by E. M. Knight
The form is only there for a second. A tall, beautiful woman, skin and dress the same pale, white tone. She looks past me, over my head. Her features are mournful.
Then, right in front of my eyes, her form dissolves, flowing away on thin, white strips like silk.
I have to do a double take. The tunnel is clear. Nobody is here with me.
Yet, I have absolutely no doubt as to what I saw.
A feeling of great foreboding takes me. I try to shrug it off. It’s got nothing to do with my instinctive reaction to the sight of the woman. Seeing something out of the ordinary like that excites me, if nothing else.
But the sense of foreboding is almost like an eternal force pounding into me, a new pressure, and nothing I can control.
Growling, irritated at succumbing as victim to such a stupid thing, I start forward, walking right through the spot where the woman’s body just stood.
When I pass through it, I half-expect to feel something. But nothing changes. There isn’t a thing that is different about this particular space than any other.
I look over my shoulder, just to make sure the apparition hasn’t formed again on the other side. It’s eerie how the only sense I have of her coming is from my sight.
Nothing else at all would indicate she was ever there.
I pick up my pace, deciding to put the vision out of mind for now. Ghosts do not exist, that is common knowledge amongst vampires. We know all the comings and goings of supernatural things, we know what is real and what is not, we are linked to that part of the world by the vampiric essence that swirls in all of us.
And yet—how accurate is that knowledge? From what I’d read hacking into the Order’s computers long, long ago, they deny the existence of ghosts, also.
But lack of evidence for the existence of something does not automatically disprove the truth of said existence.
And I know exactly what I saw, with my own eyes, just a few moments ago.
I reach the point where I made a wrong turn. I correct my path and go the proper way this time.
That odd, discomfiting sense of foreboding does not ease up as I go.
Just to make sure it isn’t a symptom of my vampire instincts, I flare my senses and scan the grounds for anybody else. Other than Raul’s faint presence in the distance—which could very well be imagined on my part, given how far away he is—there is nobody near.
Nobody, nothing in this space beneath the mountains, but me.
A chill washes over me when the realization comes of how deep underground I really am. It shouldn’t be happening—this should absolutely not faze me—but for some reason I am unnerved, and it does.
I reach up and touch the collar snug round my neck. The barrier it exerts over me, blocking me from sensing the Elements, must have something to do with all the unease.
Hell, I’d imagine it’s the larger cause of what’s happening. Maybe it has even influenced my decision-making in my fight with Raul.
Can’t do anything about it now. I proceed the way I have to go.
A few miles in, the sense of foreboding, of oppression, of apprehension, gets even stronger. Every step I take feels like a step toward my doom.
I try to shrug it off, try to convince myself that this is just my mind playing tricks on me, given all that has happened, but…
But, I cannot make myself believe the lie.
Something very sinister is at work here. There is a flaw in the very fabric of this place. That is the best way to describe it. A flaw, an anomaly, some sort of sickness that pervades the atmosphere and corrupts everything around me.
I curse again, curse at myself for falling for Raul’s ruse. If I did not have this damn collar on my neck, I am sure—I am certain—the Elemental Forces would give me understanding of exactly what is at play here.
As things stand, the only reason I can discern the difference, I bet, is because of my highly attuned vampire senses.
Without watching where I’m going, I step into a small depression in the floor. There’s a shift in the air, oh-so-subtle, and the next moment, an arching scythe comes throttling through the air, aimed directly at my neck.
In a second, I flatten myself on the ground. The blade swings by, with tremendous force, missing me by inches.
And then, like a pendulum, it comes the other way, guided by its weight, until the momentum finally exhausts itself and the scythe comes to a hanging rest in the middle of the path.
Cautiously, I rise. If my reaction had been just a tad slower…
I swallow. Well. No use thinking about that morbid possibility.
I walk up to the blade and examine the edge. It’s razor sharp. Years and years of the trap lying there, waiting to be sprung, have not dulled it one bit.
I reach out and trace my fingers over the metal. They find a ridge, but as soon as they do, pain shoots through my arm and I wince and pull back.
Silver.
I shake the surprising jolt off and peer closely at the blade, narrowing my eyes as I do. If there is some trace of silver infused in the blade, it means whoever planned the trap meant for it to be equally deadly for humans and vampires alike.
Suddenly, that feeling of foreboding does not seem quite so out of place.
I turn in the direction I have to go. I must be more vigilant from here on out. If there was one trap meant for a vampire, there will be more.
Surely whoever designed the place made contingency plans and backup mechanisms.
Slowly, carefully, I continue down the empty tunnel.
My eyes scan every inch of the ground before I take the next step. It makes for laborious going. But I have to do it lest I am not so fast to react to the next killing blow directed my way.
I make it a mile or two down the path before impatience gets the better of me. Two things make me hasten my step: one, the irritating and irrational sense that I am succumbing to paranoia induced by that external foreboding feeling; and two, the fact that Raul is still somewhere back there, probably dying, all because of me.
I have to get where I need to go and then race back to him, hope he’s still alive, and try to think of some way to make sure he stays that way.
One step, and suddenly, the veil is lifted, and that which I am searching for is revealed to me.
I go absolutely still. The illusion of the tunnel continuing on for miles and miles before me is nullified. Now I am at the very edge of a great circular space. The ceiling peaks high, high above me like a dome. There are intricate markings over every inch of the floor. They are carved into the stone with a master’s hand. Some are filled with mercury, the metal a liquid at this temperature. Others are empty, yet others still contain gold, long-since solidified.
At various points of the design stand perfectly-carved crystals, giving off a faint blue hue. I am immediately reminded of the Paths.
Yet I was always under the impression that the crystals there could only remain lit, and imbued with magic, while in that realm. Bringing them out would cut off their continued connection with the Elemental Forces.
Mother demonstrated it for me once.
Apparently, here, that isn’t the case.
I take a step forward, careful not to disrupt anything in the cavernous room. I cast a glance over my shoulder, back the way I came. For a second, I think I can see the veil I walked through. But then the delusion reveals itself to me as such, and I shake my head gruffly to snap out of it.
I could not see the weaves that must make up the veil, no matter what. Even if I were not hamstrung by the damn collar, they would most definitely be inverted and cast by a woman, in either case.
Unless, of course… unless, somehow, a man was involved.
But the possibility of that is so small that I toss it from my mind as insignificant.
Very slowly, I approach the center of the place.
I still don’t know what it is I’m looking for. Odds are, however, that it will distinguish itself from its surroundings soon enough.
There is
a large dais in the middle of the floor. On it, I count four caskets arranged in a perfect row, somehow preserved from time.
By every sense that I have, this place must be centuries old. If time flowed normally here, those caskets would have long-since turned to dust.
When I’m about ten feet away, I hit an invisible wall.
I curse, then quickly look around me to make sure I haven’t set anything else off.
No. The room is as it was when I first came in.
That provides some small relief.
I reach out and place my hands on the barrier, trying to get a sense of its dimensions. It surrounds that dais completely, of that there is no doubt. I cast my gaze up, all the way to the very top of the ceiling, nearly so far as to be blurred.
I would bet money it extends all the way to the top, too.
I take a step back. Obviously, whatever is in those caskets is important. These are probably the whole reason Eleira sent us here.
I just wish I had a sense of what it is she wants us to do.
A scraping noise behind me catches my attention. I whip back.
Raul is standing there, shoulders hanging, staring at me with haunted eyes.
Surprise doesn’t even begin to describe what I feel.
I know it’s my brother’s body—but at the same time, I know it’s not him.
For one, I can feel absolutely nothing of his vampiric essence. Two, the empty, soulless eyes make it clear something is possessing him. And three, the awkward, difficult stance he has to subject himself to just to remain upright is no way similar to my brother’s usual, natural movements.
He stares at me, but as the seconds pass, I become convinced he does not see anything.
All of a sudden, he sets off at a lurching, awkward run at the closest crystal structure. His limbs move as if propelled by puppet strings. I watch, uncertain of what to do, as he raises one arm and smashes it into the crystal.
The glowing rock formation breaks, exploding into thousands of tiny pieces. At the same time, a great gust of wind shoots forward from the base, sweeping all the fragments up.
Raul, face completely emotionless, eyes totally empty, races for the next crystal and smashes it in a single swipe of his arm.
Again, another wind current is unleashed. It picks all the tiny pieces up and directs them into the first stream. They fly past each other, like debris in a tornado, with no coherent purpose, but the glow from them starts to increase.
I feel power growing in the room. Five more crystal structures dot the floor. Raul races to each one and breaks it, unleashing more torrents of air, increasing the strength of the building tornado.
When there’s just one left, I snap out of my haze. I have no idea what will happen when he gets to the final one. Good or bad, it doesn’t matter—I cannot just stand by without having an active hand in the decision.
I slam into him, sending him to the floor. He snarls, consumed by an animalistic rage, and thrashes desperately to get away.
But there is no finesse in his movements, no purpose. Whatever is controlling him has his strength, but it has no clue how to make proper use of his body.
It’s not hard for me to trap him in a headlock. He fights and fights, he tries to bite me, tries to kick, but those are feeble attempts from a captured wild animal.
“Raul!” I hiss. “Raul, what are you doing? What’s gotten into you?”
Obviously, there’s no response. He just snarls and growls and makes angry, desperate noises.
Holding him like this, I get the overwhelming impression that there is not a trace of my brother left in this shell.
That realization startles me, it shocks me, it rocks me to my core. It is so overpowering that—just for a moment—I ease up.
Raul springs free. He darts for the final crystal like a demon out of hell.
“No!” I scream, but by then, it’s too late.
Time slows as the last structure is destroyed and the final wind unleashed.
I want to say I’m imagining it, but I am not. Time is actually at a standstill. My mind operates at its usual pace, but I cannot move a single part of my body. All the fragmented pieces flying through the air move as slow as snails, like shards in molasses.
And, in that moment, I see a white spirit rise up, depart from Raul’s body, and join the crystal fragments in the air.
It binds them together in a new, spectacular shape. As soon as it does time snaps back to its regular flow.
Raul drops to the floor like a rock. All the life goes out of him. His chest caves in, his face goes hollow, and that wound in his shoulder starts to bleed.
I curse and race for him. But the current of air on which the crystals fly slams into the ground before me, stopping me in my tracks. My instincts scream of the highest danger.
If I make the mistake of touching that force of air, of even skimming it, it will kill me.
The sense of foreboding explodes into abhorrent terror.
The earth starts to shake. The streams of the wind howl above us. The glow of the shards, now united by that white life force, becomes stronger and stronger. The force guiding them pounds into the earth, feeding the carved patterns.
The hardened gold in the floor starts to boil. Steam rises from the metal, and I can see it binding to the shards in the air. Gold connects with white, with the spirit, and together they fuse into the shards, which are glowing ever-brighter.
I fake right, then go left. But the howling wind, controlled by some perversion of the Elements that I am blind to, simply shifts that way to block my path. I can see through the walls of air, see past it all the way to the dais in the middle and the four caskets preserved in time.
I turn to reach my brother. But I do not have even a yard of space around me in which I can move. The wind slams down, barring me again. A feeling of overwhelming helplessness takes me. It is immediately replaced by anger, by a white-hot rage at being restricted like this.
I tear at the collar. If only it wasn’t there, maybe there’d be something I could do. I curse Raul for springing it on me. I am the only one capable of fighting this, of maybe averting catastrophe, but not if I’m bound the way I am!
Yet, try as I will, I cannot find a gap between the collar and my neck. It has fused into my skin like a tattoo. It is disgusting, revolting. I hate it. I hate the helplessness, hate my inability to affect things.
The power in the room grows and grows. It coalesces into a menacing presence that is strong enough to be felt by me on the basis of my vampiric powers alone.
Suddenly, a jolt of wind shoots out from the amassed collective and slams into the invisible barrier around the center of the room.
I gasp as I see tiny cracks, glowing blue, spider web through seemingly thin air. For a flicker of a moment, I think I can see the barrier itself.
But the cracks recover. They fuse together, and the wall is whole again.
Something akin to anger pulses through the room. I feel it as keenly as I do my own rage. Once more it’s external, forced onto me by some outside entity, but its strength is… immense.
Quickly, I look around the room. Almost all the gold has evaporated. With every second that passes the power carried on the wind gets stronger and stronger.
I am desperate. I fear what will come should the wall be penetrated, and this vile wind finds its way inside.
My instincts tell me I will not survive that.
So, in a moment of madness, I push my claws out and rip into my neck. My fingers catch the edge of the collar embedded deep inside my skin. All my anger, my rage, my hatred, all of it collects into a single point and gives me incredible strength.
I use that strength to pull at the sides of the collar. My arm muscles strain, my shoulders burn, and my neck bleeds and bleeds. I scream out, double my effort, pulling at the collar with everything I’ve got.
For a moment that seems to last forever, I’m at an impasse. All my vampiric strength feeds into my arms, but I get the horrifying sense t
hat it isn’t enough.
But then I feel the metal give, feel the tiniest of cracks splinter through the enchanted object. A sense of victory takes me and gives me the last bit of strength needed to break the black band.
The collar shatters. As soon as it does, the Elemental Forces slam into me. The currents are raging, absolutely mad. So much new strength pounds into me that the shock is too much. I drop to my knees, gasping, fragments of the collar in each of my hands.
The self-inflicted wounds on my neck start to heal. I feel the skin mending itself, feel the blood harden and scab over. I wait a few seconds—I must, because the difference in my strength staggers me—and then push myself up, grab hold of the Elements, and turn to face what’s coming.
I can see threads of the Elements all through the room. There’s a massive web of them, a web unlike any I’ve ever thought possible to weave before. With my access to magic restored, I see the entire pattern, see every last thread of Air, Fire, Earth, and Water, see how they were expertly crafted together to lock this room outside of time.
It’s immense, it’s sublime… but it’s nothing I can marvel over if I expect to survive.
My gaze goes to the shards of crystal twisted in a spectacular shape.
The white spirit binding them is even more evident to me now. I am sure it is the same ethereal substance that gave body to the ghost. With my senses restored, I can feel it straining, struggling to control the wild waves of power it unleashed when it had Raul possessed.
Another tentacle of wind shoots for the invisible wall. But this time, I see all that happens. The inverted weaves quickly come alive and collect their strength in that one spot to defend against the onslaught of the wind.
When that happens, the rest of the threads in the room are sapped of their power. All are dedicated to maintaining the defense.
My mind races. One force is controlled by the spirit. The other seems to be wholly autonomous. And yet, it can twist and warp, almost like it’s alive and conscious, to provide the defense.
I have no idea where Raul and I sit in the scheme of things. But I am no longer too frightened to find out.
I grasp onto the largest current of Air and use it to make a pointed shield all around me. I jab it upward, into the howling wind, and pray that it holds.