The streets are still a soggy mess as you make your way to Verum's main gate. The few merchants and servants out at this hour give you a wide berth and whisper blessings or prayers to ward off evil spirits as you pass. Gears grind, opening the massive city gate just a sliver, barely enough to squeeze your frames through the doors. It seems no one is taking any chances tonight. The guards on the wall bid you farewell with a nod as you step once again into the Deepwood.

According to the Watcher, Glimhollow should be only a day's march away, but with the paths along The Wire Road drenched from ceaseless rainfall, your progress slows to a crawl. Each of your steps sinks in mud up to your knees and the entire party is waterlogged. The Iron Golem, however, seems to have no trouble at all wading through the mire.

The treacherous footing inevitably causes delays and you are forced to make camp as twilight begins to fall. The cold, wet night drags on for what feels like an eternity. The sole distraction from your discomfort is in watching the firelight play across the black hull of the Iron Golem as it stands, statuesque in the mud, with its haunting stare.

The last half of the journey is uneventful by Deepwood standards. No terrors threaten you and there are no monsters to bar your way. If anything, it feels as though the hellish wood is holding its breath. Waiting.

You sense the village is near when you begin to pass piles of smoking debris and discarded bones along the path. Perhaps an amber supply run did not reach its destination? You press on through the sickly trees until you finally arrive before the sturdy, well-maintained walls of Glimhollow.