It dawned on William over the next few days that he had yet to learn where he was headed. The land shifted all the time. Even when he backtracked, he always seemed to end up somewhere different. He was walking on a path out of his control and could not get off it. Instead, he could only follow or stay where he was. The air was musty and stale in this place, and they found it had to be purified by one of Rusara's spells.

At night, insects and worse things bothered them, and by day, they walked in darkness.

He didn't like the feeling. It was like he had no control over his destiny. As though he were a puppet to be manipulated by the hands of figures beyond his comprehension. At night, he played music for the chimera, and he would always wake to find it watching over him in the morning. The land around them became darker. The clouds clustered overhead as the wood became more dreary and horrible. The weather became ever grayer and colder.

Then, one day, it started raining. It poured down on them in torrents, and they sheltered beneath the trees as best they could. Finally, the chimera got close to curl up against him, shielding him from the wind. William looked up.

"Thank you," He was not sure how to continue. "You know, I'm not sure what to call you. I mean, I can't just call you Chimera."

"Bah," said the chimera's goat head.

"I think I should give you a name," said William. "Unless you already have one."

The dragon's head turned to him and gave him a strange look. He had no idea what it meant, and William remained silent. "Can I give you a name? Something to call you until I can learn your real one."

The chimera did not answer. William supposed expecting one was somewhat foolish. It was, after all, an animal at heart. He sighed. "I suppose I'll call you... uh... I have no idea what to call you. None whatsoever." He looked around. "What do you think of Dark Heart?"

There was that look again.

"Look, I can't think of anything, okay," said William. "And it's not as if it matters. It's only until... oh, never mind. Octavian? That's a Sornian name, so it is pretty exotic."

The look continued.

William sighed. "What about Massacre?"

The chimera seemed to consider that. Its dragon head nodded.

"Right then, Massacre," said William. "The rain is slacking off a bit, so we should keep moving to... wherever it is, we're going. I hope we get there soon because I'm almost out of supplies."

Massacre and William began to make their way onward. The ground became rougher, and strange voices appeared as they made their way forward. During the day, little light penetrated through the treetops. During the night, it was pitch black. The ground became stony and rough. William often tripped as he went onward and became very sick of it all. The days blurred together, and he longed for a warm bed and rest.

He doubted now that he had any hope of finding Felix. Seathorius itself was conspiring to see them separated. Yet, to what end? What purpose was served by all this?

Then, they came out of the darkness. In front of William and Massacre, they found pleasant green lands. Around it was rolling hills and beautiful trees with white bark and golden leaves. Flowers were blooming at their base, and birds were singing. The contrast was so sudden that William could hardly believe his eyes.

Then he saw the castle. It was a truly majestic sight, standing on a proud hilltop. Seven pure white towers rose out of its new walls. They loomed overhead, and an eighth grew out of the keep itself, the tallest spires. A golden spike emerged from the top of its domed roof. It was magnificent. Here before him seemed a beautiful and strong fortress. One might expect a noble king to dwell here.

That was why William felt ill at ease with it. Upon further examination, William realized that the walls were crawling with vines. They had grown up all over the fortress. No flag flew from its towers, and William doubted any had flown in many years. Moreover, despite the beauty of his surroundings, they seemed odd, almost lifeless.

The chirping of birds was everywhere, but he could see no birds. The flowers seemed strange, like they were parts of a picture. A picture painted on long after the original artist has declared his work complete. Its beauty seemed more an atrocity than the most festering bog that nature had created. The more William looked at this place, the more it seemed almost more terrible than where he had been.

"Massacre," said William. "I am not going any further on this path. Instead, we'll head back into the woods and see if we can find Felix."

Massacre seemed to agree, and they plunged back into the far preferable darkness. Yet they had not gotten far before the two emerged again into the painted-on wonderland. Only this time, it was far closer to the castle than before. So, turning, they fled into the darkness again, with the same result.

Finally, defeated, they made their way toward the castle. Some will seemed to fuel their speed, and they moved. William wanted more than anything to be going in another direction. Massacre did not try to eat any grass, even though he had been continuously munching until now. Finally, at the base of the hill with the gates looming over them, William leaned on his spear and looked up.

"I think I know where we are," he said. "This is Baltoth's Retribution—this province's old Dust Elf capital. Rusara's people used to live here. Have I ever told you about Rusara? She'd like you.

"Assuming we ever meet her," He became very bitter. "Listen to me, Massacre. I think that Seathorius is driving me into a confrontation with Melchious. We're both going to die at this rate." He was afraid, but he couldn't drag others down with him.

Massacre's goat head bleated fearfully.

"You don't have to come with me," said William. "You shouldn't come with me. This isn't your problem, and there is no sense in you dying here with me." He paused. "Go back now." Massacre stood where he was, not moving.

"Go back!" roared William. "Now! Before you get killed!"

Massacre sat up and loped toward the trees before halting and glancing back. William remained where he was, wanting to shout for Massacre to return. Then the chimera turned and went back into the woods and was gone. William realized he was shaking.

He forced himself still and turned to begin making his way toward the gate. As he did so, the lands surrounding him began to twist and change into their proper form. The grass was not there at all, only blighted wastes. The flowers were thorny bushes with inch-long blades on them. Yet Baltoth's Retribution remained the same shining castle, gleaming in the sunlight.

He came to the gates, long since rotted away so that only some rusted hinges were left. As he approached, a shadow was cast over him, and he looked up. Upon the top of the wall was the demoness.

Yet she was no mere shadow. Instead, she stood in physical form, in the form of a girl, yet she was not human. Her feet were black talons like those of a hawk. She had a long black tail like a silken noose with a blade shaped like a crescent moon. Her hands were massive claws, and her skin was pure black. Her eyes were bright blue and shone with an unholy light.

"Well, what a chance meeting," she said. "I must thank you for sending that beast away. It will make my task much easier."

Then she dove toward William. He raised his spear, but her tail lashed out, and it was cut in twain. The demoness smashed him down and reached for his throat. William strove to hold her claws at bay, struggling with the demoness. Her strength was monstrous; he'd never felt anything like it! Unable to drive her back, he dragged her to one side, throwing her off. As she landed, he was on her and forced her down with a knee on her chest. Drawing out his sword, he set it to her throat.

"You have lost," said William.

He should kill her now. This was an unholy abomination, not a thing that could be redeemed. Yet he remembered the sight of the satyr lying dead by his hand. Then her tail wrapped around his neck from behind, and he was hauled back. His sword fell from his grip, and she was on him. He snatched the spearhead, but she grasped his wrist, forced him down, and leaned in close. He could feel the heat of her body against his, and then her lips met his. She held it there momentarily, and he found his strength waning. He felt a will forcing itself against him, older and stronger, and his attempts to break free of it were in vain. His head went fuzzy; his vision was blurry. William suddenly had no idea who he was or what he was doing. He could not remember what had brought him to this point.

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The thing pounded him down, wiping her lips, and he stood. "Who am I?" he asked. "Who are you?"

The demoness smiled and whipped her tail around her as she made a bow. "Oh, just someone you should trust and love." Her tail drew up his sword with a flourish and put it into her hand. His sword, it was his.

"That is my sword," he said.

"I'll return it to you in a moment," she replied.

A sense of trust that was not altogether his own came to him. But, of course, she would give it back to him. She was to be trusted. She was the most magnificent, beautiful, and influential of all creatures. Still, those thoughts did not seem altogether his own.

"You really are powerful, aren't you?" she asked. "Duke Vanion wasn't much stronger when Melchious told me to kill him. And he was an adult."

"I was..." his mind was still fuzzy, "my bloodline gives me that strength. It is from Mother's side of the family." Memories would not come to him; he felt adrift and without an anchor.

"Fascinating," she said. "Do tell me more?"

"I don't know all that much," said William. "She never tells me anything."

"Oh, how sad, my deepest sympathies." She motioned with her sword. "Through the gates, we have plans to make."

William obeyed, and the demoness, yes, she was a demoness, led him through the gate. He found an overgrown courtyard within. Several saplings were growing within it, and weeds were everywhere. They went into the keep, whose door had long ago rotted away to nothing, and began to scale up a flight of stairs. Violet torches lighted the walls on either side of them, which cast the world in an ominous light.

A vague recollection came then to William. It came fear. "Are we... going to see Melchious."

"No, I lied about all that." said the demoness. "Mostly for the satyr's benefit. I don't know if he's aware of your presence here. Nor do I care."

"Then why..." Memories began to come back. "It was you all along?"

"Precisely," she said, "I've been using this castle to project my will over great distances. There is great power here, and I have learned to harness it in the years since I took up residence. You might have noticed a shadow aiding the satyrs in pursuing you?"

"Why... why to say you were in league with Melchious," asked William.

"Oh, I am," she said, "I'm merely operating without his orders now."

They went down a hall and saw nothing and no one. As William followed her, he had regained much of his former self. He could not act against her, somehow. The idea was inconceivable. "Where are the ghosts? I was told this place was haunted."

"Oh, those," said the demoness, "I killed those ages ago."

Then they entered another room, and within was a three-dimensional map of Seathorius. Yet it was no map of plaster. Instead, it was living and breathing, with trees that swayed and moved before his eyes. Tiny villages could be seen scattered throughout it. There were specks among them, people, William thought.

"This is where the shifting in the landscapes comes from," said the demoness. "It takes some skill to control, but I managed it." She raised a hand and channeled power. The landscape began to flow around into another shape. "Rather convenient. My service to Lord Melchious is mostly using this. I ensure his operations go unnoticed, but I have far greater aspirations."

"Aspirations to what?" asked William.

"Power, what else?" asked the demoness. "Come, we should continue our tour."

William wanted to resist, but he could not. They went through a chamber and into a great hall. Many eldritch statues were standing throughout it. Black pillars carved with runes were around them in a circle. At the far end of the room was a set of double-stone doors, and they were shut. On it were engravings of many eldritch and horrible things. It was painful to keep looking at it.

The demoness approached it and ran one hand over it. "Well, here we are. The reason I need you."

"I don't understand," admitted William.

"No doubt you say that a lot," said the demoness. "And I don't intend to enlighten you more than is necessary. Beyond this door, I believe, lies the Mirror of Laevian. Its power must belong to me." "And not Melchious?" guessed William.

"Of course not," said the demoness. "I want it for myself. You don't think that serving someone and having their best interests at heart are the same thing, do you? That would be naive, even for a human."

"And how will I help you get it?" asked William.

"The door is warded against demons and all other races," said the demoness. "I have a hunch that it is not against what you are."

"Are you saying I'm not human?" asked William, annoyed.

"Well, you have the blood of Amazons in you, which is a slight variant of humans." said the demoness. "It might be enough to slip past the defenses. I mean, I've sent a lot of other technicalities forward, and most of them died, but that's not the point. Now, try to open the door." She drew his sword. "Or die."

William reached forward and set one hand to it. Then, pushing against it, he felt as if something was looking through the very fiber of his being, judging him. Yet as it gazed at him, it seemed uncertain of what he was. William thought it was obvious enough, but something about him perplexed it.

Then it opened, and the doors swung open before him, showing a dark hallway lit by green flame. The demoness jumped for joy. "Yes, yes, yes! I knew it would work! Technicalities are such a beautiful thing! And to think this is my sixtieth try! I was getting so tired of burying the bodies! Now, you go forward first; if there are any traps in there, they'll spear you, and I'll have a warning ahead of time."

"...Fine," said William, once again unable to disobey.

It was strange, for it was as though she had some hold over him; it defied the ordinary. She demanded obedience and accepted nothing else. William felt he was under mind control but could not work up the will to break it. He wondered if he even wanted to. But, of course, he did. Yet every time his mind began to shake off the web surrounding his mind, his eyes were drawn to her. The very sight of her strengthened the bindings.

It was frustrating, but he couldn't work up the will to get angry about it.

He walked forward, looking around him as he did so. The demoness followed behind, tail flickering this way and that. As they made their way on, the darkness gave way to multicolored lights, which hurt the eyes to look too long. The walls became pure crystal, and vines grew around them. Soon, the vines were so thick around them that the walls were covered. An earthy smell surrounded them, and leaves quickly covered the ground. Then it became hot, and William wiped the sweat from his brow. Then the heat turned to cold, and he was shivering. The sounds of chirping birds could be heard, then the fall of hammers.

Reality seemed to shift without beginning or end.

"What is this place?" he asked.

"Hmm, it's connected to the realm of turmoil." surmised the demoness. "The realm of limitless potential which has no form that is not given to it by the mind. It exists between the dimensions of the mortal realm, hell, and heaven. Rather an ironic choice of location."

"How so?" asked William.

"Well, the Mirror of Laevian shows things as they are," said the demoness. "But the turmoil is a subjective reality. Everyone who looks into it sees something different, formed by their mind."

"What do you see?" asked William.

"Eh," said the demoness, "I'm not paying attention. My interest is purely in power. In what is. This place has nothing to offer me in that regard."

"What use could the Mirror of Laevian be to you?" asked William. "You don't seem like the person interested in knowing themselves."

"You seem to have missed the point," said the demoness. "If I look into the Mirror of Laevian and survive, I know my personality flaws. But, of course, I am nearly flawless; few indeed can compare to my perfect majesty.

"However, by seeing my few flaws, I can correct them and become more powerful."

"I expect you will be disappointed," said William. "How is it that no one has found a loophole around that door in the first place?"

"Oh well, I expect the flesh-eating ghosts kept most people away," said the demoness. "And just getting here is difficult enough. It took me years of constant searching to track the place down. But you managed it so quickly because I was already on the inside, drawing you to me."

"So you killed the flesh-eating ghosts," guessed William. "How? Rusara taught me that restless spirits can... uh..." He tried to remember. "They can only be sent on to the next life once whatever is keeping them in the world is resolved."

"Yes, I suppose you would have looked for some way to ease their suffering. To help them find peace," mused the demoness. "Fortunately, I had a much more direct approach. I beat them senselessly and tortured them repeatedly. Soon, their fear of me became greater than their attachment to this world.

"After that, they faded."

"I don't think it is supposed to work like that," muttered William. "So why hasn't anyone else come here since?"

"Well, a few people do," admitted the demoness, "but I killed most of them, always leaving one alive to flee back. Thus, the myth of ghosts persists. It's just that these days, the ghosts are supposed to be working for me."

"And you've just been sitting around this castle that whole time," said William. "That sounds boring."

"Well, I can project myself into other realms using the shadows," said the demoness. "Particularly moonlight. The Moon Spirit is quite helpful in that regard. But yes, it has gotten dull. But once I find the Mirror of Laevian, I will no longer have any need to remain here."

William and the Demoness entered an elegant room of white stone. It was illuminated from everywhere and nowhere with gleaming light. A mirror stood two feet high at the far end of the room. It was covered with a red tarp, and William made his way forward.

"Do you think this is it?" he wondered.

"Let's find out," said the demoness before pulling off the tarp.

William saw himself.