“Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”

- Stephen King

Amber enjoyed the light, the sun.

Even as the rays full of light-energy warred with the void inside, the pain it brought was much more REAL than the numb, cold swaying in an ocean of darkness.

She turned her hand and saw wisps of smoke rise and dissipate with the wind.

“Mother, you shouldn’t…”

Turning, she focused on her ‘daughter’. She could still not reconcile the baby she had suckled with the woman she would have called an aunt if pressed for a family designation. Cheeks reddening with embarrassment, Lily lowered her gaze.

“I know. I won’t overdo it. It is just so...freeing. Being able to feel the sun and the breeze. It seems those are sensations I have forgotten. They feel so new.” Her voice was scratchy and hoarse from disuse, but she would get better. She was sure of it.

“But father said it would damage your void channels. He crafted them over the years, using only the finest of netherspider yarn.”

“Mh.” That explained some of it. She moved her arm, and there was a slight hitch- a bit of silk not long enough to reach? Some of it stuck to a ligament? She did not feel much pain anymore. Her old body, as she had come to think of it, was not exactly as she had left it. Alchemical procedures, magic, and the introduction of foreign materials made her more of a construct than a human. “I understand.”

The valley was beautiful and empty. It was in the midst of a patch of high rocky hills with nothing much going for them beyond the vista, so it was not that strange. It was still free of human habitation. There was the tower and an abandoned wooden fort. Fort was a very generous term indeed for the accumulation of a few ruined buildings surrounded by a decayed and grown-over palisade, but it had once been home to one of the more notorious bandit lords. Amber had listened to Lily retelling his story. The black dog of the hills. His men had worn masks made in the shape of hound muzzles, teeth dripping blood, literally baying as they chased down their prey.

But Asander Brightblade had ended him. At least as far as stories went. If all the legendary Asander did was travel, he would be twice the age of the oldest human known before he could have visited all the places told of in his stories.

Lily smiled at her and pointed at a snowed-in bush, telling her of its flowers shining red in spring.

Nodding, she walked along and did not heed the ground blackening underneath her feet, the yellowed grass withering further under her tread. Touching a tree, its bark split before she reigned in the darkness, still growing inside of her.

In the night, she had heard a whisper on the wind telling of an eternity together with her family, her daughter. And if her daughter's aged form no longer suited, she could be made into a child again. It would not be difficult. All it needed was a bit of this, a bit of that. Oh, and a child naturally couldn’t miss that.

And she knew the owner of this voice to be so far beyond human that a sea breeze would have more empathy for suffering or pain than the coldly amused being recounting the glories of an unending nightmare.

But it promised her life.

Of sorts.

Amber drifted through the woods, and her treads wove the void into the world, and she was not sure what she wanted anymore. Tiberius, her love, was most assuredly dead. She felt that in her bones in the still active connection leading to the south.

But there was Lily and all the days, all the sunlight, all the joy she had never tasted.

And she was not tired in the least. Her body contained boundless energy, and the pain was not so bad. White flames danced over her pale skin, scarring it briefly before it regrew again. She lifted a finger, and a drop of blood shimmered as it shriveled in the light, burning from within.

Was that what Tiberius had in mind?

She would never know.

She strode through the woods, and the void seeped into earth and air.

Alyssa gathered her things and was irritated to see her supplies dwindle. ‘It was so heavy at first!’ Rummaging in her backpack, she found a bottle and, pulling it to the light, found it empty but neatly plugged with a cork. Grabbing the next one found it was the same. Perhaps her frugality should be reconsidered, but if she had to brew something...when was the last time she had done that? Most likely, while still in the academy during the lessons from Valeria Jangres, who probably was mighty glad to have stayed in Kronenburg.

The next bottle yielded a glowing golden liquid, and with shaking hands, she opened the wax seal, unplugged it, and hastily gulped down the syrupy potion.

Sunlight warmed her from the inside out, and a tingling sensation spread to every part of her body, strengthening her stretched self in ways she did not completely understand.

Sighing in relief, she felt feeling return to her still living flesh. Her emotions became stronger, and she blinked to find tears running down her cheeks. Embarrassed, she grabbed a spare shirt and pressed it to her face before someone saw her in such a state.

“Alyssa.” Mireille’s voice made her shrink her shoulders. “What are you…” Then she felt a strong arm embrace her. “Did you just drink the potion? And now you are more normal again? Don’t hold back. The shit that happened? It’s absolutely worth crying over.”

“It’s okay. It was only a moment.” Alyssa shook her head, too comfortable being hugged to push her friend away. Putting down the shirt, she sighed. Another one for the ‘not so good’ pile. “Let’s pack and be away from here.”

“You said it. I’m already finished packing. Is there anything I can help you with?” Mireille seemed comfortable with changing the subject too.

Together they had their share of the tent packed and ready for transport and were glad for the horses and the cart.

“Asandria?”

‘Yes?’ The ghost hovered into view, somehow looking distracted.

“Is everything alright?”

‘Hardly. The void is ruptured and dark energy is spilling into the world. I thought it was only a distraction, but I fear it is a lot more than that. We have the choice to close the rift sooner rather than later...or to confront the source.’

“I’m not ready! Nowhere near ready!” Alyssa looked highly alarmed.

‘It’s not a question of being ready or not. You will be forced into this confrontation if you want to or not.’ Seeing her shaking her head in denial, Asandria frowned impatiently. ‘Fine. I won’t talk about it. For now.’

Mireille looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “The ghost pestering you? You don’t look happy. What’d she say?”

“To hurry up and close the void rift.”

“What void rift?”

“There is a big magical problem south of us, and if it is not solved, it will get even worse.”

“Okay, sounds reasonable. Why are you so angry then?”

“Don’t you want to know what kind of problem it is?”

“It should have something to do with the undead? Am I right? So I will help you, and you can tell me on the way.” Mireille did not look very interested in explanations, and Alyssa snorted in exasperation.

“Asandria is pushing me, and that was what made me unhappy.” Alyssa glanced toward the specter and found her standing in the shade of a large conifer with her arms crossed before her chest.

“I hate it when someone pushes me, my mother always wanted for me to become a baker or a laundrywoman. As if!”

Alyssa looked at her friend, attired in leather armor worn beneath the enchanted coat and the sword hanging at her hip, and laughed. “It would not have suited you anyway.”

Smirking, Mireille threw out her chest and said, “Don’t you know it.”

And then, the group started the day’s journey tramping through the silent winter woods and along the rocky hills. Sometimes they had to cross shallow creeks covered in thin ice. Other times they had to circumvent snow from a small avalanche. The region was far from developed.

And come evening, they saw the ridge that Alyssa, Mireille, and the group around the Lieutenant had crossed to reach the loggers' camp.

In Alyssa’s opinion, the camp should be just inside the forest and not far from where they were standing, coming from the north as they did.

Vanessa hurried her steps, and the trees shot by as she pressed on deeper into the forested hills. The shadelings skittered before her, and here and there, one of them made an unwilling mewling noise. A pointed stare by the vampire girl rectified the rebellious creature, but it seemed as if this kind of speed would not be sustainable for too long.

And then the forest ended at a steep cliffside, falling away toward a series of rockfalls and deep ravines. The whole area was sheer rockfaces and deep chasms with tenacious trees clinging to ridges and ledges. Farther ahead, an old tower missing the upper third of its height pierced into the sky like a broken tooth. Further downhill from the ruins of some buildings, old and partially fallen palisades rotted beneath bushes and trees.

She had a premonition that this could be where her quarry had gone to ground. Or perhaps simply stopped to rest. It was not as if anyone would predict her following with supernatural aid. Without the shadelings, it would have been nearly impossible to chase the sorceress here. Clearly, she had used magic much as she had done to get here.

Feeling the shadow demon hiding in her shadow, she was as prepared as she could be, so she turned, walked back a few dozen meters and took a running leap assisted by her lightening magic, and flew over the craggy landscape before she landed near the tower at the foot of the hill. Staggering as some stones shifted under her feet, she incanted a short spell, and violent winds sprung up, stabilizing her.

Shaking herself, she looked at the treacherous footing with disgust before she raised her head and looked up at the tower.

Amber raised her head and frowned. Just now, she had felt a strong concentration of void energy at the foot of the hill. And now it was gone...there it was again.

She stood.

“What is it, mother? Do you want some tea?”

“Psst.” Tilting her head, Amber concentrated, but there was nothing. “There is someone. I cannot think they mean us well.”

The woman with the corpse-like countenance had a complicated look in her eyes. If she understood what had happened, it was that she was the problem. Together with the insidious nightly whispers, she could guess that her revival was accompanied by many problems. Lily had been a bit reticent talking about it, but she and Tiberius had summoned her from deep inside the void-dimension and the portal seemed to be still open. Her mind boggled at the thought. Normally it would be a feat to have something like that for a few minutes; it had been days now.

And it would be perfectly natural for someone to come looking and perhaps solve the problem.

Solve her.

Frowning deeply, she flexed her fingers, and black flames flared from her fingertips. She knew a few void magics but nothing to write home about. She had been a student still, and necromancy or void manipulation was first and foremost to make her safer in its use and then, only then, teach her offensive applications. But it seemed that was not necessary anymore. Gesturing, a ball of pitch-black energy erupted from her palm and impacted the wall, stone decayed into dust, and several bricks were severely damaged, cracking in places. A bowl-shaped depression with cracks radiating outward remained. Dust and broken stones softly rained down.

Lily gasped, “Please be careful! If the tower falls…”

“Just trying something. Sorry.” Amber opened the door and walked outside, scanning the surroundings carefully. With a touch of effort, her eyes became black holes, and the night was no longer dark but shades of grey.

There.

A small person stood in the shadow of some trees, nearly covered by the scraggly undergrowth.

“Who are you, and what do you want from me?” Amber called, just loud enough to be heard clearly.