The presence stopped moving away from us.
It had been retreating since the main corridor. Just far enough ahead to keep us walking. Through turns, through passages, deeper in. Now it stopped in the chamber and simply existed there.
There was flesh. A lot of it. Arranged in ways I didn't have a reference point for, which is saying something after running an inn long enough. And eyes. Many eyes. They were looking in different directions. None of them were aimed at each other.
I once had a guest arrive through a third-floor window.
The front entrance had a delivery happening and they'd decided to go around instead, which was entirely reasonable. They were carrying luggage, perfectly calm about it. By the time I got upstairs they were already seated. They asked for tea. I brought it. They stayed six nights.
Bram held the lamp forward and looked at the entity for a long moment.
"Y'know what that is," he said.
