Heather tore through the pages of the book, looking for anything talking about Abbadon, or it's queen. She also skimmed every page, trying to locate information about Hathlisora or portals to other worlds. Breanne and Frank encouraged her to rest, but she was determined to know more, and the book was her only resource.

The going was hard; she translated the keywords into the code and searched for them on every page. Near the back of the book, she received her reward when Hathlisora's name jumped out. The page was translated as fast as she could, many of the words now familiar. In the end, it was a brief note on Hathlisora and her wondrous items. A crown of green luck, a cloak of leathery wings, a vestment of protection, and the right arm of fire. These items were apparently all rewards to her for something she did to further the necromancer's research. This research allowed them to push the boundaries of the world and explore the outer planes, looking for what they only referred to as the key.

There was a small chapter on portals, but these were manually created links between two places the creator could reach. Whatever this Hathlisora was doing, it was on a whole different level, reaching out across the barriers to another world. The place where the crown was hidden proved she was successful, but Heather found nothing more about it. What she did find were references to other necromancers, wizards, theurgists, and a group called the planar. Apparently, all of them had penned books of their own that were instrumental in the advances the necromancers made. If she wanted to know more, she would have to study the book she had, while gathering copies of the others.

The most pressing issue now was Umtha, who became angry that Heather removed the crown. She accused Heather of turning her backs on the goblins, who kept the temple and the crown safe for her return. Umtha was a frustrating woman to talk to, and Heather found her patience running thin. Frank had to explain that since Umtha was an NPC, she had to be asked direct questions. She wouldn't think to divulge information freely as a normal person would. This became a maddening game of trying to guess what needed to asking and then wording the question to get the right answer. Sometimes Umtha did say things that were not pried from her lips, but more often than not, her conversations ran in circles. She also now refused to call her Heather, always insisting her name was Hathlisora. Any effort to get Umtha to explain who Hathlisora was always resulted in the goblin saying you are.

To make matters worse, the goblin queen and her army of goblins moved across the river and were now building a new village insight of the tower. Slain goblins were respawning in the old village and moving as if by instinct to the new one. Already a dozen more had arrived and swelled their numbers to nearly fifty.

Frank wasn't happy about any of this and fell back on his old beliefs of running to start over. Heather was tired of the argument and tired of being the cause of it. She couldn't bear the thought of any of them giving up their homes just because she was here. If anything, she should leave so they could go on in peace, but even that wasn't likely to happen. People knew the others were associated with her now, and would treat them no better. If they suspected her friends knew where she had gone, they would do whatever it took to get that information.

She read over a few more pages of the book as they discussed the overlap between the spheres of reality. This was information provided by Hathlisora herself, and the key to what the necromancers were doing. None of it made sense because she lacked the foundation of what the point was, to begin with. It was like a caveman finding a car in the middle of the wilderness. Even if he could read the owner's manual, he had no idea why a car would be needed.

At least she knew that this was important and thus would store it away until the context became clearer.

A knock at the door disturbed Webster from where he sat on the table beside her. She turned to regard the door and let out a loud sigh.

“You can pass through walls, why are you knocking on the door?”

Breanne opened the door and stepped in, her sharp elven features looking unusually concerned as she stared at Heather across the dim room, lit by one small window and a dozen candles.

“The goblins have brought you a bucket of acorns like you requested,” Breanne said.

“Good,” Heather said as she closed the book.

“If you don’t mind my asking, what do you need them for?”

“A little spell I am going to use,” Heather replied. “My skeletons are too weak and easily shattered in a fight.”

“So, you're going to fill them with acorns?”

“Not exactly,” Heather said with a smile. “Come on; I will show you.” They went outside the tower with Webster in tow, and Heather collected the bucket of acorns from the steps. She took it to the side yard where her skeletons milled about and called a few of them over.

Carefully she took a small bag that was common to new players and filled it with dirt. She then planted a single acorn inside and then tied the back inside the rib cage of a skeleton. She stood back and began to sing a spell to the bag, causing a vine-like growth to appear. The vines twined around the skeleton's bones with lone thorny tendrils until it resembled a walking plant man with a skeleton face and bones showing through. Two long whip-like arms that ended in clusters of needles protruded from the back hovering over its head.

“What have you done?” Breanne asked.

“I summoned a plant-based pet inside the skeleton,” Heather said. “The plants can't move, but they have the long arms to batter people, and the needles drip a weakness poison. Now when the skeletons attack, the plants will go with them, and the plant's tendrils should give the skeletons more protection.”

“You thought of this on your own?” Breanne asked.

Heather nodded. “I want to do a few with thorn whip plants inside them because they can hurl their needles.”

“Mixing nature magic with necromancy,” Breanne said with a shake of her head. “I can’t believe I have never heard of this before.”

“I would love to know some of your shadow magic,” Heather said as she worked on another skeleton.

“You would have to change classes,” Breanne said. “And that’s exactly what we’re trying to avoid.”

“I don't know,” Heather said. “There are sections in the book that talk about how magic shares common roots and can be manipulated. It hints at the possibility of casting spells outside your focus, but it requires more effort.”

“We already knew some of that,” Breanne said. “You just can't cast from the school that opposes you.”

“Right,” Heather said with a smile. “As a necromancer, I can't cast holy spells, but I am also a flower singer, and nature spells sit right next to holy on the spectrum.”

Breanne smiled and looked back to the skeletons as Heather enchanted another. She was growing into her role and accepting what she was. Soon she would be a power in her own right.

“I want to go visit these black goblins as soon as possible,” Heather said after making a second vine skeleton. “Maybe they can tell me more about Hathlisora or this dragon I supposedly have.”

“We can leave whenever you want,” Breanne replied. “But, I am more interested in what you're going to do with the crown.”

Heather thought about the crown that now sat locked in a chest in her study. She had to do something with it, but what she wasn't sure. It was clearly important to what was going on, and deep down, she knew it had to stay. Umtha would certainly agree with that, but the voice she heard when wearing it coupled with the missing time, made her uncomfortable. More alarming was when Breanne told her what the voice said while trying to take it off. That whoever that voice was couldn't help her unless she was wearing it. Help her do what?

Heather sighed and put a hand to her head. She had a life that she worked hard to build, now she was in some crazy game world entangled in layers of mysteries. Just once she would like something to be simple to understand.

“We keep the crown for now,” Heather said. “The book said it was part of a collection of items Hathlisora used. I want to see if we can learn more about the items and maybe even find them.”

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“And do what with them?” Breanne asked.

Heather shrugged. “Maybe nothing, maybe learn more about Hathlisora and her involvement with the necromancers. All I know is there is too much going on we don't understand, and I am tired of being in the dark.” She called up another skeleton and filled a bag with dirt and planted an acorn. Once again, she sang her spell and turned the skeleton into a mobile plant weapon.

“How many of these are you going to make?” Breanne asked.

“All of them,” Heather said. “I want as much firepower as I can gather, and as many dirty tricks as can be managed.”

“And what about the goblins?”

Heather considered Umtha and her small village of goblins. They were already making useful allies in that they could run more complex errands than the skeletons could, but Umtha was sulking about the crown. She was going to be a problem if Heather didn't find a way to appease her. “I will go talk to them later. Maybe I can get them to lead us to the black goblins.”

“What are you hoping to find there?” Breanne asked.

“The next breadcrumb,” Heather said. “I honestly have no idea what I am looking for, but I intend to find out. Speaking of which, where can I get books written by other players?”

“Why do you want books?” Breanne asked with a sudden curiosity.

“The necromancer book references other books, and I want copies of them. I'm not content to know what this writer thought of the other works; I want to see what the source was so that I can draw my own conclusions.”

“Then you need to go back to a major city; they have book stores just like anywhere else.”

“Hmm,” Heather said as she considered it. “I hate to say it, but I need a way to get to and back from a city in a reasonable amount of time.”

“Then maybe you need to find Hathlisora and have her make you a portal,” Breanne joked.

“A portal?” Heather said as she filled another bag with dirt. The book had a description of how portals worked and how to create one that linked two locations in the world. The problem was she had to visit both sites once to establish the link before she could use them. Then there was the matter of having a two-way door near a city that anybody could use. Somebody like Moon would put such a portal to good use and march her thugs directly into the graveyard. If she could hide the door someplace nobody would find it, then maybe, but where would she hide it?

She put that thought aside and created a dozen more enhanced skeletons before parting ways with Breanne. She returned to her study and flipped back to the page about portals as she pondered how she could hide one. She thought of how the book was hidden by light only the undead could see. Could she hide a portal the same way? As she sat down to translate the text, Webster shuffled across the desk and knocked over the little statue of the raven.

“Careful,” she said as she picked up the small statue. She turned it over in her hands, running a finger over the base as her thoughts drifted to flying. She felt something under her fingertip and lifted the statue to look closer. There was a single tiny word engraved into the base that was near impossible to read in the light. She carried it to an open window to hold it in the sunlight and studied the letters.

“Chuthos,” she said aloud and suddenly felt sick. Her world changed around her as the statue fell from her hand, and the window rose up impossibly high on a wall that towered above her. She looked around in a panic to see the entire room had grown to gigantic proportions.

With a squawk, she fluttered her wings before realizing what had happened.

“I'm a bird!” she said aloud but only made another squawking cry. Quickly she turned about to see the statue was now a woman with an arm stretched out. “I became the bird, and the statue became me!” she said in warbling cries.

She was alarmed by how far she could twist her head as she looked over her new appearance. She was what looked like a crow, with black feathers and orange feet. She spread her wings and hoped to the window sill and looked out into the graveyard, wondering if she could fly. A noise behind her turned her about to see a gigantic spider hunching down on its legs from the side of the table. She realized he was hunting and staring right at her.

She dived out the window as the spider landed where she had been a moment ago, spreading her wings to flail in the air. Gracefully she plummeted until finally figuring out how to catch enough to glide down. With a pant, she came to rest on the metal fence that separated the graveyard from her yard.

“Ok, you're a bird, what now?” she said to herself and hoped around. “There must be a way to change back,” she assured herself in a panic and looked up at her tower. She saw Webster watching her from the window and felt suddenly frustrated. “I bet I need the statue,” she groaned. “The one that bird hungry spider is guarding.” Her mind began to work out a solution when she saw Frank walk out of a mausoleum. She immediately called out to him, but it came out as more of a squawk that didn't even cause him to look.

“Oh, pay attention to me!” Heather groaned and flapped her wings in irritation. She dared to try and fly but flopped to the ground instead. She tried again and managed to get a few feet up before falling back to the ground. “Why can't I fly?” she complained and tried again. All she managed to do was flop along the ground a few feet before growing frustrated. “Birds make this look so easy!”

As she brooded over not being able to fly a shadow, fell over her, and she looked up to see Frank glaring down at her.

“Fly away, you stupid bird,” he said.

“Stupid bird?” Heather said in a series of squawks. She tried to flutter up and gained a little height before tumbling back to the ground again.

“Go on, fly away,” he said and nudged at her with a foot.

Heather grew annoyed and pecked at his foot as he tried to frighten her off. He stepped back and scratched at his head as Breanne arrived from the tower.

“Why are you tormenting a bird?” she asked.

“It won’t fly away, when I tried to shoo it, it pecked my foot instead.”

Breanne looked down at Heather and studied her with thinking eyes.

“It’s a crow,” she said. “Maybe it’s one of her warning ravens.”

“Why wouldn’t it be in the tree they spawn in?” Frank asked.

“Probably because that spider hunts them,” Breanne said.

Heather turned about and focused. She was a bird now, and birds could fly. She was getting the hang of spreading her wings if she could just do it the right way. She quickly jumped and fluttered, carrying herself into the air and right into Breanne's face.

“Shoo!” Breanne said as she waved her hands in her face. “Go away before I feed you to the spider.”

Heather landed on the fence and squawked at them in irritation, spilling out a tirade of complaints they didn't understand. “This is frustrating!” she growled as the two watched her. She thought back to what she knew about crows and realized that they could speak. She focused on controlling herself and began to try to imitate words they would understand.

“Heather!” she finally got out and made them look even more intently.

“Did it just say, Heather?” Breanne asked.

“I think so,” Frank replied as he scratched his head.

“They understood!” she squawked excitedly. “I'm Heather. I need the statue in the tower!” she tried to work out. All that came out in words was 'Heather' and 'Statue.'

“It’s trying to speak to us,” Breanne said as she looked closer.

“Where is Heather?” Frank asked.

“She’s in her study pouring over that book again,” Breanne replied. “You should see what she did with some of her skeletons.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

Breanne thought back and replied. “About an hour ago, I guess.”

“It's me! I'm Heather!” she cried, and with luck managed to say 'Me and Heather.”

Frank and Breanne glanced at one another before Frank leaned over to look at Heather more closely.

“You’re Heather?” he asked.

She bobbed her whole body up and down like Webster did, tears nearly coming to her eyes. Frank looked back to Breanne, who was rubbing her chin as she looked to the tower.

“We had better check,” she said. “Something may have happened.”

Frank nodded and held out a hand, extending a long finger. Heather readily climbed onto his finger and up his arm as they headed for the tower.

“How could she be a bird?” Frank asked.

“A shapeshift spell, or a polymorph curse maybe. The book might have magical traps that she accidentally set off,” Breanne suggested.

“Then how do we change her back?” he asked.

“Statue!” Heather cried out as clearly as she could.

“Statue?” Breanne asked as they entered the tower and headed for the stairs.

“Statue, study!” Heather added.

Breanne nodded and led the way up the levels until they reached her study.

“Heather?” Breanne called as she opened the door. The room looked as it always did with the large book open on the table, and a cushy chair pulled up to sit on. The candles were still burning, but Heather was nowhere to be seen. “It could be her,” Breanne admitted as she looked back to the bird on Frank's arm.

“Statue!” Heather cried as she tried to point with a wing to the floor by the window.

“What statue?” Frank asked.

Heather went to say something else when she looked up and saw an eight-legged predator creeping toward her on the ceiling. Webster jumped with incredible speed, but she dived off Frank's arm just before the spider collided with him. She landed on the table as Frank stumbled back with Webster shuffling around on him.

“Webster, wait!” Frank cried, but the spider leaped again, bouncing off a wall before crashing to the table where Heather had been a moment ago. She struggled to fly, but the room was small, and the spider could easily leap across it. Frank and Breanne tried to stop him as he darted after her in a hungry quest to consume her.

“Stop it!” Heather cried, but the spider was too fast, it clipped a wing and sent her tumbling to the floor to land inches from the statue. She raced for it as Webster took another leap, her clawed hand wrapping around it as she said the command word as clearly as she could.

“Chuthos!”

Heather sat on her rear with her hands clenched into fists as Webster sat curled entirely around her head. “Get off of me, you furry face hugger!” she shouted in irritation before the spider leaped away.

“Heather?” Frank said in alarm. “What happened?”

“This happened!” she said, holding up the statue. “It has a command word that allows you to become the animal it represents. I used it by accident, and that fuzzy t-rex tried to eat me!”

“Oh, thank goodness your alright,” Breanne said.

Heather stood up and glared at Webster as he tried to hide in the corner under the table. “You tried to eat me!” she shouted.

“He eats all the birds he can catch,” Breanne said. “He probably didn’t realize it was you.”

“He was sitting right there when I transformed,” Heather argued. “He must have seen it.”

“Did you think to use your telepathy to tell him who you were?” Frank asked.

Heather went to reply and froze a moment as she realized that idea never occurred to her. She was so shocked over what happened she overlooked the simplest solution. “No, I didn't think of it.” She shook her head and put the statue on the table then knelt to look under it. “Come out here, little guy, I'm sorry I got mad at you.”

Webster crawled out slowly, and Heather held her arms out to pick him up. She set him on the table next to the statue and then took a deep breath before explaining the statue and how she was the bird he was trying to eat. Webster made a sad high-pitched groaning sound and turned to look away, but she picked him back up.

“I forgive you, but promise me you won't try to eat me if I use it in the future,” she said as she cradled the spider. Webster bobbed in her arms, and she set him back down, grateful this ordeal was over.

“So, what are you going to do now?” Frank asked.

“She picked up the statue and held it in her hands with a smile. “I think it’s time I learned how to fly.”