Martimeos shut his eyes against the endless black as he fell. There was no wind in this void, no features by which to judge how fast he might be falling, only the sense of momentum as he tumbled. He had time wonder whether or not he would be killed when he struck the ground - Grizel had certainly implied you could be killed in a dream like this - when he felt his mind lurch, as if he had been dunked into a deep sleep and then suddenly wrenched out of it once more. And then he was no longer falling - he could feel rough ground bowling quickly beneath him, knotted with hard roots; he could feel leaves and branches slapping at his face, thorns tearing at his skin, until finally, battered and bruised, he rolled to a stop.

Opening his eyes, Martimeos groaned as he slowly sat up, wincing as his body registered a protest in pain. Looking around, he found himself in the midst of a dark autumn forest, the canopy of leaves above so thick that it was impossible to tell whether it was noon or dusk. Gnarled and twisted trees stretched onward through endless gloom, rising from a thick carpet of dead and fallen leaves. A beaten dirt path wound its way ahead, lined by thickets of black, tangled thorns. All was eerily still and silent, much more still than a forest should be - no birds chirped, no breeze stirred the branches of the trees.

He had only a moment to drink this all in - this forest was not unfamiliar to him - when there came a clanking crash and a yelp from somewhere behind him. Spinning around, Martimeos found Kells lying sprawled upon the forest floor, the solder's face lined with angry red scratches from his journey here, still wearing the gleaming silver plate from the dream of Twin Lamps, though his snow-white cloak was now tattered and torn. Kells blinked his storm-gray eyes in confusion as he lay on the ground, taking a few deep breaths. "Well," he said, slightly relieved, "A softer landing than I was expecting."

They struggled to their feet, brushing dirt off themselves, Kells plucking leaves from the seams of his armor. Martimeos scanned the forest as they stood, dark green eyes peering thoughtfully off ino the fading gloom. "No sign of the bogge-man," he sighed. "I wonder whether or not he even wound up here."

"Ye can trust tha' he did." Thorny brush rustled, leaves shook, and suddenly Grizel emerged from the dense thicket of the forest, Elyse at her side. The old witch glared up at the two men, her long silver hair tangled with twigs and dead leaves. "The two o' ye couldnae hae run faster than tha'? Ye missed catching him. Do all ye lowlanders run so slow?"

"I didn't see you two giving chase," Martimeos snapped irritably.

"Ah'm auld," Grizel snapped back, as if she was explaining to an idiot. Elyse smirked, until Grizel gestured to her, and added, "An' she's jest a wee one. Cannae expect her tae run very fast."

"I could have run just fine," Elyse snarled, reddening. "It was all that damn snow. Blame Kells for his miserable dream."

"It was not as if I could control what I dreamt about," Kells muttered. He looked down at himself, in his shining, gleaming armor, and snatched the snow-white cloak from his back, quieting as he contemplated it thoughtfully. "It...was a strange dream, though. A nightmare, more like. I dreamt I was a Knight in the service of the White Queen, conquering Twin Lamps in her name..."

"That much we could tell," Martimeos said wryly, plucking his pipe from his pocket to pack it full of tobacco.

"But it did not feel like a nightmare. Or even a dream, really." Kells was quiet, still staring at the white cloak. "It felt...just as if that was my life. How things simply were." He shuddered, dropping the cloak. "I had...a whole lifetime of memories in my head, while there. One where the White Queen won the war. Where my father still lived, and trained me as a Knight."

"When ye go deep intae The Land o' Dreams, laddie," Grizel said, hobbling forward on her cane, "Ye may catch glimpses of life as et may hae been, or how et may be. But 'tis nae time tae blether about that." She gestured around, at the murky forest that surrounded them, the looming trees and their soft shadows. "The bogge-man es here, en this fae-curst place. Ach aye, Ah ken tell th' dwellin' o' the fae when Ah see et. They will make a home en th' Dream sometime. We must take caution. They will try tae lead us astray, an we dinnae have a guide."

Martimeos took a long pull from his pipe, smoke streaming from his nostrils as he breathed out. "Actually," he said quietly, "I can guide you here. I know these woods. I believe this is my dream."

There was a moment of silence as Kells, Grizel and Elyse turned to look at him. "Ye ken this place o' the fae, then?" Grizel said, giving Martimeos a knowing wink. "Ah thought ye might."

"Pike's Green was no stranger to them," he said quickly, seeing the questions beginning to form in the eyes of Elyse and Kells. "Swifly now, if we wish to catch the bogge-man. Follow me, and do not listen to any voices you may hear from the woods. Best, in fact, to not even let your eyes stray from the path."

Without waiting for an answer, he strode off into the gloam, down the beaten dirt path winding its way beneath the shadows of gnarled and twisted trees, and after a moment, the others followed.

The path was a crooked one, with seemingly little rhyme or reason for how it snaked beneath the trees, meandering, leading nowhere in particular. It branched often, and strangely - sometimes branching off into circular loops that, it seemed, must lead back to the main path. The first time Martimeos led them down one of these, Elyse scoffed at him and asked if he was lost, only to become uncomfortable quiet as she realized that the circular path - though it would seem to have no way to lead them anywhere but back to the main path - instead lead them to an entirely new area of the forest.

For that was how these woods were. They did not contain any landmarks by which to make judgment, and so it could be hard to tell, but the very trees seemed to warp and change around them. Elyse would glance over her shoulder, only to find the forest behind her entirely unrecognizable from the trees she could have sworn she had walked past mere moments before.

And the voices, the whispers, the ever-present sense of being watched by something unseen. Though the forest had been quiet at the start, as they walked, it seemed alive with quiet whispers - though one could never truly be sure whether it was a whisper or simply the rustling of leaves they had heard. Elyse and Kells both tried to follow Martim's advice to keep their eyes stuck firmly on the dirt path before them, but from t he corner of their eyes they would catch the glimpse of figures darting amongst the trees - only to find the nothing but the red and yellow bloom of leaves when they turned their heads. Even Grizel, witch though she was, seemed nervous amongst this forest, gripping her cane firmly, sharp green eyes constantly alert, muttering beneath her breath and cursing at every sound. Only Martimeos moved forward confidently, black-furred cloak fluttering behind him as he strode through the forest, hushing their every attempt at questioning him of his knowledge of this place.

Of the bogge-man's wretched shadow they saw no sign - though he may have hidden a thousand places in the dark and gloom here. Martimeos was not particularly concerned about finding him; not right now. His goal was to simply get them out of this place - he led them down paths that would have, outside of the dream, bought them out of the forest. But a dream this was, and eventually even he came to parts of the woods that he was unfamiliar with. Fear mounted within him, for being lost in the woods of the fae was one of the last things you wanted to happen to you, dream or no. But doubling back did nothing to lead him once more to more familiar paths.

He was striding along the path, increasingly nervous, and wondering when he must admit that he was lost as well, when from behind him he heard Elyse gasp, and then cry out, "Look there! In the branches!"

Martimeos whirled aroumd, his hand going to his sword. Elyse stood frozen in the path behind him, dark blue eyes wide with shock, pointing with a pale hand towards the branches that arched over the path and blotted out the sky. Kells and Grizel stood there, too, and even the old witch had her mouth agape with shock. With some trepidation, Martimeos looked towards where Elyse was pointing.

There, seated on a gnarled branch above the path, half-hidden in shadow, sat a small woman, perhaps half the height of Elyse. She wore a short blue dress of shimmering silk that left pale shoulders bare, kicking long, slender legs idly from the side of the branch as she watched them all curiously. Her hair was long, nearly twice as long as she was tall, and such a pale blonde that it seemed nearly white. Her arms, up to her shoulder, were stained a dark blue, as if she had soaked them in a barrel of crushed berries. And from her back fluttered a massive pair of butterfly wings, blue and purple. gleaming in what little light existed in these woods.

Martimeos cursed out loud. A fairy. Fae of any sort could be dangerous when lost in the woods, but fairies were considered the wildest, most dangerous fae of all, sometimes feared even by the other fae. And what was worse...

The fairy turned at the sound of his cursing, stretching out luxuriously across the branch, staring down at him with eyes that seemed to swim with dim, oddly dancing lights. "Hello, Martimeos," she purred, in a tone that sounded diistinctly predatory. "Are you lost in my woods once more?"

Martimeos sighed as he took his hand away from the hilt of his sword. It would do him no good here. "Hello, Brindelwine," he muttered.

Elyse's eyes darted back and forth from the wizard to the fairy, wide and staring. "Martim, you....know this creature...?" she asked, shocked.

Brindelwine glanced back over her shoulder towards Elyse, looking the witch up and down for a moment, considering. And then the fairy's blue-stained lips twisted into a cruel smile. "Of course he does," she said, condescendingly, mockingly. "He is my lover, after all."

"No I am not," Martimeos snapped in reply, as Elyse nearly tripped over herself. "I wandered into Brindelwine's woods as a child, and she-well, I do not know exactly what she did to me. Whatever enchantment she lay upon me, it stole my memory of what she had done. Nothing pleasant, I am sure. It does not surprise me to find her in a nightmare of mine."

"Oh, you did not dream me up. Little difference to me between the waking world and this one." Brindelwine fluttered her wings, and Martimeos stepped back in alarm as a strange, blue dust drifted down from them, sparkling. "And you wound me, my sweet little wizard. I would have taken so much more than your memories, had your brother not interrupted me. Perhaps now I will have the chance to finish what I started." Her strange, glimmering eyes darted first to Kells, and then Elyse, and her smile grew that much more cruel. "You've even bought others for me. You truly do care."

"Hauld, ye foul wee creature," Grizel cried, as Brindelwine rose to her feet, standing upon the branch. The old witch raised her cane towards the fairy, twitching her colorful shawl irritably on her shoulders. "These three young'ns are under mah protection, an ye willnae touch them, lest Ah unmake ye. Ef ye wish tae keep yer wings, ye'll nae move from that branch."

The fairy stared down at the old witch for a long, silent moment, beneath the dappled shadow of the tree, the lights in her eyes dancing in the gloom. A shrill, whining pitch began to build, coming from nowhere, starting soft at first, but eventually sharp and loud enough to make Martimeos wince in pain and clap his hands to his ears. And all the while, Brindelwine simply smiled.

But Grizel stood firm, showing no sign of being affected by the noise, sharp eyes glaring as she shook her cane. "Ah'm warnin' ye," she snarled, her voice booming. "Ah've kilt yer kind before. Ye dinnae scare me."

For a moment, the whining pitch continued. And then, suddenly, it vanished. The fairy sighed, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. "It's always straight to killing with your kind," she pouted, crossing blue-stained arms across her chest. Then she gave a mischievous smile, glancing slyly at Martimeos. "So many rude visitors to my woods, today. First the shadow, and now you lot."

"The shadow?" Kells asked, suddenly excited, gray eyes flashing as he stepped forward. "You've seen the bogge-man's shadow?"

"The bogge-man?" Brindelwine tittered, her wings flapping merrily. "Is that what you're calling it? Yes, I saw your shadow, manling. He tried to leap into my head. Very foolish of him to try to steal a fairy's skin." Her smile grew wide, menacing, feral, and suddenly, her teeth seemed sharper than they had a moment ago. "He had to be taught a lesson. So I took his arm."

And here, the fairy reached upwards, into the hidden branches of the trees above her, and drew out the bogge-man's shadow arm. It still twitched feebly, fingers grasping at nothing, as she laughed mockingly at it, clutching it to her chest. There was no question now that Brindelwine's teeth had changed now, her mouth full of needle-like fangs. "Oh, how he howled," she giggled, the dancing lights in her eyes growing brighter. "It's too bad he managed to flee before I could have more fun with him."

Grizel tsked, tapping her bony fingers along the gnarled head of her cane. "We cannae leave a scrap o' him behind," she muttered. "Ye cannae keep that arm, fairy. Et must be destroyed."

"I have no intention of keeping it," Brindelwine replied. Her smile grew even wider, unnaturally wide, until it seemed like it might split her face in two. "It will make a fine meal."

Her mouth stretched open, full of razor sharp fangs, and with sudden savagery and a low, strange growl, the fairy ravenously tore into the shadow-arm. Her wings fluttered with delight as she devoured it, consuming it in mere moments, although the arm itself was nearly as long as she was tall. The bogge-man's arm scrabbled at the bark of the tree as it tried to escape fairy's maw, fingers still twitching even as they disappeared behind Brindelwine's blue-stained lips.

Martimeos stepped back in shock at the sight, nearly stumbling over the knotted roots of the tree that had worked their way into the path. Kells and Elyse were shocked as well, and Martim was well aware of their uneasy eyes glancing towards him. Even old Griel seemed stunned, her sharp green eyes widening as she muttered uncomfortably under her breath. Brindelwine gave them no time to regain their composure, though. As soon as she was done with her meal, she fluttered down from the tree with a lighthearted laugh, glittering blue flapping as they slowed her descent, alighting in the path among them.

"Back, Ah told ye!" Grizel shouted, lifting her cane menacingly towards the fairy. "Ah tauld ye tae stay where ye were, tricksome thing-"

"Oh, be quiet," Brindelwine snarled in response, stretching her arms lazily above her as she glared up at the old witch. "Do you think I can't smell the fear in you? Do you presume to order me around, grayhair? I will do as I damn well please, and you will be thankful I do not decide to eat your shadow as well, or worse. It is only because you are friends of Martim that I do not turn you into a tree or let you wander these paths, forever lost in sleep."

Grizel kept her cane raised, eyes flashing, and looked as if she wanted to say more. But when she opened her mouth, no noise came out. The old witch grew pale, clutching at her throat, and Martimeos felt his spirit sink as he recognized true fear in her eyes.

Brindelwine tittered, and when she spoke again, it was in Grizel's voice. "Ah like yer tongue, ye ken," the fairy said, as she dismissively turned from the witch to face Martim. "Perhaps Ah'll keep et." Blue-stained lips smirked at him as she glanced between him, Kells, and Elyse, regarding them all in turn. "Now, my sweet. What to do with you and your friends?"

"Stop," Martimeos snapped at her. "Not the slightest step towards them. Give Grizel back her voice, tell us where the shadow has fled, and I...I will give you what you ask for. Within reason."

Grizel made a strangled noise of frustration, slamming her cane into the ground as she shook her head vigorously, long silver hair whipping about her wildly. Elyse gave voice to what the old witch could not say. "Martim, are you - should we be making deals with this fae?" she asked, peering down at the fairy from beneath the shadows of her hat.

"And what is wrong with a deal with me, witchling?" Brindelwine asked, placing her hands on her hips. "It seems a fine idea." She sniffed as she looked Elyse up and down with disdain, then gave a small smirk. "I will not ask much of you, Martimeos," she said idly, eyes twinkling with mischief. "I will give you all you ask in return for a kiss."

Martim growled in disgust as the fairy flapped her wings and flew gently towards him, lifting herself off the ground so that she was of a height to see him face to face. She curled around him in a manner that she most likely thought alluring, but which made him shudder. The dust from her wings drifted down onto his black furred cloak, leaving it sparkling, as she took his face in her blue-stained hands. She smelled of sickly-sweet, dead leaves. "Fine," he snapped, "But just a kiss, fairy."

"Oh, don't worry," Brindelwine murmured in his ear, quietly, so that only he could hear. "We wouldn't want to upset your mother, would we."

She pressed her lips to his; they tasted of rotting blueberries. Martim tried to break away as soon as she had done so, but with surprising strength she held on to him, laughing into his mouth as he struggled to pull away. The lights in her eyes danced hypnotically, and her flapping wings filled his vision, a blur of purple and blue that hid the forest. Martimeos lifted his hands to grasp her small arms, desperately trying to tug her away from his face; he tried to shout for help, but she only pressed her lips to his harder, muffling him. He tripped, the world a blur of blue around him as he toppled. He heard Elyse and Kells shouting in alarm, but it was soon drowned beneath the sound of Brindelwine's tittering laughter, and he braced himself for impact as he fell...

...and landed, with a squelch, in thick, stinking mud that came up nearly to his waist.

Martimeos looked around, bewildered. Brindelwine was gone, the gloam-shadowed forest was gone. Surrounding him instead was a murky swamp, full of brackish, black water and moss-covered willow trees, their drooping branches hanging heavy and wet. He sat in a pool of stagnant, muddy water. Kells, Elyse, and Grizel were there amongst the muck as well, each looking as confused and shocked as he felt.

There was little time to look further or voice his wonder, however; he was still sinking further into the mud. Cursing, he wrenched himself free, clawing his way to relatively dry land as swiftly as he possibly could, damp and sodden grass paths that wound their way in narrow strips through the black waters. He struggled to his feet once on solid ground, heavy with muck, catching his breath as he watched Kells haul both Elyse and Grizel out of the mud as well, the soldier all but carrying one of the witches beneath each arm.

"Laddie," Grizel said, as Kells placed her down, nodding at in satsifaction at finding her voice under her own power once more, "That were foolish of ye." She poked Martimeos crudely in the side with her cane. "A fairy es nae one tae trifle with, nor tae be cuttin' deals with. Ah dinnae believe fer a moment 'twas merely a kiss she gave ye." She oaused for a moment, considering, and then added, "Nae matter how ye hae dealt wit' them in th' past."

Martim didn't answer her. She was likely right; he could still taste rotten blueberries on his lips. He grimaced as he wiped muck off himself, flinging great gobs of it into the grass. "Who knows," he muttered, "But it seems it worked. Where are we now?"

"This must be my dream," Elyse replied as she wrung out the hem of her robes. "For this is my swamp."

"You mean you grew up in a place such as this?" Kells wrinkled his nose at the foggy murk surrounding them, his once-shining armor coated in black mud.

Elyse's eyes flashed. "You are not about to judge my dream," she snapped irritably, "Not after you dream of your home in snowy ruin, and the wizard here-" she waved her arm at Martimeos - "Dreams of a fae forest where fairies did who knows what to him."

"I'm not judging your dream. I'm judging your home," Kells replied.

"It was not such a bad place. At least it did not stink of horse dung, like half of the streets in Twin Lamps." Elyse huffed. "And I do not think your kiss with that wretched little fairy did work, Martim. Where is the bogge-man?"

Martimeos frowned as he stamped his muck-laden boots against the ground, and opened his mouth to answer. But before he could, a long shriek tore through the air, echoing through the fog, like the scream of a dozen pained, tortured animals all at once, a howl of rage and fear. It was undoubtedly the bogge-man, sounding much as he did the night he had been killed in Twin Lamps, the same strange screech they had heard as the bogge-helm was crushed.

Immediately they gave chase, though through the murk it was difficult to tell exactly where the scream had come from. But they did not have to wait long for more howls of pain to follow, and further guide them. Elyse led the way here, knowing her own swamp the best, and it was good that she did, too - while the swamp was not nearly the maze that the woods had been, it still held plenty of danger for unwary feet. The fog concealed places where the sodden grass paths suddenly dropped away into deep pools of black water, or large, slick pits of muck. And in this nearly featureless haze - where all that was visible were the dead, rotting skeletons of trees looming up through the fog, or the occasional willow's drooping branches drifting across their path - it was difficult to tell which way was which, or where they had already been. And Martimeos could not shake the feeling that something was watching him from the fog. Something that was not the bogge-man.

But through all this Elyse led them confidently, nimble and spry even though her tattered black robes were still weighed down with muck, watchful eyes peering curiously into the fog. The sound of the bogge-man's shrill screams grew closer and closer as she led them deeper into the swamp, though there was now another sound accompanying them, as well. A strange thrumming, twanging sound - something that reminded Martimeos nothing more than the plucking of a fiddle, in a way, though the notes were odd and discordant, grating to the ear. He wanted to ask what it was, but the noise had grown to a din, now, between the screams of the bogge-man and the jangled, broken plucking, one that his voice could not be heard above. But he did not have to wait long to get his answer.

To a clearing in the swamp, Elyse led them, a small peninsula surrounded on all sides by black waters and ringed about by willows. A yurt lay in the clearing, ramshackle and with a conical, thatched roof - Martimeos had time to wonder whether this had been the house that Elyse had grown up in - when a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he spotted the bogge-man's shadow.

The shadow limped and stumbled through the clearing, heading for the yurt, nearly falling over itself. It was missing an arm, but it was apparent, at this point, that this was not the only injury it had suffered. Ragged holes were torn through it, and one leg was bent at a crooked angle as it walked. It flickered and blurred as it moved, as if struggling to hold on to its form, as if at any moment it might come unbound and dissipate like smoke. And soon enough, the source of its new injuries became clear.

With a loud, ringing twang, a black...something, shot out of the fog. It looked like a thick rope, stretched taut, and woven from coiled black fibers. It struck through the bogge-man's shadow, tearing a great hole through its chest, and the shadow screeched in pain, tearing itself away to continue struggling towards the yurt. With another twang, yet another of these ropes shot forth from the murk, this one missing the bogge-man and tearing into the earth instead, where it disappeared, boring a hole into the dirt as easily as it had shot through the air.

"Hauld!" Grizel cried, throwing her arms wide. "Dinnae git any closer tae et! Ah dinnae ken what those cords are!"

The bogge-man's shadow looked back over its shoulder, only for a moment, at the sound of the old witch's voice. It gave a panicked, squealing snarl, and then leapt towards the door of the yurt as quickly as it could.

"It's getting away!" Elyse snapped, brushing past Grizel, drawing her blade. Kells attempted to grab her and hold her back, but it was too late - she slipped past his grasp and rushed forward, intent on driving her sword through the shadow's heart.

Another twang, and another black cord shot forth from the fog. It was aimed at the bogge-man, but through a path that would have taken it straight through Elyse's chest, and for the briefest of moments Martimeos was sure he was about to watch the witch have her heart torn out. But, inches away from striking her, the cord shot off at a sharp angle, suddenly changing course, disappearing straight up into the sky.

Elyse swung her blade at the shadow, slicing through it as if it were air. It screamed and wailed, but did not slow, even as she hacked at it over and over, a look of wicked satisfaction on her face as she did so. Martimeos took a step forward, hand on his blade, to assist, but found himself held back by Grizel, the old witch gripping the edge of his black-furred cloak with a surprisingly strong grip. "Dinnae do et, laddie," she muttered, frowning at Elyse. "She may be safe from....whatever those cords are, but ye may nae."

However wounded the bogge-man's shadow was, its form flickering and fading even as it screamed and shuddered beneath Elyse's blows, it still managed to drag itself forward, a dark blur in the fog, towards the door of the yurt. Even as Elyse plunged her blade into its back, it tore the door open with a burst of strength and slipped inside, slamming it shut behind. With a growl of frustration, Elyse flung the door open a mere moment after it had closed, only to find not the interior of the yurt, but yet another long, endless darkness beyond. "He's so close," she snapped, "So close to being dead. He's alone and afraid." For a moment, it looked as if she was considering plunging into that darkness after the bogge-man.

But Grizel lifted her cane, and a sudden gall slammed the door shut, sending the fog around them swirling in wild, whirling eddies. "Hauld, ye daft wee idjit," she snarled, "Ah tell ye tae be careful within th' Dream, and ye go runnin' off intae th' midst o'...whatever that were, tae chase after a shadow half-dead already! What ef one o' those....ropes, or such, had taken yer fool head?"

"They weren't going to hurt me," Elyse shot back, wheeling about to raise a finger to the witch as she sheathed her blade, "They were hurting the bogge-man! I want him dead, grayhair, for daring to trespass in my mind, and-"

"What were those things, Elyse?" Martimeos said quietly, interrupting her. "The...ropes. How did you know they would not harm you? Have you seen them before?"

Elyse's eyes went wide, as she seemed to realize what she had just said. Color went to her pale cheeks as she opened and shut her mouth, struggling to answer, as Kells, Martimeos and Grizel stared at her. "I..." she said, her voice strangled, and then she shut her mouth and simply stared back, not saying anything. Martimeos was content to let the silence stretch for an awkward length, until she began to squirm beneath his gaze.

"Forget that," Kells snapped, after a time. He strode forward, muddied armor clanking and feet squelching in water-bogged grass, to the door of the yurt the bogge-man had fled into. "We've pursued the shade through all our dreams, and it seems nearly finished. What is one more door to cross? Let's kill it and be done."

"Stop." Grizel hobbled forth as well, shooting a frosty glare at Kells. "Afore ye go stampin' intae yet another dream, ye let me ken where ye will go next." She placed a hand on the door of the yurt and closed her eyes. No sooner had she done this, though, than she yanked back her hand as if scalded, muttering a series of curses. "Ah...Ah cannae follow ye intae this one," she said, "And Ah cannae recommend that ye pursue the shade further here."

"Why not?" Elyse practically yelled, finally tearing her eyes away from Martim's probing gaze. "He's so close to death! Where has he fled now?"

"Ah should hae been more careful," Grizel replied, shaking her head, leaning heavily on her cane as she sighed. "Ah should hae ken this might hae happened. I hoped he might hae fled intae mah dreams, where Ah could hae finished him right quick. But he has gone intae Aela's. And the Bogge-King is there, in her skull, ye ken."

Kells paled, stepping back from the door swiftly, as if afraid it might suck him in. He frowned, then spat, gray eyes hard and glinting with frustration. "So...is that it, then? It is at least out of our heads, is it not?"

"Et could find a way back," Grizel sighed, "Once et figures we are done with th'chase. Mayhap we could try again another time, though et would certainly be more prepared fer us. An' the bogge-men are half creatures o' th'Dream tae begin with, so et will be tha' much harder tae uproot et."

"I'll go," Martim said quietly. He sighed as he stepped forward, one hand on the hilt of his sword, the other fingering the red scarf about his neck absent-mindedly. "I...do not think the Bogge-King will hurt me."

"What in the blazing hells are you talking about, wizard?" Kells asked, incredulously, eyes widening in surprise as he ran a gauntleted hand through his short dark hair in disbelief. "That thing was born to hurt. You may have escaped it by luck or trick before, but-"

Martimeos sighed heavily once more, glancing to Elyse and Grizel, the two witches watching him with knowing eyes, quiet and considering. "It's...." he began, then stopped, leaving Kells watching him with curiousity. Finally, gritting his teeth and growling, he pushed the words out. "Look. The Bogge-King is - it's someone I used to know. A man named Hadley. And it seemed to remember me, the first time 'round, and did not want to hurt me. That's how I escaped. If....if Hadley has any reason left to him, I would be the one to bargain, I think."

Kells' gray eyes widened even further, and he whistled low in astonishment. "You....how did you know him?"

"No time to get into that," Martimeos replied hastily. "If I aim to pursue. I...suppose you three should stay here, and-"

"And what if you find the Bogge-King less reasonable than the last time you met?" Elyse interrupted. She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot into the soggy earth as she regarded Martimeos. He recognized the fire of anger in her dark blue eyes. "You will just suffer alone, I suppose."

"The best chance to rid ourselves of the bogge-man in our skulls is before us," Martimeos snapped back at her. "I'd risk death to forego a life of madness, yes. It makes no sense for you to come; I cannot guarantee you that Hadley will treat you the same as I. All you could do is perish-"

"Oh, where have I heard this before," Elyse replied sardonically. "It sounds so very familiar, you insisting that you traipse off alone into danger because I would just be useless. Remind me, how did that turn out last time, hmm?" The corner of her mouth twitched up into a small smile as Martimeos glowered at her.

"Look, there is nothing for it," Kells said, holding up his hands as if warding as Martimeos whirled to glare at him as well. "I wouldn't let you walk in there alone either. If he has reason enough not to harm you, he may have reason enough not to harm your friends as well, right? And if he doesn't - well, who knows what of our help you may need."

Grizel cleared her throat, knocking her cane against the wood of the yurt to catch their attention. "Ef ye plan tae go, ye must do so soon," she said, "Though Ah warn ye, tis a true madness ye risk ef the Bogge-King wills et so. Ah commend yer bravery, but Ah willnae go mahself. Whatever reason ye think he has, Ah dinnae think et will shield me from th' special hate he has few Crosscraw. But Ah will stay here an' watch ye, tae pluck ye from th' dream ef Ah can should things go wrong."

Martimeos put as much fury behind the glares as he shot at Elyse and Kells as he could, but the two merely looked back at him blandly, obstinate in their desire to follow after him. "Fools," he grumbled, "Fine. Do as you will. I will not argue if you are so mule-headed about it."

And with that, he stepped forward and pushed open the door of the yurt. Beyond lay a vast, empty stretch of pitch darkness - except for one point of light, in the far distance. An orange pinprick in the long, endless black. He glanced back over his shoulder, to see Kells and Elyse standing expectantly behind him, sighed, and stepped into the dark...

...and this time, there was no sense of falling. No cloudy twisting of the mind as he stepped through the doorway. Just an absolute, utter silence, in a long, endless black that nevertheless supported him as solid ground might. Featureless in all directions, except for the pinprick of orange light off in the far distance.

Martimeos glanced around. Kells was there beside him, somehow visible despite the total absence of light, the soldier's plate mail oddly still gleaming in this void. And Elyse was there too, the black of her dress and her hair nearly melting into the darkness, making her seem as if she was merely a pale face and a pair of floating hands as she looked around in astonishment. Her dark blue eyes alighted upon Martimeos, and she opened her mouth as if to say something, only to find that there was no noise in this place.

Martimeos tried to speak as well. But though his tongue formed the words, no sound carried forth. He could not even hear his voice in his own ears. It was an odd, unsettling sensation, as if he had suddenly been struck utterly deaf.

With little else to do but stare at each other here, Martim squared his shoulders, and together they walked through the black towards the only feature in this place, the orange pinprick of light off in the distance.

It was hard to know for how long they marched towards it; time seemed funny here, as well as their sense of directions. With no landscape to orient himself by, Martimeos found himself feeling oddly as if he were walking upside down, at times; at others, though he kept the orange light in front of him and walked straight towards it, he could not help but feel as if he was getting further away. He gritted his teeth, and focused on the light, refusing to look around at the endless dark surrounding him. He tried not to imagine what might happen if he lost sight of that light, or lost sight of Kells and Elyse, for that matter; tried not to imagine what it might be like to wander this featureless void, forever lost.

They had walked towards the light with no sign of getting closer long enough for Martimeos to wonder if they had made a mistake in coming here, when the first new sensation drifted across the darkness to them. It was the acrid smell of smoke, of burning wood and flesh. And soon enough, the crackling of flames could be heard, the grim and muted popping of a blaze echoing through the black.

The orange light loomed suddenly before them, swiftly growing larger, until it filled their vision. The features of buildings could be seen silhouetted against it. A blast of heat hit them, like an open furnace, making their skin feel dry and blistered. Even before his eyes adjusted to the light, Martimeos thought he knew now what was coming.

They stood now at a dirt crossroads, the winding path trailing off into the darkness. Surrounding them were the burning shells of homes, their windows full of flames and the roofs smoke-belching infernos, all eerily silent except for the crackling and popping of the blaze. Between the homes, corpses of farmfolk in colorful clothing lay in the tall, withering grass, arrows sprouting from their backs.

"Where are we?" Elyse asked, her voice hushed, looking startled that she could speak.

"Pike's Green," Martimeos replied quietly, trying as hard as he could to keep his voice steady. "The day it burned."

They walked forward along the path, dry dirt crunching beneath their boots, between the blazing buildings and their debilitating, baking heat. Kells swore and spat when he noticed just how small some of the corpses lying in the grass were, and looked down at the shining armor he wore, disgusted, as if he wanted to tear it off.

In the center of the crossroads, surrounded on all sides by the terrible blaze, stood the skeletal, charred remains of a burnt oak tree, its ruined branches contorted as if in agony, little more than a dark silhouette against the bright flames. And at the base of the tree, between its gnarled roots, sat Aela, in her hide clothing that must have been sweltering in this heat, her long, wild red hair a mane that pooled around her. The Crosscraw woman held her face in her hands, and as they approached, they could hear the sounds of her wild, frantic sobbing, shoulders heaving as she wept so desperately it made Martim's hear leap into his throat. It was not a normal weeping; these were the tears of someone broken and mad.

Martimeos and Kells rushed forward to her side, and Elyse followed, though more cautiously, glancing around suspiciously at the burning buildings. "Careful, something here is not as it seems," she warned, as Martim knelt down in the dirt by Aela's side.

Martim ignored the witch for now, as he gently reached out to grasp the sobbing, wrecked Crosscraw by the shoulder, who had not ceased her weeping at the sound of their approach. "Aela," he murmured softly.

Aela jolted at his touch, finally lifting her face from her hands. Tracks of tears ran down her freckled cheeks, and flames danced in her bright green eyes as she looked up at him. "Look," she whispered miserably, gesturing at the flame and ruin that surrounded them. "Look at what Ah've done."

Martimeos refused to look closely at the destruction that surrounded them. A thousand dark memories clawed at the back of his mind. Memories of being struck down. The fear he had felt that day, for Vivian. The childhood friends that had been killed, ones that he might have grown old with. Faces that had faded with the passage of years, and the lives they may have lived. He drew a deep breath, trying to ignore the string of smoke in his lungs. "Aela," he said quietly, "We have to go."

"Ah cannae go," she wailed, eyes widening in fear. "Ah - Ah deserve tae die fer this." She looked down at her trembling hands, her breath ragged. "All th' innocent blood on mah hands - even the wee ones, they didnae even spare the bairns - Ah...Ah cannae live wit' this! Ah deserve tae die! Th' shame es tae much tae bear!" Her eyes seemed to focus, and she glanced towards the sword Martimeos wore at his belt. A happy smile split her face, and she reached towards it. "Please. Jest end me. Jest let me sleep ferever. Ah cannae live wit' what Ah've done."

Martimeos caught her hand by the wrist. And for a moment, he closed his eyes, as a dark impish voice bubbled up from within his mind. This is what they deserve, it said, for all those they killed. For all the friends butchered. If it were not for them, you would not have had to set out to find your brother. You would not have had to leave Vivian, alone and broken, never to be truly happy again. For all the graves they filled with your folk, all in service to a bloody, mad Queen. All for nothing, in the end. All that death for nothing.

Martimeos shook his head, and sighed wearily, as he opened his eyes. "No," he said, feeling as tired as he had ever felt. "No, you were not responsible for this." His voice wavered, and he was vaguely aware of the sensation of a tear rolling down his cheek, but his shame at being seen crying was just a dim echo through the clouded fog of his mind. "Come with us. Please."

Aela drew her hand back as he released her wrist, but she still shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself. "Et would be a kindness tae kill me," she sobbed. "Jest please, do et. Someone wit' th' mercy, do et."

Martimeos nearly stumbled as he rose to his feet, his head swimming, his legs wobbling beneath him, for some reason. "We can't leave her here," he whispered numbly, his own voice seeming to come from far away. He felt a steadying hand on his shoulder, and turned to face Kells, the soldier's gray eyes full of concern.

"Steady there, wizard," Kells said, his voice gentle. Martim felt a spike of shame go through him as he wiped his tears away. He didn't want pity, not for this echo of the past. This had all happened so long ago. "I suppose I can carry her if she won't move on her own."

But as Kells stepped forth to scoop up Aela, there came a great cracking, grinding, splitting sound, the squeal of tortured and splintering wood, and they all leapt back as the tree beneath which Aela lay began to move. Limbs snapped in on themselves, the trunk bent and contorted, folding. The charred wood grew blacker, black as pitch, until the tree was no longer a tree, but rather a great shadow in the shape of a giant man, looming high above them. No, not a shadow. It was too dark for a shadow. It was midnight in the shape of a man, a darkness bleeding out against the roaring flames around them. And from out of that darkness swam an ancient and cracked aurochs skull, eyes bleeding tar, and Aela no longer lay beneath the limbs of a burnt tree, but rather at the feet of the Bogge-King.

But as massive and terrifying as the Bogge-King was, there was no sense of dread that washed over them this time. No icy sense that you were already dead, a soul trapped in a corpse. And the Bogge-King made no move towards them, gave no indication of hostility or malice. It merely stood, a pillar of blackness, staring down at them. Down at Martimeos.

Martim stepped forth, closer to the Bogge-King, ignoring the curses spilling from Elyse and Kells. He stared up at the Bogge-King, into the endless emptiness in the sockets of the aurochs skull. He felt unreal, as if he was watching from outside of his own body. "Hadley," he said, in a voice that sounded strangely foreign to him. "We're taking her." He pointed to Aela, who sat with her legs drawn up to her chest, face buried in her knees.

The Bogge-King did not answer. It tilted its massive skull-helm to the side, almost as if it were curious. Then it raised its head to the sky and crooned, its voice dozens of ghostly, echoing wails.

As it did so, a frantic hammering filled the air, coming from all around them. The doors of the burning buildings shook in their frames, as if the occupants within were desperately trying to escape. And as the Bogge-King sang, Martimeos understood why its song sounded so familiar to him. He had heard it before. Those wails and cries and screams were the same that had filled Pike's Green the day it had burned. A dozen black claws of icy memory stabbed through his mind and his heart; wounds and grief that he had thought long buried tore open, and all throughout a wretched bitterness burned. He felt his chest seize up, and his vision blurred, as that tide of heartache rose within him. "Stop," he cried raggedly, barely able to breathe.

And somewhat to his surprise, the Bogge-King did stop. That massive skull lowered, until it stared down at him once more. And then it spoke, in a voice like cold whispering wind blowing through ancient, dusty caves. But a voice that Martimeos, now, beneath it all, could hear Hadley in. "She...is m-mine."

Martimeos wanted to deny him. But right now, beneath the gaze of this creature that had once been his friend, his head full of a burning fog and his heart twisted with grief, the memory of the slaughter at Pike's Green blazing all around him, there was only one thing he could manage to choke out. "Why?" he whispered. "Why are you doing this?"

The Bogge-King continued to stare, no noise now except for the low cracking of the flames surrounding them. "For...Vivian," the thing that had once been Hadley answered. "For....you." It extended one long, spindled arm of shadow, gesturing at the ruin around them with a long claw, at the shadow and echo of the destruction of Pike's Green. Its gigantic skull helm slowly gazed out over the blaze, before returning to Martim. "F-for....home. Never....again."

Martimeos stared up at the Bogge-King. He tried to remember the man Hadley had once been. The man with the booming laugh and broad shoulders, who always had a kind word for him. The only member of Vivian's family that had approved of him. He tried to remember, because whatever darkness had swallowed Hadley, whatever had happened to him to turn him into the Bogge-King, it had twisted the man beyond recognition. Hadley's dead, he thought to himself. He died a long time ago. This is no more than you expected, isn't it? It's the same as just finding his bones. That's all.

He stepped forward to kneel in the dirt before Aela once more, perilously close to the Bogge-King. The creature could have torn him apart with one swipe of its black claws, but Martimeos did not think that Hadley was going to hurt him. How can he be dead if you think he won't hurt you? A mocking voice inside hishead echoed, but he shook that away as he looked at the Crosscraw woman. Her shoulders were shaking, and she gibbered maddened, frightened nonsense beneath her breath. All the death she's seen. For me.

He couldn't leave the Crosscraw woman here. Not after all that had been done to her and her people, all in his name. "She's coming with me, Hadley," he said softly, "You'll have to kill me to stop it."

He looked up at the Bogge-King, the looming blackness surrounded by flame above him. The shade bent down, reaching, and Martimeos felt its ice-cold claws brush against the side of his face, leaving his skin feeling numb and dead. "T-take...her then," Hadley said, voice almost gentle. "She....will be....m-mine....in the end....anyway."

And with the groaning and creaking of wood, the Bogge-King stood straight, casting its gaze out across the flame and ruin to stare for a moment at Kells and Elyse. They quailed beneath its dread gaze, but there was still no malice there. It reached within itself, as if plunging its too-long arm directly into the darkness where its chest ought to be, and when it drew it out, it cluched in one massive hand a squirming shadow. A shadow ragged and torn, and missing an arm, that kicked and screeched as the Bogge-King held held it high off the ground. A shadow that had once seemed so large, but now seemed wretched and pathetic as it struggled. The shade of the bogge-man that had haunted Twin Lamps.

Looking down at Martimeos once more, the Bogge-King spoke again. "Th-this one...hunted you."

"Yes," Martim replied hoarsely, hunched protectively over the sobbing form of Aela.

With a contemptuous flick of the wrist, the Bogge-King hurled the torn shadow of the bogge-man. It flew through the air in a long arc, screaming all the way, until it landed among the orange flames that burnt Pike's Green with a crash and flurry of sparks. It gave a long, wheedling cry as it tried to struggle to its feet, even as the blaze consumed it, wreathing it as it writhed and roared. But it went up as if it were made of paper, until within mere moments it was gone, and the shadow that had once haunted them was nothing more than ash and ember drifting on the wind.

The Bogge-King watched as the shade burned. "Come....see me, Mar...tim," it said after a long moment. With the squeal of tortured timber, it turned, and with steps that shook the ground, slowly began to walk away. "Bring...your friends."

Kells and Elyse rushed forward as the Bogge-King left, going to Martim's side. Kells lifted the still-incoherent Aela in his arms, where she hung limply, now nearly catatonic, her long red hair bushing against the ground as the soldier stood. Elyse helped Martimeos to his feet, and she was murmuring something gently to him, but the wizard did not hear her words. He looked after the retreating form of the Bogge-King as he rose to his feet, a massive blot of ink-black darkness fading into roaring flame. "Hadley," he called, "What happened to you? What made you into this...thing?"

But the Bogge-King did not turn. Into the flames it walked, until it was swallowed by them, vanishing.

And as it disappeared, the baking heat died, the flames withered and died, and from the burnt ruins of Pike's Green billowed thick clouds of acrid, choking gray smoke. It wrapped around them in a thick haze, filling their vision, blinding them, choking and suffocating. Martimeos blinked his eyes against the stinging fumes, feeling his lungs burn as he struggled to breathe, the scent of his burning home overwhelming him. His head swam, from both the lack of air, and the memories that overwhelmed him.

Memories of his home, and how it had been before it burned. How the years had taught him that Pike's Green would simply never recover from that day, that it would never again be the same as it had once been - long after the slaughter was forgotten, his home would always bear the scars. Memories of Hadley, and how the friendly, cheerful blacksmith's son had become tired, dead-eyed, and silent after losing his family. It doesn't have to be like this, he thought to himself, It doesn't.

He was only vaguely aware that he was being carried, one of his arms draped over Kell's shoulders, the other over Elyse's, his boots dragging along the ground as they dragged him through the choking smoke. In the moments before he closed his eyes and slipped into darkness, he felt a strong, cool breeze, fierce enough to send the smoke flying away in ragged tatters. And the last thing he saw was Grizel, silver hair streaming in the wind, standing in the cleared haze, her colorful shawl swimming and dancing before his eyes.