Solomon knelt in a dark chamber, only the soft glow of moonlight shining through the windows providing illumination.

Had he been a few centuries younger, sweat would have been dripping from his brow and soaking his dark hair. Instead, he merely felt like he’d dragged a mountain on his back.

The dark room smelled of lavender and stone and age. His Master had used it for centuries, though he’d only used it as a focus room. He hadn’t needed the aids Solomon did to bring out all of the Barrow King’s Mantle. But when it came to the Mantle, Solomon was a child playing with his father's sword compared to his late Master.

A cloud passed from in front of the moon, causing a stray beam to light up the stone floor.

Runes and sigils had been painstakingly carved across its surface.

It had been difficult finding a mage who could make the correct runes, and Solomon had been forced to deal with some truly unsavory characters. Though the necromancers were just the start if his plan was to work.

One more push, then I can rest.

Solomon reached deep, pulling at the cold heart of power in his chest.

The cold green sparked and slowly spread through the runes. The power was small and worn out from hours of work, but it would be enough.

It spread, lighting the runes up one by one. As the light pushed back the dark, the design of the circle became clear.

Chains.

One for shades of the past, long and thin, it stretched around the entire room.

Three for the undead, sturdy but simple, they wrapped around the eye of the circle.

And lastly, one for his cunning prey. This chain belonged on a ship's anchor, each link thicker than Solomon’s hand.

It stretched around the middle of the room, its thick links glowing the brightest of all.

Even with this chain, he wasn’t sure how much control he would have over the beast. He might not be able to do more than point it and hope for the best.

His pale hands clenched into fists, and his magic pulsed.

Eight days. He had eight days until the summit. The thick chain would either be mastered by then, or Solomon would have to accept hoping for the beast to go where pointed.

No, that’s not good enough. I didn’t spend this much time on control chains only to let innocents die now.

Solomon poured all of his will into the task, forcing the chains to forge faster.

This would work.

And if it didn’t? If it didn’t, Solomon would have another sin to add to the tally.

~<>~<>~

Walking back through the Pass was easier than the first way through.

It wasn’t pleasant, mind you, but there was a shield of apathy on the way back, a sense of ‘been there done that’ that the first trip lacked.

And there was another thing different about the trip back. There was none of the caution and uncertainty between Blair and me. I knew where we stood.

And so it was actually pleasant to feel the hostile weight of Grumpy’s aura, since it meant we were almost home.

“Hey, you old bastard. I missed you too. A little.”

The malice pulsed but parted to allow us through.

Blair had tensed up, still completely unnerved by Grumpy, which was definitely the proper reaction to his presence.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“I would run home if I wasn’t so tired,” I said with a smile.

Blair laughed. “I can’t wait to have a properly cooked meal.”

This close to home, the distance to the graveyard felt longer than the entire Pass, but when its wrought iron fence came into view… words fail to describe how welcome the sight was.

I laughed and started to run to the gate, but quickly decided that wasn’t a good idea. I hadn’t taken any more beatings on the way back, but my body still felt like a mile of bad road.

“Careful,” Blair said with a frown.

“I am careful. All my bumps and bruises are from plain bad luck.”

She quirked a brow. “Hmm.”

“Hey! I really am careful!”

Blair’s response was cut off by Rodgers booming voice. “Alder!”

The man floated over from the house, his bushy red beard split in a wide grin.

“No splints, missing hair, or obvious blood! A successful trip, I see.”

I nodded. “It was indeed. Blair here now holds the voucher of the ghosts of Silver Spruce.”

Blair inclined her head towards Rodgers’ general direction.

“Oh, Rodgers, you're invisible.” He started, then laughed. A moment later, Blair blinked, then focused on Rodgers.

“My apologies, Miss Northwoods. I don’t often need to unveil myself with Alder around.”

Blair shook her head. “No need for that. It’s fine. I had almost forgotten that ghosts could choose to be seen.”

Rodgers nodded. “Not all of us can. But most of the sane ones figure it out after a while. Especially if they want to stay that way. Not being able to interact with the living at all is a quick path to oblivion.”

“I would imagine.”

The small black cat was apparently still sticking around as it pattered down from behind a gravestone.

He went straight to Blair, rubbing against her legs and letting out a small purr.

The werewolf blinked, then crouched down to pet the cat.

“Jack is friendly to everyone so far.”

“Jack?”

Rodgers shrugged. “I liked the name.”

I looked down at the little black cat, who met my gaze with a “Meow?”

I took off my pack then crouched down to pet him with Blair. “Well, I’m not opposed to having a cat.”

Jack purred louder.

Blair seemed entranced as she pet the cat. “Cats are really hit or miss with werewolves. If they haven’t been around them before, they usually hate us.”

Jack backed up a few steps and seemed to size up Blair.

Then he crouched and leaped onto her shoulder. He moved from her shoulder to the top of her pack, then curled up into a ball.

Blair rose to her feet, careful not to jostle the cat.

“Alright. He is pretty cute.”

Blair smiled, then seemed to come to herself. “We’re back in cell reception now!” She pulled out her phone and quickly typed out a message, her fingers flying across the screen.

Did they make screens more durable for werewolves and other spooks? I’d never seen those before, but it would make sense.

“I need to get back to my Pack. We only have eight days until the summit.”

Blair paused, then turned to me. “You should come celebrate with us later today. There are still things to get in order, but we have a Vote now, so everything else is minor details in comparison.”

I hesitated. Why hesitate? My instinctive reaction was to say no, but when I pushed past that, Blair’s offer sounded…nice.

You’ve become too much of a recluse.

“Ahh, I’d love to. What time do you want me to stop by?”

She checked her phone. “How about six?”

“Works for me.”

Blair smiled then started walking back down the drive. She stopped, turned back, then reached behind her head.

“Don’t want to kidnap your cat.”

I took the offered cat, who curled himself against my chest a moment later.

I looked down at him. “You are awfully friendly for a stray.”

“Meow.”

“Fair enough.”

I waved to Blair, then turned to a smiling Rodgers. “Why the grin?”

“No reason at all.”

I eyed him but let it drop. Instead, I turned in a slow circle, just basking in the sight of the graveyard.

Home. I was home.

The damp air clung to my skin, and the dark clouds overhead promised rain—fitting weather for a graveyard. I took a deep breath, tasting the soil and pine.

Jack purred in my arms, and Rodgers was humming softly on my left.

Home.

I sighed and gently set the cat down. “Alright, that’s enough basking. Time for a shower.”