Now I shivered from more than just cold, for the voice’s non-threatening and quiet tone made it all the more creepy. It even sounded muffled, as if someone was actually in the closet.

“I am Stephen,” he said to the closed door. “I am with my friends Sonja and Mace. Who are you?”

A bump came from inside the closet as if someone had hit the door. “I am Aryam of the Granite Hills. Why have you awoken me?”

“May we ask you some questions?”

More bumps came from behind the door, and then a slam as if someone smacked the door with an open palm. It made all three of us jump.

The creepy, muffled voice said, “I am not some acolyte who you can summon to assuage your ignorance. Unless you have come to free me, be gone and let me rest.”

When she said “free me,” both Sonja and I vehemently shook our heads. Stephen looked at me, licked his lips, then said, “Mace here is an Ancestral Paladin.”

I stared wide-eyed at Stephen, wondering if this was his way of cursing me or something. He gave me a “calm down” motion with his hands, to which I responded with two middle fingers at him.

The closet was quiet for almost a minute during our non-verbal argument. Then the soft voice said, “Does Mace have a tongue so that he can speak?”

Stephen motioned me to speak. I grimaced and then said, “I am Mace, Aryam of the Granite Hills. Um…nice to meet you.”

I winced at how lame I sounded. In my defense, it was the first time I’d ever spoken to a ghost or specter or whatever was in that closet. I didn’t know what to say.

After another long pause, the voice came back wistful and sad. “It has been far too long since I’ve spoken to another Ancestral Paladin. Far too long…”

I felt my mouth drop open. “Were you an Ancestral Paladin too?”

“Yessss…”

I smiled at Sonja and Stephen. Both nodded at me to continue.

“Um, right, so I have some questions. Would you be kind enough to answer them? You know, from one paladin to another?”

Aryam paused, there were a couple more bumps in the closet, and then a low hum that culminated in, “…mmmmm…aaaaask your questions, paladin. But hurry. I grow weary. I cannot remain in this form much longerrrrr…”

I quickly asked, “We lost our friend Constantine in the other room. Do you know what happened to him?”

“Yesssss…”

When she said no more, I winced that I’d asked her a yes or no question (damned “1” Intelligence!). Stephen rolled his eyes impatiently, but Sonja nodded vigorously at me to continue.

“Where is Constantine now?”

There was a heavy sigh from the closet. “It hurtssss…”

“Please, Aryam, we must find our friend. Where is he?”

“Trox…took him…”

I furrowed my brow and looked at Stephen and Sonja. They both shook their heads and shrugged.

“Who is Trox?” I asked.

A distressed moan came from the closet, and I felt terrible that I was causing another paladin pain. But I had to find Constantine and this ghost seemed to be our only shot. I had to push forward.

“Trox…the goblin kiiiiing…oh, it hurts…”

Stephen looked confused. “How the hell did goblins sneak Constantine out of that room? I would’ve seen them!”

I ignored Stephen and said, “I’m so sorry for this, Aryam, but please, tell me where to find Trox.”

“The river…” An agonized sob came from the closet.

Stephen sighed, and Sonja bit her lip. It looked like they knew that location.

“Thank you, Aryam, thank you so much. How can we free you?”

Now it was Stephen’s turn to shake his head vehemently, but I ignored him. If this ghost was an Ancestral Paladin trapped in the urn, both my instincts and Mace’s demanded that I try to free her. It was the honorable and merciful thing to do.

“Mace…”

“Yes, Aryam?”

“Are you from Earth…?”

I felt my eyes widen. Sonja and Stephen seemed equally surprised.

“Yes! I’m from Atlanta, Georgia. We’re trapped in this—”

“When you leave this place…find my parents…in Budapest…tell them…I love them…”

“Budapest? Who are you?” I glanced at Sonja and Stephen, and their surprised looks had changed to horror. It suddenly dawned on me why they were so terrified.

“Are…are you another player?”

A quiet moan, and then, “Oh, God, he’s here…”

“Who?”

“Aaaaaannngelus…I’m sorry, please don’t—”

Aryam’s voice cut off abruptly, unlike before when it faded into a moan. We didn’t hear anything for a second, and then:

“THIS SOUL IS MINE TO DEVOUR! AS WILL SOON BE YOURS! FOR I KNOW HOW TO DEFEAT EACH OF YOU!”

That voice…dear God. It was what a category five hurricane would sound like if it could speak. It came out of that closet in an invisible wave that seemed to ignite every cell in my body with a pain that I’d never imagined possible. My injuries in The Tomb up till that point were feathery tickles compared to this. The voice was a maddening mix of contrasts: it was deeper than the abyss we jumped, yet higher than the moon. It contained such hatred and malice that I didn’t think I’d ever have another positive thought again. It shook the room so badly that cracks formed in the floor, ceiling, and walls. Dust and rocks fell all around us, and the floor buckled, causing me to lose my balance and fall flat on my back.

The pain and explosion of destruction that came out of the closet lasted only a second, and it hadn’t even destroyed the closet door. But it had wrecked the room, and all three of us lay on the ground stunned. My ears rang something fierce. My limbs had that tingling feeling you get when they fall asleep.

I knew I had to get back on my feet for whatever came next, so I forced myself to rise and draw my Ancestral Longsword. I stood on shaky legs in a battle stance, ready for anything that attacked us from that closet. Sonja and Stephen also rose and readied for a battle we all knew we’d lose.

But nothing emerged from the closet. We stood there for what felt like minutes until I finally said, “Aryam?” My voice was raspy, and I coughed from the dust now floating in the air.

I heard a bump and then a pop. Debris crashed into the door from the other side. At that point, the closet door clicked open and slowly swung outward on creaking hinges. I tightened my grip on my sword and prepared an Ancestral Smite for whatever leaped out at me.

Nothing did. The closet was empty except for the remains of the wooden urn. It looked as if it had exploded, for shards of blackened hardwood littered the closet's floor, along with a small cloud of gray ash that was still settling.

I stared at the remains of Aryam’s urn for a long time with two thoughts turning my mind to a terrified sludge.

Aryam was a player from Earth.

And Angelus just killed her.