Aneira fell into the seat of their study. A gnawing guilt in their stomach for going off on Bellaire, knowing she didn’t deserve it. But their feelings were in overload and they had no more energy to give. Which led them to hiding away in the study where they knew Bellaire wouldn’t look for them right away. It gave them time to calm down.

“Knock, knock?” The Queen’s ghostly voice said as she entered. “May I enter?”

“You may.” Aneira said as they sat up straight. “May I sincerely apologize for-”

“No, no. You don’t need to apologize.” The Queen said, hanging her head and holding her hands together. “I am the one who should be apologizing. I shouldn’t have acted so rashly.”

“I understand. It was a very harsh thing that I said. I apologize, I believe Starkon has the best interests of his kingdom in heart. But he may be a bit misguided by tradition.” Aneira said, staying honest. “It’s something I promise I will work on.”

“You are too kind, it blinds you.” The Queen said. “I appreciate your willingness to help others. But I have been watching, and I wonder. Who helps you?”

“I do.” Aneira said without pause. “I have responsibilities. They come first.”

“You have a good sense of honor. But not of self. Where do you begin and your responsibility end?” The Queen asked. Aneira looked at the wood on the desk.

“I don’t know.” They said, “Maybe someday I will find out.” The Queen shook her head.

“I felt much the same way when my first husband died.” The Queen sighed. “And look what it brought me, a son who thinks of nothing but himself.”

“I never said that.” Aneira said quickly.

“No I did.” The Queen said. “I’ve kept an eye on him a few days, I know it’s true. I failed as a mother.”

“No.” aneira said, though they didn’t have much experience to say. “And you can’t blame yourself, he’s still young, he can turn it around.” The Queen nodded sadly. Aneira watched helplessly, Not knowing what to say or how to console her.

“I’m sorry,” Aneira said finally. “I don’t know what to say. I wish there was something I could do. Some way I could talk to my mother and see if they’re proud of me.”

“Perhaps there is something you can do.” The Queen said. “If I could only speak to my son, just one more time. You could do that, couldn’t you?” Aneira stared in shock. Unsure what to say.

“I could.” Aneira said, shaking off the shock. “I could try.”

“I know it’s so much to ask, but I-”

“I think I understand.” Aneira said.

“Don’t overwork yourself on my account.” The Queen warned. “Rest when you need it.”

“If I rest, I get lazy.” Aneira said, standing up. “Now. I’ve never done this before so let’s not hold our breath.” Aneira took a deep breath and filled all their lungs. They channeled all the energy they had into their hands. Visualizing what they wanted and pushing it to the Queen. FIlling her ghostly form. The windows frosted over and a frozen mist filled the room.

“Aneira!”

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Aneira heard Roskva’s voice and the mist turned to ice. The room froze over the windows all shattered. They turned and in the doorway was Roskva, with Starkon and Bellaire. The pieces of frosted glass stilled in the air. A rumble of thunder like the roar of an army stormed across the skies. Amidst it all, Aneira heard the whispers of something in the distance. Something that was coming closer.

“What?” Roskva asked in disbelief, the scars over her face itched. Her blind eye opened and through her fringe there were thousands of figures in the room. “Who?”

“What sorcery is this?” Starkon asked, taking Roskva back away from Aneira.

“I-I can explain,” Aneira said. Though they had no idea how they would.

“Stay back, Roskva!” Starkon pushed Roskva back farther.

“No! Aneira wouldn never-” Roskva tried to protest but the world grew colder around them. Ghostly ice clawing out of the study and up onto the ceiling. Aneira’s heart quickened, panic ripped their thoughts apart as they heard the whispers of the river creeping in. The frost creeping out from the study inched closer toward Roskva. Aneira only saw their sister drowning in the ghostly river.

“Get back!” Aneira yelled, creating a line of mist and ice that forced Bellaire, Roskva, and Starkon out of the study and away from them. Aneira couldn’t breathe but they didn’t know what to say anyway. The whispers grew louder and Aneira did the only thing they could think to do. They ran.

Hoping the river would follow them and leave their sister alone. On the other side of the ice wall Roskva tore out of Starkon’s grip, trying to see what was happening. The reflection of Aneira fleeing through the ice made Roskva pivot to follow.

“Let them go!” Starkon yelled, grabbing Roskva’s arm.

“They’re my sibling!” Roskva yelled, throwing him off.

“Roskva, you don’t understand-” Bellaire called as she tried to reach Roskva but she was already off. “Catch her!” Roskva pursued Aneira through the halls and out the doors of the palace.

The streets were covered in mist. Once Roskva hit the main road of the city, she couldn’t see anything or anyone.

“Aneira!” She yelled but there was no answer. She jumped when Starkon grabbed her and pulled her back into the courtyard. The mist stayed just on the outside of the walls.

“What’s happening?” Roskva whispered.

“I don’t know,” Starkon said. A shadow in the mist came closer, it broke through to show the city baker. Skin like ash and eyes completely white. They wandered aimlessly, like a corpse.

“The city! The people!” Starkon’s jaw dropped and his grip on Roskva’s shoulders tightened.

“Do you see them?” Roskva whispered, she pushed her hair out of her face. Using her blind eye to see the blank eyed people in the mist. They came and went but with more awareness then the wandering corpses.

“See who? Aneira?” Starkon asked.

“No. them.” Roskva whispered. Pushing farther back into Starkon. Her skin raising as a much bigger shadow came through the mist.

“What is that?” Bellaire drew her sword as she ran up behind the pair. Stepping in front to defend them. The ghostly corpse of a long dead warrior emerged from the shadows.

Do’laeth

The creature spoke in a single rasp of breath. Gurgling as it breathed, as if drowning. It raised a bony finger and leveled it at Roskva.

Laetha

“ROskva. My name is Roskva.” Roskva said, but the corpse clenched a sword of ethereal ice so tightly it’s joints cracked.

“Back up! Go back to the palace!” Bellaire commanded. The undead raised it’s sword and struck. Bellaire lunged to parry but her weapon shattered the second it came into contact with the ice blade. Bellaire stumbled back. Dropping the now useless hilt. The wolves flooded the courtyard, surrounding Roskva and Starkon on the steps.

“Our weapons can’t fight it.” Bellaire said to the captain, standing next to her. “They break on contact.”

“Then we need to take it down in one hit.” The Captain drew his own sword.

“How do you kill a corpse?” Bellaire asked.

“With fire!” Shouted one of the men, he launched a lantern that shattered at the corpse’ feet. Flames burst from the glass but hissed and extinguished in the mist.

“Didn’t even make it pause.” Bellaire started backing up. The other soldiers did the same.

A sudden surge of mist burst forth from the palace doors and windows. Storming through the soldiers and creating a barrier around the palace. The mist refined into the silhouettes of the palace’s dead. Ghosts of servants, staff, guards, and nobles hand in hand. Bellaire dropped to her knees as her family stood before her.

“I recognize these men.” The captain whispered. His grip trembled.

“You should, Captain.” The ghostly queen appeared at the bottom of the steps.

“Mother,” Starkon asked, leaving Roskva’s side.

“I wish I had time, but Aneira only gave me a little strength.” The Queen said, hovering her hand next to his face.

“She was giving you strength? So I could see you again?” He asked, eyes tearing up. His mother nodded.

Laetha

The gurgling corpse called again. It’s sword raised and swung at the barrier of ghosts. Bellaire screamed, covering her eyes. She couldn’t bear to watch her family beheaded twice. A ringing sound reverberated off the walls. Bellaire dared open her eyes and saw the ice sword rebounding from the ghost-made wall. LEaving the spirits making it unharmed.