The reaction from Piers to the silver key was lukewarm at best. He gave a slight upraised eyebrow and then shook his head. “Addled. Completely addled.”

“You could always try trusting me,” Mark said as he slipped the key into the nearby door, “after all I’ve trusted you with my life.”

The soldiers who were on both ends of the street started to approach again. The gunshot that had spooked them may have been fresh in their minds, but it had been one time and there was that chance it would only be once.

Mark thought about using the gun again, then realized he couldn’t bring himself to shoot one of the soldiers. Instead he pulled open the door, gambling that they’d have time to get through, and grabbed onto Piers arm. “Let’s go!”

Before he could struggle Mark had already shoved Piers through the door. Behind the pair they could hear the shouts of the soldiers along with the increased sound of footfalls. As he passed through the door Mark grabbed the inside door handle and pulled it behind him, slamming the door shut.

Piers and Mark almost tangled up and collapsed on each other after they’d gone through. The inside of wherever they’d ended up was pitch black, and with the only light having been from the street neither of them could see.

“Great idea, let’s run into a house that they can follow us into!” Piers grumbled.

“No they won’t be able to, I think,” Mark said as he started to pat at his pockets until he felt a familiar lump, “yup. They won’t come to where we are.”

“Sure they won’t, because you just magically whisked us somewhere safe,” Piers said with a tone dripping with sarcasm.

“That’s exactly what I did.”

It was an answer that brought a silence as the two stood in the darkness of that unknown room. Piers coughed, and then Mark could hear the man slowly walking. The floorboards beneath the two creaked loudly in protest to the sudden movements.

From somewhere on the other side of a wall that the pair couldn’t even see footsteps could be heard. A few muffled words were said and then a door opened, revealing a lit interior of some type of cabin. White whirls of fog or smoke spilled into the small room like a river, while a woman stood center in the doorway.

From what Mark could tell she had a very simple cloth shirt which hung loose, with a long skirt that went slightly past her knees. Her feet were bare while her hair was loose, long brown curls that spilled down well past her shoulders. One hand was at her hip and in her other she held what looked to be a small knife.

“How do you think they got in here, Kaye?” the woman asked to someone that Mark couldn’t see.

Mark was about to talk to her when Piers grabbed his arm tightly and yanked at him, pulling Mark away from the woman. “We need to get out of here,” Piers whispered, “it’s the Witch of the Mists!”

Mark tried to shake Piers off a bit, somewhat confused by what he had said, before he turned his attention back to the woman. “I’m sorry, we got in here because of me,” he said in an attempt to apologize to her, “we didn’t know this was your house.”

Mark’s words caused the woman to go rigid, her green eyes locked onto his face. It was easy to see the surprise on her face though he didn’t know why. “Did you just speak to me?” she finally asked him.

“Yes?”

The so-called witch flicked a hand upward, her mouth moving but no sounds emerging, and a brilliant light appeared near the ceiling of the small room. With confident steps she strode over to Mark and shoved him forcefully against the wall. A doorknob dug into his back, while the knife she held was slammed into the door next to his left ear.

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“Tell me your name,” she said while staring intently at Mark’s mouth.

“I’m Mark Hadley, and this is Piers.” Mark thought about using the gun on her, but with how close she was that didn’t seem plausible. ”Please don’t kill us.”

While Piers cowered in fright next to Mark the witch stared long at him. Finally after what seemed an eternity she tore the knife out of the wall and strode away. “Come, you and I need to talk,” was all she said before she stepped out of view.

After she’d left Mark turned to Piers to check on him. “Are you alright?” he asked, using the small amount of light that came through the doorway to look him over.

“No! No I’m not!” Piers gripped Mark by the shoulders and pulled him in close. “That was the witch! Where’d you bring us, boy?”

“I think it’s her house.”

“Boy, nobody alive has ever been to Gana’s house before.” Piers shook his head as he let go of Mark’s shoulders. “Besides, were you talking to her?”

“Uh...yes?”

“You can understand her?” Piers asked as he stepped away from Mark.

“Of course, she just spoke English like you,” Mark said, confused at how Piers was acting.

“Boy, I know you’re addled but sometimes I think you push it too far. I don’t know any English, all I’m speaking is Koine just like you.”

Mark rubbed his eyes as he tried to process what he’d been told. Everything sounded like English to him, but for some odd reason it wasn’t? “Look, I don’t get what’s going on but I’m going to talk to this witch lady,” Mark finally said, “are you coming?”

“What are my choices? Run out into the Mists? That’s where the dead live, boy, there’s no way I’m doing that,” Piers grumbled, “let’s get going before she decides to cook us or something.”

For once Mark lead the way as he walked out of that small room. After he’d left it he looked back, noting that the door they’d used to enter had a wooden beam across it. A dark stain splattered across the wooden floor, while on the walls he could barely make out some type of tools on hooks.

The new room Mark walked into was the exact opposite of the first, far larger on the inside with a wooden bench in the center. A couple of wooden chairs sat around a table made from marble with a chess set the only item on it. Candles sat in bronze holders on the walls, light yellow flames emitting a constant stream of light.

Gana had sat down in a cushioned chair which sat nearby the only window in the room. Around her feet fog curled, as though it came from her, and a small doll sat on her shoulder. The knife she’d used to threaten Mark had vanished.

“Sit,” she told Mark and Piers, her voice making it obvious she’d brook no argument.

The pair sat down on the bench, as it already faced her. Mark swallowed as his mouth went dry and he found that no matter what he couldn’t take his gaze off of Gana. Her face had a distinct symmetry that seemed to defy reality, and her skin was a pale creamy hue with no blemishes. As he stared at her Gana lifted one hand up and put the fingernail to her bottom lip.

“Normally I would have skinned you both for being in my home without my permission,” Gana told them, “but you interest me. Tell me why you’re here, and we’ll see what happens next.”

Piers remained quiet next to Mark, and so he tried his best to structure a proper story for the woman in his mind. “Piers and I were trying to get away from some soldiers,” Mark finally said after he’d worked out his story.

“That is missing a lot.” Gana tapped at her lower lip with her fingernail. “You know what I think? I think you have a key. It’s either silver or gold and you used it to get here.”

“Uh….no?”

“Oh no, I think this discussion is starting to head back to the part where I skin you alive.”

“No! No no no! You’re right, I have a key,” Mark said in a hurry as he pulled it out from his pocket, “I used it to escape from the soldiers with Piers.”

The witch leaned forward in her chair as she studied the key he held. “I haven’t seen that in a very long time. Where’s the gold one?”

“I think my sister has it,” Mark replied honestly, “what do you mean a long time? How’d you know about the keys?”

“Because I was there when they were last used,” Gana leaned back into her cushioned seat, “and when they were sent to Earth. Where’s your sister?”

“Uh...I was told the Castle?”

The witch clicked her tongue at that response, and then she glared at Piers who had remained silent throughout the conversation. “Piers is it? Is it true that his sister was taken to the Castle?” she asked, though to Mark the way her voice sounded had changed in a way he couldn’t quite place.

“Yes!” Piers tried his best to push himself back into the bench even further. “Please don’t take my soul!”

Gana smirked at him, before she turned her attention back to Mark. “Well this is bad. One of the reasons the keys were sent to Earth was to avoid the Castle getting them.”

“I’m sorry but this is just...there’s like no end to things that I don’t even understand,” Mark said as he spread his hands helplessly, “who are you and why is Piers so scared, and what the hell is going on?”

Gana let out a little laugh as she motioned toward the window. “I am the Witch of the Mists, I deliver the dead to their place in the afterlife and guard he who will rule everyone.”

“Wait, like the grim reaper?” Mark could feel the blood in his face drain as his body started to shake. His gaze turned to look out the window she’d motioned at and all he could see was a wall of fog, the colors of it changing with every second.

“Similar, but not quite, I tend to only deal with heroes. I leave the regular folk to whoever wants them.”

Mark thought about getting up and making a run for it. He figured with the key he could at least try to get through a door, and if he could get through a door anywhere would be safer than here. He glanced around the room with the hope that one such door might be present but all he could see were walls.

“What are you going to do to us?” Mark finally asked as he began to realize why Piers had been so scared of the woman.

At the question Gana rose from her chair, the doll on her shoulder in turn lifting off and using nearly invisible wings to fly away from her. The Witch of the Mists put one hand on her hip and smirked at Mark.

“You’re going to kill someone for me.”