Eat Thy Neighbours Book · Pickups

There was once a village in Vale Sangora, the name of which had best stay forgotten. It was little more than dirt and dust until the day the residents found a curious crystal, bright as a caged sun. They said its glow was healing.

Travellers came from distant provinces, drawn by promises of rest and wonder. The village prospered and opened an inn to host the guests. The food was soon as famous as the stone itself.

But seasons passed, and folks from the nearby settlements began to notice that some people who travelled to the village never came back home.

At first, it was few enough to forget. Then too many to ignore. And so foreign men came seeking their lost kin, but they found nothing but friendly faces and confused words: “They were never here”, or “They left months ago”.

But, in truth, the villagers had taken to eating their guests – and anyone who dared to come looking. Something awoke in them a hunger not seen before – not for blood but human flesh. And as they feasted, the light of the crystal began to dim until it faded fully. No longer signalling its need, no longer craving.

The hungry changed. Their skin grew slack and pallid, their nails turned to hooked talons, and their eyes began to glow with the same shine that once came from their prized stone.

The knyaz’s guards came with fire and iron. Some of the monsters were slain. The rest fled into deep caves in the nearby cliffs.

Until this day, they slip through cracks and crevices, their hunger never sated. No blade can hunt them all, for the caves seem empty and quiet. But they’re there, living in the walls, and waiting for someone foolish enough to come close.