"The Key of Oblivion"

XI

The next two weeks became a time of hidden preparation, a quiet race, invisible to the ordinary people caught up in the pre-holiday bustle.

Alice acted as a shadow. Several times, disguising herself and her mannerisms, she infiltrated the castle with tour groups. Her goal was clear: the Knights' Gallery and that very bas-relief. Comparing the image with photographs on her PDA, she also found the barely noticeable "crack" the shepherd had pointed out. Touching the cold stone confirmed her suspicions - it was more than just an artistic detail. Now she had everything: the artifact, the deciphered manuscript, the star chart, and the point of application. She knew what to do and awaited only one thing: the coming of Kurbisnacht, when the ancient mechanisms embedded in reality itself would begin to move.

His men, awkward and suspicious in their baggy jackets, wandered through the castle halls, drawing nervous glances from the caretakers. They found a bas-relief, poked at it, and snapped photos with their point-and-shoot cameras, but the meaning eluded them. Marlow, however, showed unexpected ingenuity. He found the full text of the ballad in the city library and, while poring over local history articles, came across references to many of the city's ancient legends being connected to Kurbisnacht. It was a tenuous lead, but Longreath seized on it. His men managed to bribe one of the junior caretakers, a nervous young man, with the promise of a year's salary to leave the secret gate open after the closing time on October 31st. Longreath didn't understand the subtleties, but he believed in his principle: "Strike first, think later" He was ready to break into the castle and take by force what knowledge could not give.

Surveillance of Longreath's men paid off handsomely. Noticing their heightened interest in the castle, Jake made inquiries and contacted the bribed caretaker. Olga, posing as a journalist reporting on corruption in city institutions, extracted from him all the details of the "special guest's visit" on October 31st over coffee in a cozy cafe. They realized Longrith was preparing to act again. Their own plan was simple and risky: infiltrate the castle that very night and either preempt it or hinder it. They lacked the artifact and most of their knowledge, but they had a desire to prevent Longrith from winning, and a faint, barely flickering curiosity about what important secret the ancient citadel concealed.

And in his hidden chamber, the Puppeteer watched the figures move on a giant screen. He saw Alice methodically studying the castle. He saw Longrith's men scurrying through the corridors like cockroaches. How the trio of heroes plotted their naive plans. His web worked flawlessly. All of them, driven by their passions, involuntarily converged on one point - the castle on the night of November 1st. He knew that Kurbisnacht was more than just a metaphor; it was a real astronomical and energetic phenomenon, the key to activating the artifact. He was ready to risk everything to obtain what lay hidden in the depths of the castle. The only thing that remained unclear to him was Alice's true intentions and the nature of the creatures that urban legends called "Oblivious Shadows." But the gamble was worth the candle.

Meanwhile, the city was preparing for Kurbisnacht. Shop windows were filled with orange pumpkins and silhouettes of bats. Carnival stages began to be set up in the squares. Animators dressed as monsters and witches flitted about, and monks collecting alms seemed merely part of the festive ambiance. But for those in the know, this bustle concealed a different, more ancient meaning. And somewhere in the crowd, unnoticed by anyone, the true inhabitants of the castle's depths moved about, observing the preparations for the night that was their legacy.

Even before the first stones of the future city were laid at the foot of the hill, whispers swirled here. Rumors, born in the mists and told around campfires, spoke of a people who, like fairies or earth spirits, had inhabited these lands since time immemorial. Their mysterious kingdom, according to legend, lay hidden in the very depths of the very hill on which the colossal castle now stood. Legends promised untold treasures and secrets hidden in their underground chambers.

But there was no single truth. Some storytellers painted images of wise and kind beings, ready to bestow gifts upon the worthy. Others painted pictures of a secretive and suspicious tribe, jealously guarding its knowledge. Still others, relishing the details, described cruel monsters that once terrorized the area and were sealed beneath the hill only at the cost of incredible effort and sacrifice. They were said to have helped build the castle. They were said to have built the castle to keep them out. Amid these contradictions, only one detail remained constant in all the stories - Kurbisnacht, the mystical hour between October 31st and November 1st.

These echoes of antiquity found their reflection in an ancient ballad, which could still occasionally be heard performed by street musicians or read in dusty tomes in the city library:

Time to heed the voice of fate,
To grasp the guiding light in hand!
Though veils may cloak, and prayers deviate,
The hour strikes, and my spirit's grand!

Above the sleepy valley, where heather and grass sway,
Stands a castle, aged and proud.
In its stones, the dust of ages lay,
And the wind whispers soft through arches loud.
Old legends, ancient as the mossy stone,
Guard tales of generations past:
Beneath the dark where light has never shone,
Lives a folk of shadows cast.

Behold where the stone lion holds a shield,
Where the serpent in rage bites its own tail.
Not he who asks will the secret yield,
But he who sees the sun within the veil.

Under the hall's arch where nobles feast,
Carvings dangle on walls so sleek.
There a knight fights to raise his land at least,
While a maiden waits in chambers meek.
But the ancient master, whose touch has withered away,
Left the key in a wondrous design:
Not in the glorious battle does the truth lay,
But in the quiet call, an echo divine.

Amongst the heroes, the kings, the saints,
Seek him who gazes down at the ground.
Not in their eyes, but in gestures so faint,
The tongue of the ages in silence is found.
One bas-relief, hidden in the dim light,
Where the shepherd drives forth his flock,
Will point a finger to a crack in the night,
Surrendered to fire, the warmth of the rock.

Behold where the stone lion holds a shield,
Where the serpent in rage bites its own tail.
Not he who asks will the secret yield,
But he who sees the sun within the veil.

Yet finding that hidden passage alone
Is not enough where the air is damp and clay.
Those below shall hear your tale,
A story of the soul, simple and gray.
Not sword nor gold should you bring as gifts,
Nor empty oaths of loyalty's song.
Bring them what all worlds always sift -
A dream and thoughts pure, lifelong.

And if your heart is clear as a spring,
And your mind is open to learning anew,
Their ancient visage shall start to sing
In the chambers both shadowy and true.
And the treasure, brighter than a hundred comets' flight,
The key to gates and dust of the skies,
They shall entrust you, to see the light
Of all that humanity has left to surmise.

Behold where the stone lion holds a shield,
Where the serpent in rage bites its own tail.
Not he who asks will the secret yield,
But he who sees the sun within the veil.

All this information - from dry historical references to whispers of legend - was like pieces of a gigantic puzzle. Assembling it required not just knowledge, but also courage, perseverance, and a willingness to embrace the inexplicable. Alice had collected almost all the pieces, Longreath had the audacity to force his way through, and Alan, Olga, and Jake had the will to persevere.

People had forgotten those with whom they had once, albeit invisibly, shared this land. But the "Oblivioned Shadows" remembered. They guarded an ancient covenant, older than both the city and the castle itself. And Kurbisnacht was not just a holiday, but a sacred ritual, a gateway between worlds, the secret of which they guarded from the uninitiated.

But beyond fairy tales and horror stories, there was something else. A vague prophecy, or rather a warning. It spoke of someone who imagined himself a puppeteer, playing with the lives of others like pieces on a board. He has many "eyes," he sees everyone, but he himself is "blind," for "there is no sun within the his veil" - no true understanding, only cold calculation. He acts through the hands of others, striving for a goal whose consequences he truly does not understand. And this blindness, ultimately, could become his greatest and most fatal mistake on a night when not only shadows but also ancient prophecies come to life.