Teer entered the shrine as softly as possible. The caution was, perhaps, unnecessary, given that it had been a century since any living being set foot within the halls of the Iron Tiger Shrine, but she still felt some alertness was required. While no one had been inside for the last century, plenty of folks had made it onto the property. From those trespassers came the stories that kept most people far away from the shrine.
      Much of the shrine was in poor repair. Outbuildings were on the verge of collapse. Landscaping lay neglected while rubble marked where some structures had already succumbed to the demands of time. The main temple was still intact, and oddly enough seemed to be in relatively good shape. More modern trapping surrounded the shrine grounds. Signs on the chain-link fence around the property indicated that public works commission was worried about the structures collapsing on people who entered. Warnings like that did nothing to stop wayward youth and desperate content creators from cutting holes in the badly rusted fence to slip through and visually pillage the place.
      Visual pillaging was, as far as Teer could tell, the only kind of pillaging that had been done. She could see items that were, if she had to guess, out of place, but other than that there was no graffiti on any notable surface. Windows stood vacant, but no one could recall a time when there had been glass in them to begin with. Lightweight debris, mostly food wrappers and other odd packaging, clung to the fence and littered corners, but that was the extent of material left at the shrine by the modern era. All other damages to the property were the fault of time passing, not mortal hands.
      Pausing, Teer pulled the hood of her jacket down, allowing her large pointed ears room to move once more. Being a half-breed had left her with some unfortunate mutations; the large, wolf-like ears and the knee-length fluffy tail being the two most notable. She had spent the majority of her life trying to keep others from pulling those things, but her efforts had reached an end. This place, where it seemed no mortal was welcome, was the last place she felt she could hide away.
      Glancing around, Teer realized she was standing in what would have been the main courtyard. Vegetation that had perished in the face of oncoming winter throttled the small pond at the center of the courtyard. Rot had claimed the wooden pillars that once surrounded the space, rendering the intricate carvings from centuries past invisible. All around, Teer’s sharp ears could detect the soft crackle of wood attempting to bear the weight of structures it no longer had the integrity to hold. Her nose, which was sharper than it should be given its very human shape, caught the musty scent of mildew and fungi from all directions.
      Ahead, shrouded in soft mist that lingered in the freezing winter air, Teer could make out the iron bound doors that led into the shrine’s main temple. Countless content creators had come to the Iron Tiger Shrine, exploring the outbuildings, peering through doors into old cellars, wondering aloud what the strange clanking sounds that followed them down dark corridors could be. Those who looked, but never touched, were the ones who came back with tedious videos and a fun ghost story to share at parties.
      Others were not so fortunate.
      Several years ago, an ambitious urban explorer had declared on their video sharing channel that they were going to enter the main temple of the Iron Tiger Shrine. So far, no one had managed to get inside. Those who lived to post their videos found that the main doors were barred from the inside, all the windows covered with heavy metal bars, and the building itself had no other points of entrance as far as anyone knew. The few who had ventured into the cellars beneath the main temple had never found another way in and always left quickly, aware of something watching them from the shadows.
      RustRat345 was determined to get into the temple. He was, admittedly, prepared for a lot of things. Most of his videos featured the rat Yorn encountering hostile homeless people or even crudely made traps set up in abandoned places by people who found sick pleasure in the notion that they might get someone killed. Everyone knew he went into abandoned places armed, could handle himself if things came to a fight, and was oddly fearless when he had every right to be scared out of his fur.
      Teer had decided to watch the livestream of RustRat345’s explorations of the Iron Tiger Shrine. Such things were one of the few distractions she was ever allowed, and watching the cocky urban explorer trek through the woods of Ki-dasa Park to the shrine seemed as harmless as ever. For most of the livestream, everything went for RustRat345 as it did for other explorers. There were dimly lit corridors in crumbling buildings, the soft drip of condensation in deep cellars that time had neglected, and the odd clanking sound that was always coming from a source just out of sight.
      The doors of the main temple were barred, with no sign of a lock to be picked. RustRat345 had stated that he intended to find a way though one of the windows. For that purpose, he had brought a battery powered reciprocating saw, several blades for cutting metal, and his own brand of overconfidence. Once through the bars, he would simply break a window and go where no urban explorer had gone before.
      When he started cutting, his comment section changed instantly. People were pleading with him to stop, to leave, to not deface the shrine. RustRat345 could not, of course, see any of this because he had set up his phone on a tripod so he could use both hands to cut.
      Teer remembered what happened next the same way one remembers a nightmare.
      Softly, barely audible over the buzz of the saw, there was a rattling sound, like steel rubbing against steel. For a split second, just long enough to see a wicked grin made of polished metal, the camera had been turned suddenly before it was thrown to the side. Freeze frames of that one shot were still all over the internet, the blurry face indistinguishable except for the mouth full of metallic teeth that gleamed in the moonlight.
      For several seconds there had been only sound as the camera lay face down. There had been a startled exclamation from RustRat345 that accompanied the sound of his saw hitting the ground. Then the screams started. His screams would only last a few seconds, but when they were gone the faint rustling of something heavy being drug on the ground past the phone was the last distinguishable noise of the livestream.
      Ki-dasa Park was, before anything, a nature preserve tucked into the otherwise industrialized metropolitan heart of Parchos. Trees older than some nations grew there. Legends of ghosts and monsters made of shadow sold movies based on the stories surrounding not only the shrine, but the park itself. No one dared enter at night, save the very foolish and the foolishly brave. Because of this, daylight bled onto the livestream before authorities made it out to the Iron Tiger Shrine in response to the flood of calls from terrified viewers who called to report they had watched RustRat345 get murdered in the middle of his livestream.
      RustRat345, whose real name turned out to be Derek Soosman, was found spreadeagle on the front gate of the shrine. His skin was pinned to the fence next to his body, which had been bound to the chain link with riveted bands of steel. Reports would later indicate that his eyes had been gouged out, his fingers cut off, and the majority of his entrails had been shoved down his throat.
      The grizzly corpse was made more macabre by the strange symbols that had been gouged into the muscles, cutting all the way through to the bone. When viewed from a distance there was some logic to their positions, as if something had been written on Derek’s tortured body. Several weeks after his corpse had been recovered a linguist finally managed to pick apart the symbols. They revealed the meaning to the world and more people than ever were convinced that they would never go anywhere near the Iron Tiger Shrine or Ki-dasa Park.
      The words “fate of the insolent” had been carved into the body 22 times in a language that had been dead for several centuries.
      Now, four years after the murder of Derek Soosman, as Teer stood before the untouchable doors of the main temple, she found herself at a loss. At first, the plan had been so easy to understand: go somewhere people would not follow so they couldn’t hurt her any more. The Iron Tiger Shrine had seemed like the perfect place. Even people who didn’t believe in ghosts or monsters in the modern age were wary of the shrine after what had happened there. They credited Derek’s hideous death to a serial killer or disgruntled fan rather than an evil spirit. Still, they avoided the shrine.
      Whatever the truth of this place was, Teer was sure no one would follow her here. But she was now starting to wonder what she would do now. All of the videos she had watched and articles she had read about this place seemed to indicate that whatever lurked here did not like visitors. Whatever monstrosity dwelt here, it only seemed to resort to violence against those who tried to deface the property or who tried to force their way into the main temple.
      “Maybe this was a stupid plan,” Teer muttered to herself, shivering as she rubbed her arms to ward off the biting cold around her. She regularly cursed her mother’s name for gifting her nothing but a pair of overly sensitive ears and a tail that forced her to buy clothing made for Yorn. The thick fur of a wolf Yorn would have been nice in the winter.
      Looking around, Teer frowned at the ruins of the buildings that occupied most of the property of the Iron Tiger Shrine. This place was so untouched by anything other than time that it was hard to tell what had been what. Records of who built the shrine, what god it revered, why the doors were flanked by steel statues of tigers, or any other useful information had been lost long ago. Centuries had passed since the shrine had had a proper keeper and even the last keeper of the shrine had kept no records. When asked, they had gone on record saying that the spirit that guarded the shrine wished there to be no record of the place. Archeologists even avoided the shrine, siting dangerous working conditions and now the murder of Derek as reasons to continue ignoring the otherwise intact site.
      Half on instinct, and half because she had no idea what else to do, Teer headed for one of the outbuildings. She had noticed in one person’s videos that the shrine had once played host to a sort of community kitchen. The old ovens were still there; all made of stone and set into thick brick walls. Those heavier building materials had managed to survive the test of time better than the rest, so the kitchens were safer than some of the other structures.
      Teer found the remains of the kitchen exactly where there were supposed to be. As she entered, eyeing the sagging wooden tables, the lichen covered stonework, and the rusted utensils that still lay about the place, she heard it: a faint [i]click, click, click[/i] in the corridor outside, just like she had heard in so many videos. A quick glance up and down the corridor revealed nothing. The soft clicking had stopped.
      Swallowing her nerves, Teer stepped into the rundown kitchen and shrugged off her pack. From inside the pack, she produced a can of fuel, a burner, and a small pot. After screwing the burner onto the fuel canister, she left the device in the mouth of one of the ancient stone ovens and stepped outside once more. There was plenty of pristine snow here in the courtyard before the main temple. Teer scooped some into the pot and went back into the kitchen.
      Melting snow for water was a frustrating process. Each time she added more snow, it would render down to a fraction of water. She was constantly having to pick out leaves and twigs in an attempt to keep the water clean. Eventually, she had enough water for her purposes and left it to boil as she sat on the brick counter between two of the ovens.
      [i]Click, click, click[/i]
      This time the sound was much closer, just barely outside the door into the kitchen. Teer could feel her gut seizing as her heart did the same, but she did not move. Whatever monster lived here behaved like a sort of guardian. As long as she was doing nothing to offend this guardian, it would leave her be. If it took a hundred years, she would learn to live with that lurking fear that something was stalking her. This was her new home. No spooky noises or flitting shadows would drive her out.
      “I’m not afraid,” Teer lied aloud, hoping the monster could hear her. “At least…not of you! There’s worse things out there than you!”
      [i]Click, click, click[/i]
      The sound seemed to be retreating, vanishing back down the corridor as Teer sat, hands balled into fists on her thighs, heart hammering its way up her throat as she stared at the door. When the burble of boiling water finally reached her ears, Teer felt her muscles go slack. Adrenaline she had not been aware of finally flushed out of her system as she let out a shuddering gasp. Try as she might, she could not dismiss the fear that she had somehow offended the creature that lurked here. Now it was just waiting for her guard to be down before it tore her to shreds.
      Being flayed and riveted to the fence was, Teer thought, a terrible way to die. She glanced at her momentarily exposed wrists as she fished in her pack. The oldest of her scars were pale, with the newer showing a rosy color. All of them were from half-hearted attempts at escaping the mortal coil, but she had failed each time. Desperation was not strong enough to drive her from this life. If she was to die, it would have to be by an outside hand, because no matter how she tried she could not make her hands finish the job.
      While she waited for her dehydrated meal to reconstitute, the soft clicking sound came back. This time, it passed by the window, but there was no shadow in the empty frame. Then it approached the door. Teer did her best to ignore it, despite the fact that her entire body felt like it was covered in icy needles as she listened. Whether she lived or died didn’t matter now. All she hoped for was that this monster was as quick with her as it was with Derek.
      But just as it had the first time, the sound retreated.
      In spite of how delicious the fully rehydrated food smelled, Teer found it impossible to eat. Fear was crowding out her appetite. As much as she had believed she had embraced the concept of death, the primal part of her brain would not accept it. Having a monster clawing at the walls in sinister fashion wasn’t helping much either. So, sighing in an attempt to convince herself she was brave, Teer got to her feet, snatched up her meal in a bag, and entered the courtyard before the main temple once more.
      Teer wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for in the snowy courtyard. Most of her reading had indicated that every shrine built in the traditional Yorese style had a small alter that stood in the courtyard before the doors of the main temple. That alter was where offerings to the gods or the spirits of the shrine were to be left, with prayers. Either the keepers of a shrine would collect the offerings in order to sustain themselves or, on very rare occasions, said offerings would be snatched up by the god they were proffered to.
      A little digging in the snow revealed that there never had been an alter at this shrine. Teer had assumed that someone had knocked the small structure over at some point, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Where the stone alter itself should have been, there was nothing, not even the abandoned infrastructure required for such a thing. With a little shrug, Teer knelt and nestled her rehydrated meal in the snow in the position she imagined an alter would have occupied.
      “This offering is for the spirit of the Iron Tiger Shine,” Teer declared as quietly as she could without whispering. “I come to seek refuge, that’s all…please don’t skin me or anything like that.”
      Teer stood, fully intending to return to the kitchen in order to figure out where she would sleep for the night, when the soft clanking sound echoed directly behind her. She spun around, heart in her mouth, lungs ceasing their work suddenly as she reflexively threw up her arms to protect herself. The sound rang all around her as suddenly as it had appeared behind her. Teer turned frantically, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound, eyes searching wildly, ears stinging at the wild clatter of metal from all directions.
      A scream was all Teer could manage in response to the resounding boom of a bell from within the towering spire of the main temple. Between each bone-shaking crash of the bell, there was a loud thump, as if something monstrous were approaching with torturous slowness. All the while the whirling chorus of disembodied metallic sounds continued from all directions, like a million knives tumbling down stone stairways in a cavern with no end.
      Silence fell as soon as the last booming sound’s echoes faded away. The silence was almost as louder than the bell. Teer’s ears still sang with the peels of the bell as she dared to look up. Her offering was gone. The doors of the main temple were open.
      With legs trembling so violently they threatened collapse, Teer shuffled towards the open doors, gazing in all directions as the silence continued to oppress her ears. She squinted into the dim hall of the temple as she crept towards the threshold. With evening drawing to night, it was difficult to see into the vaulted space, but she was sure she could see a statue of silver at the far end. There was no sign of any monster; nothing slinking in the shadows or dragging its claws along the flagstone floor. So, Teer stepped over the threshold.
      As soon as her foot touched the floor of the main temple, lights flared to life on every pillar in the cavernous hall. Teer froze, certain the light would reveal some ancient guardian or other such danger, but she was met with an array of bright colors instead. Murals blanketed every wall. Pillars of rich wood soared to a vaulted ceiling that was blanketed with magnificent depictions of creatures Teer had no names for.
      Resting at the far end of the hall, seated on a massive dais, surrounded by the long extinct stubs of hundreds of candles, was the silver stature Teer had thought she had seen before the lights came on. The statue was of a Yorn tigress, seated with her legs crossed, her left arm keeping a sword aloft above her head, the right arm resting on her thigh to support the weight of a great hammer she held.
      Teer frowned quizzically as she crept towards the statue. It was much, much smaller than she had expected it to be. Teer had been to other shrines, some more ancient than this one, others only built in the last decade. All of them shared the characteristic of having a much larger than life statue of their patron in the main hall of the temple. This statue, however, was about the size of the average human or Yorn, leaving Teer transfixed as she reached the base of the candle-covered dais.
      In the midst of taking in the admittedly phenomenal craftsmanship of the statue, Teer’s heart froze up. Resting between the statue’s legs, steam still rising from the open pouch, was the dehydrated meal Teer had placed before the temple as an offering.
      With a loud [i]click[/i], the statue’s right eye opened. Teer could not contain another scream as she stumbled back. There was no metal beneath the now open eyelid. Instead, Teer momentarily held the gaze of a very real, very green, eye.
      And then she was looking up at the low rafters of a sagging roof.
      Teer blinked, confusion nibbling on the edges of her still swirling mind. She could have sworn that she had just been in the main temple, but the ceiling she was now pondering looked nothing like the one she had just seen. Aside from the fact that it was too low, there was also the fact that it was not lit the same way. Instead of being bathed in hundreds of points of blazing light, this ceiling was marred with the guttering shadows of a single fire somewhere nearby.
      A different version of the metallic clattering sounds that had swarmed the courtyard returned. These sounds were more familiar though. They were the rattle of cookware, of something being stirred in a pot more specifically.
      Fear instantly took hold of Teer. She couldn’t begin to imagine who, or what, had found her or how she had gotten wherever she was, but none of it could be good. Lifting her head just a little, Teer looked towards the firelight. A heavy pot was dangling over a low fire, steam trailing into the freezing air as the contents bubbled softly. She could see what looked like a loaf of bread resting on the mossy stone counter by the open hearth where the fire had been built. Leaning against the counter next to the loaf, eyes closed, arms folded, was a Yorn tigress.
      Teer couldn’t help but frown as she looked her potential assailant over. Whoever she was, she wasn’t too intimidating, built more like an acrobat than a fighter. There were small scars on her hands, the kind one would expect to see from multiple encounters with an ill-tempered kitchen knife, and her clothing gave the impression that it had been handmade several decades ago. Despite the somewhat dilapidated state of her clothing, the Yorn was clean, almost frightfully so.
      Only two things made this tigress seem dangerous. The first, and least offensive, was the strange sword leaning against the counter next to her. The second, and certainly more terrifying, was the fact that she was even there in the middle of a haunted shrine and didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
      Hoping to take advantage of her captor’s closed eyes, Teer slowly sat up, her insides squirming with each rustle of her sleeping bag, which she realized she had been lying on the whole time.
      “Left your knife next to you,” the tigress said without warning, causing Teer to freeze. “Thought it’d make you feel better when you came to.”
      A quick glance revealed that the knife Teer had brought with her was indeed resting next to her sleeping bag on the floor. She snatched the weapon up, quickly pulling it out its sheath, but not directing it at the Yorn. Teer could see the smile starting to curl the tigress’s lips, as though she knew the knife was drawn…and that it was utterly meaningless to her.
      “Who are you?” Teer demanded as bravely as a mouse may address a grinning cat.
      “The first and last guardian of this shrine,” the tigress replied cooly, finally opening her eyes, fixing Teer with a cold, green stare. “Can’t say I’ve had a real trespasser since that rat I flayed. Most people just come up to the fence, take pictures and videos like they’re war heroes returning to the scene of a battle, then scatter like roaches. A few scale the fence, sure, but all I have to do is tap my claws on the stonework and they scramble away like frightened kittens. I gotta admit, you’re a first, even in light of everyone else that has come and gone. You show up, looking all dejected, wander into the old kitchens, make food, and then present it as an offering? I didn’t even think the old magics would work when you did that, but suddenly I had a lap full of rehydrated stew and the damn bell was ringing. I’m giddily confused, to say the least. Who are [i]you[/i]?”
      “No one,” Teer muttered, lowering her eyes, echoing the words she had heard so many times already.
      “A half-breed,” the tigress guessed, lurching forward from the counter before turning to the bubbling pot. “Obviously a runaway…certainly a sad little thing. What brought you to my shrine?”
      “It…seemed safe,” Teer admitted amid the renewed sound of stirring.
      The stirring stopped abruptly.
      “Safe?”
      “Yes,” Teer barely managed to squeak, still unable to look up at the guardian.
      The tigress began laughing, bracing herself on the counter as she gasped for air. Teer gawked, unable to understand this odd Yorn’s mirth.
      “Safe?” the tigress wheezed. “With all the stories? The missing trespassers? The skinned body on the front gates? Safe? What in the name of any god are you running from? Demons? Monsters? Some sort of arranged marriage? Safe…ha!”
      She continued to laugh as Teer felt the heat rising in her face, pushing back against the biting cold of the air around her.
      “Yeah, safe,” she shot back. “At least here there was supposed to be some kind of monster…but I guess it was all just you.”
      The tigress turned suddenly, still laughing as she bared her teeth, reaching towards Teer with extended claws. Even with the firelight at the guardian’s back, Teer could see the glimmer of metal filling the tigress’s mouth, adorning the tips of her outstretched fingers. She recognized that grin; the same metallic leer that had likely the last thing RustRat345 ever saw in this life.
      Teer yelped, flailing her arms madly as she retreated. Primal instincts awoke instantly, overriding any acceptance of death Teer thought she had cultivated. All that mattered now was escaping from the snarling yet cackling visage before her; to flee the burning green eyes, the razor-like claws looming towards her in the vibrating shadows of the firelight.
      She didn’t make it very far before her back was pressed to solid stone. The air grew steadily colder as the guardian bore down on her, still leering, still laughing. Echoes of that laugh were reverberating all around the stone kitchen. Shadows crept towards Teer from all directions, closing in on her just as intently as the guardian.
      “This monster is very real, luv,” the tigress rumbled as the shadows enveloped both of them, leaving Teer to face the metallic grin alone. Her knife lay abandoned by her side; her head throbbed with fear. “Wanna see how real I am?”
      Teer couldn’t speak. Her back was aching from the pressure as she tried desperately to escape the monster stalking towards her in the gathering shadows. Finally, just as the tigress reached her, just as the shimmering claws were about to touch her face, Teer managed to open her mouth and let out the most primal scream of her life.
      The scream only lasted a moment. As soon as it started, the shadows snaped back into their proper places. The fire died from the tigress’s eyes as she recoiled, her leering grin morphing into guilty fear. Her claws vanished as she pounced on Teer, firmly yet carefully clamping a hand over her mouth.
      “Okay okay, stop that!” the tigress pleaded. “Really! I know we’re in the middle of a park and all, but gods save us! You’ve got real good pipes! I don’t want to deal with Enforcers tonight. Yes, I’m the monster of the Iron Tiger Shrine, alright? I can be as scary as I need to be, but you’ve got nothing to worry about! You made an offering! You haven’t tried to deface anything and you’re not here for the fame and you didn’t try to take anything that isn’t yours. I mean, I wasn’t too worried about you anyway. Didn’t seem like I could spook you, so I was gonna just leave you be, but then you triggered the offering and now here we are. You’re looking for a place to hide, right? That’s [i]exactly[/i] what this place is! If that’s really what you’re here for, I’m not a threat to you. I’m gonna let your face go, ‘kay? If you wanna leave, fine, but do it quietly. Otherwise, the soups ready, so if it’s all the same to you I’m gonna dish it up. You want some?”
      Teer nodded, aware that her tears were soaking into the tigress’s fur. Sighing, the tigress removed her hand, keeping her other hand on the back of Teer’s head. The two held each other’s gaze as the tigress slowly stood, both hands above her head, doing all she could to appear as opposite as she had a moment ago as she could. Once she was up, she turned back to the pot dangling over the fire.
      Shivering from adrenaline and the chill of the night as she picked up the knife again, Teer got to her feet. Other than her sleeping bag the rest of her gear had remained undisturbed. Her burner was still sitting on the lip of the oven across the kitchen from where the guardian was ladling soup into bowls. Checking her pockets revealed that nothing had been taken.
      Bowls in hand, the guardian turned back to Teer.
      “Didn’t have time to ask your name,” the guardian said casually as she held a bowl out to Teer.
      “I’m Teer.”
      “What? Like the crying kind of tear?”
      In spite of her fear, Teer smiled just a little. “No, it’s t-e-e-r, like the old Trilinese word for animal.”
      “Actually meant ‘beast’ in human,” the guardian noted as Teer took the bowl from her. “Stupid name to give a half-breed. Can’t imagine you’ve had much fun in life if that’s what your parents decided to dub you.”
      “Do you have a name,” Teer asked quickly in order to push the conversation away from herself. “Or do I just call you guardian…or something?”
      The tigress laughed as she sat on the countertop by the bread, resting her bowl between her legs. “Everything has a name luv, even the moss I’m sitting on! My name, though, is Yuri.”
      “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Yuri,” Teer said, still smiling hopefully.
      “Likewise, Teer,” Yuri grinned, picking up her bowl once more. “Eat up and we’ll take your stuff inside. There should still be a few decent places to sleep left in the main temple. It’ll be warmer in there either way.”