"It's cold" A child's voice rang out into the cold, crisp night.

"Just a little further" Rang a man's voice as he dragged the child behind him, "I had told you to wear your shoes."

"Sorry" the child looked behind them, "Isn't mama coming?" This caused the man to tighten his hold on the child's wrist. "Mama isn't coming." "Why? You said she'd be right behind us!" the child raised their voice. "Shh!" the man subtly looked around, "I said mama is not coming."

"But you sai-"

"I LIED!" The man swiftly turned around and clamped his hands on the child's shoulders in a vice like grip.

"Mama-"

"Is dead" the man finished coldly, "You hear me? She's dead" He grabbed the child's jaw to keep their eyes on him. "Your mother is dead" he punctuated, "And if you don't shut up, we will too."

The man released their jaw with a huff and continued dragging the child along with him, ignoring the soft sobs and hiccups behind him.

The moon was high in the night sky by the time they reached an oddly normal looking Inn. The man knocked on the Inn door in 3-6-2 rapid successions. A slot in the middle of the door opened and dirty brown eyes peered up at him.

"Yes?"

"May our shadows dance with Illins' light" the man whispered.

The slot closed and the door opened to reveal a stodgy looking man in his late 40s. "Come."

The man and child entered the Inn and followed the inn keeper.

"Must've been a tough journey, especially with the heightened security around the area" the inn keeper grumbled. "You have no idea" the man muttered his grip on his child's wrist tightening before completely releasing it. "But it's worth it" the inn keeper smirks before stopping in front of an onyx-coloured storage door.

"Welcome to The Proletariat's Spear."