Dim candlelight within Hallowhaven’s local tavern flickered, casting shadows over the rough-hewn wooden tables and the rickety chairs scattered about the room. The air was thick with the smell of stale ale, roasted meats, and the faint, ever-present scent of old parchment—probably from one of the many strange books that Azrath, the local necromancer, had brought along with him.

  Azrath sat at one of the back tables, an empty mug resting in front of him. He drummed his fingers lightly on the wood, his gaze distant as he thought through the latest tinkering with his experiments. His dark robes rustled as he rocked, focusing intently on the intricacies of life and death that occupied his mind. Of course, he wasn’t alone.

  At the adjacent table, Lilac and Autumn, had decided to make a stop at the tavern as well. They had heard rumors of Azrath's presence, and curiosity about his new apprentice had drawn them in.

  Sitting across from them Potabeau, with his usual impeccable style and boundless energy, leaned back in his chair and flashed them a broad grin. “So, ladies, what do you think of Grin Hollow engineering? Not bad, huh?” he asked, clearly pleased with himself.

  Lilac exchanged a glance with Autumn. “Well, you’ve certainly made an impression,” Autumn said dryly. “Though I have to admit, I’m still curious to see if you can outshine Azrath. That spire of his is quite impressive.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Potabeau said, adjusting his tie with a flourish. “I’m the light to his dark, the sunshine to his ominous shadows. Since I’m mayor, it’s all going to be about fun, prosperity, and, well, *zombies*—but in a good way!”

  Lilac rolled her eyes playfully. “How could we forget the zombies?”

  Azrath, hearing his name mentioned, looked up from his musings and gave the women a slow, almost imperceptible nod. Then, without warning, the tavern door swung open with a loud creak, and in stepped Charley, the grumpy bartender, his face set in a permanent scowl. Charley was a man of few words, and even fewer smiles. If you wanted a drink, you got it with no frills—just the way he liked it.

  Behind him, Azrath’s apprentice, a young necromancer with a mop of dark, unruly hair, trudged into the tavern. The apprentice Mervin followed Azrath around like a shadow, an ever-present reminder of the strange mix of intellect and mystery that Azrath seemed to attract. Mervin looked exhausted as usual, his eyes half-lidded with a sleepiness that came from late-night study sessions.

  “Afternoon Charley,” Azrath said, lifting his head from his thoughts as Mervin plopped down beside him.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  “Afternoon, boss,” Charley muttered, as he walked a dusty mug all the way down the bar. “You gonna drink that, or just keep using it like it’s a bookend?”

  Azrath smiled faintly, a glimmer of amusement in his hollow eyes since he had all intention of propping his tome on the mug. “I’d prefer two drinks, then Charley. If you don’t mind.”

  Charley grunted and began preparing Azrath’s second drink—a concoction that could only be described as a strange blend of herbal infusions and fermented ingredients that Azrath had come to appreciate over the years. Mervin, on the other hand, simply looked at the ingredients with distaste, as though he had never quite gotten used to the unique flavor of the drinks here.

  Meanwhile, across the tavern, Potabeau, clearly undeterred by the distraction, was still enthusiastically speaking. “I have plans to open a spa for the zombies—give them a little self-care, you know? After all, they work hard, and they deserve some relaxation. Maybe some nice hot baths. The whole town could get involved!”

  Lilac smirked. “I can only imagine the look of a zombie waiting for their spa treatments.’”

  “Exactly!” Potabeau said, tapping his fingers on the table. “There’s nothing like a well-rested zombie workforce!”

  Azrath, still receiving his drink from Charley, overheard the conversation and turned his attention to Potabeau. His dark eyes gleamed with a knowing look. “A spa for zombies? Potabeau, you never cease to amaze me. It’s always the light-hearted approach that comes from my drinks, isn’t it?”

  “Oh, you know it!” Potabeau replied with a wink, standing and adjusting his jacket. “There’s a reason I’m running for mayor. People need hope, Azrath. Zombies, especially, need hope. They can’t just keep roaming around aimlessly!”

  Charley, having finished preparing Azrath’s drink, leaned over the counter and cut in, deadpan as usual. “Hope’s a bit hard to come by when you’re dead. Don’t know how much hope your zombies are gonna get from all that pampering.”

  Potabeau chuckled, clearly unfazed by Charley’s tone. “Oh, Charley, you just don’t see the potential in a zombie spa. Wait until they start getting manicures. Hallowhaven will never be the same!”

  Azrath took a long, contemplative sip of his drink and gave Potabeau an amused glance. “If anyone can make that idea work, it would be you, Potabeau. You’ve got a way with... the impossible.”

  Mervin, who had barely registered the conversation, finally spoke up, his voice slow and gravelly from lack of sleep. “You know, a spa would probably be the least weird thing that’s happened here.”

  Everyone turned to laugh.

  “I mean, really,” Mervin continued, rubbing his eyes, “you’ve got an unperturbed necromancer in a spire, a mayor campaigning for zombie relaxation, Zombie machinery, Zombie guards, and Charley here serving drinks like it’s the end of the world. Why not add a spa?”

  Charley just grumbled and slid another drink down the counter to an anonymous patron, clearly uninterested in further comments on the matter.

  Azrath chuckled, his pale, skeletal fingers wrapping around his mug. “I suppose there’s always room for one more absurd idea. After all, life—and death—are what you make of them.”

  “Or death... and more death,” Mervin muttered, half asleep, before realizing everyone was staring at him. He looked up, blinking. “What? Did I say something wrong?”

  Potabeau clapped his hands together, clearly delighted by the unexpected moment of levity. “It’s true, Mervin! Grin Hollow and Hallowhaven have *changed* because of all the strange ideas we’ve had. If you can’t have a bit of fun in a town like this, then what’s the point?”

  Lilac raised her glass in a mock toast. “To strange ideas, absurdity, and... zombie spas?”

  “And to Azrath,” Autumn added with a smile. “For making it all possible.”

  Azrath, for once, looked genuinely amused, a rare, faint smile crossing his lips as he raised his drink to the group. “To progress... and the strange things that shape it.”

  As the evening wore on, the tavern filled with laughter, clinking mugs, and more wild ideas about the future of the town. Charley, though grumbling from behind the bar, couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to himself. The madness of Hallowhaven and Grin Hollow was good business after all.