Page 18 of Hell-Bound

The female didn’t move—didn’t tilt her head towards Renata. She just sat. Staring.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Renata hesitantly came closer to the female. “Do you know where Denizan’s Tower is?”

The female didn't flinch. Didn’t even acknowledge Renata standing in front of her as a small droplet of drool dribbled down her haggard face.

Renata turned to look past her shoulder and towards where she was staring. In the distance, barely a few paces away, Renata saw a hanging sign.

The Denizan’s Tower.

She turned back to the female whose face remained blank.

“Thank you,” Renata said, hoping for some kind of response.

There was none.

She stood there a moment, feeling powerless. She couldn’t even thank this poor female. Even if the Half-Orc hadn’t meant to help her, she did. Money didn’t seem appropriate either. How could you thank or help someone who couldn’t acknowledge what was being offered?

Feeling deflated, Renata could only offer a smile and turn to walk towards her destination.

The Denizan’s Towerdidhave a door, one that swung back and forth soundlessly.

The first thing she saw when she entered was a long bar extending from one wall to another, surrounded by tables. Each table was of a different height and style and was completely covered in dust. Oil lamps were lit, casting a brownish hue as the light mixed with the purple coming through the windows.

There was no music playing—there wasn’t anything, oranyone, at all.

“Hello?”

Her voice did not echo. Instead, it disappeared and was absorbed into the thin stone walls.

“I was sent by the—”

She felt her voice cut off.

What the...?

She tried again.

“I was sent by the—”

Nothing.

Just then, a ragged, Elven male scrambled around the corner.

“Don’t say nothing!” he hissed.

“Um…are you who I’m supposed to meet?”

“What did I jus day?”

He dashed towards her, grabbed her arm, and dragged her away from the door and deeper into the bar.

“Not too bright, are ye?” He let go of her arm. “I’m Fredrick–Fred is fine. The bar is enchanted, so the sleepers don’t get in. We should be good over here.”

“Sleepers? Is that what those people are?”

He nodded quickly, his greasy brown hair falling into his eyes.

“Neither living nor dead.”