I’m not in the tower. Not under the mountain at all actually. I’m in a field, under the suns, on a beautiful day in Astria. I do see a tower before me, but it’s the human one.

Another vision. Back in the past.

This is the first time I’ve actually been outside in these little trips I take. Everything around me is lovely, except the bodies on the ground, and the decapitated roof of the tower itself - both artifacts of the magical battle I witnessed previously.

The sorceress stands in a pit with a shovel in hand, like she is some kind of gravedigger.

Which, in a way, she is.

“We really should get going,” the demon says.

I can’t help but frown at the sight of the ‘spirit’ (more aptly termed ‘demon’ at this point in time) helping my antagonist. Yes, she said she was forced to do all this by the dark one, that it was not her will that drove the sorceress to such terrible acts, but she seems to evince the same kind of empathy and the same intense interest in her that she does in me. Basically, I don’t see much of a difference.

“I’m going to bury Gwen,” says the sorceress as she scoops another pile of earth. “She deserves that much. Besides, there’s nowhere for me to go now. I’ll fight the soldiers once they get here. As I’m sure they will.”

“Oh, the soldiers will come,” says the demon. “I’m sure that little explosion was seen from the nearest garrison. But what happens after you defeat them? Will you just wait until the king sends his entire army against you?”

The sorceress spins on the spirit. “I thought you said I was the most powerful. I thought I could defeat –”

“Shhh.” The spirit says, with her finger placed on her lips. “And you are. But even the most powerful one can still be overcome by a great many weaklings if she is not wise. And I know you are wise, Lillian. That is why you have been chosen.”

‘Chosen’ that word grates on me. And makes me remember Angel’s warning about trusting the demon.

I’m sure to get an earful from her about this. What was I supposed to do though? I was stuck in a freaking pit!

The sorceress pauses her digging. “What do you recommend then?”

The demon’s red eyes glitter. “Get your own army. You will need one eventually. Get it now.”

Lillian turns back to digging. “I thought you would have a realistic suggestion.”

For a minute the demon’s face darkens. She clearly doesn't appreciate Lillian’s snark. And it makes me wonder what sort of things the demon does behind my back. I’m also sympathetic to Lillian here. It’s not like one can just conjure an army out of thin air.

The demon recovers herself. “It would be unrealistic for someone else. But not for you.”

Gently lowers Gwen’s body into the earth. She is interested again though. “How’s that? Is there a spell I can use?”

“Spells may help,” says the demons,” but they are not everything. Just as when you rule this kingdom, recruiting soldiers requires a more….human touch.”

Lillian scoffs. “I doubt any humans will fight for me. They are still enthralled to the king.”

The demon pulls at her hair thoughtfully. “I don’t know if enthralled is the right word. Just as in the tower you may find that some succumb out of pressure than from love. But I agree that, for now anyway, we will have to seek our aid from other creatures.”

Lillian doesn’ speak immediately. She’s lingering with Gwen, looking into her ashen face as she lies her gently in the makeshift tomb. The demon just waits, respecting the moment.

Good on her for that. At least.

Another moment and Lillian starts shoveling the dirt back in.

Now the demon speaks again. “I think you will like my suggestion. They know what it means to have what you love taken from them.”

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Lillian stops shoveling, like a realization has just dawned. She looks over at the demon. “You’re talking about the lizards aren’t you?”

Ding. Ding. Ding. We have a winner.

I think back to my brief encounter with those reptilian warriors. What I would give to be able to sabotage this effort right here and now. Change time. Just like Doctor Who.

Wibbly Wobbly. Timey Wimey.

But I can’t interfere of course. Because I ‘m just a specter, a ghost out of time.

“Don’t be fooled by the stories you’ve been told, Lillian.” The demons says. “The lizards sued to liver here long ago. Co-existing with the humans. Until they were banished. Sent far away to their tundra. Where the cold-blood reptiles must labor in freezing conditions. What do you think they would give to come back? To reclaim their ancestral lands?”

The sorceress continues shoveling dirt. Maybe she’s thinking - “Gosh, that sounds like a terrible idea. Bringing back the oldest nemesis in the history of Astria in order to fulfill my own personal vanetta and misplaced savior complex.”

“How do we get there?” the sorceress asks.

The demon smiles excitedly. “The same way your directress did when she went to the tundra to get the onyx: on a boat.”

The sorceress finishes Gwen’s grave but does not offer any prayers. Instead, she turns and follows the demon, I assume down to the coast, where there is a town and a harbor. I watch them as long as I can, until they fade from view. I expect the vision to end now. That i’ll ‘wake-up’ back in the goblin tower and be able to carry on with my actual work.

But there is nothing.

I’m just standing here, like I’ve reached the end credits of a film and someone’s hit the pause button. I can neither rewind nor conclude. I just am.

Any minute now.

Could I get stuck here? Unable to return to the waking world?

That’s a hell of an idea.

A man walks-up beside me and I jump. I thought I was alone, but apparently not. The man spreads his wings. So apparently he’s not a man.

The sky tears. Just a ripple, like my pants got caught on a nail. But unlike my pants it heals again, sewn back together like it was never torn to begin with.

“I came as soon as I could,” says the woman.

Or not a woman as it turns out as she has wings as well. And they are familiar, as are the eyes. They look like…

Angel.

The other angel gestures to the tower. “It has begun.”

Angel follows his gesture. “We knew this was coming, Michael. We are ready.”

Michael swivels his head. “You are ready, Angel. I will not be joining you this time.”

Angel takes a step back, her confidence draining from her face. “Why? Something has happened. On Earth. I have been…recalled.”

Angel sighs, her face slowly regaining her composure. “Very well. If that is the will of the Maker then I shall follow it.”

Michael rests a hand on her shoulder. Whereas Angel always has a blue aura, Michael’s is golden. His skin is a deep bronze, with golden locks of hair falling about his face. His shoulders are body and his body sturdy, like no terrestrial could move him from where he now stands.

“You remember what to do?” He asks kindly.

Angel breathes deeply. “I will call for the hero. And guide him. I remember. We will stop her. Astria will not fall.”

Michael is still grasping her shoulder. His face is kind but stiff, like her words have not entirely persuaded him. “It’s not just Lillian.”

Angel turns to him and he drops his hand. “What do you mean? Only one can wield the onyx. It has always been so.”

“Yes,” Michael agrees. “But the sorceress has help….spiritual help.”

Angel creases her lips. “Demons then.”

“Not ‘demons’, Angel. The Dark One has sent only one.”

Angel scoffs. “He’s over-confident then.”

“Not this time,” Michael replies. “This one. You know her.”

Angel looks confused for a minute while Michael waits. Then she looks away, unable to keep his gaze.

“It’s Clarith,” she says finally, “isn’t it?”

Michael nods. “The very same. Though she doesn’t go by that anymore. None of them names as you know.”

Silence passes between the two and even I start to feel uneasy.

“If you like,” says Michael. “I can see if there is any…flexibility in my assignment.”

“No,” says Angle quickly. “I can handle it.”

“You didn’t last time,” Michael says quietly.

The breeze blows among us and for a moment I feel among them, a spirit myself, part of this strange conversation.

“Neither did you,” Angel replies, a little cooly.

Michael smiles. “Then let us hope, that you can best us both.”

With that he is gone and Angel stands alone. I want to reach out to her. To say something supportive and encouraging. But the dream is fading, and my vision is coming to an end.