Riordan dreamed.

He could tell it was a dream, even though he’d never been given to lucid dreaming before. The world felt soft around the edges, made of conviction rather than detail. A tree of twinned shadow and light grew from a void, near and yet far. Its leaves glittered like emeralds and rubies with the light shining from its trunk and branches. They swayed in a non-existent breeze.

Riordan sat on solid nothingness as a man, his arms looped loosely around his bent knees. He watched the play of light and motion on the tree. There was no time. Nothing rushed him. He could stay here as long as he wanted. A strange wordless song danced across the space from the wind in the leaves, light and chiming, vanishing whenever he tried to grasp it. He stopped trying, letting it wash over him like rain.

Gradually, he became aware of another sound and frowned. The faint noise sounded familiar, but out of place here in this serenity. It was an animal noise. A human noise. It tugged at him and Riordan slowly turned his gaze away from the tree to look at the void near him. Another shape sat there, foggy and intangible, a silhouette of a person sitting much as he was, knees drawn up towards their chest. Their hands, though, covered the person’s face as they… wept, heart-rending agony writ large in every barely visible part of them.

The peace over him shattered like someone had thrown a rock through a glass window, pieces scattering about and cutting him with its loss. Everything he’d been holding off feeling while trying to survive washed through him as a wave, swamping him and stealing his breath. Riordan rocked forward to kneeling, choking. His knees sank into the nothingness ground and Riordan staggered to his feet. The void clung to him like the mud he’d spent too long wading through earlier, black and tarry as it coated his legs and tried to creep up his boots. He shook it off, willing it away, and it receded, still lapping at the soles of his shoes as if waiting for a moment of inattention.

The sobbing sound echoed resonantly around this strange space, coming from multiple sources along with whispers and wails. Riordan looked around, taking in the changes.

The tree was still there, but horrifically transformed. Gone were the branches of light and gemstone leaves. Now it was skeletal and leafless. Black goop dripped from its bony form, stretching up into the black sky. The fog swirling around the space glowed a washed-out parody of the life-bright magic of the first tree, both lighting and shrouding the sickly tree. Something pulsed red and green and gold inside the base of its trunk, barely visible through the oozing fluid coating it.

Around the tree, ghostly people walked aimlessly or sat staring at nothing. They were the source of the noises. The more indistinct forms were silent, but many whispered to themselves or wept. They seemed unaware of each other, each haunting the space alone despite being only a step away from the others. Riordan’s eyes fell on the closest figure, the one sobbing next to him.

It was Daniel.

Even washed out of all color, the young man was distinct, his features clear and clean. He was dressed as he died and the wounds on his wrists bled black tar sluggishly onto the ground. Riordan whipped his head around, studying the people around him, all with injuries dripping black tar, spilling their very essence into this place. As he stared, the fog shifted and he saw the translucent ropes that ran from necks and ankles and wrists, all leading to the tree.

Ghosts. These people were all ghosts. Every soul sacrificed on the killing tree, bound into this space.

Worried, Riordan looked down at himself. He was still solid and colored and alive, but the rope looped around his wrist, climbing up his arm. Another rope was trying to tie itself around his ankle. He could feel it now as a living thing, trying to consume him and pull him down into the muck until he drowned. Riordan yanked his leg free and stomped on the rope. It reared back like a hissing snake and then sank down into the tar to hide and wait. He tried to pry at the rope on his arm, but it wouldn’t budge. It stopped climbing higher, but it felt entrenched in him, hooked into his flesh.

Fury washed over Riordan and he lost it. He flung himself backwards away from the tree, trying to reach the limit of the rope. The magical binding frustrated him by growing and stretching, able to reach him anywhere. He howled, the noise inhuman and feral as it ripped from his throat. He grabbed the rope with his free hand, yanking and tearing at it. He couldn’t call his badger here, in this weird pocket place that wasn’t quite dream and wasn’t quite real, but he tried his best to claw at it with his blunt human fingers.

When that didn’t dislodge the offending rope, Riordan bent forward, stretching the rope taunt with his free hand and gnawing at it with his teeth. It didn’t taste like the black nylon rope from the real world. Instead, touching it made his tongue tingle and feel slightly numb, mixed with a flavor of leaves, dirt, and blood. He growled, ignoring the unpleasant sensation as he worried the thing with his teeth.

“Dude. Did you just bite it?”

Riordan froze, mouth still clamped over the rope. He hadn’t expected anyone to see him here, much less talk to him. None of the ghosts were talking to each other. The rope slipped out of his mouth and Riordan slowly turned his head to stare at Daniel who stared right back at him with wide surprised eyes.

They held that eye contact for a moment and then Riordan snorted, shaking his head. “Maybe.”

Daniel gave a weak laugh of his own, looking down at the ropes firmly entangled around both his legs. The black blood from his wrists stained his pants before blurring into the sticky goop that covered the ground here. Still, the man managed a wan smile as he said, “Let me know if that works for you. I’d be happy for something new to try.”

Riordan didn’t know what to say to that, settling on a non-committal hum as he moved to sit down next to Daniel. The muck tried to cling to him, but he shoved it back with another flex of will, leaving him sitting on ground that felt uncomfortably cool and damp but didn’t try sucking him in. Daniel watched the whole thing with open curiosity on his tear-stained face.

“It stays away from you.”

Riordan shrugged awkwardly. “For now.”

It was Daniel’s turn to answer with an indistinct sound. He looked back towards the dripping tree with its pulsing heart and glowing fog. The silence continued for a few heartbeats and Riordan was getting worried that Daniel had lost his ability to see Riordan again when the man spoke again, soft and sad, “Where are we? What happened?”

Of all the things he’d done before, Riordan had never had to tell someone they were dead before. The twisting discomfort at that thought roiled in his gut and he grimaced. Still, there was so little he could offer Daniel. He couldn’t deny him this.

“What do you remember?” Riordan asked, starting slow.

“My last ride had dropped me off at this gas station off of US 131. They were going onto tiny roads towards their home after that and I’d have a better chance of finding another ride along the bigger road, as such things go in Michigan. It was getting late and I still had at least another hour of driving to get to Traverse City, assuming I could get a ride heading all the way there. I was thinking about trying to find a place to stop for the night and trying again in the morning, when things were bright and people more willing to take a chance on a stranger. I wanted a smoke, but my lighter had broken,” Daniel had recited all of that in a distant voice, as if it had all happened to someone else or long ago, but now he frowned as he added, “I borrowed yours. We were talking. I saw someone...”

The young man stopped, pressing a hand to his head as if it hurt, eyes scrunched up tight. He ground out in a tight voice, “A man. He had a bat or a pipe or… And a partner, who…”

Almost despite himself, Riordan reached out to lay a large hand over Daniel’s bony shoulder. He half-expected his hand to pass straight through, but Daniel felt solid, if cold and clammy. He awkwardly squeezed in a poor gesture of comfort.

“That’s right,” Riordan confirmed, taking over so Daniel didn’t need to wrack his brain for the rest of his last memories. “Two men jumped us when we were talking. One of them hit me with that pipe. You tried to warn me, but it happened fast. The other got behind you and drugged you, knocking you out. They hit me a few times before drugging me too and tossing us into a car. They took us out into the woods somewhere and…”

He didn’t want to say it, but he needed to. For Daniel. The young man surprised him though.

“They killed us, didn’t they,” Daniel said, still staring at the tree. “They took us out into the woods and killed us. And this is the afterlife.”

“Sort of,” Riordan whispered, not willing to let the misconception stand just because it was easier for him. “They hung us to bleed out on that tree. I tried to get us away. I tried to save you, but it… It wasn’t enough. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“What the hell?” Daniel responded, clearly perplexed. “Why are you apologizing? From what I remembered and what you said, we were both jumped. How does that make it your fault?”

“If I’d been more aware or fought back faster or…” Or called on his badger sooner, screw the rules about staying hidden. Even here, talking to a ghost, Riordan couldn’t bring himself to break rules and say that. He shook his head and continued. “I should have been able to stop them.”

This time, Daniel smack Riordan upside the head and it was Riordan’s turn to gawp at the human. “Dude. Stop that. It’s not your fault.”

The young man stopped, tilting his head and studying Riordan. His whole body was grayscale, though crisp. His eyes swirled with a sort of inner fog. Riordan had never considered what ghosts would be like since he’d never been able to see them, but he’d always expected something more like the more faded ones lingering closer to the tree, buried under the most ropes. Daniel was still himself, just, you know, dead.

“You’re still alive, aren’t you.” Daniel phrased it like a question, but his tone made it a statement. Riordan nodded anyway, confirming it.

To his surprise, Daniel broke into a broad grin. “I’m glad.”