Ispet Archives has adult language and violence and is not suitable for children. Listener discretion is advised. Ispet Archives is a Creative Typo entertainment production. If you enjoy this show, we invite you to support us on Patreon at www dot patreon dot com forward slash Creative Typo. All levels of membership include ad free listening and our binge. Here includes access to this complete season. Thank you for listening. Chapter fourteen New Leads. Maybe we should discuss shifters next.
All right, I know that September doesn't like them and that they're one of the eight types of hidden in the world, but that's about it. So you got a clean slate with me on this one. A clean slate? What an outdated expression? You know what I mean? I do it is still fascinating hastings. Shifters are one of the most common of the hidden. Much of what you have read in your fiction stories is likely to be true of shifters. They can take the shape of monstrous creatures, standard animals,
and occasionally an unknown human human. Story worries about werewolves, vampires, mothman, doppelgangers, and other cryptids are typically spawned from encounters with shifters. The cryptid stories in turn fuel shifter abilities. How So, much like guides use the thoughts and experiences of someone dying to create a new reality for that moment, shifters also use the thoughts and experiences of humans to create a new reality.
The difference is that guides use in individual's thoughts and experiences to create a new reality for that one specific person, whereas shifters use the thoughts and experiences to create a new reality for themselves. They can take someone's nightmare and use it as a blueprint to become a monstrosity, or they can take the memory of a loved one and wear that memory to appear as a human. So stories about cryptids can spark someone's imagination, which then in turn gives the shifter
a new form to use. Yes, sometimes that is exactly what happens, and the shifters can simply steal someone's thoughts. I would not say it is simple. Much like the guides, the shifters have rules when creating a reality. For example, a shifter needs to physically touch someone to gain access to their thoughts. That's different from the guides, right, Guides just need to be near someone dying correct. Do all guides hate shifters or is it just
September. Guides see the warping of individual realities as a gift to be given. For many guides, they believe the shifters abuse this gift by taking the reality for their own benefit instead of giving for the benefit of others. I see many of the guides feel the same way about humans as well. What do you mean guides believe humans abuse their ability to create realities when it is used for personal gain. Humans don't have the ability to create reality, of
course they do. You're telling me that humans can shape shift or stop time when someone's dying. Of course they do not do those things. If humans could shape shift, I think we would all know it by now. Then please explain exactly how we can create realities, Emily. You are not human. You would do well to remember that in regards to humans. They can tell stories. Yeah, we can tell stories, or they can tell stories, but that doesn't change reality. Sure it does. How imagine there is
a mother. The mother tells her son that his father died in combat while away at war. The son spends his entire life believing that his father is dead. That is his reality. The son tells his friends that his father is dead. That becomes their reality. The father, however, is incarcerated for an atrocious crime. This is why the mother did not want it tell her son the truth about the father. Her reality and the father's reality is different from the son's. Yeah, okay, but that's not the same as
stopping time or turning into a werewolf. The real reality is that boy's dad is alive. That is the real reality to you, only because I just told you that he was. It is an individual reality for that son, and an individual reality is a powerful thing. I still don't think it's the same. I mean, it isn't a superpower to tell someone a lie. Anyone can lie. I cannot intentionally lie to a chronicler. A human's ability to create and present a completely false narrative may as well be a superpower.
I I guess I didn't think about that. Shifters and guys can both create realities by taking the thoughts of another. Humans create realities by giving thoughts to another. There are differences, but there are notable similarities as well. Okay, I understand I think good. So all shifters are evil? No, some are good and some are bad. Just like humans, and just like guides, a shifter will have its own agenda. Like what it depends on
the shifter. Each one has its own defined code of ethics that it must survive by. It gives itself a set of rules, and it cannot break those rules. A shifter's code may include something such as moving to a new city every six months, or following every known law of the country where they reside, or even sometimes as dark as murdering a virgin on a full moon. The point is they do everything they possibly can to fulfill their code of
ethics. What happens if they don't meet their code of ethics? I do not know, all right, So how would I defeat one? If I have to fight one? Why would you fight a shifter? Well, it seems like everything's trying to kill me, so I should probably plan for the worst. No, Emily, this is not a book or a movie. You do not fight a shifter. You run. But if you encounter a shifter, you run. I'm just saying maybe I should have some You run? Do you understand? Yeah? Good, Maybe it's time for us to
speak about a different hidden September took the long route to Hastings apartment. The guide needed time to clear his head and process his thoughts. Something nagged at him, but he couldn't place a label on exactly what it was. This made him more annoyed. He should be able to know what to do next. He should be leading the way, He should well be guiding. He fiddled with his bolo tie as he rounded the last corner of the hallway and
stopped at the door to the apartment. Although he had taken the long route, his head was no clearer than when he began. With a small sigh, he opened the door and entered the room. Hastings had a nice apartment, much nicer than the barracks where September and the rest of the guides stayed. Hastings was recognized by the rest of his order as incredibly successful, if
not a little eccentric. He had earned this apartment without announcing himself. September made his way across the sitting room and into the kitchen area, where he found Hastings sitting next to a window, scrawling out his report into a book. This apartment is even more ostentatious than I remember. Remind me, do you have one restroom in here? Or two? Just one? Around the corner. Ah, and your bedroom has a king sized bed and a walk in closet. Correct. Incorrect. I have a single bed and my closer
in a dresser, and the billiard's table is still in the lounge. I have neither a billiard's table nor a lounge. September. Are you okay? You seem to be misremembering my apartment? A great deal, It was just a joke. I'm fine, Ah, very humorous. What are you writing my reports on our last trip? I will still need to submit these while we are here. Don't forget. I have not forgotten to emit certain details. Okay, good September. Are you certain you're okay? You are behaving
strangely. You seem tense. I am fine, all right? Then, Actually I'm not fine, and you stop writing for a second. Okay, September. You have my full attention. What is wrong? I cannot figure out how exactly we're going to gain access to the restricted area. I've walked by that wing of the archives a dozen times since we've arrived, and I can't see a way for us to get in without being noticed. There are three sets of glass sliding doors, all with required key card access. There
are two apprentices that sit outside the doors acting as guards. There's a librarian inside the wing. I cannot find a feasible way to gain access without alerting everyone that we're there. I looked at the building schematics to see about a second entry point, but I've found none. I looked for an emergency escape point, but there was none. I have even looked at a ventilation system, like this is some kind of Hollywood movie, But of course it is
way too small to actually crawl through. I'm thinking maybe we can forge a key card of some sort and get in that way. I'm not certain. I'm at a loss. Oh, if that was what was bothering you, you should have mentioned it earlier. I have taken care of that. You have no reason to fret hastings. How exactly have you taken care of that? What did you do? I requested a day pass into the restricted archives. You did what? I requested a day pass into the restricted archives.
I heard you, Oh when did you request that access? Very shortly after we arrived, we arrived and split up. You reported to the guide barracks, and I submitted the access request. I did it at the same time that I informed them about the contra following us. I simply requisition the pass, and now we are awaiting approval. Why didn't you tell me you were going to do that. I did not realize it was important. Of course it is important. Now everyone is going to know that we're attempting to access
the restricted area. Oh, that isn't a big deal. When I made the request, I asked them not to mark my name in the general locks. It should be fine. It's not fine. What we're doing is incredibly dangerous. You need to be more discreet. You should have talked with me first September. Things are going as planned for the most part, no hastings. So far, nothing has gone as planned. It has been one misstep after another. In all my centuries as a guide, I have never been
so out of sorts. How am I supposed to plan our next steps when you won't even communicate with me. We are in uncharted territory right now, and we need to be on the same page. I would hardly call the Chronicler headquarters uncharted territory. In fact, it's about as charted as we can get right now. That is not what I meant September. You seem upset by the seven Gods. Yes, says things. I am upset. I am lost right now. I am a guide that is lost. Do you
have any idea what that would feel like? No, September, I do not. Of course you don't. But I do know that you are a good guide. I personally believe that you are one of the best. What we are attempting to do is going to create an internal struggle in both of us. You are the one that said that. Remember you said that what we are doing will defy our nature, It will at least defy the belief structure that we were developed in. Do you remember saying that, Yes,
I remember. What you are likely experiencing is a portion of that internal struggle that we both must overcome. Maybe some of Emily's is fed, is bleeding over into our paths. In any case, you are doing as much as you can right now. Try not to feel so much stress, if that's possible, If only it were that easy. Maybe you need a distraction. When was the last time you guided a death. It has been a little while. You should consider taking a walk and seeing if there is someone you
can help. That's not a terrible idea, September. Could you get that? Yeah? I need to finish these reports so that we can move on to more pressing matters. Hello for Hastings. Sure I can give it to him. Who is it? Thank you? September. It was one of the apprentices. They delivered a letter for you. That makes sense. It is my apartment, after all. Would you like me to open it? Please? Oh? Wow? What does it read? It's an approval note
for your request. You've been granted access to the restricted archives. I can't believe that worked. I am a little surprised myself. I should have applied for access years ago. There is only one key card, but the note says that I'm allowed to attend you. That seems reasonable. When do you want to go? Let's go in the morning. I have far too much to do and you could do some time to clear your thoughts. Detective George Bullard clicked the end all button to complete his call with Sam Wilson. The
call had gone about as well as expected. Sam was worried about Emily, and his response to the detective's update was less than cordial. George typed in the next contact from his list of people to call, but hesitated before pressing send for what was likely the tenth time today, George reminded himself that he didn't have to call these people. He was no longer on the Emily Swanson case. This was entirely against protocol and at this point well outside of his
jurisdiction. George never toubted himself as the best detective in the department, but he was by no means corrupt or bad at his job. So why did he keep breaking the rules for this case. This wasn't like him, This case was against his personal moral code, and it was not worth his career. And yet, after all this self assessment, he still pressed the send key. The phone rang twice before Emily Swanson's best friend answered the phone. Hello, Hello, is this Amber Lang. Yes, Detective Bullard, It's
George. Thank you, George. Do you have any news about Emily? Actually, yes, I do have some news about your friend. What is it? Is she okay? Currently? I have no reason to believe otherwise. That's one way to answer that question. Amber. I can't tell you a whole lot about the case right now. In fact, I really shouldn't be telling you anything, okay, But you do have an update. Yes, I've received photographic evidence that shows Emily alongside Marcus Baker, the bank robber.
Dude, Yeah, where are they now? Just hold on a second and I'll explain it to you. The photograph was captured prior to your meeting Emily in her leaving town. This leads me to believe that she came back to Chicago to meet with you and Sam and then possibly left again with mister Baker. That doesn't make any sense. Are you certain Emily did not know Marcus prior to that day she came to the station. I'm very certain she
didn't know Marcus Baker at all. Okay, Marcus isn't the person you should be looking for, though, you should be looking for the other two, Hasting's and September. They are the assholes that took her. Hastings in September were not in the photograph with Emily and Marcus. So what you're saying is that you still don't actually know where she is and those two could be doing anything to her. What if they are working with this Marcus person to hold
her prisoner. It could be a human trafficking group. Remember, there's zero evidence to prove that September and Hastings have anything to do with Emily's leaving except that no one can find them right now. Either, correlation does not equal causation. We need proof. And this Marcus guy and no one looks bad because he's wanted for the bank robbery and escape in police custody, but he has no history of violence. That doesn't mean he's not capable. No,
it doesn't. You're right about that. But I have a strong feeling that Marcus has no interest in hurting anyone. It's just a feeling I get with him. You'll have to forgive me if I don't trust your gut Right now, Detective, my friend has been missing for months and you're just now getting a lead. Amber Emily left town willingly. She said goodbye to you. This isn't the type of thing we investigate. We have no reason to believe that she's been heard or is in any real danger. Adults can leave town.
That's bullshit. I don't believe that for one second, and I think deep down you don't either. But I'm doing my best here. This isn't a case, but I'm still working to find Emily, try to at least entertain the idea that she's okay and just needed some time away. Look the howadays coming up I'll likely start missing friends and family. There's a real good chance that she'll reach out to you during the holiday. Runaways will frequently return
home or call their loved ones to check in. That will likely do that as well. Yeah, okay, if she does contact you, please let me know immediately. I want to help find her. All right, all right, an bro, I gotta go. I got another lead to follow up on. I hope you have a nice holiday season. Don't forget to call me if Emily contacts you, I've got it. Great. Goodbye, detective, goodbye him? Did she just hang up on you? Yep? That didn't sound like it went well. You think the one who they gave
you a detective's badge? Ah funny? Will you keep it down over there? I gotta make another call. It was next on the list. I wasn't lying when I said I had another lead. Now, Hush Cleaning Supplies. How may I direct your call? Yeah? Hi, Hello, how may I direct your call? Please? You know this is Detective Bullet. I was looking to speak with your director of operations. Our directors are not available right now. May I ask what this is in reference to? Uh?
Yeah, sure? I was wondering what kind of work you do there. I looked it up online. I couldn't really find anything specific about your company. TCO Cleaning Supplies is a supply vendor for several high profile enterprises. We work directly with our clients and do not advertise our services with the general public. That's all your business does. Detective Bullard, is there something I
can assist you with? Yeah, I've done a bit of research and it appears that you own a shell company titled True Daylight Property Management operates here in the United States. Is this accurate? Are you looking to purchase a property? Detective Bullard? And this shell company owns a few locations in Wisconsen right, this information is correct? What is this in reference to? Detective? Believe that a kidnapping has taken place at one of your properties about six months
ago. We have images and eyewitnesses linking your property to the crime. Do you know anything about this, Detective? We currently have no leases or rental agreements for any of our properties in Wisconsin. If anything occurred on those properties, I assure you that is news to us. No renters last summer, no rents all year. What information can you give me about your properties? Maybe a previous renters using it again, Detective, our client's information is privileged.
We appreciate you reaching out, but we have no other information about those properties at this time. All right, can you explain to me what a UK based queen and supply company is doing owning a property management firm in Wisconsin? Mister Bullard, are you a detective or a financial advice that's Detective Bullard, George. We appreciate this information. If you discover who broke into our property, please reach back out to us at this number so that we can
take appropriate legal action. Until then, I do not believe we have anything left to discuss. Oh wait, just one moment. They hang up on you as well. Yeah, I guess it's becoming a trend. That call didn't seem to go very well either. N something there. Why do you think that got one of those gut feelings more than that she said my first name. I never said my first name. Oh okay, that's creepy, and maybe it is time for me to cash in some of that vacation time.
A knock sounded at the front door of the Montana Ranch style house. After a brief moment of hesitation, Marcus made his way out of the kitchen and into the hallway. As he neared the front door, he willed his shoulders to relax and force a smile on his face. He had no clue what to expect on the other side of the door. Would the person knocking be the faceless monstrosity from his vision, would it be a bruja from his childhood fairy tales, or would it be the grocery delivery service that Emily had
requested. In any case, he needed his hand to stop shaking. He steadied his nerves and then twisted the door handle. The harbinger released a large breath that he didn't realize he was holding, and then he opened the front door. Hi, can I help you? I have a grocery delivery for Emily Swanson. Oh, you can leave it at the door. We will bring it in when you're finished. No, I'm sorry. What was that? No? I require a signature for the delivery. Your service has never
required one before. I do now, I see, Well, I can sign for you. No, it requires a signature from Emily Swanson. I'm sure it's fine if I signed for her. No, I need Emily Swanson. Well, Emily is not here right now, So where is she she's out, then I'll wait. I don't think that is necessary, Maybe you should. Before Marcus could finish his sentence, the creature lunged forward. The arm of the delivery person changed from a human arm to an insect like serrated
limb, and shot forward toward Marcus, attempting to run him through. Marcus, who had been ready for an attack since he heard the knock of the door, jumped back and slammed the door on the creature's extended arm. Marcus had flung the door with such force that he expected the monster to cry out in pain and withdraw its arm. The thing did neither. Marcus pressed against the door with as much force as he could muster, but he could not
compete with the strength of the creature on the other side. Cursing, the Harbinger gave one last shove, then abandoned his place at the door, retreating back into the house. A moment later, Marcus heard the door behind him crash open and the chittering of a nightmarish beast behind him. He waited until he reached the living room before sparing a glance over his shoulder. Behind him, he saw a hideous amalgamation of a bear's lower half, a praying mandus's
torso and arms, and an owl's head. Marcus needed no further motivation to run. With a burst of panic induced energy, Marcus dove over the living room couch and landed out of view of his grotesque pursuer. When the Harbinger rose back to his feet, he was no longer empty handed. He raised the shotgun that September had left behind and fired three shots toward the creature.
With as large as the creature was, Marcus was certain that he couldn't miss his target, but his inexperience with the weapon, in addition to the inhuman speed of the monster, caused his first shot to go wide to the left. The second and third shots struck home, however, hitting the creature's left shoulder and then the left hip. The shot to the shoulder nearly ripped the
creature's arm from its body. The hit to the hip caused the monster to crash down to the ground, only a few feet from the couch that separated them. Again, the creature did not shot out in pain. Marcus noted how eerie it was that a thing of this size made almost no noise even after being injured. The couch sat between Marcus and the creature, partially blocking
Marcus's view of the monster. He didn't hesitate. He cracked open the shit shotgun and dropped the empty carriages before loading three more shells into the weapon. As soon as the gun clicked closed, Marcus lifted it to his shoulder and took a step toward the couch. Before he could take a second step, the couch flew up from the ground and toward him. In a state of panic, he fired the gun and cushioned stuffing sprayed out in all directions.
The shot did nothing to slow the furniture as it smashed into his upper body and knocked him backward. The barrel of the shotgun swung back, slamming into his face before he lost his grip on the weapon entirely. The air left Marcus's lungs as he fell hard to the floor. The shotgun had bounced to his right, but his vision was swimming and he needed to take a moment
before he could force his limbs to move. With a groan, he stretched his right arm for the weapon, but then yanked it back quickly as a sharp pincher clapped down between him and the gun. Marcus yelped in fear, and then rolled to the left away from the pincher. After three rotations, Marcus rolled up to his knees and lunged for his second trap. The fireplace had been burning hot since the night before. They had kept a continuous supply
of wood fueling the fire. Emily had suggested that maybe whatever monster was coming for them may be sensitive to fire. A lot of fairy tale creatures were, and maybe there was some truth to that. Sensitive or not, Marcus was glad they had a backup plan in place because the shotgun was not doing the trick. He grabbed the covered iron handle of the cast iron pot and shoved it into the hot coals without hesitation. He turned and threw the coals
at the creature. The coals splashed across the monster, the couch, and the floor Alike, small fires began to take shape across the living room. The monster began to rise. Marcus could see the arm pulling itself back to the body, while tendrils wrapped the wound at its hip. Most disturbingly of all, the owl head had changed into that faceless mask that Marcus had seen in his vision. It wasn't a mask, though it was the creature in
its rawest of forms. The handle dropped from Marcus's hand to the floor, and Marcus had to force his legs to move. The kerosene was only two paces from where he stood. He needed to reach the accelerant to really light this fucker up. Finally, the paralysis that cemented his feet broke and he moved toward the bucket of kerosene. Just as he reached down to grab the handle, a large, barbed tentacle slammed into his chest and yanked him away
back toward the middle of the room. Once again, the breath was ripped from Marcus's lungs and he crashed the ground. A tentacle wrapped around his leg and gave a sharp tug. A burning sensation ignited on his left shin as spikes from the tentacle sank into the meat of his leg. The tentacle pulled at and Marcus reached out his hands to find something stable to grab hold of. While his left hand found only the broken leg of the coffee table,
his right hand fell on something cold and solid. In a frenzied panic, Marcus pulled the shotgun forward and fired down at what was holding his left leg. The creature released him, but extensive damage was already done to his leg. The Harbinger tried to stand and run, but his wounded leg wouldn't cooperate, and he stumbled forward to the ground again. Using the shotgun as a crutch, he regained his feet and limped toward the back exit of the house.
He saw the creature, now fully in the form from his vision, move alongside the far wall, blocking his retreat to the exit. Marcus changed course and limped as fast as he could toward the bathroom. He slammed the door and locked the handle as soon as he was inside. The creature didn't
immediately come for him. He listened as the monster made its way through the property, presumably searching for Emily. Marcus wasn't certain how long the fight with this creature had taken, but he had made Emily promise to leave once she thought he wasn't going to make it out. It had definitely been long enough for her to come to that conclusion. There was one shot left in the shotgun. The rest of the ammunition had fallen out of his jacket pocket while
fighting the monster. It wouldn't be long before the faceless creature came for him. He could attempt to make a run for one of the doors front or back and shoot if the creature came after him, but he wasn't sure if his leg would hold up for that. That's when he saw the window. The bathroom window was sealed shut, but it was big enough for Marcus to
climb through. He took the butt of the shotgun and smashed the glass, then raked the barrel across the edges to knock loose any shards that might catch him as he crawled through. He stepped up on the toilet and grabbed hold of the window still. When the bathroom door burst inward and the creature stepped into the room, Marcus didn't hesitate. He fired the last round and hit the creature center mass. The monster collapsed back into the hallway, and Marcus
pulled himself through the window, leaving the empty weapon behind. He fell with a thud, but was prepared this time and didn't have the wind knocked out of him. He stood as quickly as his bloodied leg would alloud and started making his way toward the rendezvous point. The car was gone. Emily had left. He couldn't blame her. That was the plan, and he was glad that she escaped, but he was still very afraid to die, especially by the hand of that creature. He made his way back around the front
of the house, hoping to get to the road. Emily had slashed the tires of the monster's vehicle. The hood was open, showing that she had cut the battery cables as well. The vehicle was completely inoperable. A large crash taken from the house behind Marcus. His ears rang painfully from the shotgun blasts. He couldn't hear the house burning or the creature chasing after him. He didn't know what shape it had taken, but he no longer wished to
know. He just needed to make it to the road. Trees surrounded the road ahead. It was an incredibly different landscape from the city life that Marcus was accustomed to living in. He thought there was something pleasant about the idea of dying in the trees outside, in the wide open. Maybe that's what drove him to the road. Maybe, but it didn't matter. He was going to die. Maybe Emily was right, Maybe her chaos did bring nothing but debt to those around her. It didn't matter though he was here.
This was his plan. And he was sticking to it. Marcus made it to the street, crossed the road, and collapsed to the ground. He spun as he landed on his back. The creature was coming. It maintained a casual slow walk. There was something so pretentious about its gait. It knew it had won. Just as the creature stepped foot into the street, a car crashed into it, launching the monster two dozen feet away. Emily screamed for Marcus to get in as she threw open the passenger's door. His
ears were still ringing, but he could make out her words. She had reversed the car into the monster at a high speed, and there was a heavy amount of damage done to the trunk area. Emily shouted again, and Marcus dragged himself to his feet and collapsed into the passenger's side of the vehicle. The creature began to rise once more from behind the car as Emily pressed her right foot to the gas pedal. She drove straight ahead, slowly and
focused on the rearview mirror. Marcus wanted to tell her to watch the road, but he had no energy left even speak. Breathing hurt. His right hand felt across his chest and felt two lightly broken ribs. He winced at the pane and then began to feel the air around him warp. The ispet had come. Marcus stared at Emily while she stared at her rearview mirror.
The car stopped accelerating and simply coasted. Although it pained him to move, Marcus twisted in his chair to look behind them via the side view mirror. The creature had stood and sprouted mothlike wings on each side of its body. It began to move forward at a steady jog before launching itself into the air. Just as the monstrosity appeared to gain its stride, Emily said the words
fall now, and a half dozen trees collapsed down upon the demon. The creature was smashed into the ground, and Emily's eyes shifted from the rear view mirror back to the road. She hit the accelerator and began to speed forward. Initially, she wasn't certain if the espet event would still take place after her and Marcus changed the way his vision happened. She was glad it did. Though She was able to pull the dim pink lines that marked the trees
down on the maroon line that marked the monster. She had waited for as long as she could before leaving Marcus, and even then she barely coasted along the road while she waited for him to appear on the street. She just couldn't bring herself to leave him, regardless of what she promised. When she saw him stumble into the road, she slammed the brakes and reversed as quickly as she could. It was only luck that allowed her to strike the shifter.
When she did, she reached for her friend and tugged at his left shoulder to bring his face to meet hers. She needed to know Marcus was okay. Then she saw his eyes. They were completely blue again. It was a vision, at least that was what she hoped. Marcus, Marcus, are you okay? Oh my god, what the hell was that? I don't know, Marcus, I don't know. We need to get you to a hospital. No, no hospital, Marcus, you're hurt. I know where we have to go, Marcus, really, we have to find
something. Hastings is voiced by Adam Culbertson. Emily Swanson is voiced by Titia Zang. September is voiced by Richard Collins. Amberlin is voiced by Nari Quock. Detective George Bullard is voiced by Anthony Kinney. Detective Davis is voiced by Glenn Michael Saxton. Contra Operator is voiced by Helen Edgar. Marcus Baker is voiced by Nico Rodriguez. The Shifter is voiced by Stitch Mayo and narrated by Michael Cole. Isfat Archives was written by Nico Rodriguez in collaboration with Tisha Zang.
Isfat Archives is a Creative Typo entertainment production. Find out more about our show at www dot creative typo dot com. A very special thank you to our executive producers from Patreon, Nick Mead and Patrick t Arsenal