Coral excused herself to clean up. In her room, she sat the small black crystal on a table by her bed. It looked dull in the dark room, with a single lamp lit to provide some light. She stared down at it, expecting something to happen. There was no vibration to say that it was working. So, she took that as a good sign to fetch herself a pitcher of hot water and a washcloth to clean herself off. She was not going to bathe in her bathroom until she knew for certain that she would not be bothered again.

Even in death, ghosts and spirits should respect one’s needs for privacy. She hoped it had been the children, and not the spirit of a creepy old pervert that had encouraged her to go down to the basement. There had been a rumour that had reached her ears when she was in the city, that Adventurer’s were contracted to remove a ghost that had been harassing a merchant and his three daughters. It had attached itself to the bathroom, where it only ever appeared when the girls were presently using said room.

Coral was sure that ghost had ended with being absorbed into a shadowsteel blade, its soul slowly being siphoned into the weapon’s power to make it stronger. It was why the glaive Blacktalon was so famous. The weapon was intensely powerful from the hundreds of souls it had claimed since its making. No one truly knew how old Blacktalon was, simply that it predated the kingdom. Not that was particularly big news. Fallen civilisations have been discovered more frequently in the last century, thanks to the Adventurer’s that venture out into the unexplored wilds. Direwood itself sat upon the threshold of the wilds, the land unexplored and filled with all sorts of undiscovered creatures. Perhaps that is why an Adventurer such as Crowcaller had decided to relocate to such a tiny, obscure town.

Coral hadn’t chanced upon Direwood by complete accident either. When she and Pearl stole away from their father’s house, the money she had taken from his safe, all the coin that was in fairness, theirs, had been sat beside a small, intricate box made of a black crystal Coral thought could have been polished black tourmaline. The same type of crystal used in cemeteries to ward off the ghosts. The lid had been carved with an unrecognizable sigil, the markings unlike anything that had been seen before. The inside of the box had been lined with mother-of-pearl, which is what Coral suspected drew her father’s interest in the first place. Ironically, Eirek Farley had won the box in a gambling den that didn’t involve toad racing. Probably one of the few times he actually returned with anything of true value. He had announced to her proudly that it had been found washed up along the river in Direwood. It was only a few days after that box was secured in his safe that he had announced that Coral was to be wed to some knave whose name sounded like silver.

It brought Coral great pleasure to think that she fled to the little town on the edge of the civilized world, taking all of Eirek Farley’s valuable possessions that he could pawn off. The box, herself, and Pearl. She was excluding the house of course, that would likely go to her intended.

Coral tried not to think about the possibility of a perverted ghost urging her to go down to the basement to be slaughtered by a ghoul. She ruffled around in the cupboard for a change of clothes, trying to push her annoyance down into a little ball to deal with later. There would certainly be a later, when she finds herself dirtied again by the curse her father sent her way.

Oh, if that man were alive still, she’d find a way to get back at him. Coral would prove to him that she was far better off without him in her life, and she would become successful at whatever hand she played. Coral would make sure of it, purely to prove that bastard wrong.

“Filth,” Coral grumbled angrily at the cloth beneath her hands, as though the material had done her a great injustice. She was down to her last clean, unblemished skirt. She had a few dresses, though were completely unsuitable for cleaning or mending anything around the house. They were made of fine silks, and entirely unsuitable for the colder months. The need to acquire trousers went up higher in the list of things she needed.

Coral pulled out a clean though still stained blouse. She would rather not risk ruining another skirt, now that she knew she was at risk of becoming filthy no matter what she did. She swapped her dirtied blouse with the stew stains for the clean one. Her anger hadn’t subsided by the time she had re-dressed, so she spent a few more quiet moments to reapply some more salve to her leg, the cuts were beginning to scab in some places and itched constantly. She dabbed on the sticky, herbal concoction with dismay. The needle-fine red marks stretching from the longest cut wasn’t going away. The stitches made her leg look like a patchwork quilt. Disheartened, Coral slowly re-wrapped her leg, pinned the strands of hair that had escaped its bun, pocketed her black stone then joined Pearl and Elwin who were waiting for her downstairs.

Pearl, with the much-appreciated assistance from Elwin had tidied while they had waited for Coral. There was still much to do, but at the very least, the table had been cleared enough so that they could all comfortably sit down. Pearl stored the last of the cleaned pans away into a cupboard, her cheeks slightly pink as she looked around at the rest of the mess.

“Leave the washing for another time,” Coral said, sitting down on the stool. Pearl joined her, with Elwin sitting opposite them. He flipped the book open, and rifled through the pages until he found the chapter he was after.

“I think its safest if we go with the most basic of concepts in the book. If we want to force the dead to appear, we’ll need to do a fair number of unsavory things I don’t think you or Pearl would appreciate,” Elwin said, turning the book so that they could easily read.

“This will allow you to hear and speak to the dead, good enough for now until we can resolve the, ah, situation,” Elwin said, taking care with his words. He eyed the kitchen cupboards with interest. They weren’t assaulted with pots, stacked away safely now, though Coral doubted that would stop any ghost. They seemed to be taking it upon themselves to unlock the doors and let just about anyone in. The stone in her pocket vibrated a little with the familiar tingle of magic and her arms raise to gooseflesh.

Urged on by this sensation, Coral read down the passage, her disgust growing until she was fully scowling as she reached the end of the second page.

“This is basic?” Pearl said, looking horrified at Elwin’s nod.

“Can any bone be used? Please tell me I don’t have to go grave digging,” Coral said.

“No, you don’t have to. There’s some merit to using animal bone. The thickness and density of the bone can alter the result and lifespan of the spell. A cow would arguably give you clearer and better results over a chicken bone. If the animal had magical properties, you would have significantly better receptibility. The same thing if the human used magic or not. Something about magic resonance,” Elwin said shrugging. “But you won’t need to touch a human skeleton. You only want to speak to the ghosts long enough to know what they want. A chicken bone should be enough for a ten-minute conversation,” Elwin said.

“That’s a relief,” Pearl sighed.

“I mean, for best results you could always pinch an arm from one of the undead at mid-winter. No one will know it’s gone missing in the clean up,” Elwin said with a grin.

“No thank you,” Coral said sharply. She would not get anywhere near the undead corpses if she could help it. She looked down at the book, unsettled by the instructions.

“We don’t have any bones just lying around. I’ll have to see about fetching a chicken from town this afternoon,” Pearl said.

“Not to worry, I didn’t come unprepared,” Elwin said, winking at Pearl. He opened the satchel he had propped up on the table, then pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. He untied the cord wrapped around it and unfurled the paper to reveal two small bones, almost completely stripped clean. There were still traces of sinew and meat around the ends.

“Our chef’s back. This was from today’s lunch, roast chicken. I managed to snag a couple of legs. I didn’t think I’d miss the chef as much as I had. That was before I had eaten nothing but pea porridge for three weeks.”

“Don’t you eat at the Dog’s House?” Pearl asked.

“Well, yes. But that hardly counts,” Elwin said dismissively. “We’ll have to clean the bones up a bit to use them, but it’ll do the trick. I figured I would bring both just in case we need to do a practice round first.”

A practice round made sense. There was a sigil to be drawn on the bone, and it wouldn’t work unless precise angles, the accurate thickness to the shape and the direction of the sigil drawn in the correct way. There were many looping intervals and knots that flowed into two more sigils below it, the design vastly more complicated than the Fool’s Luck spell she had fumbled around with. This spell work was also immensely more dangerous, not to mention illegal. Coral tried to take some comfort in knowing that she was taking advantage of a loophole by having Elwin perform the ritual instead of her. That didn’t take away her role still to play.

The person intending to communicate with the dead required to use their own blood to soak the bone for a number of hours. The more hours, the better the clarity, or so the book said. The bone would absorb the blood and would become a conductor for the ghosts to speak through it. Coral would have to maintain skin contact with the bone for the duration of the conversation. Holding a chicken bone drenched in her own blood was rather unsettling. She flipped the page and read on, this passage further explaining how to prolong the life of the spell. If, for whatever horrible reason, she wanted to keep the spell active, she would have to place a fresh drop or two of her own blood over the sigil every so often. Why anyone would want to have ghosts always chattering away at you, she didn’t know. Or to take up necromancy for that matter. Perhaps necromancers were dropped on their heads as infants, knocking out any sensibility.

It was bad enough that Coral required enough of her own blood to coat the bone. The bones weren’t especially large; Elwin had selected the legs from the creature for his lunch. She wished he had taken a wing instead.

“How are we to collect the blood? A needle? Perhaps we should fetch Doctor Thornheart and see if she would extract some from you?” Pearl asked.

“I don’t think that would be a smart idea,” Coral said. “Doctor Thornheart may be obligated to report us.”

“We’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way,” Elwin said, picking up the chicken pieces and plucking at the bits of meat at the end. “A quick cut and we can collect some in a vial.”

“We don’t have vials for such purposes,” Pearl said. She looked worried, and her fingers twitched in a way Coral was all too familiar with. Coral wanted to pick at something too. “Can’t we just speak to the ghosts? Can’t they hear us?

Elwin looked pensive for a moment, his fingers working at the last traces of meat as he thought. “There’s been cases when the spirits have made contact with the living in the right circumstances. Coral’s experience, for instance. Though I have no idea what set of circumstances are required. From what I’ve read, it takes a great deal of energy and strength for them to engage with the physical world. Some kind of metaphysical separation, the spirit exists in a place that we are unable to perceive completely. It’s why they’re usually inconsistent when bothering people in graveyards. They can resonate with elements, which is why shadowsteel can absorb the souls into the weapon and use their spirit to become more powerful. It’s also why black crystals generally work well against metaphysical attacks.”

“If there was another way for you to communicate, I would suggest using something that the ghosts are able to resonate with. This ritual is designed to create a resonance that has worked well enough that it’s become a reliable resource for Adventurer’s.”

“If you don’t want to do this, you could always put a request into the guild. I doubt they would put any value in discovering why the ghosts are still lingering. They’re more likely to, err, ensure they pass on,” he said a little awkwardly.

Coral watched Pearl for a long moment. A large part of her was willing to pay a hefty fee to have the Adventurer’s rid the manor of the ghosts. Her purse would say otherwise. She could somehow include a nondisclosure clause into the contract, though, that would mean more than Doctor Thornheart and Silas knew for certain that her manor was haunted. It put them at risk of rumormonger’s. Not that her manor’s land wasn’t already thought of as cursed. That was going to be bad for business.

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The biggest part of her was that she didn’t want to disappoint Pearl. Coral had wanted to know the manor’s past, why it had been abandoned. On discovering that a necromancer had lived here, that interest had slowly shriveled up. Not for the building itself, she wanted to know every secret doorway and room.

Pearl had always been softer, more caring. Coral had heard the sympathetic note in Pearl’s tone when she had reiterated what the ghost children had said to her. ‘Help’. If Coral could keep that kindness in Pearl for just a bit longer in a harsh world full of monsters and hard realities, she would follow along with this plan of Elwin’s. She would cut open her own hand and bleed for Pearl if it made her happy. If Pearl wanted the gentle approach and help these children that they knew nothing about, then she would do it.

Even if it cost them precious time in preparing for the Night of the Undead. Coral took a deep breath and accepted that they may not have Moonflower Inn open in time to make some money, but at least she could make her sister happy.

“The Rayner children deserve to have a peaceful ending to their life. If Coral and I can help them move on, then I would like to try my best. Besides, we don’t have the coin to spare on such things if we want the manor to be in working order for guests,” Pearl said a little sadly.

Coral had expected this answer. She gave her a small nod of her head in support.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting, but I would assume that granting them what they want would not be easy. If they died here, I don’t think it was because of a terrible accident,” Elwin said gently. “They could ask for anything. They could ask for your life.”

“Even so, I still want to try,” Pearl said more firmly this time. She plucked the bones from Elwin’s hands then began to thoroughly scrub them in the sink. When they were cleaned, she toweled them dry before handing them back to Elwin.

“I made sure to practice the sigil before coming here. If someone needed a more permanent transmitter for the dead, they would carve the sigillary into the bone. Luckily, we don’t need to do that, and I’m terrible at that sort of thing, much to Master Winter’s chagrin,” Elwin said. He took out a quill and ink bottle, unscrewed the top and focused on the bone. His eyes squinted as he stared down in concentration and made minute strokes with the fine tip of his quill. His hand was steady, and moved confidently as he finished the first symbol and intertwined it with another below it.

Coral and Pearl kept quiet as he worked, neither of them wanted to distract him. The tiniest mistake could have unexpected or disastrous results. There had been stories of whole towns being destroyed in an explosion thanks to some careless mistake in a runic spellcasting. That, or a wayward apprentice dabbling in things they weren’t ready for. Quite possibly like what they were participating in now. Coral slowly reached over to the teapot as though any vigorous movement could set off Elwin’s workings as though it were flammable. The sweet tea steamed as she poured herself a cup and sipped silently.

“There, done,” Elwin said confidently and set the quill down. He spent a moment scrutinizing the line of sigils he had drawn, bringing the bone right up to his face to inspect it. His furrowed forehead relaxed after a moment, and he carefully placed the bone down on the towel Pearl had used to dry them.

“When the ink is done drying, we can start the next step.”

It didn’t take long. Coral hadn’t managed to sip her way through half her cup before Elwin decided that the ink was dry enough and they could begin. He pulled out a long vial then dropped the first chicken bone in, then forced the second one with some effort. They weren’t particularly big, and after a few moments of cautious scrabbling, the two bones sat side by side in the narrow glass vial.

Coral wasn’t thrilled about this part of the ritual. She held her hand out to Elwin, exposing the fleshy part of her palm and stretching out her fingers. Elwin snorted and took a hold of her wrist.

“I’m not cutting your hand, that’s idiotic. Your hand has a lot of nerves and is a lot more sensitive. It hurts more, and any wounds will constantly pull open as you move. It’s not fun,” Elwin explained.

He flipped her hand over and pulled out a thin, pointed knife. “This will hurt a bit. I’ll make a small puncture in your arm near your elbow. I’ll have to be quick so I can catch as much as possible.”

Pearl looked a little sick. Coral felt much the same.

“Ready?” Elwin asked.

Coral nodded once. Elwin moved swiftly, his arm darting in and out before she could blink. There was a brief sharp pain, and she flinched without meaning to. Elwin pressed the vile against her arm. Coral searched for something to keep her mind from the sensation. She looked up at the ceiling and counted the cobwebs they had yet to wipe away. She would need a ladder to reach the high ceiling.

“All done,” Elwin said a moment later. Coral let out a heavy sigh.

“It’s a very small cut, and it isn’t bleeding a lot,” Pearl said

“We don’t need a lot, just enough to coat the bones,” Elwin said, stoppering the top with cork. He shook the contents around, ensuring the bones were covered before placing the vial at the centre of the table.

Coral looked down at her arm, the small puncture wound had already stopped bleeding. Pearl passed a small tin of salve she produced from a pocket to Coral, then went to look for some gauze they kept in the kitchen in case of any accidents. Coral absently dabbed the salve onto her arm, wincing a little.

“How long should the bones soak for?” Pearl asked, prodding the vial into the center of the table for them to all stare into like it was some morbid display for their amusement.

“At least an hour. The longer the better. I wonder if you can reuse the blood,” Elwin said thoughtfully. He pulled the book towards him and flicked through a few pages ahead. “I don’t recall seeing anything about that. Probably because its deeper into necromancy law than what’s strictly necessary to know.”

“I’d say you could until the blood is rancid, based on the pickled entrails you’ve found here,” Coral said.

Pearl squeaked out in protest and cupped her hands over her ears. “Don’t tell me that. I don’t want to know the awful things you found!”

“I’d wager that necromancers are all masochists if they fancy bleeding themselves dry,” Coral continued, ignoring Pearl’s dignified squeak.

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” Elwin said. “That’s not even anything to blink at from what I’ve read before. Sacrificial rituals, torture, blood magic, the use of-“

“Alright, that really is enough,” Pearl said, smacking a hand hard against the surface of the table. She turned her head and gave Coral a hard look. “I don’t want us to get in any more trouble than we already could be from doing this. Let’s change the subject. Let’s talk about the curse that’s on you now.”

Coral scoffed and picked up her tea to sip the last of the now cold contents. “I’d rather not,” she said into her cup.

“Well, I want to,” Pearl crossed her arms and tried to look haughty. She looked like a cranky duckling.

“What’s there to talk about. I’ve been cursed with filth. Each day I’ve noticed I’ve gotten a little dirty, in the grand scheme of things it’s not that bad. I’ll have to do a bit more washing than normal.”

“It’s inconvenient and malicious, that’s what it is,” Pearl said indignantly. Her face fell into something softer as she searched Coral’s face then flicked up to the bun where her hair was surely trying to escape from.

“Doctor Thornheart can help you with removing the curse,” Elwin said, looking between the two. “She did it once to help Mr. Wiggy when he chopped down an old fey marked tree. The man was cursed to eat dirt whenever he was hungry. It was the absurdist thing I’ve seen in a long time. I saw him sit there with a big ol’ pie in his hand, mouth open, he’d take a bite, and then proceed to spit out a mouthful of dirt. Didn’t matter what he ate, it always turned into dirt. He lived off of mead for about a week before Doctor Thornheart could set him right.”

“He lived off of dirt for a week,” Pearl said bemusedly. “How awful.”

“He mostly drank, dirt isn’t especially good coming back up the second time either. I wouldn’t have to experience it to tell you that. The poor man was starved by the end of it, and even then, the fey creature that had lived in the old tree still came after him, or so Mr. Wiggy says. Pinches his tools and bites holes in his clothes. Truthfully, I think Mr. Wiggy does it to himself just so he has something to complain about.”

“How unfortunate for Mr. Wiggy,” Pearl said softly, though there was the lightest tone of amusement to her words.

“Mr. Wiggy is the carpenter in Direwood, no?” Coral asked.

“He is.”

“Shouldn’t he have known better to not damage a fey marked tree then?” Coral asked.

“He should. Don’t know what possessed him to do such a thing,” Elwin said with a small shrug.

Probably drinking by the sounds of it. This didn’t bode well at all for his services. Still, he was the only carpenter, and she was in no position to be choosy. Coral sipped at her cup to stop herself from commenting on her thoughts of the man. She could still be, hopefully, surprised.

“Do you know what Doctor Thornheart does to remove the curse?” Pearl asked.

Elwin shook his head. “No idea. You’ll have to engage her for her services.”

“Does Doctor Thornheart stay in Direwood, she is a witch after all. Her services would be highly sought after,” Coral said aloud thoughtfully.

It was highly unusual for a town to host so many people with valued skills. Crowcaller was a notable Adventurer, and what was more, there were other named Adventurer’s here in Direwood too. Silas, the Unbroken Seolfor, and another member of his pack, Darius brown - The Shepherd. It was then that Coral appreciated the irony of Darius Brown’s title, seeing has he was a werewolf. A whole pack of werewolves living in the outer parts of the world wasn’t unheard of, in general they relished a challenge and what was more challenging than facing monsters that appeared out of the wilds. Not to mention, Lord Acheron who owned the majority of the land around Direwood. Still, Direwood was filled with much more notable individuals than she would have first guessed.

“She comes and goes. She tries to stay as long as possible in town, she likes it here much more than the city. Always doing one thing or another. She’s been collecting rare herbs and the like for a while now. If you ask me, I think she’s got some big research she’s trying to keep hushed up,” Elwin said, his eyes alight.

“Shouldn’t you keep that to yourself then,” Coral said.

Elwin grinned and shrugged. “Who are you going to tell?” he said unrepentantly.

Coral narrowed her eyes at Elwin then sipped at her tea. He had a point. Coral and Pearl were new here; she didn’t know many people and was unsure of her relationships with the people she did know. Coral liked to think that she could count Crowcaller as a friend, strained as it was through engaging the Adventurer’s guild for its help with the ghoul. But she wasn’t in town enough to truly interact much with the people here. There was Elwin who was lovely, friendly, and may as well be one of the biggest gossips in town. He had already spread word that she was cursed.

Coral needed to remedy this, and quickly. Coral wanted to make her new life here successful, but she couldn’t completely do it on her own. She certainly couldn’t count Orvil Norwood as a friend.

There was a brief lull in the conversation as Coral mulled over her social standing. Pearl scrunched her nose up in distaste at the vial. “This really is awful. I hope this works,” she said quietly.

“As do I,” Coral placed her empty cup on the table. “I have to say Elwin, I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of work.”

“What, necromancy?” Elwin said with a grin.

“An Adventurer,” Coral said, thinking about the stinging in her arm. Getting mauled by a ghoul and stabbing her arm to speak to the dead really wasn’t something she would pursue in her future.

“How much training do you have left?” Pearl asked interestedly.

“Three more years,” Elwin said brightly. “I’m looking forward the most to my last year of training. We are approved to conduct our own expeditions or investigations set by the guild. I’m determined to earn myself a name by the end of my first year as a fully fledged Adventurer. Then its all up from there. Every part of the world will know my name,” Elwin said, his chin tilted high.

“I’ll be cheering you on. Don’t forget us on your worldly travels when you become famous,” Pearl said with a smile.

Elwin winked at her. They talked further on Elwin’s training, how he liked sword fighting the best, and he was willing to speak about how being a werewolf aided him in his speed and strength. He was naturally a lot stronger than your average person, and twice as fast as any other apprentice in the guild, even the Ruesong boys, who were also werewolves. He expressed his excitement for the Night of the Undead, reminding Coral of how much work was still ahead of her. She couldn’t quite grasp why Elwin would be so excited until he explained that he was allowed to fight alongside the other Adventurer’s for field experience. After Elwin finished taking them through the finer points of his training, Coral prodded the vial on the table.

“Have we waited long enough?” Coral asked. The bones didn’t look any different to her. She wasn’t sure if they were supposed to look altered in some way or not, other than painted red in her blood.

Elwin peered into the vial then pushed it towards Coral. “I suppose we can always try and find out.”

Coral grimaced as she pulled the cork from the top, then paused. “Shouldn’t we do this in the nursery, rather than the kitchen?”

“If it pleases you, though I don’t think it makes a difference. It doesn’t summon the dead. It’s a communication tool. You need to ensure continuous contact with the bone otherwise the connection is lost.”

“Very well,” Coral said. Before she could lose her nerve, she shook the vial so that a chicken bone, still wet with blood, fell into her hand. The bone pulsed unpleasantly as she held it up, her shoulders tense as she looked around expectantly. There was no sound.

“Do you hear anything?” Pearl asked quietly, her fingers pressed into her round cheeks.

Coral blinked and looked around the kitchen, straining her ears. “I don’t hear anything. Should I say something in particular?”

“I’m not sure. You could introduce yourself? Perhaps we should go up to the nursery after all. How long does this spell work for, ten minutes did you say?” Pearl said looking around, as though she half expected an incorporeal form to appear.

“That’s my best guess,” Elwin said, staring hard at the bone in Coral’s hand.

Coral cleared her throat and felt rather foolish as she spoke aloud. “Good afternoon. My name is Coral Seaver, and I am the owner of this manor. Is there anyone here?”

There was an odd ringing in her ears as she spoke, the pressure building as though she were underwater. A breathy whisper came from somewhere behind her, and she turned her head to try to catch it.

“…Ask,” said a woman, though it was far away.

“Coral, can you hear something?” Pearl asked, her eyes wide.

Coral twisted in her seat, she was sure she heard a breathy voice come from behind her, then, as her hand tightened into a fist around the bone, voices filled the room.

“I don’t think she can hear us,”

“Stupid child, playing with this kind of magic. She’ll get herself killed.”

“Throw a plate at them again, get her attention that way.”

“I can’t. The time has passed.”