‘Come, finish your part,’ hissed the painting. Nicolai stood before it with Jo, and he held Kleos in his hands.

They’d gotten away without issue, and now Nicolai needed to work out just what would happen if they did as the painting bid. His eyes rested on it, observing it in detail.

The painting depicted a hallway, almost as though it were a large window or entrance into that hallway. The hallway was of plain, slightly yellowed stone, blocky and unlined. Flaming torches hung from the walls. Distantly, some kind of dark figure was visible, splayed out on the ground. A corpse. Hard to make it out, as the painting was drawn in a kind of loose water-colour style, the details fuzzed. At the end, the corridor opened, and a rocky area with the odd plant-growth was faintly visible.

Standing in the centre of the corridor, leaning forwards as though the painting was a window it was pressing against, was a vague figure wearing a dark, shifting cloak. In the dark blur of its hood two flecks of muddy green peered back at Nicolai.

One of the figure’s hazy limbs moved, the painting rippling and shifting.

‘We have a deal, do we not? I will assist you, I promise you this. There is much I can tell you,’ the figure in the painting whispered, its voice a rasping hiss that emerged from nowhere.

‘What do you think of this thing?’ he asked Kleos, ignoring the painting’s words. Kleos had yet to see it, as he’d been in a sack when Nicolai first came through here.

‘Oh.’ Kleos grunted. ‘One of the old Under-Step Paintings. They’re used to travel to other such paintings nearby. You need a key to access them, a—‘

‘Paintbrush?’ Nicolai tugged the paintbrush in question from his pocket.

‘That’s it. If it’s set up right, you’ll be able to open the doorway by touching the key to the painting.’

‘And what about… that?’ Nicolai waved at the dark figure within the painting.

‘Who is that?’ snarled the thing in the painting. ‘Some traitor? Don’t listen to it, every word it tells you is a lie. Let me out!’

Kleos snorted. ‘A Soul without a body, that’s what. The Under-Step Paintings hold a strange space within them, one where the passing of time has less impact. That’s why it has survived for so long without a physical form. Let it out and it’ll try to possess someone. One of the mortals.’

‘Mortals?’

‘Those who have yet to become a Cultivator. Normally they would possess a Soul, if a very weak one, but your friends don’t even have that. I suspect that thing could jump right in.’

The painting was whispering again about Kleos lying, but Nicolai tuned it out. Their Contract said Kleos must be honest, and even if not for the Contract he still would have had far more faith in Kleos than the clearly malicious spirit in the painting.

‘So you’re saying that thing wants to possess me?’ Jo had turned from her silent observation of the painting to shoot a worried look at Kleos.

‘That’s right. I’d recommend staying well back if it’s opened. Nicolai or Beth should be able to resist it as they have Souls, but you’ll stand no chance,’ Kleos told her promptly.

‘My Contract with it… I’m meant to open it, to paint on it with the special brush.’ Jo was not looking happy about that.

‘Yes, yes, you and you alone.’ The painted figure chuckled. ‘I was very specific.’

Nicolai frowned at her. ‘Only you? What if I take the paintbrush and do it for you?’

She shook her head, glaring at the painting. ‘That won’t work. Like it said, it was very specific.’

Nicolai snorted, thinking. He suspected there would be another way. Most of his Contracts and Quests had come with an “out.” ‘What if the spirit should die?’ he questioned.

She tapped her Mark, and he saw her eyes moving left and right, reading invisible words. ‘Huh,’ she said. ‘I guess I forgot about that. Yeah. If it dies, that’ll be that. Contract over. Quest complete.’

And no need for Jo to be the one to touch the painting, in that case. ‘You didn’t mention you had a Quest,’ he said.

‘Uh. Yeah, I have a Quest to bring it the painting. Or kill it, I guess.’ She shifted from foot to foot, appearing faintly guilty.

Nicolai snorted. He wasn’t bothered. Like her, he preferred to keep things to himself where possible. He looked to Kleos. ‘How strong is the spirit?’

If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

‘How can I know?’ said Kleos. ‘But it can’t be too bad. If it was the Soul of a higher level Cultivator, it should have been able to break free from the painting without the key, so it should be relatively weak. On top of that it has no way to recover itself. This is exactly the kind of thing we talked about. This Soul has no body, no internal system, no ability to repair itself if it takes damage. If it does emerge from the Under-Step space it’ll need to get a body quick, otherwise the world’s Aura will simply grind it away into nothing.’

Nicolai grunted, thoughtful. Increasingly this wasn’t sounding like a big deal. ‘Do you think I could capture its Soul?’ he asked next, shooting a meaningful look at Kleos.

‘Could be. Very likely. But not with the typical Soul Trap. You’d need a better one.’ Kleos met his meaningful look and gave him one in return.

This thing might count as one of the Souls he needed to complete the Lotus Soul Trap. Unfortunately, feeding Souls to the creation would be the final process, and he’d so far made little progress.

Jo only had a day left, and he intended to do his best to solve this and ensure she survived. Within reason, part of him reminded. Naturally he wouldn’t be getting himself killed on her behalf, but he didn’t consider this spirit to pose much risk.

‘No time to trap it,’ he murmured to Kleos. ‘Any ideas for how we should deal with this?’

Kleos did have some ideas. The head said they could draw something similar to the runes he’d formed on the minor Soul Trap to make a circle and power it with Oma, one the spirit would struggle to squeeze through, trapping it in the space before the painting. Then, he and Beth should be able to strike it with their Soul Senses, and his Blue Hornet’s lightning should also be effective. Other than that, Imbued weaponry like his polearm and rapier should do at least some damage, though Kleos said that guns and other “mundane weapons” would be useless.

They set to work, and some time later, Nicolai, Beth, Jo, old Ben, and a smattering of the others stood before the painting, which was now circled by runes that curved over the wall around it. As the painting touched the stone floor at the bottom, Nicolai had opted to extend the circle from the wall to push out in a semi-circle in front of the painting on the floor. This was also where they’d placed the siphoning runes to accept Oma crystals. The creature in the painting had continued to hiss and snarl threateningly at them. Nicolai had continued to ignore it.

Old Ben was still a little cool towards Nicolai, but upon learning that Nicolai would be creating a type of Ritual somewhat related to the Soul Trap, he’d come down to observe. Nicolai had surmised this was due to a simple interest in and desire to learn more about Rituals.

With everything prepared, Nicolai bade all of them but Beth to stand well back, inside a circle of similar runes as those they’d drawn around the painting, which should provide some protection from the spirit should it get loose of the first circle.

‘I’ll charge up, then we do it,’ Nicolai said to Beth, and started moving. He performed a series of sprints after activating his Blue Hornet Symbiote, the blue electricity beginning to spark and seethe over his body. When the lightning reached its peak, he moved forwards, paintbrush in hand, approaching the painting.

‘This isn’t what was agreed,’ hissed the painting spirit. ‘She has to touch the brush to the painting! Not you!’

Nicolai ignored it. If it hadn’t worked out what was happening by now, it soon would. He had observed with his own Quests, and his own Contracts, that there always tended to be an out, and had confirmed with Jo that the same held true here.

If the painting spirit were to die, her Contract would be rendered null and void. There was no reason to send her forward and risk it possessing her, as it clearly intended.

Nicolai tapped the paintbrush to the painting. Ripples spread through the watercolour, the whole of it coming alive, moving and shifting, colours swirling. He saw a flash of teeth, an angry snarl in the painting spirit’s visage, then dark claws slipped out from the painting and sliced at him.

He was already moving back, striking out with his Soul Sense, catching at the spirit’s arms and beating them back.

There came a shrill, furious wail then the spirit, a figure of ragged darkness like an animated cloak with two large arms ending in claws, launched itself out of the painting and at him.

It was met by two Soul Sense blows, crushing from Nicolai, piercing from Beth, and it’s whole being fuzzed and shivered and its shape was marred, almost dashed into the ground.

To Nicolai’s Soul Sense this thing felt different to most. It wasn’t Soul Sense—it was a Soul which existed in a physical manner, quite a change to the norm as he was used to interacting with another’s Soul Sense, which was like the limbs of their Soul, rather than their Soul directly.

It was stronger than Soul Sense as a result, harder to break. It reformed itself and with a burst of frenzied activity it tore a hole through the vague barrier they’d created from runes. After ripping its way out it swerved towards Beth.

‘To me!’ Nicolai yelled, dashing towards her, and she lunged in his direction. But the spirit got there first and he heard her yell as it crashed into her, and they struggled.

There was no blood where its claws sunk into her, but Beth let out pained grunts. However, she was able to grip it with her hands, and she threw it with her Soul and her Soul Sense both, launching it away—straight at Nicolai.

He lunged for it, hands crackling, and he caught the ragged blackness. He felt it then, as it wormed against him, trying to get into his body, ripping at his Soul and digging its way inside.

But it was weak and weaker all the time, and his Soul was a sea that eroded it, a sea in which there lived a monster, one that was stirring in response. The ragged shadow screamed as the blue lightning spiked through it, and sharp spurs emerged from Nicolai’s Soul to dig at it, and the stuff of it seemed to dissolve, shredded. At the last moment, weak and limping, it managed to rip itself away.

The ragged tear of darkness threw a horrified look at him then fled back toward the painting and burrowed into it.

Nicolai stepped after it. ‘No escape,’ he hissed, the thrill burning through his veins, but Threat Analysis pinged him a warning, and he forcefully calmed himself. Due diligence, the Module had reminded him. ‘Can I fight in there?’ he asked Kleos, throwing a glance at the head.

‘It is a world of imagination. Yes, you can fight.’

‘Win?’

Kleos considered for a silent moment. ‘I give you decent odds,’ it said.

Good enough. If he could win, then he would win. Nicolai continued forward, paintbrush outstretched. The painting rippled as he ploughed into it, and then he was in another world.