When had she killed Bryan? His lifeless eyes stared from the base of a pillar halfway across the room, but she couldn’t believe it. His face was pale, mouth slightly open. There was no lower half to the man—she supposed it might be in the carnage around the theater. She stumbled toward him, Leopold helping to hold her. She couldn’t cry anymore.

“Can you—,” she asked Annabelle, but the other woman shook her head.

“He’s been gone for too long,” Annabelle said. Leopold knelt to the ground beside her, reached out, and shut the man’s eyes.

“Willow,” he whispered, but she felt dirty. The old stain once again. She’d killed Carl, now she’d killed Bryan. And at least half a dozen others, but she didn’t care about them.

When could she stop killing?

He put his hand on her shoulder and gently turned her to face him. She felt like she should be crying. What would he think that she couldn’t?

“Was what that man said true? Is Durum…”

“I don’t know,” Willow said. “He told me the same thing. After what I went through to get here… I think so.”

Leopold closed his eyes and she knew where his mind went. Margaret, Benny, the days they’d spent together. Maybe the Arcanum still existed—it was meant to withstand the fall of the outer city—but after what she’d seen she wasn’t sure. Could those walls have survived even a single warbeast that she’d faced?

Others would know. She looked up toward the rafters but saw nothing. The dark was all-consuming to her eyes of flesh, but she had other eyes than those.

She lifted out of herself, just a little, and saw them again. At least a dozen twists of essence scattered along the dark ceiling. They had the distinct sensation of watchfulness.

“Do you know,” she screamed. Her voice broke, but she didn’t care. “Do you know what happened?”

The twists winked out, disappearing one by one, until only a single spark remained. Willow ground her teeth. Spectators. Other cities who’d scried the battle. How many knew of what Andrew was trying to create? How many knew that he’d succeeded, but not how he’d planned? How many knew the fate of Durum?

“What are you waiting for,” Willow screamed, picked up a piece of wood, and threw it toward the rafters. It arced and fell uselessly to the ground. “Get out of here!”

The twist of essence bounced from the rafters to a column, then crawled quickly down to the floor. Once it was in the light, Willow recognized the form: a grasshopper.

“What in the seven hells is that,” Leopold asked. “Were you shouting at it?”

“This one is Sun Lin, and greets the Wraith and humbly begs an audience at your soonest convenience.”

“Did that…,” Annabelle choked.

“Yes,” Willow said. From the concentration of essence in that spark she hadn’t expected it to be a living thing. This was clearly a magical creature, although as far as she knew only warbeasts could speak. Whatever it was, it had magnitudes more essence than any she’d seen so far.

“I’m free now,” Willow said. The grasshopper turned its tiny head as if to take in the massacre which surrounded them. Willow was incredibly aware that the body of her friend and onetime protector laid just behind her. She tried to put it out of her mind.

“This one acts as an emissary of the Celestial Empire of the Eternal Flame, and congratulates you on your recent advancement.”

There were so many questions.

“You’re not from around here, are you,” Willow asked.

“No, mistress Wraith. I was hatched far away across the sea and sent to observe developments in your land.”

“Not just to observe though,” Willow said, the grasshopper still fixed in her ethereal eye. “You’re sending something back. There’s some kind of magic on you, even more than your inherent essence.”

“The mistress is very observant. I have the ability to send my perception back to my homeland and to receive communications.”

Willow sighed. Everything she said was being sent somewhere else to be interpreted by some other country. And the grasshopper had clearly seen the battle as well. It was enough of a headache to think that nearby city-states had witnessed it, but now other countries as well? And across a sea?

“Were you here just to observe, or do you bear a message,” Willow asked. Essence flared along the grasshopper’s back like a constellation of pinpricks. Willow supposed this was where the spell was being cast, although she’d never heard of a warbeast with such an ability.

“Again, your observation does you credit. I do bear a message for mistress Wraith when she is at her leisure and in private company.”

“My name is Willow,” Willow said, and the grasshopper bowed its head.

“This one humbly apologizes—”

“That speech pattern is going to get annoying really fast,” Leopold said, and Willow couldn’t help but smile. She reached back and he took her hand, their skin tacky with blood.

“Where did Andrew live,” she called over her shoulder to Annabelle. The woman deflated, cast a look at the body across the vast theater, then rose.

“Follow me.”

🜛

A bath. A warm bath. Willow couldn’t believe how something she’d taken for granted a hundred times before could make her feel so… human again.

The water ran red on her first rinse, and she’d been forced to empty the tub and refill it from the inscripted faucet. The second rinse left her feeling slightly cleaner, but she drained that too before she filled it for the final time and leaned back in the tub.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Leopold hadn’t joined her, but he wouldn’t leave her side either. They were in the luxurious bathroom together, surrounded by cut and polished marble, reflected by a large pane of silvered glass. It was too much bathroom for three people, and to think Andrew had had it all to himself.

Leopold paced.

“I don’t like it,” he said. He was still grimy and from her newly clean state she could smell the stink of the road on him. But he’d refused to join her in the tub, casting wary glances at the door to the other room where Annabelle waited.

“We don’t know anything about this other land,” he said. “What their politics are, what their thoughts are about you. About what happened.”

“It can’t be any worse than what our own neighbors will think,” Willow said, and dunked her head under the water.

“What will they think,” Leopold asked. Willow heard him through the vibrations of the silvered glass.

She emerged again, resting her back against the exquisitely carved tub. “They’ll think I’m a threat. The dean seemed to know what was happening, or expected it to happen anyway. I suppose there was some history there; Andrew used to be dean of the Arcanum before Weatherby.”

“Really,” Leopold gaped. “I can’t imagine. That guy scared the shit out of me.”

Willow nodded. “We’ll need his library, I think. Wherever his research notes are. This ‘Wraith’ that they called me, it seemed like a term they both recognized. Even the grasshopper used it. I need to know more about… what I’ve become.”

“Why,” Leopold asked, and he sat at the edge of the tub. The water was clear but Willow didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed at him being there. Everything she’d ever felt self-conscious of had filled out as her body had grown stronger. She was every bit the woman she always wanted to be.

“Why can’t this be enough? We can leave here, maybe go to another city where no one knows us. We could make a new start of it.”

“Oh Leopold,” Willow said, and reached up. He leaned forward until her hand cupped the long whiskers that had grown on his cheek. “I thought you were dead. In the attack.”

“Only grievously injured,” Leopold said, and smiled.

“We’ll never be safe again,” Willow said, and wiped at his sharp cheekbone. He’d lost weight on the trek.

“Not now that they’re looking for us. For me. Weatherby wanted to capture me, to use me. Others will too, or they’ll try to destroy me. Whatever a Wraith is, it’s got them all scared.”

“I just want to be at peace,” he said, and cupped her hand against his cheek. “With you.”

“Soon,” Willow promised, although it rang hollow to her ears.

🜛

Annabelle fixed Willow’s hair in a complicated braid while Leopold searched through Andrew’s many closets to find something that might fit her. As expected there were only men’s clothes within, so Willow made do with the snuggest garment she could find, knowing that when she emerged into the waiting room she’d be on display for gods only knew who.

Finally, it was time. Leopold—freshly bathed while Willow stood watch—looked resplendent in Andrew’s strange buttoned cloak. While looking through the deceased man’s clothes Leopold had found sketches of how the outfit should fit, and he’d tried to approximate it as much as possible. Everything seemed right, except for the cravat at his neck which he hadn’t been able to figure out.

Willow turned to Annabelle, who had a far-away look in her eyes. She’d been shocked by what she’d seen in the theater, even though she hadn’t been there during the battle. Even though it hadn’t been her fighting for her life. Even though she’d caused it, in small part.

“I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye,” Willow said. “And I blamed you for what happened to me when we reached Asche. That was perhaps… unfair of me. You can leave whenever you want to, I’m not keeping you here. Thank you for saving my life more times than I can count.”

Annabelle seemed to look through her for a long time before nodding.

“I’ll stay,” she said. “For now.”

“Thank you,” Willow whispered, then turned toward the door. “Let’s make an entrance.”

The doors opened all on their own, at least to anyone else observing. The three strode through, Leopold at Willow’s side and Annabelle bringing up the rear. The grasshopper Sun Lin was dwarfed by the chair she sat upon. Willow, Leopold and Annabelle took three chairs a few feet apart from the grasshopper. Luckily, Andrew had had an audience chamber in his house.

Willow cleared her throat.

“Sun Lin, I am prepared now to speak with you and representatives of your government.”

“This one thanks you for the hospitality,” Sun Lin said, and gave a little grasshopper bow. Willow didn’t know what she should do, so she just stayed rooted to the chair.

“For many years, this one has had the honor of monitoring your homeland on behalf of the Celestial Empire of the Eternal Flame.”

“Spying,” Leopold said. “You’ve been spying on us.”

The grasshopper didn’t seem to miss a beat.

“It was not this one’s intention to spy. Your cultivators do not seem to have the ability to notice this one’s presence.”

“Our… cultivators,” Willow asked.

“Those who follow the sacred arts. Those who raise themselves up to defy the heavens, mastering abilities beyond the comprehension of mere mortals.”

“Right,” she said. “We call them mages here.”

“An interesting name, and one this one will add to their vocabulary.”

“You had a message for me,” Willow reminded.

“Yes,” Sun Lin said, and the weight of the grasshopper’s eyes seemed to bear down on Willow’s shoulders. The chair creaked beneath her and Willow’s own psychokinetic frenzy bloomed out of her body—just enough to combat whatever the grasshopper was doing.

“War is coming,” a voice said. It wasn’t Sun Lin’s voice, and it seemed to echo strangely. Leopold squirmed beside her and Annabelle slumped in her chair. Willow expanded her ethereal body to cover them, all at once gaining the uncomfortable knowledge of their most intimate bodily processes. They each took breaths of relief.

“War is coming,” the voice repeated. “Your bretherin amass against you. Albion summons her demons. You stand no chance in the coming conflict. Blood will flow in the mountains and all will perish. War is coming.”

The pressure released and, after a moment, Willow withdrew her etheric body from Annabelle and Leopold, grateful again to be blissfully ignorant of their intestinal workings.

“That is the message,” Sun Lin said. “As delivered by the honorable Sun Geon.”

“That, we knew,” Willow fibbed, although she’d only guessed half of it. “Perhaps you can enlighten us: who is Albion?”

“Albion is a nation most foul which lies to your east across the sea. They make infernal contracts with demons to amass power, and know nothing of the honor of hard work and cultivation.”

“Right,” Willow said. “So now that we know… what? Are you here to make a deal, or else you’ll join the conflict?”

Sun Lin somehow managed to look surprised.

“This one would never think of opposing Mistress Willow. The Celestial Empire of the Eternal Flame offers its assistance in the coming war.”

“What sort of assistance,” Willow asked, already tabulating a list of things that needed doing, and fast. She’d need a detailed map of the surrounding area and some indication of where their closest city-states were located, as well as probable routes which they’d take to reach Asche. The city itself needed a wall, but perhaps the mountains acted as a sort of wall anyway. And about this Albion, she had no idea.

What she really needed was to understand why everyone was so afraid of her. Of what Andrew had achieved.

The grasshopper hesitated for a moment, and Willow saw a flurry of activity scatter across its back as it sent and received messages.

“This one is most honored to inform you that the Celestial Empire of the Eternal Flame offers to send a master to assist you in the coming war. Such an esteemed individual cannot be weighed in mere consideration of their strategic or martial knowledge. They are an emissary of the Eternal Emperor himself!”

“Oh,” Willow said, unsure of how to take this development. She looked at Leopold, but he seemed just as stumped as her.

“Well, we’ll be happy to receive them,” Willow said. “When will they be arriving?”

Another cascade of essence.

“As soon as you open a portal.”