A Locket to Remember

Nyx had an impossible choice. But if she didn’t choose, then all three of them would die. Ai isn’t as badly hurt. She’ll survive to make it off this island. I’m not sure my wings are strong enough to carry you, Spaniard. “I’m sorry, Christopher.” She hurried over to Ai, catching her by the shoulder and dragging her towards the door.

“I’m not.” He turned for her, tossing something glittering through the air. Nyx caught it with one hand—his locket. “Make sure my sister gets that back,” he said, drawing his sword in both hands. Then he lifted his sword, facing down the growing monstrosity in the air. It wasn’t just a few tentacles now, but a hideous torso came through next, swollen and putrescent and and hard to look at. As another tentacle leapt out for them, Christopher caught it against his sword, severing it with a single strike.

That was a mistake. The Dark Mother, or whatever part of her had made it into this realm, roared, and the Ziggurat itself shook with the force of its rage. It tore through a chunk of the ceiling with a single tentacle, and half a dozen others lurched out towards Christopher. Silvia herself vanished into its pulpy mass, one last insane laugh lost in the Dark Mother’s roar. It came from many mouths, each one at a different pitch.

Nyx didn’t watch, she ran. She passed through the opening in the wall, clutching Ai tightly, spreading her wings into a glide. Yet she had to watch—maybe the avatar of this demon would be satisfied taking her and leave the rest of the world alone.

Apparently not. Christopher swung once more, twice—but it made no difference. Once the demon focused on him, his sword might as well be plastic. A dozen tentacles wrapped around him. Nyx could hear the crunching sound that followed. There was no mystery in her mind about what had happened to him. I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

She should’ve been more worried about herself. Another moment later and the Dark Mother’s avatar appeared in the opening, shoving the stone away and lurching down towards them with another tentacle. Could she fly? Would she jump?

REMEMBER, the Dark Mother’s voice was surprisingly gentle, like the recording of someone’s mom nursing a child’s scraped knee. Except the volume had been boosted to incredible levels, echoing through her mind and shaking the building with its incredible force. I WILL REMEMBER YOU. I WILL BE WAITING.

Nyx was momentarily dazed. She stopped flapping, her grip on Ai loosened.

Tentacles lashed out, then caught short, a hundred feet from the tower.

“Nyx, are you alright?” Ai was alert enough to hold to her arms, stopping them from getting separated in the air. “We’re tumbling, Nyx! Are you going to fly, or…?”

The pressure against her skull relaxed. Nyx felt warm blood dribbling down her nose, whipped away by the air blasting around them. Air roared in her ears, and the distant ground was now approaching much too quickly. Nyx spread her wings to catch them, angling them over the island towards the distant stony beach. There just wasn’t enough space.

“Cover your head,” Nyx yelled.

They rolled. Perhaps if Nyx had chosen more protective armor, the landing might’ve been softer. As it happened, the Frock’s magical abilities were altogether useless when gravity was the only enemy. Ai was ripped right out of her arms, and Nyx could do nothing but tuck her head and hope. She felt terrible pain in one arm as she rolled, her wing bending the wrong way. She screamed, heard Ai do the same. Then she came to a bloody stop, feet away from where the rocky shore ended.

A wave crashed in front of her, spraying dark water over them from above. Nyx moaned, too hurt to call out for help. Not that she had any magic left to summon any, even if she could’ve.

Had Ai made it? Where was Pocky? Nyx tried to scan the shore and find out, but she couldn’t even sit up. It hurt everywhere, though at least her frock had kept her from being completely scraped raw.

Something moved from nearby, dark forms stirring through jungle foliage. Nyx’s warning shout turned into a moan of pain.

Captain Salvador emerged from the jungle, a huge blunderbuss in both arms. Half a dozen well-armed privateers were at his back, weapons at the ready. “Thought you’d need rescue,” he said, gesturing towards them with two fingers. “Get the stretchers,” he barked. “And careful for neck injuries. Nice and gentle.”

We made it. Nyx slumped back to the stone, letting the merciful relief of unconsciousness finally take her.

“How is that?” Captain Salazar asked, putting aside the thick roll of bandage.

Nyx groaned, flexing her wings. Well, her good wing moved. The left was now so heavily bandaged and splinted that her back felt completely lopsided. “Like I’m constantly falling in one direction.”

“Perfect!” Captain Salazar rose, turning away. “You’re lucky as hell that break was so clean. Wings are fragile, and if it had been a nasty compound fracture… you probably know better than I do.”

Nyx nodded weakly, though she couldn’t muster any annoyance for Salazar or his crew. If it wasn’t for them, Nyx probably would’ve bled to death on the shore.

“Your friend is up with the dog,” Salazar said, pointing at the wooden ceiling above them. “And the, uh…” He shuddered, looking away. “Girl. She’ll live, but there’s nothing more I could do for her. No balm or salve I know of can regrow a missing tongue.”

Nyx nodded. “Thank you, Captain. And for agreeing to take us all the way to Elenia.”

He adjusted his cap, looking away awkwardly. “No need to thank me. We’re just doing what we were paid for.” He left, vanishing down the hall to the captain’s quarters.

Liar. You could’ve left us on the island to die. But you came for us. Nyx didn’t call him on it, she was just happy to be alive.

She found Ai Chen out near the bowsprit, resting beside a cannon with Pocky’s head in her lap. She was bruised and broken just like Nyx, with thick bandages on her face and chest. Like Nyx, one of her arms was in a cast. At least she didn’t have any broken wings.

As Nyx approached, Pocky looked up, bounding over to her in a few goofy strides. He knocked into her legs, apparently a little unbalanced on the airship, but Nyx caught him anyway. “Hi boy,” she whispered, petting him the way Ai had been doing. Was it weird? Pocky didn’t seem to think so. After a few seconds the Warp Hound seemed satisfied, and he hurried back to Ai Chen.

Nyx perched on the railing beside her. Even with her wing broken and unable to fly, Nyx just wasn’t afraid of heights anymore. Grassy farmland was far below, meaning they were probably only hours away from Elenia.

“Hey,” Ai repeated. Silence settled between them. Not as awkward as it had been a few days ago, when they first met. The suspicion and the anger were gone.

“What are you going to do for the girl?” Ai asked, after a few minutes just sitting there. She pointed across the deck, to where Sandra sat. She was sitting near the stairs leading to the lower deck, wearing a sailor’s cloak. Her tortured face still poked out from beneath the hood, giving Nyx her first unobstructed look.

Sandra had uncovered one eye, which constantly scanned the space around her for dangers. The other socket was sunken, and covered with a fresh length of bandage.

“Does Elenia have magic to treat injuries like that?”

“Does Brahma?”

Ai shook her head curtly. “Nothing I know of.”

“There might be something,” Nyx said. “Arkalla is vast. Maybe there’s an esper willing to help someone like her.”

Ai reached up, squeezing her leg and fixing her with an intense glare. “Don’t you think Assemblage has done enough harm already?”

“Any tool can be misused.” She didn’t want to argue the point. They’d shared something, escaping from the Ziggurat together. She just couldn’t muster the energy to be upset about Ai’s biases.

“What about that other girl, Tomoe. Did you see if she got out?”

You weren’t watching? Nyx shrugged in response. “She got her hands on the scroll, then… vanished. Not a warp, but… maybe similar. I don’t know. It didn’t feel like any kind of magic I’ve seen before.”

“Professor Nyx is stumped,” Ai said. “Impressive.”

Maybe before last week it would’ve been. She couldn’t get that voice out of her head. The Dark Mother had been so vast—even her speech had left a mark on Nyx’s mind. Remember. She would remember.

“It’s not a mystery I really care to solve,” Ai went on. “There’s one more thing we need to talk about.” She put out her hand, expectant. “I should probably give that locket to Lucia. It’s the least I could do, since I couldn’t actually save him.”

Nyx removed the metal locket from a pocket, holding it out. But before Ai could take it, she pulled back. “No. I’m the one who got him involved with this in the first place. His death was my responsibility.”

Ai raised an eyebrow. “You do remember what Lucia does, right?”

“She’s a Grim Deacon, I know. But I still think it’s my responsibility. I can take care of the bureaucracy.”

Ai shrugged, then lowered her hand. “I am grateful you saved me. Us. It’s… good to know there are good people down here. All the insane things you hear about happening in Elenia… well, saw some of that too. Calling on dark gods, using Assemblage as casually as you do… well. It was good.”

“You too,” Nyx said. “I’d invite you on a tour around Elenia, but I’m guessing you’ll have places to be.”

Ai nodded. “If I’m around, I’ll look you up.”

*****

Nyx didn’t take Ai Chen back with her to the White Spires. She had been eager to get home with their bad news, and the legal complexities of bringing a foreign diplomat/spy into one of the most secure places in all of Elenia had given her a headache. Nyx stayed with her long enough to arrange an airship home, then caught a carriage to the Spires.

Nyx found Yun in a vast upper chamber, surrounded by ledgers and minor functionaries. Still, the current de facto ruler of Elenia wasn’t spending his days hung over from the outrageous parties he threw at night, the way he’d done when he was just an important scion of the kingdom’s second royal family. It was an improvement.

Yun rose the instant he saw her, waving away a swarm of diplomats and clerks with visible relief on his face. They parted around him, and he met Nyx on the far side of the room. “Glad you made it back, professor! You, uh…” he winced. “Rough mission, huh?”

She folded her arms. “I could’ve used a few Demiurge to back me up, if that’s what you mean.” Maybe Christopher would still be alive. Then again, maybe having more people would’ve only made it harder to escape.

“Not here,” Yun said. He led her around to a secluded bookshelf, then pushed hard on one corner. A compartment opened in the wall, leading to a concealed stairwell down. “We can talk on the way to the infirmary.”

She did. Nyx explained everything she’d learned, in as much detail as she thought Yun would care about. The important part—that a terrible summoned monstrosity might still be lurking in the Ziggurat—was particularly notable, along with the map Ai Chen had made with Pocky’s help. She was a little light on details with her companions, particularly when it came to Ai Chen. There were probably rules about working so closely with representatives from an enemy nation, rules Nyx didn’t care to know and would’ve ignored anyway. What Yun didn’t know would be easier for all involved.

Yun led them through hidden passages of the White Vaults, areas Nyx had never seen marked on any map. Many were overcome with dust, lit only with failing glow stones resting on metal brackets. Rather than pass out of these secure sections of the vaults, Yun took her to a secluded sitting room, where they could speak without fear of being overheard.

Yun puffed on his vape, one hand shaking. A cloud of multicolored smoke emerged from the end, shimmering briefly from blue to gold before vanishing back into mist. He spun it around in his fingers, then slipped it back into a pocket. “Damn.”

“Damn,” she repeated. “That about covers it.”

He glanced over the map, tracing the charcoal line with one finger. “I was hoping you’d completely stop the thing, not just leave it in some tower. Did you at least kill the witch who summoned it?”

Nyx opened her mouth to answer, then hesitated. “I… I hope so. I’m not sure how anyone could live through what she did.”

Yun grumbled, pulling out his vape again and clicking his fingernail against the metal casing. “Sounds like loose ends. Loose ends give me a headache.” He took another puff, exhaling the blue-gold vapor towards her.

Nyx looked away awkwardly, not wanting to stay silent long enough for him to ask her to go back. “Letting me raid the armory was awesome, by the way. I got a frock that saved my ass more than once. I really did need the Demiurge, though. Why train secret police if you’re not going to put them to use?”

“They’re not…” Yun puffed on the crystal again, sighing with relief. “You did everything we could expect from you. More, even. You saved Enoch. And that other one, the… girl upstairs.”

“What can we do for her?” Nyx asked. “There are a few espers that might be able to help her, if she can make the right pacts.”

Yun waved a dismissive hand. “There’s magic for everything, Nyx. Fixing her body is easy. Whatever she went through… that won’t be so easy. But we can try. Maybe she’ll be able to help us repair our relationship with Kladavent. They won’t be happy their investigator won’t be going home.”

Nyx nodded gravely, her fist clenched tightly around the locket. She would still have to find a way to return that—somehow. But not right now. “What about Enoch? You said he was still here?”

“And the other one, yes.” Yun waved a hand. “They’re still in the portal infirmary—I figured if the worst happened, at least we could seal up the vault and wait for help. Tried to convince Jace to leave his friend behind, but… he wouldn’t hear of it. Guess he’s loyal.”

They weren’t far from the portal complex. They had to wait outside while security let them through the heavy vault and thick wards—wards that might’ve turned the Earth portal into a tomb, had Nyx failed. But I didn’t. Almost everybody lived.

“While you’re in there, I’d like you to explain the whole Academy thing to those kids. They didn’t get the usual lectures when they came through, for… obvious reasons.”

“I guess there’s no reason to be worried about Enoch anymore, with the ritual stopped. Did the changes reverse themselves?”

Yun coughed, looking away awkwardly. “You can see for yourself.”

Nyx followed him through the door.

The room had been transformed, though of course its occupants had been here for over a week. Abraxas cards were scattered on the floor around the hospital bed, along with a few handmade recreations of earth board games, and a pile of inoffensive books. As they came in, Jace had a book in his lap, reading aloud while a nurse changed Enoch’s bandages.

The physical changes hadn’t reversed, quite the opposite. As Nyx came in, Enoch grinned up at her, with a mouth full of needle-like teeth. His eyes were unnaturally large, and had changed to a green so bright it seemed to glow. As the nurse removed the last of Enoch’s bandages, Nyx could see the mark on his belly was still there, no longer torn like a wound. It had healed into something like a tattoo, glowing the same steady pink light of the lockbox.

“I told them that there could be, uh… some delayed changes, from the Advancement. Took some time to catch up with her. Him. Him, sorry.”

You mean you made up some bullshit so they wouldn’t freak out even more, Nyx thought.

Enoch shrugged one shoulder, adjusting the thin hospital gown he was wearing. “Just use whatever. I’m still figuring… everything out.” He looked distant, his wide eyes not looking at Nyx so much as past her. Towards the Ziggurat?

She sat down on the edge of the other hospital bed, grinning at them anyway. These kids hadn’t done anything wrong. Enoch was a victim of enemies he couldn’t even understand yet. Nyx wouldn’t hold any of this against him. How close was that ritual to finishing? You feel like a witch already. “Hey! You, uh… weren’t awake the last time I was here.”

“I told her,” Jace said. The haunted look was gone from his face, and he sounded almost casual. Relieved, even. “What you told me.”

Enoch reached over to Nyx, taking her hand with delicate fingers. His grip was feeble and shaking, but at least he still had hands instead of monstrous tentacles. “I saw you in the font,” he whispered. Enoch’s voice was high and musical, somehow cheerful as he said impossible things. “I saw you in the tower. You stopped that witch from finishing what she wanted. You saved me.”

“How?” It was the only thing she could think to ask. A stupid question—how would Enoch know? He didn’t even know magic yet.

He shrugged again, then caught the gown as it started to slip from his shoulder, frowning at it. “I think She saw it. She…” Enoch lowered his voice to a whisper, speaking into Nyx’s ear. Now he sounded afraid. “She wants me. Wants me to join the revel. She tells me things.”

“What things?”

Enoch shook his head and let go. “It will be worse if I say.”

“Well… you don’t have to listen to it,” Nyx said. “You don’t have to do anything it wants. You get to choose.”

“I know,” Enoch said. “Thanks to you.”

Yun cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Kirien hasn’t returned with your biological father, Enoch. And Jace, obviously you don’t have relatives on Middara. But don’t worry—Elenia has measures in place. There’s an institute, and Nyx is one of the professors there. She’ll be the one making sure some Pagan ritual doesn’t kill everyone.”

Jace’s eyes went wide. “W-what?”

Enoch only seemed more confused.

Yun laughed—he was the only one who did.

“He means that we’ve got a school to teach you things. Magic, self-defense, survival… Middara isn’t like Earth. It’s more dangerous here. The rules can be confusing. I loved the Institute so much I never left. I’m sure you’ll love it too.”

And while you’re there, I can keep an eye on you. And if she is still out there, I’ll make sure Silvia doesn’t get to finish what she started.

Hard Choices

Nyx backed away, eyes darting between each of their enemies in turn. If her previous experience with witches was any guide, they were in trouble. But she’d been preparing for this moment during her climb, squeezing all the power she could into her staff. There was no more common sense to keep her restrained. It was all or nothing.

Nyx released all that power, calling out for help as she’d done in Padric’s Inn. But where that call had been desperate and vague, this time she had a specific being in mind. Sounds stretched and time warped around her, and for an instant Nyx was in Arkalla. Not just that distant library, but standing there, on a blasted expanse of rock surrounded by ruined buildings. A figure loomed over her, impossibly huge. But space itself was more of a suggestion than a rule.

“Yosia, Sister of Arkalla!” Nyx called, lifting off the ground and hovering above the windswept wasteland. “I need your help.” She hadn’t come to this awful place alone. Halphas hopped up onto her shoulder, looking up at the vast being whose power Nyx hoped to borrow. “Be ready to get us home if she doesn’t like me,” she whispered. Though now, she was less confident in his strength to do so.

The demon resembled a human herself in general suggestion, with massive wings and a ring of debris circling her like a planet. Suddenly she was beside Nyx, apparently at human size. She hovered there without using her wings. “New customer. First time, I just want the bodies. Fair?”

If I say no, I bet you don’t send me back. “Yes,” she said, extending one hand. The strength flowed from Nyx in a terrible wave. She leaned heavily on her staff, legs shaking and unable to hold her up. Yosia burned through the floor as she passed, leaving emptiness behind her that hissed and popped with energy. A hole apparently opening right into her sky, left there in the floor.

Time caught back up with her, a sudden crash of sound and motion. She backed away, taking in what had happened. Halphas hopped back down off her shoulder, where he could more easily avoid the fight, but stayed close enough to protect her if she called on him. Ai and Christopher fought Silvia and her rat familiar, and seemed to be beating the witch back towards the curtains.

“This seems fair.” Salma and the creature in dark purple robes stepped between them, cutting off Nyx’s path to help. Her friends were on their own now. “Who do you think has the better summon, professor?”

Nyx couldn’t see much of his face, just a single yellow eye shining out between white hair.

“I’ll kill the undead first,” Yosia said. Or it looked like she was speaking. Her mouth didn’t actually move, yet the sound filled the room, practically shaking the tower. If I found out one of my students had tried to summon something like you, Yosia, they’d be scrubbing toilets for a year. Nyx might be one of the only Assemblage users in all Elenia who could bring something like her and live through the experience.

They fought. Yosia met the dark figure with a pair of strangely curved, glasslike swords, spinning them through the air so fast that they blurred and warped the space around them. She landed blow after blow, yet the dark figure barely even noticed. Her strikes cut right through the cloth of his cloak, yet he never bled, never staggered. He waited until her first flurry of attacks had passed, then caught her by the neck and smashed her through the wall and out into the open sky.

Stone and plaster formed a cloud, obscuring this new opening to the blue sky. For a few seconds, before she flew right back on dark wings. She stopped beside the opening, slashing it wider with her swords, then shoving her way back into the tower.

A way out.

Nyx couldn’t follow that fight any further, because that was when Salma tried to kill her.

Nyx lashed out with a few of her spells, but the witch didn’t give her much time. She swung her clawed hand, smacking it into her again and again and forcing Nyx to retreat.

“Halphas, now!” The familiar emerged behind Salma, lashing out with Nyx’s own magic. Thick chunks of debris ripped right off the floor, lashing out at Salma in a spray like bullets. Nyx felt the brief sting of blood as a shallow wound opened on her shoulder, but the payment was more than worth it.

Salma hesitated, her hideous body torn by fresh wounds down her torso. Then her smile widened, and the openings began to stitch themselves closed, leaving a few more terrible scars on her already-broken flesh. “Is that it?” She reached to the side, taking a heavy tome in her still-human hand and snapping it at Halphas. The familiar squealed as she struck, then went flying, sliding across the room to rest limply beneath a table.

Nyx gasped as she felt the little creature’s pain, nearly doubling her over. Salma advanced, and this time she had her claw ready to swing.

She might’ve struck Nyx right in the face, but that was the moment that Nyx called on the power of her Hooded Frock. Nyx inhaled, forcing herself to relax and letting the power of the Frock open her perception. She reached out, striking against Salma’s half-insane psyche for a moment with a wave of powerful confusion.

Salma swung at her again, but this time her eyes glazed over, and her arm came down in the wrong place, slicing through the bookshelf and scattering forbidden tomes through the air.

Christopher, meanwhile, was fighting for his life. Silvia was stronger than he was, and when it came to speed she was in another league completely. She blurred around him, making it difficult to follow her with his eyes, much less land a single blow. She didn’t seem to know what she was doing exactly—she wasn’t taking a fighting stance, wasn’t dodging through the forms of any discipline he had studied. She wasn’t a trained fighter, let alone a Grim Deacon. Just a young woman with more power than she knew what to do with.

It’s her demon goddess’s power. She’s given her servant more strength and speed than she knows how to use. For a second, Christopher wondered how mighty he would be with power like that, trained and disciplined instead of flailing about wildly.

“You.” Her eyes settled briefly on Tomoe, who had been making her way towards the scroll. Blood welled on one hand, and a second later erupted from the wall beside Tomoe in a wave, knocking her back towards the ragged curtain. “Why did you involve yourself in this? This isn’t your world, get out!”

“Leave her alone!” Christopher struck out at Silvia again, anticipating her dodge and aiming for the space beside her, instead of striking at the witch directly. Silvia’s arm split open, spraying blood for a second and making her recoil.

Then she turned on him, and smashed into his breastplate with an open palm. The summoned metal exploded from around him in a shower of light, flinging him backwards. His legs caught on Sandra’s cage and his world went spinning, before he banged hard into the ground.

“This is all you brought?” Silvia teased, stalking around him. She had a dagger held backhand, but she didn’t use it. Her words were just as barbed. “I know your type, Paladin. I knew every time you visited my father’s house you were all bluster and no action. It’s easy to swing your sword at peasants who don’t believe in your god. What is it like to fight someone who is a champion of the divine?”

She kicked him, and he went tumbling across the room, his armor cracking and his sword almost yanked from his grip. But he held on, mending his wounds even as he slid to a stop.

Then he looked up, and found the undead abomination that had been the Ortiz parents staring down at him. A drop of black ichor landed beside his face, nearly making him vomit again.

“You don’t have to do what she wants,” Christopher muttered, hauling himself to his feet. The last gasps of his healing magic faded from him, but he didn’t dare use what little he held in reserve. “Fight her.”

“They can’t,” Sandra said, from the other end of the cage. “My parents were free to choose to join the Mother in her revel. I have taken that choice from them now.” She pointed at Christopher. “Kill him.”

Christopher could see the horror in their eyes, the recognition. They hesitated, for just a moment. Then they smashed into him, flailing stumplike arms and forcing him to lift his sword. He slashed, severing one limb and piercing the torso once, twice—but they were so strong. Like so many undead he’d encountered, they would keep fighting until they were destroyed.

Christopher screamed as his armor smashed, and one leg gave way beneath it, knocking him backwards. A lesser man might’ve been incapcitated by the pain alone, but Christopher gritted his teeth against the scream, rolling to dodge around a fallen bookshelf, luring the creature away from where Tomoe lurked. I didn’t bring you this far to see you killed now.

He nursed a limp on one leg, holding his massive blade up only with both arms. Blood soaked through his clothes—could he even swing the sword anymore? Christopher reached back to his training, calling on the last of his magical reserve. His spell came whispered through bloody lips like a prayer. The piercing pain in his leg fled, replaced with a terrible ache. His wounds stopped bleeding, knitting closed with pale, scarred flesh. But as that pain left, he was left with a terrible emptiness—the certainty that he could not heal again.

The abomination had only two legs working now, it wobbled and struggled forward. Yet it followed him anyway, not caring about the damage. It stopped a few feet away, staring transfixed at his bloody face.

“Stop hesitating,” Silvia said, ringing her little silver bell again. “I said I wanted him dead!” Then she stopped, turning with sudden horror at whatever Ai had just done to her familiar. Christopher heard the rat’s squeal of agony, and hoped at least that monster was dead.

“Kill…” said the creature, through both of its rotten mouths. “Us…”

“I will,” he muttered, watching as it bore down on him. It had no weapons, but seemed prepared to bludgeon him to death with its weight alone. It’s going to try and crush me. Christoper saw his opening—a desperate, futile plan. But he wasn’t sure what other options he had. “You will rest soon, old friends.”

He slid away, forcing the monstrosity to follow him. It wobbled on its legs, lashing out with one arm. He dodged out of the way, and this seemed to frustrate it. Finally it reared back on one of its half-severed stumps, before tearing forward. All that rotten mass came crashing down towards him.

Instead of swinging his massive sword, Christopher braced it against the ground with both arms, leaning into the attack rather than trying to dodge away. He aimed right at the center, where the two hideous trunks of the Ortiz parents had been stitched together.

He felt his leg snap under the weight of the monster, screaming as shattered bone pierced skin. But while the force of the blow crushed him, he braced his huge sword against the floor, holding it steady as the monster that had been his friends slid along the blade. The steel of his weapon held, even where his own bones could not. His sword slid true, right to the abomination’s rotten heart.

The creature spasmed once as his strike landed, spraying sulfurous ichor from is every stitch and open wound. It struggled for a few more seconds, but with each kick, the blade impaling it only sliced the creature more deeply. Finally, it fell still.

Be at peace, old friends, Christopher thought. Then unconsciousness swallowed him.

*****

Nyx went spinning away, her staff banging against the wall out of reach. She smashed into the sofa, knocking it over and moaning with pain. Salma advanced on her, her strange body barely even scratched by Nyx’s spells. “Looks like my monster won against your monster,” she said, gesturing across the room. He had more than beaten her, but impaled Yosia through the back with his massive sword.

Yosia wasn’t dead, the demon kicked and struggled against the sword, trying to rise. She couldn’t.

Nyx tried to get up, but Salma’s foot shoved her back down, crushing her against the floor with incredible strength. “I promised you blood,” she called, the strange lisp of her horrible teeth grating against Nyx’s ears. “I keep my promises. Which one do you want to kill?”

Nyx glanced across the room, eyes searching for help. She found Christopher first, crushed under the weight of the undead abomination. His sword stood vertically, piercing through the monster’s still form. He’d killed it, at the cost of being able to keep fighting himself. She would receive no help there.

She looked for Ai next, hoping that maybe she would see Nyx’s need—but then she saw Silvia throw a bookcase at her. Pocky caught Ai in the air, and the two of them vanished, reappearing on the other side of the room to come at the witch from behind. If I distract her, Silvia might kill her. She could only hope that her summon was playing some kind of trick. Halphas emerged from under the crushed table, resting a sympathetic paw on Nyx’s hand. She could see the weakness in his face—he didn’t have any magic left either.

It’s okay buddy. We’ll get out of this somehow.



Count Dalv seemed pensive as the battle raged around them. He glanced between Nyx and her own summoned demon. He left his sword pinning Yosia, drawing an intricate dagger from within his jacket and turning it over in one gloved hand. He stopped beside her, looming over Nyx.

“That is not… what you promised. I can have as much blood as I wish without your help.” He lifted one booted foot, turning away from the defeated Yosia. He ignored Nyx, Ignored the fallen Christopher, and the struggling Ai Chen. They were beneath his contempt.

“You promised to pay what I wanted. So I want… her. The one I loved, the one who lives now only in my memory of her touch. Her smile will haunt me until I see her face again.” His expression hardened, and he extended one hand, still dripping with Yosia’s dark blue blood. “Raise my wife as you raised me. Give her what I do not deserve. Now.”

Salma’s eyes widened with horror, and she retreated from Count Dalv. She didn’t have very far to go, just a few steps back. She spread her arms out anyway, muttering the same spells that she’d used before and opening the same seal. But as Nyx watched, her stance got more slouched, her expression more panicked. After a few seconds, the seal faded, and the power dissolved away.

“S-she’s… not there,” she stammered. “Please, something else! There has to be something else you want! Power, blood, wealth… we have all of them here! Whole vaults of precious stones, the adoration of an army, as much blood as you can—”

One of Dalv’s hands snapped out, closing around her neck and lifting her from the ground. She struggled, one claw flailing uselessly towards him. He caught it with his other hand, pushing it back so hard Nyx heard the crunch of bone. “Why. Not?”

“Erebus… is filled with the souls of… the damned. Worse than damned. The one you want… isn’t there. I can’t resurrect someone who isn’t there.”

Nyx couldn’t see Count Dalv’s face, yet for the first time Nyx was sure she heard real pain as he roared, shaking Salma’s body like a ragdoll. He slashed at her neck and chest with his claws, drawing huge wells of blood that soaked through her thin robe.

“Salma!” Silvia looked away from the fight she was having with Ai Chen, eyes wide with horror. That’s why you don’t summon monsters you can’t pay, Nyx thought bitterly. It was hard to feel sympathy for Salma after what she’d done to Sandra.

It was just the opening that Ai Chen needed. Nyx saw her leap forward, emerging from behind Silvia when she turned her back. She struck with a dozen faintly-glowing knives, piercing her chest from neck to navel. Silvia hesitated, looking down at her chest with disbelief. Then she wobbled and fell, striking the carpet with a wet thump. Yet she still spoke, her voice ragged and strained. “Salma... no…”

Count Dalv raged for a few more moments, then rose from the Salma’s fallen body with fresh red blood staining him instead of Yosia’s blue. Salma’s corpse still twitched and spasmed faintly, though it no longer looked human.



He ignored Nyx completely, stalking across the room and removing his sword from where he had impaled Yosia. “She should have left my soul where she found it,” he said. There was a flash of light, bright enough that Nyx was momentarily blinded—then Count Dalv was gone.

Almost the instant he disappeared, Yosia rose from where she’d been pinned, her body already repaired. She stopped in front of the broken, bleeding Silvia, yanking her by the collar. “My payment,” she declared. Nyx staggered to her feet, too weak to do anything to stop her even if she wanted to.

Apparently Salma wasn’t a corpse after all. Strands of red muscle flexed and twisted around her ruined throat, just as the coven mother had done in the inn. Even so, she was powerless against Yosia’s grip, twitching and spasming in vain. “Sister!” Her voice was bloody and twisted, not even remotely human anymore. “H-help.”

Yosia reached her opening in the floor, passing through it so swiftly that some of Salma’s bones broke as she dragged her through. The floor settled back into place, erasing any trace of the demon’s passage.

Nyx limped across the room, scooping up her staff and making her way over to the scroll. She ignored Silvia, other than staying out of reach in case she had some last attack planned that Nyx couldn’t predict.

“Pocky, help me!” Ai protested, shoving on the corpse pinning Christopher down. While they fought it, Nyx stopped in front of the scroll. She could sense the magic building there now, fraying the boundaries of her world. For a moment Nyx imagined a hospital far away, buried under the white spires. As this ritual neared its climax, Enoch was dying. We might be too late. He might be host to the Dark Mother already.

Lymn appeared in a brief flash of light, momentarily startling Nyx. She gazed down over their heads, her single red eye never leaving the scroll. “You must destroy it,” she said, voice absolute. “Silvia channels the past into the present through this scroll. While it exists in this tower, the ritual goes on. The threads of her sympathy can be torn and the boundaries of your world knitted back together. If you hurry.”

“Wait!” Tomoe caught her hand, pushing the staff away. “I know why I’m here. The one I’m here to save isn’t here. The boy you came for…” her eyes settled on the scroll. “This will save him.” She reached out, taking the massive scroll in both hands and cradling it to her chest. Her expression changed to one of utter concentration. There was a harsh crack, a puff of smoke—and Tomoe vanished, taking the scroll with her.

Nyx felt the impotent magic of Silvia’s ritual lash out against her like pressure against her skin. The table turned to pale ash around it, crumbling away. So did the floor and the bookshelf beside it. Nyx was forced to back away as rot spread to a nearby bookshelf, then the floor. It stopped short of Nyx. Whatever was left of the scroll or Tomoe was gone, and the ritual came to a screeching halt.

“Too late,” Silvia said, clawing her way up into a sitting position. Even that much effort seemed a terrible strain for her. Blood pulsed out from her torn chest, and dribbled out her cracked lips with each word. Her eyes were wide with pain, already glazing over, but the power of Mother was apparently keeping her alive. “We didn’t… finish preparing her vessel, but we have done much. The opening is… wide enough.” She touched her bloody chest, then reached down to the floor, drawing a seal with her shaking finger.

“The prophecy will be fulfilled. Our Mother will come. You will… pay for… what you did to Salma.”

The magical pressure against Nyx became an audible tearing, and a vertical opening appeared exactly where the scroll had been. Nyx could see utter blackness there, speckled with faint stars.

“Stop,” Nyx whispered, taking a few more nervous steps back. She didn’t dare get any closer, or else get caught up in this summoning spell. She couldn’t come anywhere near it without being sucked in like a magnet. “Silvia, this is exactly what Salma did! If you summon something you can’t control… it will take everything from you!”

“You already… did that,” Silvia whispered, making one last mark on her little circle. Thunder sounded through the room, an explosion of sound that knocked Nyx back and scattered dozens of fallen books.

A single black tentacle ripped through the opening, as thick as Nyx’s body. It pierced the stone ceiling, shaking the Ziggurat as it yanked itself through.

Nyx ran, turning to the other side of the room over to where Ai and Christopher rested. They had retreated as far from Silvia as they could, to where Count Dalv had thrown Yosia through the wall. A rope now hung out the opening, tied around the bottom of the cage. Nyx could see the end dangling frightening far from the ground—even if they could climb that in time, it wouldn’t be any better than just jumping from here.

“You have to warp down, Pocky,” Ai whispered, pulling the dog up against her chest, hugging him desperately to herself. “Take Christopher. His sister will kill me if… he doesn’t make it out of this.”

Pocky whined in protest—but then another tentacle ripped its way out, lurching straight for Silvia.

“I’ve been waiting for you, Mother! I’ve done everything you asked!” She vanished into the mass of alien flesh. It twitched and writhed, momentarily sated.

“Not me,” Christopher answered. “I’m… here to save the Ortiz family.” He pointed across the room. Nyx followed his gesture, watching one of the tentacles tear off the side of the cage. Sandra—poor, mutilated Sandra, backed away from the abomination expanding to fill the room, somehow feeling it even without her eyes or ears. “Her, Pocky. Bring her out. I probably… won’t even last long enough to reach a doctor.”

There was no time to have an argument about it. The Mother’s Avatar roared, her voice shaking the Ziggurat to its foundations. Another tentacle smacked into the ceiling, tearing out several blocks. Even if she didn’t kill them all intentionally, the ceiling might collapse on their heads and do her work for her.

“Do it, Pocky!” Ai yelled.

The dog took one last look at Nyx, nodding towards Ai chen. A plea that she do for her what Pocky was doing for Sandra? Then he darted off, settling down beside Sandra—and they vanished.

“You too, Nyx,” Christopher coughed, wiping blood from his face. “You’ve got wings. Get out. Get the Elenia navy here… blast this place to dust for us.”

Nyx spread her wings, her heart racing. She could fly to safety, but she couldn't just run away and leave both of her new friends to die. She had to try and save who she could.

Nyx glanced through the opening again, judging the distance to the jungle floor beyond. Then she looked back, face grim. “I’m barely strong enough to fly on my own,” she said weakly. “But I think I can carry one of you. At least… slow us down enough that we don’t both die.”

Dark Mother Divine

Our Dark Lady, do not despair me. Show me myself. Let me not grieve at the sight of myself, nor at what others have to say. Acceptance is a virtue all on its own. Make me whole again and guide my mind by discarding false consciousness.

I burn for thee at heart and yearn for that which I do not have. Yea, that is wrong. Teach me to burn for me at heart, and yearn for that which I can achieve. Whisper the secrets I must know to believe in myself above all else, and find purpose through my actions and my family.

For the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. I'll be surrounded by the family I choose. The coven is my family, it's allies are my family, and those who unknowingly wander the path of the Dark Mother are my family.

The reverie is a tide that acts on its own. It shall claim all those we wish to be claimed in due time. Let not your righteous zealous be forced upon those who deny this path. But do not suffer those whose will is excreted upon the weak or the feeble-minded.

The law above all must always revered. Love is the law, law under will.

Toast

Ai Chen

Yosia

KS1 Promo Box

3 new promo adventurers (Nyx, Ballroom Shayliss, and Black Wolf) with their adventurer cards and initiative cards.

2 Zulfiqar/Spirit Blade minis
2 Eliphie/Viscera Arimid minis
4 Femke & Diem/Twin Savani minis (two of each)
2 Agares//Celestial Gigas minis

The 2 player/3 player variant cards.

Some Promo equipment cards.

Zulfiqar/Spirit Blade - Level 1 summons
Eliphie/Viscera Arimid - Level 2 summons
Femke & Diem/Twin Savani (two of each) - Level 3 summons (the pair)
Agares//Celestial Gigas - Level 4 summons

Time for Blood

They climbed.

Nyx could sense the magic of the ritual now, in the same instinctive way she had always been able to sense when one of her students was performing a summoning. How long will this last? Nyx no longer bounced and flew from step to step, but dragged herself along at the back, with Christopher and his rescued hostage leading. She remained quiet, except to answer which fork to take or what set of steps would lead further up.

There were no more mazes now, just further up. Here the tower was more a ruin than the temple of a cult, with ancient stone walls and metal implements and sculptures rusted beyond recognition. I hope I have the energy left to fight when we get to the top. If I still want to.

Nyx leaned on her heavy staff for a second, before realizing that someone was following her. Not an army of cultists angry at Tomoe’s rescue, but the familiar dark purple wolf, her single spectral eye unblinking in the gloom. She looked away, tensing in preparation for the scolding she expected.

“You seem pained. Was the price demanded worth the reward you received?” Lymn didn’t sound judgmental, or even disapproving. Only curious.

Nyx felt her face grow hot at the thought of unseen eyes watching the rite. She glanced forward at the others, then slowed, where she could whisper in relative privacy. “The worst part isn’t anything we saw—just knowing what I could’ve had. Leaving this place is going to be… hard.”

Lymn remained silent for a long time, as they struggled up a set of precarious metal steps. These wrapped up and down the wall in a strange spiral, bending slightly with each step. The wolf calmly plodded along behind her, not physical enough to trip like Nyx almost did. “Perhaps. But remember that what you saw was only one trail up the mountain of happiness. There are others, paths less precarious and destinations more enduring. The illusion will fade. Your feelings will pass as time dulls their potency.”

What if I don’t want it to. Nyx knew if she’d come just for herself, she would’ve never left the tower. She could see why so many had decided to stay, even surrounded by things that had once seemed horrifying to her. Have I been fighting for the wrong side all along? Her memories of the rites were impossible to reconcile with the realities of what happened.

Her memory turned foggy, and time seemed to stop. It felt like months passed in that room, though maybe it was only seconds. Nyx would never know. All she knew for certain was that it contained far more than a pool and a high priestess.

I’ll never feel like that again.

Lymn was suddenly in front of her, her blind eyes wrapped in cloth and her massive jaws spread. “Remember what the servants of the Dark Mother have done. Silvia murdered her parents, and her ritual will kill another innocent child. Does any pleasure wash away their blood?”

Her world came back into focus. Nyx shook her head, banishing the memories. She could still see the recent human arrivals, barely alive from an angelic attack. This order had done that. It had tried to murder her only the night before.

From Lymn’s other side, she caught Ai looking back at her, concerned. She wore the same haunted look—Ai Chen had seen everything. She knew exactly how Nyx felt right now. Ai had traveled with her to that timeless eternity, where every action had meaning and desire itself was sacred. Her memory of that place seemed far more real than any tower could be.

Lymn might promise healing, but Nyx didn’t believe her for a second. How could the memory of something so perfect ever fade? The Dark Mother was real, and she was wonderful. Maybe the world would be better with her ruling it?

Humans were hunted on Middara, dwelling in a world that sometimes didn’t seem to want them. Every new cave brought another creature bent on killing them in some creative way. Maybe instead of fighting, Nyx should join the revel.

She could still hear the music.

“Listen.” Lymn’s voice, stern and commanding. So jarring that Nyx was startled from her reverie. “You see Her memories. But think of your own. You must care for the newcomers to your world, or else why would you dedicate your life to teaching them? Remember the one who is dying. The one you saw is torturing her. She will do far worse than kill her, if you do not stop it.”

Nyx hesitated another moment, and the world seemed to come back into focus. She couldn’t share the hatred she heard from Lymn, she could never hate something as wonderful as what she had experienced. But she could still fight.

I can work out the details later. I don’t have to hate the Mother to stop her from killing Enoch.

One glance to the side told her all she needed to know about Ai. She stopped her, meeting her eyes for a moment. She couldn’t lie and say it would all be okay, Nyx knew better than that. They could never go back. “We’re here to stop the witches,” she said. “If anything, we’re helping by getting rid of Silvia. The Mother wouldn’t want people killing their parents and torturing children. We have to stop her, and let the memory fade.”

Ai looked away, focusing on the stairs beneath her with each step. “We can stop Silvia. Save your kid.”

Christopher and Tomoe were waiting for them at the top of the stairs.

“Is that what the dog told you?” Tomoe asked.

Ai laughed, patting her Warp Hound on the head. “You mean Pocky? He doesn’t really ‘talk’.

Pocky barked enthusiastically, just once.

“No.” Tomoe pointed behind her, behind Nyx, directly at where Lymn was standing. She seemed to be staring right at her, where her eyes should be if they weren’t bandaged and covered.

“You can see her?”

The strange girl nodded. “Dreamwalkers are wise, but not infallible. Don’t obey without understanding them.”

Then she turned away, following Christopher to the door.

“Our desires coincide,” Lymn said, once the stranger didn’t seem to be listening. “Unity in all desires is not required. You want to prevent a dangerous creature from manifesting in your world—so do I.”

Nyx turned to look at her, but she had already faded.

“You sure you haven’t lost your minds?” Christopher asked. “You’re talking to the wall. Is that a thing witches do?”

No one dignified his question with a response.

Ai stopped Christopher at the door, resting one hand on his. “They’re inside,” she whispered. “This is it.”

“How do you know?” he asked. “I don’t hear any evil rituals coming through here.

“What does an evil ritual sound like?” Ai asked. “What if it’s just, like, an ethically dubious ritual?”

Nyx couldn’t hear anything either, only the sound of terrible wind blowing outside. A single window on the far side of the room filled the space with crimson sunset light.

But once she closed her eyes, Nyx could feel it too. Silent music, a constant beat that never stopped, but far louder through this door. “All three of them are in there,” Nyx said. “Like… different instruments. Part of the spell.” Whether they want to be or not.

Christopher took one last look at his sister’s picture before snapping the locket closed. Then he drew his sword in both hands. “If Silvia murdered her own parents, I’ll have her head. Time to be heroes.”

Nyx nodded her reluctant agreement. Together, they shoved the double doors open, passing through into the chamber beyond.

The space was vast, with thick carpets ad fine plush furniture. They’d finally reached the end of the stairs—the ceiling above was vaulted and echoing, with one window facing each of the four directions. Each was made of thick glass, with bars on the outside to stop any potential escape.

Nyx took in the other tactical details of the space as quickly as she could, searching for dangers. The room was broken by a velvet curtain, hiding most of the space. Comfortable furniture, a large bookshelf of oversized books.

The table beside it had a wide scroll open on a stand, with intricately carved wooden rods holding it open. Nyx’s eyes went instantly to the incense burning in a tiny metal bowl beside it, and the vial of something dark red set just before the scroll.

A young woman sat in the center of the sofa, watching them with a cheerful smile on her face. The table before her was a little taller than normal, with a bright red tablecloth and a single teacup resting incongruously in front of the girl.

Nyx had never known this sister, but she could at least recognize her from the painting. “You’re Silvia Ortiz,” Nyx said, feigning politeness. She kept her movements slow, not wanting to provoke hostile magic before they even got through the door. She was so unafraid that she didn’t even stand as they entered.

 Silvia ignored her, watching Christopher as he approached. There was recognition there, maybe even friendship. Or what was left of it. “I wondered if you would find your way here eventually. Father’s side of the family was always so… tenacious.”

Christopher’s discipline evaporated, and his face went red with rage. He stalked up to the sofa, his sword ready in both hands. Please don’t attack her yet we have no idea what’s going on please don’t…

He didn’t attack. Instead he screamed, “Is that an admission, witch? Your father provided you with the best Middara could offer. Your mother was a woman of honor and gentleness. I want to hear from your lips, Silvia. Are you a kinslayer? God may hate witches, but there’s a special place in hell waiting for traitors.”

While he yelled, Ai and Pocky inspected the curtain, nudging it nervously. Nothing happened to them, though it seemed like something large might’ve moved on the other side.

Even Silvia reacted calmly to the screaming, reaching forward to the table in front of her and sipping her tea. She didn’t even look at the sword. “Kill my own parents? What happened between us was… unfortunate. But I didn’t kill them. I saved them. Would you like to see? They’re here right now, very close.”

“Yes,” he said. His sword dropped an inch or so, though he didn’t lower his voice. “Very much. The further up this tower I climbed, the more certain I was of your guilt. Please show me I’m wrong. We can leave this unhallowed place, burn this tower. Together.”

Silvia set down her cup, lifting a little silver bell from the table and ringing it three times. “Mommy, Daddy! We have visitors. Bring the tea.”

Something shuffled behind the curtain, something meaty and heavy. Nyx smelled it before she saw it—a heady mix of formaldehyde and unburied dead. She backed away from the curtain as something heavy shoved through it. She leaned on her staff, overwhelmed by what she saw.

It had been human once—two humans, actually. A pulpy mass of pale flesh shambled into the room, making a sound from two sets of lips that might’ve been a grunt, or might’ve been a scream of agony. It had four legs, four arms, two heads. The thing was unevenly decayed—its heads were yellowed slightly from the preservative. Silvia had not been so attentive with the rest of it.

Bile rose in her throat, and Nyx turned away, covering her mouth with her arm.

Christopher backed away, crossing himself and muttering something in Spanish. “Saints protect us…” he finally stammered, no longer swinging the sword. He backed away from the creature, his eyes more pity than disgust. Maybe he could see something familiar in those alien features.

Silvia had dressed the corpse-thing, in shreds of white cloth. It only made the parody of life seem worse, as it shuffled between its four unsteady feet. “I saved them,” she said, somehow not disgusted by the monstrosity in front of her. “They would’ve died, but now they can be with us forever.”

“How can you have done this?” Ai asked, gagging with disgust at what she saw. “You went through the same Rites—you must have, if you’re leading the coven here. How is this beautiful?” She gestured at the undead-monster. “This isn’t what we saw.”

“Beauty is subjective,” Silvia said. “You think we all see it the same way? The Dark Mother teaches that our desires are our own. Weren’t you paying attention?”

But whatever anger Nyx had for these innocents, there were two others who she’d known whose fate gnawed at her. Had Silvia murdered her sisters like her parents? What about Salma and Sandra?” Nyx asked, gripping her staff so tightly that the wood started to creak. Already her mind raced, searching her memory of Arkalla’s darkest pits for some horror appropriate to the evil Silvia had committed. “Did you murder them too?”

“I only have one sister now. Salma?” She tapped her foot, suddenly impatient.

Something else emerged from the far side of the room. Nyx was ready this time, angry enough that fear and discomfort were fading. Maybe Christopher had been right after all: thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.

Salma was still alive, at least. Beneath her thin robes, her body was covered with horrifying scars, tracing zigzag patterns up and down her skin. One hand had been replaced with a monstrous claw, tearing up the carpet as she dragged it forward. When she smiled, it was with a row of needle teeth, like some horror of the deep ocean. Her face was carved and torn wider than it should be, but more teeth had grown to fill the void.

“Professor Nyx!” she said, her strange teeth giving her voice an unnatural lisp. But beneath all that, she was still the same Salma that she remembered. “You’re here! It’s been years!”

Nyx backed away, retreating out of reach. Maybe she should’ve been ashamed of her disgust. “What did she… do to you?”

“No one did anything to me,” Salma said. She twisted and bent, her skin briefly tearing along the hideous scars. Somewhere underneath was a mass of swollen red flesh, not unlike Katya. But then the moment passed, and Salma looked like herself again. Charming, innocent, and human. “Silvia said it already. Our Mother doesn’t ask us to be what we aren’t. She wants us to be free to experience beauty and joy as we find it. Lust, vanity, greed… you saw for yourself. The Dark Mother accepts you regardless.” The illusion broke, and she melted back into the monstrous thing with claws and pointed teeth.

“We’re very thankful for your gift,” Silvia began. “It fills me with regret to lose a servant as skilled as Girtiya. First we freed her from death, and thanks to what she brought, she is free from us as well. Maybe you’ll decide to stay in her place. But what we have received in compensation… that is truly remarkable. The lockbox, its contents have proved what we have waited years to know. The Marked One has finally arrived.”

She settled her teacup back into place, smiling sickly-sweet up at Christopher. “But as I said—my sister is fine. My family is fine. You can leave this tower and tell Brahma all about it, if you wish.”

Christopher brandished his sword, inches from Silvia’s table. He swung it inches in front of her face, yet she didn’t even blink. When he spoke, he sounded drained. “What about Sandra? I’m not leaving this tower until I see that she’s okay.”

“Don’t say her name,” Silvia whispered, her voice suddenly low and dangerous. The monstrous undead thing, content to shuffle about near the bookshelf, stirred suddenly, turning four sets of rotten eyes on Christopher. It doesn’t have any free will anymore. We’ll have to fight them.

Nyx would be ready for that when it came. She didn’t turn people into demons, but she was one of the best summoners in Elenia.

“Sandra couldn’t see the paradise we were bringing,” Silvia said. “She didn’t think it was right to help prophecy along.”

“Now she can’t see anything,” Salma squeaked, her toothy voice mixed with laughter. She yanked on the red tablecloth, pulling it away to expose the greatest horror of all.

There was nothing demonic about the look of this girl, no alien flesh and strange magic. She lay scrunched into a cage barely large enough for her, wearing only rags and covered with dirt and slime. Her face was scarred horribly, with yellowed bandages wrapped around her eyes. Her ears were covered with half-melted pitch, sealing them shut and leaving horrible burns around her bare scalp. Yet somehow the poor girl seemed to sense something had changed, because she turned her head up. Her mouth opened, but only a throaty rattle emerged. She had no tongue.

“And now you see,” Silvia said. “She refused Her help. The Mother would already be here, if it wasn’t for her. Because of her, we’re still waiting for the Marked One. Though not for much longer.”

A low growl rumbled through the room, and Nyx looked up. None of the others moved—if any of the witches saw Lymn, they were very good actors.

The wolf ignored all the horrors around them, standing beside the open scroll. “This object is the key,” she said, her voice urgent. “Their ritual is complete, but power builds. You must disrupt it.”

Nyx took one step towards the scroll, stumbling away from the cage. She didn’t have to act to seem disgusted and horrified, anyway. “Because you caused it,” Nyx supplied. “Your ritual marked a boy on Earth, changed him.”

Silvia shrugged, though Nyx was sure her eyes darted briefly to the oversized scroll. “Her return was always known. My… this one here, may’ve slowed Her. But Her arrival can’t be prevented. We’re manifesting destiny. You’ve seen the world She will bring. When you brought the lockbox to us, you proved that the Marked One has arrived in Middara at least. When we are finished here, I will be sure to pay her a visit.”

I thought I did. Nyx had seen the world that the Dark Mother Divine would bring. But it wasn't this. It was... beautiful. Her own version of happiness made manifest. But no matter how much some part of Nyx still wanted to return to what she'd seen during the Rites. “If the Dark Mother would allow this, then she was just as evil as Christopher had been saying from the beginning. “No one is manifesting anything today,” she said. “We’re taking that scroll, ending the ritual, and no one is going to be tortured in this tower ever again.”

Silvia was barely listening. Either that, or she didn’t care that all three of her visitors were now brandishing weapons. “You don’t even know what it is? This scroll is made from the torn pages of the Book of Hadrum. It isn't summoning the Mother. It only shows you your past. Or Her past. She’s been speaking to me since I was a child. Do you really think others haven’t tried to stop me before? You’re going to swing bits of metal and throw around some shitty spells, and stop the will of a god?”

Silvia jerked to her feet, kicking a staff up into her hands that had been concealed under the edge of the sofa. As she rose, something moved from just behind it—a gigantic, horrifying rat, with sharp teeth and hideous open sores covering most of its hairless body.

Something moved from the corner of the room, and Nyx watched as the rescued Tomoe began closing on the scroll. Her listless confusion was gone, replaced with resolute determination. You don’t even know what we’re doing here, and you’re willing to risk yourself to help us. I was wrong not to rescue you. Either that, or Tomoe was actually one of the Coven all along, and she was about to do something terrible with their artifact. Nyx could only hope it was the former.

“The Dark Mother gives us life,” Salma said. “We can share it with others. We could’ve shared it with you. But now we’ll share it with someone else.”

Nyx felt a sudden twisting in her gut, recognizing the Assemblage magic before Salma even finished casting. Nyx had probably taught her the spell she used.

The carpet in front of Salma was suddenly stained red, with thick blood sprawling in a profane recreation of Solomon’s Seal. The ground cracked, and a pale hand emerged, dripping red with blood.

Salma reached down, yanking hard with her still-human hand. The creature seemed to be taking shape as she pulled, bones and tissues coming together from primordial clay and settling into the shape of a man. A man all cloaked in purple and red, with long white hair and a high collar. Nyx couldn’t see much of his face, beyond the yellow eyes that seemed to glow. She quickly looked away.

“I need you to kill,” Salma said. “These four and the dog.”

Nyx’s eyes widened in horror as she finally realized what Salma had done. This was no simple esper—it was another undead horror, worse by far than what Silvia had done to her parents. His will was unbroken even seconds after the ritual was complete. Salma had reached beyond the furthest corners of Arkalla and every other realm a sane summoner could call, down into Erebus.

There were no ‘good’ creatures in Erebus, and the only souls that dwelt there were evil in a way that scarcely had any meaning to a mortal human.

“What will you give me in return?”

“Anything you want,” she said, her insane grin splitting her face wider and wider.

“You need me to shed blood now,” the creature said. “Pay me after. I will know what I want by then.”

“Done,” Salma said.

“No more!” Christopher roared, lifting his sword high over his head. Golden light broke through the tower window, settling around him as the same set of armor he had summoned before. “Elenia is a scourge on our world for permitting this. But if I must be the one to correct it, then I will.” He glanced sidelong at Nyx, his eyes dark inside the summoned helmet.

It was time for blood.

Count Dalv

Evil to Ash

“—through the same Christ Our Lord. Amen.” Christopher finished with the sign of the cross. Only then did he finally release the rosary, letting it settle against his chest. He listened for a second, as though the witch Circe would catch fire at his prayer and be burned to ash by the time he returned.

But he heard no screaming, no sound at all through the round metal doors. Christopher stood on the other side of that final door, the one that led to the blasphemous font. “What do you think, Pocky? Is the witch burning yet?”

The dog was sprawled on the ground not far away, though not actually within reach. Uplifted animals were always smart, but Christopher was sure this one was smart enough to resent him. You’re the one who offered your life, dog. I was supporting your decision. For his part, the dog only grinned open-mouthed up at him. And you think this is funny.

He rose, shoving up against the door one last time. But it didn’t budge, didn’t even flex in its frame. He doubted he would have much better results even if he went at it with a crowbar. “I’m done sitting around. You want to save that girl with me, Pocky? I’m going back.”

The dog rose instantly to his paws, watching as Christopher walked away through the hall of strange mirrors. It didn’t take long—just a few more steps—before Pocky hurried to catch up. At least if I get myself killed doing this, you can warn the others.

Retracing his steps wasn’t easy, even though he’d been watching the route up carefully. Mostly he’d been searching for open windows, balconies, anything they might be able to use to escape the Ziggurat after they reached the top and started killing witches. Unfortunately, he’d seen none. There were a few windows in public areas, but all were either too small to fit through, or reinforced so heavily that they wouldn’t serve as a way out.

In a way, the alien confusion of the Ziggurat was the only way he managed to reach his destination. Each new sculpture or display was its own unique flavor of revolting. By the time he returned to the cells, Christopher was certain he’d seen every mortal sin explored and glorified in explicit detail. I’m going to see this place in my nightmares.

The Incubus guard was still here, with the same spear resting over his shoulder. He hardly even seemed to notice Christopher as he approached, his eyes focused on the cell.

“Please, you need to release me. I need to save them, and I can’t save anyone from in here.”

She was still in there, the girl that looked so out of place for this awful tower. Not just the tower—as Christopher looked more closely, she seemed like she didn’t belong in Elenia at all. Her dress was strange and long, inspired by no fashion he’d ever seen before. Her desperation hadn’t changed—she gripped hard on the bars, her knuckles white.

“Quiet,” the Incubi said. There was none of the respect the slaves showed to their witch masters. Was that enough to know that this wasn’t all a trap? It could still be bait. She’s disguised, waiting for evidence that we’re breaking the rules.

But it didn’t matter to Christopher anymore. There was doing the smart thing, and doing the right thing, and just now they were opposed. “Hey.” He kept his voice low, his weapon undrawn. He stopped just out of reach of the spear, far enough that he should be able to react if the guard attacked him.

But the Incubus only turned. He straightened, striking a comically perfect pose. And under all that perfection is a soul already ensnared in Hell. “Honored guest,” he said, glancing past Christopher. But whatever he was looking for, he didn’t find, and he soon relaxed. “I’m afraid I cannot assist you right now. I’ve been given trust of this prisoner. But I’m sure there are others who can fulfill your desires.”

As though I could be tempted by demons. He kept his tone flat, nodding at the cage. “I see you’re wearing a key. If you help me free her, we can take escape from this place too. We have a ship waiting, and the support of the Jeong family.”

The Incubus’s face froze—then split into mad laughter. He nearly dropped his spear, his laughs the only sound in the empty prison. Finally, he stopped. “I’m not a slave, honored guest. No one is a prisoner in this tower. We came here willingly, from every corner of Middara. The Dark Mother promised to accept our offering and grant us a place. She keeps her promises.”

Christopher looked past him, through the bars. The girl inside, Tomoe she’d called herself, did not seem like she was a willing guest. He nodded slightly to her, then turned away, his gesture suddenly exaggerated. “Of course. Forgive me—I am a stranger, to all Elenia even. Understanding your ways hasn’t come easy.”

The demon relaxed. Maybe satisfied that there would be no violence after all.

Christopher yanked the rosary from around his neck. “I wonder… would the Mother accept my offering?” He held up the necklace, letting the light catch in its gemstones. “Perhaps you could give it to her on my behalf.”

“Of course.” He let go of the spear with one hand, catching it in the crook of his other arm while he extended a hand. “We’re always grateful for offerings. It would be my honor to deliver yours.”

Christopher tossed the necklace gently, curving it between them in a wide arc.

The Incubus caught it in both hands, eyes wide with greed. But his eyes kept getting wider, his mouth opening in a scream of pain.

Christopher shoved his arm hard against the demon’s chin, silencing his scream. The demon writhed and contorted, his hands turning white around the necklace. If only he’d been holding it a little looser, maybe he could’ve let go. He didn’t, though. “A heart like yours could never hold something so sacred.”

The Incubus kicked and struggled, his eyes burning. “The mother will… protect me… from your enchantment! Your act… is...” After a few seconds the body crumbled away, bits of chalky ash piling up at his feet.

Christoper wouldn’t learn just what his act was. And if the Mother had protected him, it wasn’t in a way Christopher could see.

He reached down into the debris, lifting out the iron keyring from among the demon’s clothes. He strode forward, trying to ignore Pocky’s pointed glares.

“If he wasn’t evil, he wouldn’t have died,” he muttered to the dog. Pocky only vanished, reappearing beside the corpse, and pawing at the ash.

Christopher turned away, testing a few keys in the lock before finally finding one that would turn. He twisted the door open, then yanked backward, wincing as the metal creaked loudly.

There was the strangely-dressed girl, watching with horror. Her fear only grew as he tossed the necklace to her, just as he’d done for the demon. She had no space to move out of the way, and reflexively raised her hands to cover her face. She caught the rosary there, hanging between her fingers, squeaking with surprise and fear.

Nothing happened. Finally, she opened her eyes, staring down at it in shock. “I’m still here? But your weapon… how does it work, if I’m not dead?”

“It detects evil,” he answered. “Do you want a rescue or not?” He stepped back, out of the way.

The stranger ran her fingers over the beads, then held it out to him. “I don’t think evil is as simple as that...”

His mouth hung open. He might’ve kept staring, but Pocky nudged his leg, nodding towards the dead demon. The message was clear even if he didn’t speak it. We can’t stay here. They’ll find this body. Or what’s left of it, anyway.

“I don’t know how simple or complex evil is,” Christopher said. “But my enchantment says it isn’t you.” He extended one hand for the rosary.

She seemed eager to be rid of it, because she practically threw it at him, wiping her hand on the back of one sleeve.

Christopher took the necklace, replacing it on his neck. The gemstones felt slightly warm to the touch, but otherwise nothing had changed.

He let Tomoe pass him, then used his boots to shove what was left of the demon into the cage.

No one coming, but no telling how long we have until the guard changes. “This way.” He gestured back to the top of the tower. “My friends are up there. Our best chance of getting out of his tower is together.”

Tomoe followed, one hand playing with a bead. “I’m not… sure I should leave the tower. Haven’t… finished what I came for yet.”

“Neither have I,” he said, glancing back one last time as they rounded the stairs. But no one came. We still have a little time. “So that’s perfect.”

She didn’t argue with him, not all the way back to the round metal doors and the sanctum beyond.

Nyx and Ai Chen were waiting outside the outer door, on the other side of the mirror hallway. Christopher tensed, expecting to see some demonic change like the witch Katya. But he couldn’t see anything different, only wonder if they’d be able to touch his rosary now. He glanced past the door for any sign of the high priestess, but he couldn’t see her anywhere.

Nyx rose as they emerged from the stairs, glaring over his shoulder. She gestured angrily at Tomoe as she spoke, eyes dark. “Please don’t tell me the Ziggurat and every witch inside it is about to come down on us.”

Pocky darted past him, settling beside Ai and nuzzling her. She barely even responded, reaching sideways to pat the dog. Her eyes were distant, though not glazed over with strange magic. She was contemplative instead.

“No,” he answered. “Not for a while. No one saw me do it.” No one still alive. “Where’s the witch?”

“Gone,” Ai whispered. “Finished with us.” Christopher waited for her to say more, but she only looked back down.

Nyx didn’t wait. “They’ll still realize she’s gone. Who else could’ve rescued her?” Nyx folded her arms, tail whipping the air behind her in her frustration.

“Well now I know you’re still you,” he said, smiling faintly. “You’re right to be upset, it was stupid. But it was right. Tomoe, this is Nyx and Ai. Girls, Tomoe. Now we’re introduced—are we still going through with this? Can you still… fight?”

Ai Chen finally looked up, her eyes focusing on him for the first time. “Are you satisfied, Amaya? Does solving one more murder, one more kidnapping—why should it matter?”

He shook his head in response, dropping down to one knee beside her. “Ai, what happened to you?”

She shared a look with Nyx, then looked away uncomfortably. The silence might’ve gone on indefinitely if it wasn’t for Tomoe.

“I’m here to save someone,” she declared. “It might be one of you. It might be someone else—I can’t remember. Are you going to take me there?”

Nyx cleared her throat. “We can get to the ritual now. We don’t need to wander around anymore.”

“Until they see Tomoe and attack her?” he asked, voice even. “I shouldn’t take her into danger.”

“Then you shouldn’t have—” Nyx stopped, taking a deep breath, turning away. “They won’t attack her if she’s with us. Come on, we don’t have much time. They’re almost done.”