“It is a place of darkness and magic,” say I to the assembled crowd—who listens with rapt attention, mouths gaping wide, “of nightmares and blood. It is where some monsters are born, and where others go to die...” It is not a story for children—or for most adults, either—but they asked that I speak of my home, and who am I to deny them? “The night rules supreme, along with its many horrors. Yet, I must return—”
A hand shoots up. I pause and nod in its direction as I lay my hands on the cane that rests in my lap.
“It sounds frightening!” says a little boy. “Why would you want to go back?”
“It might sound that way to you,” answer I, “but it does not to me. Besides, it is also a place of beauty, where unicorns graze and rainbows fill the skies. It is also there that the substance of dreams coalesces into colored clouds, that then drift through the lands until they find their rightful owner.”
I see the adults become uncomfortable. One of them coughs and stands. “Perhaps we should let our guest get some sleep. You must be exhausted, Sir Varushka.”
“Count,” I correct him, “not Sir.”
He pays little attention to my words as he gathers some of the children around him. One of the women comes next to me and says with her voice lowered:
“We appreciate your company, and the stories... but they are too dark, especially so close to bedtime. We would not want the children to have nightmares. I hope you’re not offended.”
“Not at all,” say I, as I cannot argue with her logic. Though I would have told her they were not ‘stories,’ but she has already walked away.
I turn to face the flames. It has been a long day. One of joyful festivities, to celebrate the birth date of the town’s founder—a yearly event in Vos Undine.
The merriment had ended at nightfall, around a large fire at the village center, where everyone had gathered to tell and hear stories. I was surprised when they asked me to take part.
I notice that a little girl is staring at me. I offer her a smile. Her expression does not alter—it is one of intense attention and seriousness.
“Is there something you wish to ask me?”
She nods vigorously.
“Go ahead, then.”
“You know monsters?”
It is a wonder the questions that children ask. It never ceases to amaze me.
“I do.”
“Are there any here?”
“They are everywhere,” I answer truthfully.
She wrinkles her nose. “I will never sleep again!”
“Why is that?” I ask.
“They would come and eat me while I sleep.”
I chuckle. “No, they would not. They have better things to do.”
“Like what?”
How can I answer that? It is too vast a topic to cover in a few words.
“You should go to bed now,” I say softly.
“But the night is dark and full of terrors,” she remarks with resolve.
Terrors come in all shapes and sizes. All are not created equal. And darkness can be a shield if one knows how to use it.
“Let not the monsters scare you,” is my response. “Give them cause to fear you instead.”
This puzzles her. But she nods, smiles a little, gives me a quick hug, then runs off down the street.
***
When morning comes, so does the pain. The sun has never been my friend. It does not shine in my world. I thought I would get used to its light and warmth, but I still have not after all these years.
The heat itself does not bother me—not any more than cold does—but the light hurts my eyes and I have to seek the shadows.
In normal times, I sleep during the day and live by night. But staying in this village has forced me to change my habits. At least for a little while.
These humans have been kind to me. Granted, they have not seen my darker side. It is easier to accept someone when you do not know their secrets. I wonder if their attitude will change after the things I said last night... I doubt it, seeing as they believed I was making things up. Perhaps that is for the best.
To pay them back for their kindness, I have been helping them with menial tasks. Despite the painful light, it feels oddly good to do little things with my hands, to fix things and help. I had not done anything like this since my childhood—a very long time ago.
It makes me feel... different.
I am at the back of the barn now, cutting wood. It is summer, but the nights can be chilly for the humans. The logs help keep their fires burning.
As I bring my axe down to split another one in two, I hear screams in the distance.
The sun is blinding me, so I cannot see anything, but the sounds are coming from the village, which is a couple of minutes away from my current location.
I do not like this. It smells of slaughter and blood.
Axe still in hand, I rush toward the village.
What I find confirms my fears. Humans are running in every direction as they try to escape an army of wights that is spreading through the streets, killing anyone that comes in their way.
The monsters have found Vos Undine.
***
I should not have been surprised. Talk of such things tends to draw them. I should have been more careful. But it is not time for blame. It is time for action. I will not let them slay all these people. This ends now.
As I walk calmly up the streets, I swing the axe with one hand while the claws of the other slash through skin and bones. Some of the wights jump at me, but they only find smoke... smoke that swirls around them, infiltrates their noses, their eyes, their ears, every pore of their flesh... the smoke inside them then solidifies and expands. I will let you guess the outcome.
The humans have all fled by now, hiding in their houses—as well they should.
Finally, I stop at the center of the village and strike the ground with the axe as hard as I can. At the same time, I yell a yell that resonates throughout the entire village. My voice is deep, loud, imperious.
“Enough!” The word resonates in the creatures’ skulls, sending some of them to their knees. “You will stop this now! I command it by the powers of the Gleaming!”
A deep silence falls upon Vos Undine.
The closest wights stare at me in disbelief. I point to one of them.
“You. Bring your leader to me. Now!”
Though it cowers at first, it then scurries away.
It does not take long for one of the foul creatures to march in my direction. His stride and posture mark him clearly as a figure of authority. He stops a few paces from me and gauges me with a mix of suspicion and wariness.
Like all his brethren, he is small and bulky, with horns on his shoulders, and thin black strands hanging from his head. But this one’s large round eyes are filled with venom.
“Who are you?” he asks.
“Silence!” I make my voice shattering again. It has the desired effect, as I see him step back with a stunned look on his face. “You will speak when prompted to, and you shall address me properly. I am Count Varushka.”
The creature falls to its knees and bows to me. It is good to see that I am not forgotten.
“Forgive me, Excellency. I did not know...”
“Why are you attacking this village?”
He dares a glance at me. “It is a matter of privacy, your Lordship.”
“Excuse me?”
“We do not wish to offend you, my Count! We will not hurt you, I swear by all that is sacred to us. You may go free.”
I laugh. What is this?
“How merciful. But I shall not do that. These humans are under my protection.”
The creature blinks. “Why? What are they to you?”
“You dare question me?”
His response is a snarl—though it is more to signify confusion than defiance.
“No,” he says as he rests his forehead against the earth, “of course not. But this does place us in a difficult position...”
“There is nothing difficult about this. No more killing. You take your followers and you leave. Problem solved.”
“But we cannot leave, Excellency.”
I walk up to him and stare down at the back of his head. “What did you just say?”
Did he tremble just now? I think he did. I have to admit this amuses me greatly. Though I suspect this not to be a very human-like trait. I will have to work on that.
“There is something here... that we cannot leave without...”
“You cannot?”
There is silence for a moment. Then, with a somewhat trembling voice, he says: “No.”
This gives me pause.
He knows who I am. What I am capable of. And yet he defies me. Overtly. I’ll grant that he does this with some form of respect—which is why he is still alive—but his disobedience hints at a problem more profound than what was first apparent.
“Rise.” He does so, though his eyes remain averted. “What is your name?”
“I am Grelgath, your Lordship.”
“Alright, Grelgath. You have my full attention. Explain yourself.”
I sense some relief in him as he begins to explain.
“These humans built their village on top of an ancient temple—”
This makes me laugh. “Come now! Wights do not believe in any gods.”
“You are correct,” he grunts. “But there is an item there we need to retrieve.”
“I warn you, fiend! If it is a weapon...”
“That, it is not.”
I observe him. Wights do not lie well, and there is no sign of deceit on this one’s face.
“Very well, then. If that is all you need, I shall help you.”
My response surprises him. He hesitates a moment as he looks around.
“So you will remove them, then?” he asks as he gestures toward the villagers who have gathered around us.
“Absolutely not! The humans stay. This is their home.”
“But there are too many of them! And we do not know where the temple is. It could be anywhere. It would be difficult to search with all these creatures scurrying about...”
“There are other ways to search. And, as I said, I will help you.”
“Very well, Excellency.”
***
There are worlds beyond the visible, places of infinite complexity. Some are easy to reach, some not so much. The Gleaming being the furthest and most complex of them all. In between are many others that can serve various purposes.
As they exist in the same space as the realm of men, one could use such alternate planes to explore otherwise unattainable spots. The entrails of a mountain, the bottom of the sea, the heart of a dying man, or—in our case—what lies beneath Vos Undine.
It is in this fashion, then, that I traveled through the earth below the village. Though in reality, I was not inside the earth itself, but in another dimension. Some creatures, such as myself, are gifted with the ability to see beyond the plane in which we are currently located. It was this gift that allowed me to locate the temple.
Now that I have returned to the realm of men, I lead a party of wights to the spot I have identified. As they dig, I turn to their leader.
“What I don’t understand is why you waited so long to come for this item, if it’s so important to you?”
Grelgath watches his followers work as he answers, his voice full of sadness.
“The artifact was locked in an impenetrable room, many generations ago. It was said that, when our people would be ready, the door would open.”
“Any particular reason you would be ready now as opposed to before?”
He looks at me with a slight smile. “It was said that the lock would open of its own accord on the night of the weeping moon, which only happens once every five hundred years. According to our calendar, that will be tonight.”
A prophecy entwined with mysticism. Perfect.
He must read the skepticism in my expression, for he adds: “Other promises have been made before to our people, and all of them have come true. Whether they brought bad or good things to us. Can the same not be said of your own realm, your Lordship?”
There is some truth to that. And his choice of words—calling it ‘promises’ rather than ‘prophecies’—does not go unnoticed.
“And what is this item supposed to do, exactly?”
“It is hard to foretell with something this old, Excellency. As you well know, with time, every story is distorted and the distortions amplified. Some say it will bring us enlightenment, others speak of freedom or change. All we know for sure is that it will represent a significant event in our people’s history.”
It is an intriguing tale, and I am curious to see what will come of it... if anything. A part of me remains dubious that there is any substance behind the story.
The wights are hard and focused workers. There are many of them, too. Hundreds. The village is overrun, forcing its inhabitants to stay indoors, some watching from their windows. They do not understand what is going on, and they remain frightened for their lives. I cannot blame them.
Within an hour, the creatures have dug a tunnel that ends at the entrance of the buried temple.
I decide to go in with them. In part to make sure the artifact—if artifact there is—is not a weapon, but also to satisfy my curiosity.
***
The vaulted ceiling is six feet high, with large cobwebs swinging in the gentle breeze brought through the dug tunnel. The halls are dusty and smell musty. It is dark, though the wights have brought torches.
Elaborate drawings cover the stone walls, representing life scenes from times long forgotten. There are statues in every corner, of grimacing demons... and a few others that look like wights.
The hall ends with a large jade door that will not budge, no matter how many of the creatures join forces.
“Perhaps there is a mechanism,” say I, with both my hands resting on the pommel of my cane.
Grelgath and I search the walls. Others come help us. It does not take long to find it. A diamond-shaped prominence that looks out of place. Pressing on it triggers a loud thud followed by a long screech as the jade gate rises and disappears into the ceiling.
The wights jump around merrily. Two of them rush through the opening with wide grins on their faces. They are instantly crushed by a slab of stone that slides out of the side wall and slams against the opposite side, and then retracts.
We all stare in silence at the bloody, disarticulated corpses.
“Well, that was unfortunate...” say I.
Grelgath groans. “How are we to reach the artifact?”
“Your stories don’t say?”
“No.”
The poor creature must have expected this to be a walk in the park. But nothing worth having ever comes easy. It does make me wonder if there might be some truth behind those tales after all.
I inspect the walls again... in case there is another switch to disable the trap. I don’t think it likely, but one never knows.
The wights grow agitated. To the point that another tries to go through—it hopes to trick the mechanism by jumping through real fast... but the opening is deep and the slab closes the distance in a fraction of a second.
A third lump of flesh, bones, and blood now lies in the opening.
Grelgath yells at his followers, ordering them to stay put until a solution is found. There is discontentment in the air.
He comes to me with his head hung low.
“Excellency... I beg for your help! Do you see any way to go through without more loss of lives?”
Funny how the loss of lives did not seem to bother him so much when it involved human lives, rather than wight ones.
“Maybe.”
I go to the door and crouch in front of the opening. I study each side and ponder for a moment.
Because of my nature, I could just walk through. I’d get crushed, of course, and it would hurt like hell, but I would survive. That, however, would not get them through. Though I could always get the item myself and bring it back. Still, there is no point in submitting my body to such torture if there is another way.
I do not practice magic per se, but I do have some inherent abilities. One of them permits me to link planes together. I cannot hold it for long, as it requires a lot of energy, but it can be a useful trick at times. Like now, perhaps.
If I can shift reality within the opening, make a section of another plane switch places with it, it would allow a safe passage long enough for some of us to go through—likely not all, as there are too many of them, but I don’t expect they would all need to cross.
“Select those you wish to take through with you,” I tell Grelgath. “It can be no more than twenty. Let me know when you are ready.”
Before he can ask me questions, I go back to the opening and prepare for what is to come.
***
The air shimmers and glistens as I bend reality to my will. There is a rift now in the center, large enough to let three wights go through. None of them, however, dare make the first move. As I cannot hold this long, I decide to cross over.
As I walk through the opening, the wights hold their breaths. But nothing happens. As far as the temple is concerned, I was never inside that door, for the space within is now on a different plane.
I turn to face the wights.
“Grelgath! You should come next. Show your people that it is safe.”
He stares at me for a moment, then nods and steps through.
Again, the walls do not react.
I can feel the strain as reality yearns to resume its rightful shape. But it is still bearable, so I maintain the rupture.
“Quick!” I call out.
But I need not say more. As soon as their leader joins me, the other creatures rush through the opening, careful to remain within the shaft I created—which is easy to spot, as the surrounding air still shifts and whirls.
As the last of them passes, I release my grip and the respective planes shift back into their allotted spaces.
Those who remain on the other side watch as we begin our journey deeper into the temple.
What follows are many small rooms connected by short halls. In each room is a new challenge.
As I study each in turn, I wonder why they call this a temple. Aside from the statues in the entrance, I see no representations of possible divine figures. There are no rooms of worship, no altars, no urns... or if there are, further in, they would be so hard to access as to make the supposed nature of this structure moot. It is an odd place indeed.
The second trap we encounter is a pit that extends the full width of the hall. Below are burning flames. I could bend reality again, but doing so at every obstacle would leave me more exhausted each time. Not knowing what lies ahead makes me wary of taking such a risk.
Instead, we find wood panels in the previous hall that we pull off the walls and turn into a bridge. It is not very solid, or stable, but it gets us across.
The third trap is another pit, this time filled with spikes. We retrieve the planks used previously and repurpose them here.
The fourth we do not see coming. We lose another five wights as arrows shoot out of the walls as soon as they step into that particular room.
Studying the area, I notice that the floor is uneven. Some of the stones that make its surface are not only slightly higher than the others, but also of a darker hue.
Using the tip of my cane, I press down on one of these stones. Nothing happens. I step onto it, then press my cane on another stone. Again, nothing happens. I look over my shoulder and explain to the wights how to proceed. We make our way in this fashion, moving from one jutting slab to the next.
The final room is barren, safe for an opening in the floor. There are stairs there, leading down. I grab a torch and proceed with caution.
The way is long and narrow and winding.
After all those successive traps, it is unnerving not to come across any others. We expect a new one at every turn of the tunnel... but there is none.
We finally reach the bottom ten minutes later. There is a second jade door here. With another diamond-shaped switch. Pressing it, however, does nothing.
“Why does it not open?” whines Grelgath.
I remain quiet as I study the door, then the walls around it, and the ceiling.
As I am about to turn my gaze, I notice something unusual on the rock surface above. A small hole. Not a crack between slabs. This seems of a more artificial nature.
Lifting my cane, I press the end of it against the tiny opening. It is too small for the shaft to slide in. Still, as I push up, I feel the surface give way and hear a click.
The wights tense, but no trap is sprung upon us. Nothing happens at all.
Except...
A ray of light pierces through the opening and hits the ground before me.
I stare at it for a moment, then look at the door.
“Remind me what your stories say?” I ask.
“The artifact is hidden in the temple—”
“About the timing,” I say with a click of my tongue. “You said it would only be accessible every five hundred years?”
Grelgath nods.
“By the light of the weeping moon.”
“Then we must wait.”
“Wait?”
The wight sounds alarmed.
I point my cane toward the beam of light.
“This is the key. It will unlock the door. We can do nothing more.”
The restless creature looks at the light and at the door. He grunts and turns to his kin.
“Sit! All of you! We must wait.”
Monsters are not of a patient nature—I am well placed to know this. Still, they obey their master. And though they are all restless, shift constantly, and groan and whine all the time, they wait.
As the moon outside moves in the sky, we watch its light move toward the door. Little by little, inch by inch. It reaches the bottom of the door and starts to go up. And up. And up.
I am not sure how long we have waited here. An hour, at the very least. But finally, I see the beam hit the diamond-shaped switch. A loud grating sound resonates through the tunnels as the gate slowly opens.
The wights all jump to their feet and rush toward the opening, but Grelgath stops them.
“Wait! There might be another trap.”
The creatures immediately freeze, remembering all the traps we have encountered so far.
I move closer and wave my cane into the opening.
Nothing happens.
“Hmm.”
Shifting reality would be the safer course, but I somehow feel that I will be better off saving my stamina for what is to come—whatever that may be.
Taking a deep breath, I walk through.
Several things happen then, all at the same time.
The jade gate slams shut behind me. Lights flicker on, revealing a vast chamber with mirrors on the walls, colorful carpets on the ground, and some more statues in the corners. And the wall across from me slides open, revealing an altar with an orb on it.
In front of the altar, sitting on the floor with her bare back turned to me, is a woman with long silvery hair.
As she stands, an irrational fear clutches my heart. There is something familiar about her.
She slowly turns to face me.
There is an ancient pain, buried deep inside me—I had forgotten it even existed—that awakens now.
A wicked smile forms on her lips as she sees me.
“Hello, Varus. It has been a long time. It is good to see you.”
***
We all have our secrets. We all have our wounds. We all have memories of things we’ve done and of people we’ve known that we would much rather never remember.
There was a time—a happier one—when I ruled over the Gleaming. There was much jealousy then, from rivals who wished me harm. One of these was my mistress’ brother—Selindar, the thrice accursed... may his bones crumble and his flesh rot in the deepest pits of the underworld.
His plots were intricate and vicious—for such was his disposition. He had tried, and failed, many times to depose me. Perhaps I had grown too confident, or too naive.
Tenella would mock her brother’s efforts, calling him a weakling and a failure. She would say so to his face, which always enraged him—to my great amusement.
Little did I know that this was all a ruse, a deception of a magnitude I never could have fathomed.
They were both playing me. To the point that all those failed attempts had been part of their plan. All of them staged with no intention of succeeding. Only to better feed my ego, make me feel invincible... when in reality I was growing less attentive and more careless.
When they deemed the time was right, Tenella betrayed me. Had I not been warned by a servant who overheard a conversation, I would not have survived that night.
Selindar escaped my wrath, but my mistress did not. My heart still belonged to her, so I could not take her life. Instead, I banished her to wander in the realm of men.
It is ironic, as I was to suffer the same fate some years later, at the hands of her brother when he finally managed to steal my throne.
And today, in this ancient temple, under the human village of Vos Undine—the most unlikely of all places... here, then, is where our paths cross again.
For the woman standing before me, as stunningly beautiful as she was in my memories, is none other than the cruel Tenella.
***
There is sarcasm dripping from every word that pours out of her mouth. I know better now than to believe anything she says. And yet, I cannot help but ask:
“How ever did you end up here?”
She laughs. “Seriously? Those are the first words you choose to say for our reunion? How very disappointing.”
I frown. “Would you rather I’d curse your name? Berate you for your betrayal? Enumerate your numerous lies and deceits? Or perhaps you expected I’d fall to my knees and beg for you to come back to me?”
There is a fire in her eyes, then, that reveals the depth of her anger and hatred. There is no love there. Not anymore. It is fascinating to me how deeply and intricately interwoven love and hate can be.
The look fades as a new smile forms. “Don’t be silly. That’s all in the past. You can’t still be cross with me about all that nonsense.”
“What are you doing here?” I ask again.
She shrugs. “I could ask the same of you, could I not?”
I remain quiet, my eyes never leaving her. The dress she wears reveals as much as it conceals, with thin strands criss-crossing across her skin.
“I am a prisoner,” she finally says. “It is ironic that you would be my liberator, don’t you think?”
“I did not come here to free you.”
“No. I don’t imagine that you have.” She looks over her shoulder at the orb behind her. “I’m guessing you’ve come for that ugly thing. You can have it. I’ve been staring at it for at least a hundred years—I’ve lost track of time down here. I’ll be glad to see it go.”
I squint at her. “Is that so?”
She takes on an innocent expression. “Would I ever lie to you?”
I point my cane toward her. “I’m guessing you weren’t just placed here for no reason. You were tasked with guarding it, were you not?”
“What if I were?”
“Then you could not let me take it, just like that.”
“But I want you to! It would free me, you see. If there is nothing left to guard, then a task there is no more!”
I take a few steps toward the right, studying the room, though I constantly keep an eye on her at the same time.
“Be that as it may, the curse set upon you would not allow you to just let me take it.”
“Only one way to find out,” she says with a large grin.
I find myself in a conundrum.
There was a time when my love for her had stayed my hand. I could not have destroyed her, then. Today, however, those sentiments are long gone. And though my heart still aches for her, it is more for an idealized version of her, one that died eons ago—if it ever truly existed. I know for a fact that there is none of that left today. The creature before me is only an illusory representation of that elusive dream.
But if I do indeed destroy her, it would not really destroy her. Not while in the realm of men. Instead, it would free her and send her back to the Gleaming. The thought of her going back to her brother, free to plot and wreak untold horrors... I can not bear it.
And yet... I promised the wights my help. This may seem odd to others, as they are weak and feeble creatures—what are they to me? Nothing. But there is power in promises made, and I always stand by what I say.
It would be easy to turn around and just leave...
I pause then, as I realize that I have done just that. Or almost. My back is turned to the orb, with the jade gate in front of me. I did not even realize that I had turned away...
“Leaving so soon?” I hear her joke. Though I can also sense the anguish in her words. Funny how, after all these centuries, I can still recognize the meanings hidden behind the inflections of her voice.
I can also guess her own conflicting thoughts.
She no longer has any love for me either—if she ever had any at all. All glimpses of such feelings would have been dashed by the punishment I inflicted upon her, and further enhanced by her current predicament—which I’m sure she must blame me for... after all, had I not banished her, she would never have ended up here.
“Who bound you to this place?” I ask as I face her again.
The way she feels about me now, there is no doubt in my mind that she would want to see me die a horrible death. Though of course, if she did defeat me here, just like if I did her, it would send me back to the Gleaming... and is that not what I yearn for the most? I am tempted to let her win.
But she’s also keenly aware that I may be her only hope for freedom. If she defeats me, she would remain trapped.
The wights out there would not stand a chance... In theory, they could beat her, but they are of a too cowardly nature to dare anything against a being of her stature.
“The monks that built the temple,” she says with a grimace. “Ungrateful little bastards. I helped them get rid of a jadernatch nest and this is how they repaid me!”
I laugh.
“What’s so funny?” she hisses.
“You being betrayed... I guess it’s true that you reap what you sow.”
She groans but says nothing else.
Why should I free such creature as she? Once again, I find myself thinking of leaving and be done with it.
But then, there is the matter of Vos Undine. If the wights cannot get the orb, they will seek revenge upon the villagers. Not while I am there, of course, but I cannot stay forever. I fear they will strike as soon as I am gone.
This also quashes any thought of letting her win. While it would send me back to the Gleaming, the villagers would pay the price for my selfishness just as surely as if I had walked away... Granted, many of the wights would be killed by Tenella, but there would be survivors—if only those we left at the first jade door.
My fist tightens on the pommel of my cane as I realize that, in fact, I have no real choice.
I suspect Tenella can still read my expressions as easily as I can hers. Traces of hope flash in her eyes as she smiles—a more genuine one this time.
“Let’s get this over with,” I mutter.
***
There is difficulty in fighting one you are so familiar with. We each know all of the other’s strengths and weaknesses. The game then is not so much to find one of the latter, but rather to calculate how she will react if I make such or such move and plan accordingly. All the while, you have to keep in mind that she will be doing the same.
Another factor is the clear possibility that in the gap of time that we’ve been separate, she may have learned new tricks—I certainly have and intend to use them. It’ll be my secret weapon.
We circle around each other, gauging.
“You’ve kept yourself fit,” she says approvingly.
I was waiting for her to speak—I knew she would. Before she finishes, I slash at her with my cane. She twirls away in a fancy dance move and smiles.
“Nice try.”
The reality is, I don’t know who will win. She wants me to, but the curse that binds her will not let her cheat. And she’s always been a formidable fighter... I evaluate my chances at fifty-fifty. That’s solely based on what we already know of each other.
She crouches and slams both her fists against the floor. The rock cracks and I jump away just as a hole forms where I had been standing.
As I land back on my feet, I immediately phase us both into an alternate plane. There is no sense in damaging the temple further.
She pauses as she takes her bearing.
It is a colder, darker place. It is night, and we are in a forest of millennial rocks. They cast long shadows about us, criss-crossing in every direction. There is some form of life in those shadows, as they move and slide, switching positions with others.
“Interesting choice,” she mutters.
Of course, we are still in the same physical location—I couldn’t have taken her out of it—just displaced in an alternate dimension.
I admit this plane is no coincidence. My travels brought me here before. This, I hope, will give me the edge I need to tip the balance in my favor. I cannot solely rely on moves she may not know—not when she’s bound to have some of her own. The advantage of terrain, however, can go a long way... especially when said terrain can be used as a weapon.
With a few slow steps, I move backward and disappear into a shadow. I watch as Tenella’s eyes grow wide. Before she can move, and knowing that she can no longer see me, I quickly circle around her—careful to remain within the shadows.
She’s glancing in every direction now, as she tries to find some hint as to where I might be.
I pick a spot, grab at the air in front of me, and tighten my grip. The shadowy substance in my fist hardens. I pull in a short sudden motion and I feel it snap. Tenella hears the sound and spins to face me just as I throw the deadly thread at her.
With a graceful gesture, she slides aside... but not quick enough. The sharp edge grazes her arm, drawing blood.
She jumps into a shadow and disappears.
Now, this is where things get interesting.
The shadows here have an appetite for blood—just as we do. But they do not feed on it. At least, not in the sense we understand. They do not drain or absorb it, all they require is contact. And this will make the shadows glow and grow.
But there are no colors here, only hues of black. So one must watch for the shifting tints.
And there it is. The changes go from one spot to another as Tenella runs and affects the air around her—not yet aware of the trail she is leaving behind her.
She has no way of finding me. She moves at random—stops, looks around, starts up again in a different direction... I quietly place myself on her path, then press my back against one of the many jutting stones. With a twist of the skull pommel of my cane, a blade slides out from the other end. I wait.
When she arrives at my level, I jump at her, wrap my arm tightly around her neck, and push her down to the floor. She struggles as my other hand drives the blade deep into her side.
She screams.
I push the cane in further, until its end comes out of her other flank.
Her head shoots back, hitting me hard in the jaw. It destabilizes me long enough for her to break free. She reaches for the nearest rock and drags herself up, then grabs the skull and pulls it out in a quick motion that makes her wince and grit her teeth.
“That... was painful.”
“You thought we’d play nice?” I ask as I slip into another shadow, away from her sight.
She spits out some blood, grabs the cane at its center, and twirls it around.
“I have your toy now. Not your smartest move.”
Yes and no. She doesn’t know all of its secrets, for one. For another, she is now leaving an even more obvious trail.
I stay close behind as she starts moving again.
“Do you even have a plan?” she asks. “Or are you just winging it?”
Plus, of course, she’s now much weaker. I can even hear it in her voice. Maybe she does too, for she stops talking.
As I follow her, I gather more shadowy substance and shape it into two daggers.
Time to end this.
I walk up to her... but as I’m about to strike, she spins around and—using my cane—slashes at my chest. My blood drips, air darkening upon contact. Her eyes grow wide.
“So that’s how you could spot me.”
I grunt and dance away as she tries another blow.
Now that she figured out this trick, I have lost my advantage. And now that I’ve bled, she can track me as easily as I can her.
It occurs to me that our eyes have adjusted to the darkness. Mine as much as hers. To pull off what I have in mind, I must protect myself. It will not be easy.
She must feel I am up to something, for her eyes narrow as she watches me.
“What are you doing?”
I will reality to bend. Around her head, but around mine as well. It is tricky to do both at the same time... I could not maintain this for more than a couple of minutes, but I only need a second.
My timing must be precise. Any slip could have devastating consequences.
Though most of our bodies remain in the shadowy world, her head is phased into one filled with light. At the same time, mine goes to another of utter darkness. I can still see through, but the somber veil protects my eyes from being blinded.
That one second during which our heads are elsewhere, I rush toward her. She stumbles backward, gasping in startled anguish as the light blinds her.
With quick flowing motions, I use the shadowy daggers I still hold to stab her in the back with one hand, in the stomach with the other, while I bring down my fangs on her neck and tear out a large chunk of her skin.
Her body falls to the ground and goes into spasms as I pull the daggers out. I kneel by her side and bite her neck again, to drain more blood—I must be sure she goes.
I feel her hand run softly through my hair as I feed upon her, as if encouraging me to do so.
“Well done,” she whispers as her form slowly dissolves. “Goodbye, my love. Until we meet again.”
Her words trouble me more than I care to admit.
I stare for a moment at the spot where she had fallen. My return to the Gleaming will be more difficult now. Not only will I have to face Selindar, but his sister will also be with him.
The shadows around me shift and twirl and glow as her blood continues to feed them.
With a sigh, I lean down to retrieve my cane, then phase back to the realm of men.
***
I give the orb to Grelgath and watch as his face goes through a series of emotions—I did not realize wights were capable of so many. There is surprise, joy, hope, curiosity...
“Thank you, Excellency, I and my people are forever in your debt. I realize now that we could not have done this without you.”
“Then perhaps you are not as ready as you believed.”
Doubt clouds his expression for a moment, but he quickly shakes it away.
“No. There was a reason for your presence here. We were meant to meet. Your destiny was entwined with ours.”
I grunt. My trust in prophecies and destinies is quite thin.
He, however, pays no heed to my miscreant attitude.
We head back to the surface. Once there, his followers watch in awe as he places the orb on a flat rock near the village’s townhall.
They all gather around it and there is a distinct sound that emanates from that crowd—humming, it sounds like, that evolves into chanting.
A pulsing light grows over them. It spreads slowly until it encompasses them all. The glow intensifies. It soon becomes so blinding that I am forced to look away.
I feel energies rising from within that crowd. An ancient and benevolent power. It has a purpose, I can sense it. It has slept for so long, but now it has awakened to accomplish that purpose—one of transformation.
The chanting and the brightness both subside at the same time, quite suddenly.
When I look at the wights again, they are no more.
Instead, the creatures that stand before me are taller, their skins smoother, eyes full of curiosity, and with a more peaceful disposition.
As they slowly start to leave the village, I call out to their leader.
“Are there then no more wights in this world?”
He turns to look at me with sadness in his eyes.
“There will always be wights. Though they, too, will someday ascend... Just like they had before. Life is but a cycle, my friend.”
It’s only well after they’ve all gone that I realize he had spoken to me as if to an equal, and that I had taken that as acceptable.
After those events, the villagers are less open with me. Not that they are upset or have become hostile, it feels more like they are uncomfortable around me. They don’t fully understand what has happened—how could they?—and know not how to behave with me. Perhaps part of it is fear and mistrust, but mostly it is confusion and concern. They know that I have saved them, but they also realize now that my stories were true and that there is darkness within me.
I understand the time has come for me to leave. I cannot let them live like this, with the constant questioning and awkwardness.
As I walk off toward the setting sun, I think back to the events of the last few days and wonder if any of my decisions have made me a bit more human...
One can always hope.
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Text (c) 2022 by Alex S. Garcia.
Header: my brother as Count Varushka + royalty-free stock images, all edited by me.
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No offence to Varus, but Selindar and Tenella’s plan to depose him was pretty smart. He’s definitely going to have a hard time when he eventually returns to the Gleaming.