyes this time.)
You stared down at your lap. “I’m not in a position to refuse, am I?”
“Nope! I mean, if you’d rather, I can just eat you and be done with it. But I’d rather that not be the outcome. You’re interesting and I’m bored. It’s about time someone entertained the entertainer, don’t you think? Why, you’re the second most interesting person I’ve met in a long time!”
“Who’s the first?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
Berial smirked. “Well, that honor would go to my dear old pal Merlin. You see, we go quite a ways back. But their friends always want to try and ever-so-rudely kill me when I come around, so you’ll do in a pinch.”
Of course he knew Merlin; everyone important knew Merlin. You'd never seen their face, but you knew all the stories about their power, their deeds of heroism. They didn't seem the type to keep people like Berial around as friends, but Berial was a force of nature, you felt. He did what he wanted. So you considered your options.
Well, if it was between having a sinister (rude, insulting) houseguest and dying, then… “No funny business,” you said, recalling the horrid man who’d nearly assaulted you last night.
He gave an exaggerated pout. “But I love funny business! I’m the funniest businessiest Hypogean around!”
Fear crept up your neck. Was he going to…? “N-no, I meant-”
“I know what you meant,” he said, waving at you dismissively as it trying to shoo away a gnat. “And no, that’s such a boring, blasé way of inflicting suffering. I might be a Hypogean, but I’m not a monster.” He was silent for a moment. “Well, technically I am but- oh, you get it, don’t be daft!” He stomped his foot in midair with a scowl, which actually drew a snort out of you. For such a feared, powerful Hypogean, he looked so ridiculous and petulant right now.
You realized what happened and slapped a hand over your mouth. “No, wait, sorry, I-I-” you stammered.
Berial surprised you by laughing in tandem. “Aha, there’s some joy!” He leaned forward and tapped you on the nose. To your amazement, you only flinched a little when he did. “Yes, this will be quite nice…” he mused.
The two of you were silent for a mortifyingly long time. “So…” you finally said awkwardly, breaking the silence. “... do you like tea?”
He perked up. “Oh, I love tea! I thought you’d never offer!” He grinned again, this time managing to come off as more goofy than menacing.
You stood up on shaky legs. “I-I’ll go make some.” He let you stand and even leave the room while he stayed behind. That was a start, right?
And so it began.