“Sit down!” A thick, tan hand slammed against the heavy stone table nestled in the central room of the Longbottom Plantation’s secret sub-basement. A huge man with salt and pepper hair, a very bushy mustache, and dressed in blue finery with protective runes sewn into the fabric towered over the two men who quickly took their seats.
“Maxwell, my dear boy, do you know who lived here before us?”
The older of the two seated, late in his thirties, shifted uncomfortably. He wore dark leather armor enchanted to silence his movement, and even his chair shifting made no noise. His hair was dark and cut in the same fashion as his father, and he sported a wispy mustache in the vain attempt at mimicry.
“The Longbottoms?”
“An extensive halfling family, with ties even up to the Guildmaster himself. How could such a well-connected family give up all of this potential wealth to us?”
Admon, the red-haired man in the other chair, quietly raised his hand. He was still in the now slightly disheveled suit he had worn to the Zandar auction and ball.
“I know you know this, Admon, I am addressing your brother.”
“I don’t know,” Max’s eyes dropped to the table. The same hand that struck the table wrapped around his neck and lifted him until his feet dangled an inch from the floor.
“YOU DON’T KNOW?!” Raynard plunged his other fist into Maxwell’s gut as he released him, launching him into the reinforced wall. Choking wheezing came from the crumpled form as Raynard straightened his suit.
“The Longbottoms were ruthless slavers who hid their activities for long enough to become entrenched in the politics of the Guild. A family discovered what they were up to and they disappeared. Every. Single. One of them. Come sit down.”
Maxwell stood slowly and returned to his seat in a route that kept him as far from his father as possible.
“They had dirt on everyone who made the kinds of decisions that would have gotten them in trouble, and created it when there wasn’t any.” Raynard sat down in the chair opposite them.
“One day the Guildmaster had enough, and he sent a few of his Agents to take them out. None returned. So he sent more. Same result. Eventually, he just dedicated himself to stopping them when and where he could.” He paused, looking at each of them individually. “But then one day the word gets around that Blue-Eye wanted out of the Agency, out of Penumbra. Training like that is costly and time consuming, so Agents are in for the long haul. Dedicated. But he found something he was more dedicated to than the Guild. So, the Guildmaster gave him the impossible task. The bodies he stacked up that week laid the foundation for where we are today.”
He clenched both fists. “I received a message from Blue-Eye today.” The two brothers swallowed hard. “Had a nice chat with him. His wife had just been killed by the very Agency he once worked for. The one person he was dedicated to more than the Agency. His. Singular. Focus.” He pulled his arms back and gripped the edge of the table so hard they heard it creak. “And I find out, from him, almost a year to the day after his retirement, that my very own son is the person who put out the contract that killed her. WITH MY OWN DRAKA!”
"It wasn't me!" Admon stood and backed up against the wall as the table splintered just a few feet from his head. Maxwell focused on a small stone at his feet.
"If I hadn't promised your mother I'd look after you, you'd be left tied up in front of the Guildhall with a bow on your head."
Max stirred and glared up at his father, “She nearly ruined us!”
Raynard clenched his fist to strike his son again, but took a steadying breath instead. “I know, son. The problem wasn’t that our contract was nullified, but why, and for whom.”
“Our engagement contract must not have really been nullified,” Admon said, “or the approval for Penumbra would never have happened.”
A look of surprise crossed Raynard’s face, “I - I hadn’t considered that. Why did the Guildmaster allow such a thing?”
Maxwell nodded in appreciation to Admon when his father wasn’t looking, “I don’t know, they never told me why it was approved, only that it was.”
“You will stay here, in the safety of this room, until I can get this sorted out.” He raised a finger to stop the incoming protest.
----------------------------------------
Steam rose from the fresh cups of coffee that rested on Bartle's kitchen table. An unnaturally beautiful woman with skin the color of a walnut tree and small leaves growing throughout her mossy hair sat next to Bartle opposite Syler after setting the mugs down.
"Thank you, dear," Bartle said.
"Thanks, Morrigan."
"Anytime."
“That satyr Ryn you sent my way seems nice.”
“Yeah, he's a pro at gathering information. And I was peripherally involved in the event that killed his husband a few years back. Thanks for getting him to the right people.”
"It's no trouble at all. What did you find out?"
Syler sipped thoughtfully before answering. "Maxwell Lawson, the brother of the man who was politically engaged to Cara before we got together."
"The Lawson's run Longbottom Plantation after…"
"After I retired."
Bartle nodded.
"That's the problem. They have surely improved the antiquated defenses since I was last there. I barely survived it last time."
"So we need info."
"And," Syler took a deep breath, "I need help.”
“We’ll help however we can,” Bartle said. “I know you won’t stop until it’s done, and I don’t want to see you die.”
“Thank you. I need to go to the Circle.”
Morrigan shook her head, “They aren’t fond of you since you took Cara.”
“I didn’t take her, she chose love over politics.”
“Calista doesn’t see it that way.”
“But I now have something she wants, and I need a token for entry.”
“Are you sure you can remain civil when speaking to them?”
“I’m really more concerned about her,” Bartle said. “She is… stubborn.”
“Just like her daughter,” Syler said.
“Giving you my token tells them, and her, that I am granting you entry, and forgiveness,” Morrigan said as she raised a hand, the Nature rune creating a walnut with the letter ‘M’ embossed across it. “Do not mar my reputation.”
Syler gingerly took the walnut, turned her hand and kissed the top. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Do you mind if I take a nap here?”
“Of course not. The guest room is free. You remember where it is?” Syler nodded and stepped away, taking the stairs up to the landing that surrounded the sitting room.
Bartle called out after him, “And please shower.”
After they heard the shower begin, Bartle said, “Are you sure about giving him the token, my dear?”
“Yes. If I didn’t, the Circle would have tried trapping him or holding him hostage. And I couldn’t imagine him going along with that.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Exactly. He would kill many and probably die trying to get back to the city.”
Bartle nodded. "He's likely going to need assistance beyond the token."
"And you want to help him?"
"I do. He has never hesitated to do the same for us."
"What if it becomes too dangerous?"
Bartle downed the rest of his coffee, "Our lives are worth more than his revenge. I'll try to get everyone out of this alive, but I won’t let him sacrifice myself or others for this."
----------------------------------------
After Syler had awoken several hours later, he said his goodbyes and began his trek north to the Henge of the Ancients, the home of the druidic Circle. Cara's old stomping grounds.
He summoned Tootsie after he had stepped from the northeastern outer gate, infusing her with enough shadow magic that he had to look up at her.
“Ready to run, buddy?”
He leapt onto her back, gripped her black fur tightly, and began his ride out northeast from the Valance District. The road ran parallel to the edge of the Lyrah Forest. Two days on the road before turning away west into the forest.
The forest was never really Syler's preferred locale, though Cara had taught him much during their time together. The dense forest embraced him with an aura of ancient wisdom and tranquility as he approached the druids' sacred grove. The Henge of the Ancients.
As he neared the grove, Syler was met by a group of druids, their dark brown, fur lined armors blending with the lush surroundings. Their eyes, filled with curiosity and cautious skepticism, settled upon him. The archdruid, Calista, stepped forward with an aura of both authority and coldness.
“Syler. You are not the first shadowling to visit us this tenday. Should I be concerned?” Calista’s voice rang out clearly, not hindered by the thick forest around them. There was no kindness in it.
“How do they fare?”
“Answer my question first.”
“You needn’t be concerned with us. In fact, you’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
“I doubt it.”
“How do they fare?” Syler asked again.
“The small one was fine before they arrived, and the deoful will be within the tenday. They brought exactly what they needed for the limb regeneration,” she stared pointedly at Syler.
“I told them the price for such things.”
“You freely give our secrets to others.”
“You’ve met Winny and Destin before, and you are currently helping them now. If you didn’t like or trust them you would have turned them away or tried to chase them off.”
Calista just stood glaring at him. He drew out the walnut with the M emblazoned on it and held it out in his open palm. She took it and turned it over in her hand. “Morrigan’s token?”
“I wish to speak with you, to all of you.”
She handed the walnut to the druid standing next to her, a dwarf with green hair and leaves interwoven into his beard, his emerald gemstone eyes glittering as he soundlessly tucked it away. “Five minutes.” She spun on her heels and walked back into the grove. Syler nodded and followed after.
The Henge of the Ancients stood as a sacred sanctuary nestled deep within the lush and untamed forest. As Syler approached the Henge, the verdant canopy of ancient trees opened up to reveal a breathtaking sight that seemed to transcend time and space. At the heart of the grove, weathered and towering standing stones surrounded a circular clearing, their surfaces adorned with intricate carvings depicting the history of the druidic Circle. These stones, known as the ‘Ancients,’ were said to hold the wisdom and memories of generations past. As the sun rises and sets, the stones cast mystical shadows upon the ground, painting a living tapestry of nature's eternal dance.
The air within the Henge was charged with a palpable aura of serenity and energy, emanating from the natural ley lines that intersect beneath the ancient stones. Vibrant flora of every hue flourished around the clearing, their roots seemingly interconnected with the wisdom of the land. The soothing symphony of nature's harmonies resonated through the air, composed of the gentle rustling of leaves, the distant calls of woodland creatures, and the whispering winds that carried the secrets of the forest.
Enchanted wildlife, both mundane and mystical, roamed freely, sensing the druids' benevolence. Luminous fireflies danced around the circle of stones, and flocks of vibrant birds soared gracefully overhead. Rare and elusive creatures, guardians of the grove, were rumored to appear to those deemed worthy by the Ancients.
At the heart of the Henge, beneath an awe-inspiring ancient oak tree, stood a stone altar where the druids gathered to perform sacred rituals and seek guidance from the spirits of nature. Its surface was etched with symbols representing the elements, the seasons, and the delicate balance of the world.
The druids' dwellings blended harmoniously with nature, appearing as intricately designed treehouses and earthen huts. Each abode boasted living walls adorned with vines and flowers, as if the very forest itself embraced the druids' homes.
As Syler followed the group of druids, others began to gather around. He nodded at Winny and Destin, who were seated on a moss covered bench alongside one of the enormous stones. A tiny arm was already growing from Destin's stump.
Calista reached the altar, her retinue fanned out around the tree, and she spun to face Syler. "Five minutes."
Syler stood very still as he spoke, his normal eye focused on Calista as the other scanned around the whole area. "It's been a month and a few days since Cara was killed."
"By one of your own," Calista said.
"By a member of Penumbra, yes. During this time I have been looking for the person responsible, as the Agency typically wouldn't send Agents for nullified contracts. I now know who is the responsible party."
Silence dropped across the grove as even the animals listened intently.
“Maxwell Lawson.” Whispers rustled through the crowd. “He claimed breach of contract.”
Calista’s eyes narrowed. “The engagement contract?”
“The one I had nullified.”
“Longbottom Plantation.”
Syler nodded. “Kagun permitted the writ. I don’t know why yet, but I will find out.”
“And why come to us with this information?”
“I need your help.”
Her expression went neutral, “We will not be conspiratorial in your murder plot.”
“Not even to avenge one of your own?”
Tears flowed down her cheeks, but her tone stayed cold, “Surely you do not think we have not spoken at great length about what to do if we were to receive this information. You are operating unsanctioned by the Guild, I take it?”
“His death’s not yet approved, but that’s one of my next stops. The information was gathered legitimately.”
“It does not change that this is a fool’s errand.”
“I will get it approved.”
The green haired Dwarf chimed in, “You are not one of us, and you want us to risk our lives for you.”
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
“I want you to risk your lives for Cara. I agree that this is a fool’s errand. That’s why I came to ask for help. I can’t do it alone.”
Winny and Destin walked over to the front of the crowd, disappearing into the shadows and stepping out from Syler’s. “We will help,” Winny said.
Destin grasped Syler’s shoulder, “I owe you that much at least.”
“Thank you.” Syler said.
“And now you have help,” Calista said smugly, “surely the four of you are more than capable.”
“We don’t know natural magic like you do.”
“Clearly.”
“I see where Cara got her stubbornness.”
“Your time is up, shadow-walker.”
Syler squared up his shoulders, took a steadying breath, and said, “I invoke the Trial of the Ancient Veil.”
The dwarf scoffed, but Calista tilted her head in curiosity, “That takes at least a month to complete by people who have completed druidic training. It will take you even longer, if you can complete it at all.”
“I’ll take as long as I must for her sake.”
“Give us a moment. Council,” Calista stepped away from the altar and several high ranking druids followed behind. The crowd erupted in discussion of the events of the day.
Syler turned to face Winny and Destin.
“Are you sure about this?” Winny asked.
“Yes. It’s the only way to earn their help.”
“So, you’ll be gone a month at least. What do you want us to do while you’re here?”
“Find out as much as you can about the security improvements the Lawsons put into the plantation. Keep Bartle Shipwright informed of what you’ve discovered. He’ll be helping us, too.”
“Simple enough.”
“And any information on why Kagun would have approved the writ.”
“Of course,” Destin shook Syler’s hand. “Penumbra guide you.”
“Don’t die out here,” WInny said, pulling him down into a hug.
“I won’t.”
Winny and Destin said their goodbyes to the druids who helped them and left the grove towards the road to the east. Syler kneeled onto the soft moss, resting his hands on his knees as he sat on his feet, staring ahead to where Calista had gone. He took several steadying breaths, taking in the scent of the colorful flora around him. He patted Tootsie's enormous flank, pulling the shadow back into his tattoos. Her little yellow form immediately began sniffing everything in sight.
A young girl, by his reckoning only six or seven years old, scampered over while her father wasn’t looking and sat next to Syler, reaching her hand out to Tootsie. Tootsie, after a brief glance and affirming nod, sniffed her hand gingerly before flopping over onto her side. The girl happily gave her belly rubs. Syler smiled in spite of himself.
Calista and the others returned to the central clearing, and the girl scampered back into the crowd. Tootsie groaned in protest as the scritches stopped, so Syler absentmindedly crouched to continue them as he watched Calista.
“Because of your relationship with my daughter, and the approval of the council, you are granted permission to complete the trial. You must first connect with nature, deeper than you have ever done before. You are to stay here in the heart of the Henge of the Ancients, immersing yourself in nature’s embrace. Twigly,” she motioned to the green-haired Dwarf, “will be your guardian. No one else is permitted to enter this area until the first part of the trial is complete.”
The druids began to scatter deeper into the woods, Calista included, but Twigly stayed behind and leaned against the huge central oak tree several feet to the left of the altar.
“This your first time being a guardian?” Syer asked.
Twigly said nothing.
The dense canopy overhead filtered the sunlight, creating a soft, dappled glow that danced upon the forest floor. Syler walked around the oak to find a secluded spot beneath the sheltering branches. He found supplies laid in a small pile and set up a simple camp. Several of the woolen blankets from the druids' circle he used to form a lean-to. He cleared a small area of leaves and began gathering small stones.
“Tootsie, help me with this, will you?” She excitedly began rooting around through the soil in search of small stones.
With his initial haul, he began laying them out into a circle, the start of his fire pit. He filled in the circle as Tootsie brought more and more stones, though he had to gather the final ones himself because she grew tired and curled up in the leaf pile, gently snoring soon after.
After completing the pit, Syler built a fire, rubbing his hands against the cold of the descending twilight. As he sat before the flames, Tootsie walked over and curled into his lap. Syler closed his eyes and took a deep breath, seeking to align himself with the rhythm of nature.
The first night was the hardest. The shadows seemed to dance around him, whispering fragments of sorrow and regret. Memories of loss and pain stirred within his heart, but he resisted the urge to push them away. Instead, he allowed the feelings to flow through him, acknowledging their existence without judgment, cleansing tears streaming down from his eye..
As the night progressed, a sense of peace washed over him. The moon rose in the sky, casting a silvery glow that highlighted the delicate beauty of the forest. Syler found himself observing the ebb and flow of life around him—the gentle sway of branches, the playful dance of fireflies, and the quiet whispers of the wind through the leaves.
----------------------------------------
The wintry wind whistled against the shuttered windows of their home. Steam feathered up from wooden bowls filled with stew resting upon the soft green tablecloth.
“The Trial of the Ancient Viel?” Syler asked as he sipped from the silver goblet etched with leaves he’d surprised Cara with the week before.
“All druid acolytes must finish it before becoming a full member of the Circle,” Cara answered between spoonfuls of stew.
“And how does one finish it?”
“It’s a test to prove your connection with nature, both internal and external. It’s different for everyone, though most of the druids experience slightly similar events.”
“Have any non-druids completed the trial?”
“I don’t know. Not sure why anyone other than a druid would want to attempt the trial, unless they needed something only Circle members can access.”
“What did you experience on your trial?”
“I learned that my mother’s shoes were not ones I needed to fill. That my life was my own. The history etched into the Ancients came alive before me, showing me the past and how it connected to my present. I came to understand my place in the natural world. And perhaps more interestingly, it showed me you.”
“Wasn’t that years before we met?”
“It was, but nonetheless I saw a man wrapped in shadow, a man whose fate was intertwined with my own. Sharp, yet gentle.”
Syler smiled and leaned over the table to kiss her. “Well, I’m glad you chose me.”
“And I would do it again, and again.”
----------------------------------------
With each passing night, Syler and Tootsie learned to communicate with the spirits of the forest in their own unique ways. While Syler walked around the Ancients meditating on the druidic history carved within, Tootsie seemed to possess an innate understanding of the woodland creatures. She would dart off into the undergrowth, only to return alongside a friendly raccoon or a curious owl perched on her back.
Syler chuckled, "You truly have a gift, Toots. You make friends wherever you go."
Tootsie wagged her stubby tail in response, her eyes shining with joy. Together, they observed the harmony of the forest, the interconnectedness of all living beings, and the constant cycle of death and renewal.
Twigly stood ever vigilant, silently leaning against the tree, never changing his position except to shift his weight from foot to foot or to bend down and pick up a stone to eat.
During the days, Syler spent the hours he wasn’t gathering and preparing food studying the area around him. His magical eye could sense the presence of strong nature magic spread all throughout the henge, most strongly at the altar. The runes etched into the altar were in the druidic language. Over time, he noticed the runes on the altar beginning to change, to rearrange, and on the fifth day of his trial, his magical eye was finally able to translate the text.
Where shadow meets light, harmony is found.
In nature's might, balance is bound.
Guided by spirits old and new
Tooth and claw, bone and sinew.
Beneath the watchful gaze of moon,
Through day and night doth we attune.
Through whispers of trees, secrets unfolding.
The spirits of nature by Druids embolden.
To wield both shadow’s and nature's rune,
You must first earn the Ancient’s boon.
The companion you keep will show the way,
Syler, be wary but do not stray.
Penumbra will be your doom
Unless you let your magic bloom.
Embrace your nature deep within
And then defeat your darker twin.
The final stage will be a test
Against the guardian you’ll be pressed.
The choice you make will push resolve
And force your viewpoint to evolve.
The altar mentioned him by name. It’s different for everyone, Cara’s voice echoed in his mind. A fight and a choice? What is the Ancient’s boon? He didn’t know, but he believed the henge would reveal it in time.
Two more days of meditation on the words of the altar passed before it happened. As he looked over the Ancient nearest to his camp, seeing a massive battle between the druids and an enormous red dragon, a sharp bark echoed through the canopy. Tootsie’s bark. He ran to where she was and saw her barking at a trio of chittering squirrels. She hated squirrels usually, but seemed more to be conversing than trying to chase them away. He kneeled next to her and watched.
Tootsie touched her nose to the soft soil and began to draw lines, the squirrels chattering along the way. She drew a symbol around a square foot area. Nature. Syler had no instances of the Nature rune throughout his shadow magic tattoos, but he recognized it from Cara’s magical workings. Once the rune was completed it glowed a dull green. Instinctually he reached his hand out, palm down, on the center of the rune.
“Y’all sure this’ll work?” a slightly deep yet feminine voice said with an accent he recognized from regions south of Sartak City, along the southern coast of the continent of Pyderon.
“Of course it will!” a much higher toned voice answered. “We know what we’re doing.”
“Ya’d better.”
It took several beats before Syler realized the barking and chittering had stopped.
“Can you understand me?” Tootsie said.
“Holy shit.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Sorry, yes. I understand you.”
“Good! We’ve only got-” she looked at the squirrels, who shrugged, “a short time before it fades.”
“I can’t believe you’re talking to me right now.”
“Well, ya need to get over that quick, because we got stuff to talk about.” Syler nodded in agreement. “First things first.” She walked over and sat in front of him. “I love ya. Pick me up.”
He did as instructed.
“Tummy rubs.”
He looked incredulously at her.
“Did I stutter?”
“No, you did not,” Syler said as he cradled her and began scratching her belly.
“That’s the good good! Walk me over to the big ass oak tree in the middle. The squirrels told me about the entry.”
“The entry?”
“Ya better give me time to explain shit to ya!” she tilted her head with her characteristic sass.
“Fair enough.”
“Like I was sayin’, about twenty-five feet up, on the opposite side of the tree from the altar, they said a shadowy door opened up yesterday. I reckoned that was right up yer alley, but had no way to tell ya, ‘til now. These squirrels really know their stuff.”
His eye trained on the area she mentioned, and sure enough the faint green glow that encompassed the area gave way to the darkness of shadow magic.
“Hey, why did you stop?” she said.
“We’re done with tummy rubs for a bit.”
“The hell we are!”
He set her down and sat next to her. “I need to ask you something.”
She huffed, but sat and nodded.
“Do you have memories in the amulet?”
She tilted her head slightly, “No. I only know time outside the amulet.”
“That’s good. Do you like the shadow infusion?”
“Of course I do! I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t.”
Syler smiled, “Also good.” He hesitated a moment. “I didn’t get the chance to ask you if you wanted to be put in the amulet. It was selfish of me, but I don’t regret it.”
“And ya shouldn’t. I’m glad ya did. I wouldn’t be around to be with you otherwise.”
“Thank you, Toots. I love you.”
“I love ya- bark!” The rune’s effect had worn off.
With tears running down his face, he patted Tootsie on the head, “You helped more than you can know, girl. Time for you to go back into the amulet for a time.”
A puff of yellow smoke later and Syler was standing alone in front of the tree, looking up at the entryway. The oak tree was gnarled enough that the climb would be a simple one. Or should be, at least.
Placing a hand on the tree, Syler felt the rough, gnarled bark. Far easier to scale than a building. He gently set his foot in a low hold and began to push himself, reaching up to set his grip. As he began climbing, he felt his armor begin to recede back into the tattoos that ran across his body, leaving him in only his undergarment. The green haze of natural magic also diminished as the power of his eye was suppressed.
“It’s all part of the trial,” Syler whispered to himself when he tried to summon the armor back and nothing happened.
Though the shadows had never troubled Syler before, the portal before him gave him a moment of hesitation. The unknown awaited him beyond, and he took a steadying breath to bolster his resolve. With a cautious movement, he extended a foot into the depths of the shadow portal, and to his surprise, an unseen force tugged him inside. The shadow runes etched onto his skin pulsed faintly, a reminder of their latent power. Even within this realm, he could see, though everything was cast in shades of grey—the distinct palette of the shadow realm. Penumbra.
Looking around, he saw that this area was not mirroring the material plane. It was a small enclosed room, with no windows or doors, and two chairs five feet apart facing each other, a stark contrast to the serene beauty of the Grove.
One chair sat empty, a silent invitation. In the other sat a figure fully enclosed in the black Penumbral armor, only his eyes visible. One of which was glowing blue.
Syler swallowed hard, walked the few feet to the chair, and sat, looking himself in the eyes.
“You’re late.”
“This has no time limit.”
A fist wrapped in black leathers smashed into his face. Syler had attempted to push back against the chair, but found it solidly stuck to the floor.
He said nothing but wiped a bit of blood from his lip.
“You’ve been hiding for too long.”
Syler’s silence remained unbroken, his eyes set with a mixture of defiance and resolve. The shadow’s words resonated with his innermost thoughts. The blow had struck a chord within him, rousing memories of his self-imposed exile and his long-neglected pursuit of justice.
“Because I chose love?”
“No. You attempted to become something you aren’t, to find inner peace where there is none.”
“She was my peace!”
The shadow figure stood. “SHE WAS THE BOX WHERE YOU HID YOUR PAIN!”
Syler stood and lashed out, striking the shadow where he had been struck moments before. The shadow figure fell back into the chair.
“No,” Syler’s tone was calm, but he let the tears flow freely, “My love for her, and hers for me, was genuine. Her death has caused more pain than- anything before.”
“Than anything before?”
Syler had to take several moments before continuing, “My parents’ death, almost starving on the streets, the absolute hell that was Penumbra training, the War of the Shard, to name a few.”
The shadow figure leaned forward, “No. That is not where your pain lies.” A surprised look. “It’s the regret. It’s why you chose to leave the only family you had ever known to attempt a new family. You thought that you’d missed out on an aspect of life that you had no business being in.”
Syler put his head in his hands, his thousand yard stare peeking out between his fingers.
“You thought you could escape the life that fate chose for you.”
He whispered, “Enough.”
“You failed. And your failure added another regret. That you’d ever met Cara.”
“ENOUGH!” Syler shouted. The mask of the shadow peeled back, revealing his own smiling face, though the smile did not reach the eyes.
It was true. Damn it all but it was true. Black tendrils began to run across his skin, his emotional pain manifesting as physical pain. He screamed, but didn’t know if it was pain or rage that fueled it. He fell to his knees and curled as he fell to the side, pain overtaking his senses.
“You don’t believe,” the voice from the shadow was no longer his own, but a softer toned woman’s voice. At the sound of her voice, the pain lessened.
Returning to a sitting position, Syler looked up and saw a black robe flowing over soft curves, flaring up to her face, a skull with a black knife stuck to the hilt through the skull’s top.
“Chaldia,” Syler whispered, pushing himself away against the wall.
Chaldia, the Lady of Death, overseer of the Veil between life and death, loomed over him. “The souls you trap in Penumbra have all been judged as worthy of such a fate.”
“Even Cara’s?” Syler spat, glaring up at her.
Ignoring his question, she continued, “Betrayers, murderers, slavers, condemned to wander the wastes of Penumbra. But that is not their final destination.”
“What do you mean?”
“If everyone killed by shadow magic stayed in Penumbra indefinitely, the plane would be overrun with shades.”
“How long do they stay?”
“As long as it takes for the shadow to purify their souls.”
“That makes no sense.”
Chaldia’s bony hand grabbed him around his neck faster than he could see the movement, and he found himself seated in the chair again, across from her. She didn’t squeeze but held him firm.
“Your knowledge of history is weak. The shadow realm you tap into exists because I allow it to be so. Because the Teknaus that composes the souls of the wicked must be cleansed before returning to the Veil.”
He tapped the robe covering her extended arm and she released him. “The Agency didn’t teach us this in our training.”
“You are one of very few who now know the truth of it.” His brain ran through several loops before his eyes widened. “Now you see?”
“That’s why Cara isn’t in Penumbra!”
Chaldia nodded, “She had very little need for purification, and left Penumbra shortly after arriving.”
“But she can’t be resurrected since she isn’t there anymore?”
“No, Syler.” She waved a hand to the right of them and a third chair formed from shadow. A bright green glow blinded him for a moment before revealing the figure.
Cara. Whatever Syler was going to say ended in choking sobs. She looked as she had before her death, before the veins of black caressed her skin.
“My dearest husband, I love you so. I know you want me to return, but as nature intended I died when it was my time. I died for a reason that I do not myself understand.”
“I miss you so much,” Syler choked out between sobs.
“I miss you too. I know it is difficult. I fought hard to avoid it, but you need to know that I am at peace, returned to the nature I loved.”
He reached out for her, and she gently traced her fingers along his hand. As she did, her form began to change, and starting from her feet she melted away into a swirl of green teknaus, a stark contrast from the surrounding shadows. Chaldia spun her hands together, pulling the mist into a sphere. As her hands moved, the sphere changed into the Nature rune of Telperia, the goddess of the forest, and she pushed it toward Syler.
Warmth spread across his chest as the rune etched across his skin.
“Now she is always with you.”
Syler gingerly touched his newest rune tattoo, “Can she speak to me through this?”
“It is a fragment of who she was, but the majority of her consciousness remains in the Veil.”
“That’s not an answer.”
Chaldia’s form changed back to his own, the mask still pulled back to reveal his own face, the smile now reaching the eyes.
“You've faced the shadows of your past, and are no longer confined by them.”
“I’ll need time to process all of this.”
“I know. I’m you, remember?”
His shadowy copy burst into streamers of black leather, wrapping him fully, leaving no skin exposed. His eyes were the last to be covered, and after a few moments he willed it to retract. He found himself standing before the altar. Looking down he saw the dark green outline of the nature rune as though it were embossed on the leather straps of his shadow armor. He willed the leather there to retract as well, and Twigly, who was still leaning against the oak tree, gasped.
The rune was still there.