Grizel walked forward, her cane tapping on the pale colored tiles, an unpleasant grin on her ancient face. It was unnerving, Martim thought, just how intimidating the tiny, weathered old crone could be. He backed away from her cautiously, holding a hand out. He glanced at Elyse, whose face had gone deathly pale as she backed away as well. She must have had the same thought as he. Grizel was an ancient witch, and they were both under her power, here. It would be very, very easy for the old crone to kill them both, if she wanted. Martimeos cursed himself for having been so foolish as to open his mouth.

"Ah could tell, the Bogge-King used tae be a man," Grizel mused as she stepped forward, seemingly oblivious to Martim and Elyse backing away from her. "Though Ah didnae ken who he were. Someone enactin' th' White Queen's will, tae punish the Crosscraw fer failin' her? But tae think, he'd still hae enough o' his mind tae recognize ye...oh, th' blood on yer friend's hands, laddie."

"Hold," Martim snapped, summoning his courage as anger flared within him. He stopped backing away and glared defiantly at Grizel. "My friend was not...born as the Bogge-King. It could very well be that the White Queen had captured Hadley and turned him. It could be, for that matter, that it was something from the Outside that made him as he is now - something drawn in by your own dark Art, necromancer. That blood could be on your hands."

Grizel stopped walking forward, folding both her hands over her cane, regarding him oddly. "Ye think Ah dinnae ken th' risks? Tae talk tae spirits an' bind them can be dangerous, aye, but Ah've talked tae them since before ye were born. Ah ken how tae do et safely."

"Wouldn't that be just the thing to say," Elyse murmured, "If you knew you were the one responsible yourself."

Grizel stared at the both of them, clearly bemused, for a long moment, a single bony finger tapping her cane. "Ye daft ninnies," she said finally, shaking her head, "Ah'm nae lookin tae place th' blame at yer feet, wizard, fer ye tae go an' accuse me en defense. But jest think o' this. Ef the Bogge-King truly recognizes ye, ye may be th' first soul on the mountains en years who es actually safe."

"I certainly didn't feel safe, on the way up," Martim replied wryly. And he truly did not think he was, especially now. If the Crosscraw discovered that the Bogge-King was a friend of his, who knew what venegance they might seek for years of slaughter. And who knew whether or not Grizel might keep her mouth shut. Still, he relaxed a bit. It seemed the old witch did not have revenge on her mind herself, or at least, not immediate revenge. "How long were you watching? Did you bring us here only to spy on us? What is this place? It doesn't seem much like a dream."

"Quit yer bletherin!" Grizel snapped, before Martim could go on. "One question at a time. Yer en the Land o' Dreams, laddie, but yer right. This place -" The old wtich gestured around the strange chamber they stood in, at the odd, pale rainbow walls lined with doors, "-es...somethin' special. A wee bit o' stability, en The Dream, ye might say. An' Ah didnae bring ye here tae spy on ye, Ah am tryin' tae gather ye all en a safe place before we try tae track the bogge-man en yer skulls. But yer friend, eh...Ah ferget hes name..." Grizel snapped her fingers, squinting at the domed ceiling, as she tried to remember. "Ye ken, the queensman, with the nice arse-"

"Kells," Elyse interrupted quickly, before the old witch could go on. "His name is Kells."

"Aye, him. Well, he cannae move as easily through The Dream as the two of ye can."

Martimeos frowned, furrowing his brow, following Grizel as the crone doddered through the chamber, her long hair dragging on the floor behind her. "Why, though?"

"Why indeed," Grizel muttered, not turning around, but she offered no more answer. Instead, she simple continued walking towards the strange lamp in the center of the chamber, cane clacking against the stone the only further noise from her.

Elyse and Martimeos glanced quizzically at each other. "You still did not answer our other question," Elyse called, plucking irritably at the tatters of her robes. "What is this place, exactly?"

Grizel had reached the lamp in the center of the room. Muttering to herself, she spread a knobby hand on the pole, running it up and down the smooth surface of the metal, as if looking for something. "Ah did tell ye. Et es a place of stability, en the Land o' Dreams. Ah dinnae ken who made et, but et can be useful."

"Made it? You think someone made it? Built something, in a dream? How-"

"Ach, here et es," Grizel cried triumphantly. She pressed something on the lamp's pole, and there was a small click, and the sound of melodic chimes echoed through the chamber. Martimeos and Elyse jumped back in alarm as a grinning skull appeared, suspended in the air, before the lamp - simply there one moment, where nothing was before. A grinning skull with two brilliant red roses sprouting from the empty sockets.

Elyse gasped. "I - I have seen this before," she said, voice full of wonder. "This skull. In my dreams. What is it?"

"Ah dinnae ken," Grizel said quietly, as she stepped back from the lamp, leaning on her cane. As they watched, a tiny point of blue fire, like a candle flame, appeared directy above the skull. And then, after a moment, another one, right next to it, and then another, slowly foriming a ring around the skull itself. "Somethin' left behind by th' builders o' this place, though I hae nae idea who they were. Ye will find et en many placed, en The Dream, though. Give et a moment, et takes a while."

The ring of tiny blue flames advanced haltingly, unevenly - it seemed to get stuck halfway through, with long pauses between new flames appearing, and then it rushed through the latter half, the ring completing itself within moments. Once it was done, and the skull was entirely surrounded by tiny blue flames, the flames and the skull both vanished. And once they did, the light from the lamp changed color, the translucent orb at the top of the pole shifting from white to a deep, dark purple, casting the chamber into violet shadow. And then, seeming to emerge from the violet light cast at the base of the lamp, appeared the strangest woman Martimeos had ever seen.

Tall - nearly as tall as he was - and slender, she was entirely nude, with skin so pale it seemed to glow. Her hair, which floated lazily on some unfelt breeze, seemed to be made of the night sky itself - in color, it shifted from the black of deep midnight, to deep blues and purples of twilight and dusk, and all throughout it glowed with tiny points of light, like stars. Her eyes glowed as well, a strange and almost hypnotic violet, and all about her swirled long, gauzy strips of opaque cloth. Like her hair, they too floated on some unfelt breeze, and seemed designed to alluringly conceal her form, teasing as they drifted across her body, but revealing nothing. She spoke, in an oddly lyrical, singsong voice that seemed to fade in and out, in a language that sounded melodic and relaxing but was utterly incomprehensible.

"Serpent's tits, she's beautiful," Elyse breathed, unable to take her eyes off the strange woman. "Does she...do you speak our tongue?" she asked. But the woman did not answer; she merely remained there, hair floating slowly around here, looking at them all expectantly.

Grizel clicked her tongue. "She ent real. A glamour, she es, though a mighty one, an aye, while glamour here may be more real than usual, a glamour she remains. Ah dinnae ken who she es supposed tae be, or fer why the ones who made this place put her here - but ye must speak tae her tae unlock the doors."

The woman spoke again, her voice ringing out clear and lovely across the chamber - it was hard to tell, but Martimeos thought she was merely repeating what she had said before. He shook his head, puzzled. "How will we ask her, if we don't know her language?"

Grizel gave him a mischievous, toothy grin, the old witch's face unsettling in the violet light. "Ah find this usually works," she said slyly, and then stepped closer to the beautiful, otherworldly woman, peering up at her. And then Grizel raised her cane, and began clubbing the woman viciously with it. "Open the doors, ye daft nekkid hoore," she cried, striking the woman's legs. "C'mon naow, ye scabby bint, or Ah'll skelp yer knees en twain! Ah'll cowp ye over and tan yer hide, an' shove this stick straight up yer arse, so be quick about et!"

If the woman felt any pain, she gave no indication. Indeed, if anything, her face took on an apologetic look, and she said something once more in her melodic tongue, gesturing as if offering some kind of explanation. But Grizel gave no quarter, and eventually the woman straightened, smiled sympathetically, and said something brief. A series of clicks echoed around the chamber, and then she was gone. With a click, and a strange hum, the lamplight slowly faded from violet back to white, and the chamber returned to normal - or, at least, as normal as the strange place could be said to be.

"There ye go," Grizel said, panting slightly, as she swept some of her wispy gray hair out of her eyes and readjusted her colorful shawl. "Took me a while tae discover that trick."

"Trick? You beat her with a cane, that's not a trick," Martimeos protested.

"Ah didnae see ye thinkin' of et," the old witch grumbled, waving a dismissive hand a him as she crossed the chamber, examining the door-lined walls. "Now, c'mon. Ef Ah cannae draw yer friend here, we hae tae dispense wit' th'pleasantries. We hae tae find him ourselves. He's nearby, so he should be behind one o' these doors."

"These doors lead to other people's dreams, then?" Elyse asked, but Grizel shook her head.

"En a way. They lead tae other parts o' the Land o' Dreams. But The Dream es all connected, ye see. 'Tis nae impossible tae hop from yer dream intae another's. ef ye want tae. En fact, et happens more than folk realize, most likely." The old witch passed along the walls, running her bony fingers over the doors as she passed, shaking her head. "Nae this one...nae...ah, here we are." She stopped, satisfied, before one of the doors. It was carved wood, solid and all one piece, but splintered, worn and faded. A knocker, forged from iron in the shape of crossed spears bound by a rose, hung from it, slightly askew. "Ah think he's behind this one."

"Hold a moment," Martimeos muttered, as Grizel reached out to push open the door. "We're just going to walk into his dream, just like that? It doesn't seem right. Dreams are...personal. I mean, who knows what we might see in there. Is there no other way?"

Grizel sighed in exasperation, glaring at him. "Perhaps," she snapped, "But ef there es, Ah hae nae knowledge of et. Ah could try tae do this separate, one o' ye after th'other, but Ah figgered ye'd hae th'best chances ef ye helped each other. The Dream can be dangerous, an' more so th' more here ye are, an I put ye in here pretty deep. At worst ye'll catch him en a dream about givin a girl a good time, though Ah dinnae think that's what's beyond this door. Naow stop wit' yer questions, and keep yer wits about ye. Will ye do this or nae?"

Martimeos and Elyse glanced at each other. "I know there's certainly some dreams I've had that I'd rather others not see," Elyse said, as she twisted the ring on her finger. "But I don't see that we have any choice. I hope it's not something too embarrassing for Kells."

Martim grimaced. He didn't feel comfortable with the idea of walking into Kells' thoughts, and much less comfortable about the idea that someone might do it to him. But if it was what must be done..."Let's get on with it," he growled.

Grizel nodded, and pushed open the door...

..and out they spilled into the frozen, icy streets of Twin Lamps.

They tumbled forth from the door to a small, frost-rimed home; it slammed shut behind them the minute they were through. This was not Twin Lamps as Martimeos and Elyse remembered it. The town around them was in the midst of a howling, raging blizzard, the likes of which they had never seen while there; so bitterly cold that Martim immediately felt as if his nose were about to fall off his face. Snow drifts that rose well above their heads piled agaisnt the sides of buildings, in some places so high that only the roofs were visible. The wind cut through them like a blade, driving the chill deep into their bones, cold enough that even Elyse, with her hot blood, found her teeth chattering. Grizel seemed to be the only one unaffected by all this, muttering as she brushed snow off her shawl, and peering into the white blindness that surrounded them as they moved unsteadily forward.

The awful blizzard, however, was not the only thing changed about the town. The raging snow blinded them, at first, but as they moved into the narrow streets, they saw there the bodies lying frozen in the snow. Many of the town guard, the shining breastplates coated with frost, hands still clutching weapons - spears and crossbows. They had not frozen to death, though. Blood stained the snow they lay in, already quickly being covered by the new snowfall. And it was not just the town guard, either - many of the townfolk lay beside them as well, wrapped thick in heavy furs, struck down by violence just as the guard had been.

And as the buildings of Twin Lamps loomed out of the furious white flurry around them, they could see that many of them were shells of what they had been - gutted at some point by fire, nothing left but skeletal, blackened frames and collapsed rubble. It looked like whatever fire had happened had claimed much of the town, with few of the buildings left standing unharmed.

"Kells must be having a nightmare of Twin Lamps being attacked," Martim cried, having to shout to be heard over the howling wind. He squinted his eyes as fat snowflakes stung them, his teeth chattering, and cursed the chill.

"Oh, enough of this," Elyse snapped, as she nearly sank into a snow drift up to her waist. Shivering, she stretched out a hand, and then blinked. "Why can I not create a glamour here?" she cried, disconsolate. "All I want is some damn fire to warm us!"

Grizel cackled at her. The old witch looked almost tranquil in the storm; somehow it seemed that the snow blew around her, rather than into her, and she gave no sign of feeling the cold whatsoever. "Glamour can be more powerful en th' Land o' Dreams, true, but ye ent back in yon chamber naow," she said, as Elyse frowned at her. "Yer en yer friend's dream, an' here, the world es as he dreams et. Ye can get around that, aye, as Ah do, but 'tis somethin ye must learn. Ah suggest we move quick, an' find yer friend, before the two o' ye freeze tae death."

Martimeos realized, disquietingly, that for the first time in years, he was completely without the Art. His hand numbly fumbled for the hilt of his sword as they stumbled forward through the snow. He cursed Kells under his breath - why did the man have to be dreaming of this misery? He would have rather have walked in on him with some dream woman than have to deal with this. Grizel might be able to use her tricks to protect herself from the cold here, but the cold was so hellish that Martimeos knew that he and Elyse would not be able to last long. With his other hand, he clasped the witch's arm, dragging her from the snow drift with what strength he could summon.

They found only more of the same as they trudged along, the cold quickly leeching the strength out of them. Nothing but burnt and ruined buildings, and the corpses lining the narrow streets. If it were not for the uniforms on the fallen town guard, Martimeos would not have even recognized the town as Twin Lamps; it was utterly destroyed - at least what little they could see of it. So vicious was the blizzard that anything more than ten feet in front of them was nothing but a white blur.

They had not gone far when they heard the clash of steel on steel, carried to them over the wind. Desperately, they followed the sound as best they could, Grizel leading the way, though it was difficult to pinpoint exactly where it was coming from in the storm.

But it was not long before they came upon the source of the noise.

Rising up through the snow before them, dim shadows clashed in the snow. And as they drew closer, they saw what it was. A man clad head to toe in finely jointed plate armor, polished to a fine silver gleam, his face covered by a sleek, winged helm, dueled with a member of the town guard. From his back unfurled a snow-white cloak, flapping madly in the breeze. He wielded a sword nearly as tall as he was, in both hands, and Martim felt his heart seize with fear as he watched the armored man strike down the guard. He knew that armor, that cloak. This was one of the White Queen's knights. The same that had struck him down as a child.

Numbly, he drew his sword, as the knight turned to face them, gripping the hilt as tightly as he could in a hand that could barely feel anything at all. Elyse struggled to unsling her crossbow from her back, but Martimeos thought that it might well be too cold for the bowstring to snap properly. Only Grizel seemed unperturbed, armed with nothing but her cane, as the knight stalked through the snow towards them, his great two-handed blade dripping with the guard's blood.

"Halt," the Knight snapped at them, as he drew near. "Twin Lamps is fallen; it is now a territory of the White Queen. Drop your weapons, swear to her rule, and you will live."

Martimeos very nearly did drop his sword, upon hearing the knight's voice. "Kells?" he asked, shocked, barely able to push the name past numb and frozen lips.

The knight took a step back, startled. "How is it that you know my name? Wait." He leaned forward, peering at them through the narrow slit in his winged helmet. "You lot look familiar."

"Familiar - of course we do!" Elyse snapped, growling in frustration as her crossbow slipped from her numb hands, immediately buried in the snow. Giving up on it, she raised her eyes to the knight, holding her hat to her head with one hand as she scowled at him. "Take that stupid helmet off. What are you doing, dreaming of this?" she gestured around, at the ruin and slaughter of Twin Lamps. "Is this not your home?"

"He es deep en his dream, lassie. And ye dinnae ken ef et es a nightmare or his truest wish, tae him," Grizel snapped. "Or ef et es even somethin' more, a glimpse o' what might hae been." The old witch closed her eyes, raising her cane into the air to point it at Kells, long mane of silver hair streaming behind her in the wind. "Remember, laddie. None o' this es real. Yer en a dream, an' these are yer friends."

Kells took another step back, armor creaking as he put a gauntleted hand to his helm. "In...a dream?" he muttered. And then he unclasped his helmet, lifting it off his head. It really was Kells, beneath there, his short dark hair quickly collecting snow, his slate gray eyes looking at them in confusion through the storm. "I feel as if I do remember you three from somewhere. But..."

"She...lies," came a grating, coarse voice, cutting over the wind. Like stone scraping on stone, the unmistakable voice of the bogge-man. But it wasn't he who came walkig in through the haze of blinding, swirling snow. It was the White Queen.

Or, at least, Martim had to assume it was. He had never seen the White Queen himself, but Kells, growing up in her court, must have, and so this dream version of her was perhaps how she truly was. She was tall, imperious and regal, with skin as pale as her namesake, a stern face made for the giving of commands. A tall silver crown rested upon her head, intricately detailed and patterned after the shapes of snowflakes, and long, thin white hair poured down all around it, billowing in the wind. Her eyes were twin chips of ice, harsh and unforgiving. Her long, flowing robes were pure white as well, and worked through with a silver thread. The only color she seemed to have about her were her ruby-red lips, twisted in a cruel smile.

In all truth, after hearing of her for nearly his entire life, Martimeos had expected something more. This was the face of the woman that had ordered his village burnt and slaughtered, who had begun the war that had taken his brother away, and led to such ruin for so much of the land. The fields of corpses she was responsible for, the graveyards she had filled, entire towns emptied of life, an entire generation of young men dead and gone to stop her. In his mind, he had always imagined her as towering, monstrous, half-daemon in form...but though she was a sorceress, in the end, for all that she had done, she was just a woman. That was all.

Extending one long, graceful arm, pointing with a long-nailed hand towards Martimeos, Elyse and Grizel, the White Queen spoke again in the bogge-man's voice, struggling with her words, as if choking on them. "Kill...them," she hissed, eyes dancing nervously across the three. "Now."

Kells gazed at her, frowning, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. "I...yes, your majesty," he said slowly. But before he could lift his sword, Martimeos had rushed forward and tackled him.

Into the snow the two fell, sinking deep into it as they thrashed with each other. Martimeos tumbled through a world of cold and white, doing his best to maintain a grip on Kells' hands, not knowing where the man's sword had gone, not knowing where his own sword had gone. All he knew was the freezing chill, and the gleaming silver of Kells' armor as he struggled with what strength he had to hold the man down.

But Kells was a soldier, and stronger than him. Soon enough, Martimeos found himself on his back, Kells straddled across his chest, pinning him there. He felt his body going numb as he stared up into the sky above him, into the angry, snarling face of Kells, his gray eyes flashing fury, snow-white cloak billowing. And behind him, walking calmly through the snow, the White Queen, crimson lips smiling, pleased, cold eyes alight filled with a perverse excitement.

Until Elyse, her black robes a stain against the snow, rushed forward and drove her sword into the Queen's chest.

Blood bloomed against white robes, and the Queen gave a long, pealing shriek. Startled, Kells glanced backwards, and Martimeos used the opportunity to twist and squirm in the snow, throwing the man off him. Elyse, though, was not finished; in more of a panic than anything, she gripped her blade with both hands and plunged it again and again into the Queen's chest, her stomach, her neck, screaming wildly herself as she did so, eyes frantic and wide.

Until, finally - or so it seemed, it really had only been a few moments - the Queen collapsed to her knees, blood from a dozen wounds staining the snow, and Elyse, breathing panicked, frightened breaths, stepped back, her blade dark and wet. Martimeos struggled to his feet, and even Kells paused for a moment, as they all watched the White Queen.

She looked at them all, hard, icy eyes full of frantic fear, as she leaned forward in the snow on her hands and knees, her crown slipping from its perch on her head. And then the White Queen opened her ruby lips wide, wider than a mouth ought to be able to go, and out from it poured a flickering shadow, a dark flame that pooled in the snow before her, growing darker and larger, until it stood on its own, and the White Queen collapsed in the snow, dead.

And as the shadow stood, there among the swirling white of the blizzard, it took the shape of the bogge-man, the one they had faced in Twin Lamps. But not the bogge-man in full. No cattle-skull helm, no blazing yellow eyes; merely his shadow, ragged and tattered, seeming to almost flicker in the wind, weak, and so much less than he had been. The shadow paused for only a moment as it stood, and then immediately fled down the snowy streets, quickly disappearing into the blizzard.

"After et! Dinnae lose him!" Martimeos heard Grizel cry, but he did not need the witch's heeding. He was already tearing through the snow after it, ignoring the numbness in his body. There was no fear here, not now. No, now, the bogge-man was the one afraid of him.

Through the shattered ruins of Twin Lamps he chased the fleeting shadow, through the ice and snow and broken corpses, and as he ran, a gleeful fire built within him. He was going to kill this shadow, this thing, this weak and wretched echo, that had killed so many during its time.

As he ran, be became aware of the sound of heavy footsteps behind him, following, and glanced back to see Kells gaining on him, the soldier's plate-clad legs flashing through the snow. And behind him, following at some distance, Grizel and Elyse, moving as quickly as they could. Martimeos did not know whether or not Kells chased him, or the shadow, until the soldier drew close enough to favor him with a bashful, excited grin. He opened his mouth, as if to speak, but Martim waved away his words, saving his breath for the chase.

The shadow clawed its way desperately through the snow, flickering and fading, sometimes coming close to disappearing into the blizzard's blinding flurries, but never able to move quite quick enough to escape its pursuers. That is, until, through the blinding white, a whole building appeared. A shop, of some sorts, though its windows were long empty, its goods long looted, but while its sides were scorched with the flames that had claimed its neighbors, this building still stood.

Martimeos shouted in alarm as the shadow veered towards the shop and tore open its door, disappearing inside. He was mere moments behind it now, and followed it swiftly. But as he stepped into the doorway, no interior to the building greeted him. Instead, there was just a long and endless, empty dark.

He stood, teetering on the precipice of this darkness, nearly losing his balance as he did so. He tried to step back from the doorway, but before he could do so, Kells crashed into him from behind. And into the black they both hurtled, no floor to catch them, tumbling and falling through the dark...