It was the rain that found them first. A miserable, bone-chilling rain that had started as a mist before thickening into a steady, gray drizzle. It clung to the torn cloaks of the two men, turning the war-ravaged landscape into a vast sea of mud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Neither of them paid any heed to the weather. They were too busy navigating the corpses, each body marked by the same banner as their own. They dragged themselves onward with broken bodies and shattered spirits, the sole survivors of a mercenary company that no longer existed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Black Banner<\/strong> had been a sorry excuse for a company even on its best days. Now, it was nothing more than a tattered memory, wiped out by an unseen force for an unknown reason. All the survivors knew was the ache in their bones and the hollow void their comrades had left behind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Despite all this, they walked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They walked as the growing sea of mud began swallowing the remains of their company around them. They never turned back, never stopped, because they knew they couldn\u2019t afford to. If they stopped, they would die. Adrenaline and shock could only take them so far; sheer willpower was the only thing keeping them upright.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They followed a path that was more suggestion than road until they saw a flickering light glowing between the trees. It promised warmth and shelter, and to their relief, it did not deceive them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The light led them to a small village huddled against the gloom like a frightened animal, its few buildings tired and weary. The streets were empty. It was silent\u2014too silent\u2014as if the village and the two men were waiting to see who would kill the silence first. The men had seen enough killing, and the village was too innocent, so the silence was left to linger as they made their way to the heart of the settlement.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There stood an inn, a sagging timber-and-thatch building with a faded sign swinging mournfully in the wind: The Wounded Stag<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wool and burning wood. A fire smoldered in the hearth, offering more smoke than warmth, a sullen amber eye in the gloom. The innkeeper, a man named Rulld, moved like a ghost behind his bar, polishing a mug with a rag that had seen better decades. He didn\u2019t speak. His eyes avoided contact as if a shared glance was a currency he couldn\u2019t afford.<\/p>\n\n\n\n There were other patrons in the inn, but they acted more like empty husks; the place was a chamber of somber misery. And in that chamber, still dripping from a day\u2019s walk in the rain, sat a gnome.<\/p>\n\n\n\n He had chosen a corner table with his back against the wall, taking in everything and everyone. He was small of stature but radiated a bitterness so potent it seemed to leave a taste in the air. He was wrapped in a strange, hooded jacket that, on closer inspection, was not made of leather, but of intricately woven bark and leaves. A cane of polished wood leaned against his chair, and a palm-sized bronze locket rested on the table beside a half-empty mug of bittersweet cider.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The most striking thing about him, however, were his eyes. They held a faint but distinct tint of lilac, and they missed nothing. This was Nym<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The pair of travelers entering the inn were less two men and more one shared wreckage. They leaned on each other for support, their movements a symphony of pain.<\/p>\n\n\n\n One was a human with unkempt hair and the wild, unfocused eyes of a man who listens to voices no one else can hear. Though he mumbled to himself, no words were audible. His companions in the Black Banner knew him as Gassi<\/strong>, an eccentric whose mad ramblings often held a kernel of unnerving truth. Beneath his worn clothes, the dull gleam of studded leather sparked in the firelight.<\/p>\n\n\n\n His crutch was another man who might have been beautiful once. Even beneath the grime and the tarnish of his armor, there was a fineness to his features, but there was no joy in his eyes now\u2014only exhaustion. He had traded his sword for a brutal-looking flail, and he carried a shield emblazoned with the crest of a golden eagle against a field of blue and white. This was Aurelio<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They staggered to a table, a quiet recognition passing between them and the gnome. They were strangers, mostly, but now they were brothers in ruin.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A moment later, the door opened a final time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n An orc filled the frame. His size\u2014no, his presence\u2014seemed to shrink the already small room. He wore his hair in a tight topknot, in the style of the eastern sword-saints, and his ears were slightly more pointed than most of his kind. Scales glittered like dull jewels on his arms and beneath his eyes, betraying a mixed heritage. Despite his ragged clothes, a fine longsword hung at one hip and a shortsword at the other. Large tusks jutted from his lower jaw. He was known among the Banner for his love of dueling, a reputation not always earned through friendly contests. This was Zogg<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nym, the gnome, broke the silence, his voice raspy. He beckoned to the orc. \u201cSit down, comrade.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zogg grunted and took a seat. His eyes swept the room, assessing the three other survivors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cSo,\u201d Nym said, his gaze lingering on each of them. \u201cWe are the only ones who lived? What do you know? What did you see?\u201d He sat fiddling with his leafy jacket, a manic, obsessive gesture of mending something only he could see was broken.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe gates of yesterday were covered in the fourth color,\u201d Gassi mumbled, staring at a knot in the wooden table.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Aurelio sighed, rubbing his temple. \u201cI don\u2019t know what he\u2019s talking about, but he saved my life. I was on my way to meet my ancestors, everything was dark and… and then his hands\u2026 they glowed.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cHe has been babbling since?\u201d Nym asked dryly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes. But if you listen to a piece of what he says instead of the whole, sometimes it makes a kind of sense,\u201d Aurelio replied, leaning his shield against his chair. \u201cThe only problem is figuring out which piece you should pick.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zogg looked at Gassi, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. \u201cI know you. You must be Gassi. The general\u2019s advisor?\u201d He extended a hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gassi looked at the offered hand for a long moment before taking it. \u201cI\u2019m Zogg\u201d. Zogg said as he took Gassi’s hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zogg nodded to the others. \u201cyou are Aurelio. And the gnome?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNym,\u201d the gnome supplied. \u201cI would say it is a pleasure, but I would rather have met under\u2026 other… circumstances. Still, it is good not to be alone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDoes anyone know what actually happened?\u201d Aurelio asked, his voice low. \u201cOne moment, the company was there. The next\u2026 nothing. Just fog and screams.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThere were no centaurs,\u201d Gassi declared abruptly. \u201cThe mission was a lie. It was a singing thief.\u201d He looked at them as if this explained everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nym pulled out a small notebook and a piece of charcoal, carefully writing down the phrase.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d Aurelio pressed. \u201cOur scouts reported centaurs for weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cNot where we were,\u201d Gassi insisted. \u201cSomeone wanted the Black Banner gone. And they succeeded.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n A silence fell over the table, heavy and cold as the rain outside. They ate the lukewarm stew Rulld brought them, the quiet broken only by the scrape of spoons against wooden bowls and Gassi\u2019s occasional, incomprehensible whispers. Finally, they paid a few coppers for the right to sleep on the floor of the common room, a small price to avoid the cold and rain for one night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sleep did not come as a comfort. It came as an ambush and they didn’t stand a chance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They woke in the dead of night, not to a single sound, but to a collective, guttural scream of agony. A pain, white-hot and searing, erupted on their bodies. Zogg thrashed, clutching his arm where a symbol now burned like a fresh brand. Across the room, Aurelio cried out, a similar mark glowing on his thigh. Nym, scrambling upright, stared in horror at his own wrist, where an intricate spiral pulsed with fiery light.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In the center of the room, untouched by the brands, knelt Gassi. His hands were cupped before him, bathed in a soft, ethereal light of their own.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zogg was on his feet in an instant, his shortsword drawn and leveled at Gassi\u2019s chest. \u201cWhat did you do?!\u201d he snarled, his voice a low growl.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI did nothing!\u201d Gassi said, holding up his luminous hands. \u201cThey just glow. They are not hot. See?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDon\u2019t touch me!\u201d Zogg spat, backing away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nym, ever the curious one despite the pain, limped forward. He inspected his own raw, weeping mark, then looked at Gassi\u2019s hands. \u201cI do not think he is the cause,\u201d Nym said, his voice tight. \u201cPerhaps a result of it, but not the cause.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Almost instinctively, Gassi knelt and cast what looked like a healing spell on Nym\u2019s brand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The effect was instantaneous and horrific. The pain didn\u2019t lessen; it exploded. The brand pulsed violently, the agony so intense Nym cried out and collapsed, clutching his wrist. \u201cI was wrong!!\u201d he gasped. \u201cThe intention may have been good, but the result was not!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gassi, seeing this, seemed to come to a decision. He reached out and laid his glowing hand on Nym\u2019s arm. \u201cHmm\u2026 maybe if I adjust the flow of the asking?\u201d he whispered, concentrating.<\/p>\n\n\n\n In an instant, an image flooded Nym\u2019s mind. He saw through Gassi\u2019s eyes, felt the mud of the battlefield suck at his boots. He saw a lifeless Aurelio on the ground, and heard Gassi\u2019s voice cry his name as glowing energy poured from his hands and into the fallen man, coaxing life back into his body. The vision lasted only a second but felt like minutes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nym fell back, his head reeling. \u201cWhat did you do to me?\u201d he demanded, pointing a trembling finger at Gassi. \u201cI saw\u2026 I saw you heal Aurelio. From your eyes.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI can\u2026 send things?\u201d Gassi looked at his hands, confused.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cDo not touch me again without asking,\u201d Nym warned, his hand hovering over the hilt of his cane. \u201cWe must establish rules. Boundaries.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gassi, ignoring the threat, stared at the brands on the others. \u201cIt is planar bleed-through,\u201d he announced. \u201cFrom the First World. A smiling stone.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The others stared at him, bewildered. But Nym\u2019s lilac eyes narrowed. \u201cBy the First World\u2026 he\u2019s right,\u201d he whispered, though he couldn\u2019t yet grasp the full meaning. \u201cSomething from another world is\u2026 affecting us. Could be the Fey\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Gassi searched his own body frantically but found nothing. He was unmarked, save for his mysteriously glowing hands. They decided to attempt sleep again, resolving to investigate the matter in the morning. However, most of them slept with one eye open that night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They awoke the next morning to an even deeper mystery. The pulsing pain was gone. The brands themselves had vanished, leaving no trace, not even a scar. It was as if the night of agony had been nothing more than a shared nightmare.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Then they finally noticed it: they were not alone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Sitting at a table near the cold hearth was a man they had not seen before. He was cloaked and hooded, his face lost in shadow. He brought with him a smell of tree smoke and old parchment. The innkeeper, Rulld, moved about his morning duties as if the hooded man wasn\u2019t there, yet there was no way he could have entered without them knowing. It felt as if he had simply\u2026 materialized.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Unfazed, and before the rest of the party could react, Gassi walked up to the stranger and extended a hand. \u201cHello. I am Gassi.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The man took his hand. His skin was dry as old paper. \u201cA pleasure, they call me Threadbare<\/strong>,\u201d he said, his voice a rustle of dry leaves. As Gassi leaned in, trying to peer into the cowl, the man spoke again, his voice dropping to a whisper only the madman could hear. \u201cYou bleed backward now. Stormhoof left you unfinished.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n The words struck a chord in Gassi. He seemed to understand their strange poetry. The others, gathered around, heard only the last part.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cThe First World is not done with you,\u201d Threadbare said, his hidden face turning toward them all. \u201cNot yet.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAre you the one we owe for this?\u201d Nym asked, gesturing to his now-unmarked wrist.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Threadbare seemed to chuckle, a sound like stones rubbing together. \u201cOh no, Nameless One. Neither this mark, nor the one before it, are my doing.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nym\u2019s face soured, his knuckles whitening on his cane. \u201cWhat do you kno\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Before Nym could finish the question, Threadbare had turned to Aurelio. \u201cCalm your nerves, Master Aurelio.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Aurelio realized he had been holding his breath. He exhaled sharply, recollecting himself. \u201cWho are you? What do you want from us?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI am Threadbare,\u201d the hooded figure responded.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cYes, we already knew that, Aurelio! Didn\u2019t you listen before?\u201d Gassi chimed in, a hint of mild annoyance in his voice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cAs to what I want from you\u2026\u201d Threadbare continued, unbothered by Gassi\u2019s interruption, \u201cthat is the correct question, asked at the wrong time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Threadbare paused for a brief moment, tilting his head slightly as if listening to a whisper in his ear. He turned back to the paladin. \u201cI can leave you with this, Aurelio. You were not spared\u2026 you were preserved.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The stranger reached into his robe and handed Zogg a small, smooth disc of wood, about four inches across. Zogg, too stunned to speak, grabbed the disc as if his body acted on its own. He looked down to inspect the object, and when he looked up again, the man was gone. He had not walked away. He was just\u2026 gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zogg stared at the blank wooden disc in his hand. Nym, meanwhile, was sketching furiously in his notebook, capturing the image of Threadbare and the riddles before they could escape his memory.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Later that night, the brands returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The pain, the pulsing light, the shared agony\u2014it all came back. In the middle of the chaos, a iron mug on their table lifted into the air and began to float.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The party all expectantly flicked their heads toward the madman.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cI\u2019m not doing this\u2026 I think?\u201d Gassi said, trying to move the mug with his glowing hands. \u201cNo, that\u2019s not my doing!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n While the others argued over whether they were facing Threadbare, a ghost, or an unseen enemy, Nym took a more pragmatic approach. He carved a crude \u201cYES\u201d<\/strong> and \u201cNO\u201d<\/strong> into the table\u2019s surface and addressed the empty air.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cWhat are you?\u201d Nym asked, eyes flicking around the room. \u201cA ghost? A god?\u201d He paused, glancing at the heavy iron cup levitating in the air. \u201cNot Fey, certainly. That\u2019s pure iron.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n The cup stayed put, but the knife did not. It shot upward, as if seized by an invisible hand, and turned its point downward. With eerie precision, the blade began to carve a third option into the wood. It traced the distinct shape of a Stag<\/strong>. The moment the drawing was complete, the magic released its hold; the knife clattered to the table, and the air instantly grew still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Silence stretched tight across the room. The party leaned in, eyebrows knit in confusion as they studied the fresh splinters. The symbol meant nothing to them\u2014no known crest, no familiar holy icon.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cA stag?\u201d Zogg grunted, tracing the grooves with a calloused finger so he could look at the others. \u201cIs it a signature? Or a warning?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nym didn\u2019t offer a theory. He simply pulled a journal from his pack, scratching a charcoal likeness of the carving onto the parchment alongside his notes on the entity\u2019s behavior. The display of power had left them all rattled; there would be no easy rest tonight. Unwilling to lower their guard, they barricaded the door and agreed to sleep in rotating shifts, keeping one eye on the table and the other on the shadows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The next morning, the brands had vanished again. As they sat nursing their aching heads and frayed nerves, the inn door burst open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n A messenger, breathless and wild-eyed, rushed in. He scanned the room continuously until he saw Zogg. Bursting forward with determination, he thrust a sealed scroll into the orc\u2019s hands and vanished without a word.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The wax seal bore the proud crest of the Aldori Swordlords. The message inside was a summons, a command to present themselves at the manor of Jamandi Aldori, three days\u2019 travel to the northwest.<\/p>\n\n\n\n With the banner wiped out, nowhere to go and no source of income, the summons seemed like their best bet.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They put the wretched inn behind them. On the first day of their journey, they came upon a dead tree by the roadside. Nailed to its trunk was a tattered, blood-stained Black Banner. At its roots lay a dark pool of dried blood. Carved into the bark was a spiral symbol. Gassi reached out to compare it with the drawing of Nym\u2019s brand. As his fingers brushed Nym\u2019s arm, he muttered something over his shoulder and the vision of the battlefield flashed through the gnome\u2019s mind again, clearer this time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I told you to never do that without asking!” Nym shouted. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, trying to dispel the sudden image burned into his mind.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “But I did ask before!” Gassi said. “But I think I asked the wrong question. Or maybe I just got the wrong answ\u2014”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “I don’t know who you asked or what you asked,” Nym interrupted sharply. “From now on, you ask me before you do anything to me. Got it?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n The silence that followed was heavier than the humid air. For the rest of that afternoon, the only sounds were the crunch of boots on gravel and the rustle of wind in the dead grass. Zogg glanced between the two of them, shaking his head, but ultimately chose to say nothing. The camaraderie they had started to build at the inn had evaporated, replaced by a prickly, defensive wall around Nym.<\/p>\n\n\n\n The second day passed in much the same way\u2014a blur of gray hills and stifled conversation. They camped that night with Nym sitting apart from the fire, nursing the ache in his arm and the lingering headache from the vision. Whenever Gassi looked his way, Nym stared pointedly at the horizon until the younger man looked down. The trust wasn’t broken, but it was certainly cracked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n On the third day, the rain returned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Through the downpour, they saw a wrecked wagon by the side of the road. A man lay beside it, his body broken, his life bleeding out into the mud.<\/p>\n\n\n\n \u201cTake it,\u201d he rasped as they approached, holding out a small leather pouch. \u201cMake it\u2026 in time.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n He died moments later, Zogg holding his hand and speaking quietly of better days, in an effort of comforting the dying man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Inside the pouch was another scroll, bearing the same Aldori seal as the scroll Zogg was given at the Wounded Stag<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n Zogg made to stow the scroll and cover the body with a cloak, forcing his stiff knees to straighten. He looked ready to move on, to get out of the storm, but Aurelio stood unmoving over the corpse. Rain dripped from his nose, but his eyes were fixed on the fallen stranger.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We leave him?” Gassi asked, his voice small against the thunder.<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We do not,” Aurelio said, his voice cutting through the drumming rain. He looked at the others, his expression brokering no argument. “This man died fulfilling a duty. To leave him to the wolves and the crows would be a stain on us all. Honor demands he rests beneath the soil.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n Nym looked at the mud, then at the darkening sky, and finally at the determination in Aurelio\u2019s face. He let out a sharp sigh, defeated. “We don’t have shovels.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n “We have hands,” Aurelio replied, already kneeling to pull a splintered plank from the wreckage of the wagon. “And we have blades.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n It was grueling, miserable work. The ground was a slurry of clay and rock, fighting them for every inch of depth. They dug in silence, using drift-wood and wagon scraps, soaked to the bone. The earlier hostility between Nym and Gassi was temporarily forgotten, buried under the immediate, shared weight of the task. When the earth finally covered the stranger, Aurelio offered a brief, silent prayer, marking the grave with a simple stone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n They moved on, mud-caked and solemn, the weight of the death hanging over them as heavy as their wet cloaks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n As dusk fell, they saw torchlight through the rain. They had arrived. Before them loomed a great manor, its windows glowing with warmth and light, a fortress against the encroaching darkness. Their strange, agonizing journey had ended.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" It was the rain that found them first. A miserable, bone-chilling rain that had started as a mist before thickening […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"site-sidebar-layout":"default","site-content-layout":"","ast-site-content-layout":"default","site-content-style":"default","site-sidebar-style":"default","ast-global-header-display":"","ast-banner-title-visibility":"","ast-main-header-display":"","ast-hfb-above-header-display":"","ast-hfb-below-header-display":"","ast-hfb-mobile-header-display":"","site-post-title":"","ast-breadcrumbs-content":"","ast-featured-img":"","footer-sml-layout":"","ast-disable-related-posts":"","theme-transparent-header-meta":"","adv-header-id-meta":"","stick-header-meta":"","header-above-stick-meta":"","header-main-stick-meta":"","header-below-stick-meta":"","astra-migrate-meta-layouts":"default","ast-page-background-enabled":"default","ast-page-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-4)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"ast-content-background-meta":{"desktop":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"tablet":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""},"mobile":{"background-color":"var(--ast-global-color-5)","background-image":"","background-repeat":"repeat","background-position":"center center","background-size":"auto","background-attachment":"scroll","background-type":"","background-media":"","overlay-type":"","overlay-color":"","overlay-opacity":"","overlay-gradient":""}},"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[12,6],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-596","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-chapters","category-ttrpg"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/596","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=596"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/596\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":633,"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/596\/revisions\/633"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=596"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=596"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.koltrasten.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=596"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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