As the sun fell, the shadows rapidly lengthened, air growing chill as darkness conquered the light. The performance hall wasn’t far away, although having to lug bottles of (probably priceless, and definitely delicious) elven spirits slowed them somewhat. 

‘Janaxia, you look after Hakara. Anything gets close, smash them with that fancy stick of yours; I’m assuming its magical. The banshee is going to be tough to fight, we mostly need to try and keep it busy and really hope Parth can do something. Keep any big spells you have for the banshee.’ Hakara stumbled, bottles clinking in her pack. Stathis reached out to keep her standing, and gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll manage.’ That was probably cutting close to a lie, but at this point it didn’t seem likely to make much difference. ‘Janaxia, what are you doing with that cat? If it’s not magical, please stop talking to it, it’s creepy.’

The cat, currently curled around Janaxia’s neck, hissed at her, before Janaxia soothed it. ‘Llewdu seems amenable, and guided me to the palace. If there are any hidden places nearby, I’m sure that he will tell me, isn’t that right?’ The cat stretched, rubbing its face against hers, as it meowed. ‘Yes, she is mean, isn’t she?’

‘If it can’t actually talk, stop talking to it! Anyway, don’t get distracted – if it gets eaten by skeletons or the ghost, don’t go running after it.’

‘I’m sure Llewdu is far too intelligent for such foolishness, isn’t that right?’ She made some cat noises of her own, the cat responding in kind. 

As the shadows lengthened, twists of darkness started to appear, roughly humanoid, vanishing when the sunlight touched them, then reappearing in the shadows further on. There didn’t seem to be any pattern in their movement, nor any sense of awareness of the living world, but there seemed to be hundreds of them, wisps appearing anywhere not in direct sunlight. Hakara kept close by Stathis, trying to avoid even touching shadowed areas. 

Stathis experimentally took her sword and pushed it into one, blade darkening slightly as it passed into the shadowy form, but otherwise eliciting no reaction. However the interaction between the worlds worked, they weren’t yet close or overlapping enough to affect each other. In the dark, narrow confines of the performance hall, the shadows were thicker, more clearly humanoid, some even having discernible outlines, different shapes and silhouettes. As they passed a cluster, Stathis turned to Janaxia.

‘Hey, Janaxia, can you try hitting one with your magic stick? See what that does.’

‘It does have a name. This was crafted by…’

Stathis cut her off. ‘It’s a posh stick you cast a spell on. You can tell me its origin story later, or never. Just try and smack one of the shadows, see what happens.’

Janaxia sighed, but complied, crimson energy wreathing her blade as she swung, with terrible posture and grip. The blade cut through the air, shadow ripping around her slice, before reforming. It twisted, lunging back for Janaxia, ethereal hands clawing through her, as she tried to dodge away. The shadows skittered over her armour without effect, brief silhouette of an attacker stark against the red leather of her armour. Hakara drew even closer, enough that Stathis had to take a quick step back to keep enough distance to draw her own weapon in case of attack. They backed away, the shadow not giving chase. It looked like Janaxia’s attacks could have some impact though, even if unable to defeat them.

They passed under the painting of the three dark figures against the elven armies. The Black Destroyers or something? Something else to ask about – in the light, she could make out that each was different; one was armoured, a massive blade in hand, weapon and armour both covered in savage spikes, their companions were both robed, one bearing a small and reflective sphere, the other a bulky tome. They must have been powerful, to face down the Elven empire at its height and not get crushed – Stathis tried to remember her history lessons, and what had caused the fall of the Elven dominions, but all she could recall was frustration with not being allowed to learn swordfighting. Something the Elves didn’t like to talk about, which was then followed by grinding civil war and the destruction of the unified empire, resulting in the current, much-diminished status of the Elven people, scattered populations and a few tiny kingdoms amidst the wilderness.

They took up position where they had camped, overlooking the stage, waiting until night and full darkness fell. The bottles were arranged, rags shoved into their necks. Hakara applied protective spells to herself, as Janaxia took a sip from one of the bottles, nodding appreciatively before shoving the rags in with a look of regret. That cat was sniffing around, recoiling from the scent of the booze. Hopefully the banshee would appear in the same place, so they could try bombarding it with the molotovs, and then make a break for it, buying enough time for Parth to break a dragon out of ancient stone and talk it into helping them. Definitely a long shot, but it was the only one they had. The cat sniffed at the bottles again, drawing back before returning to Janaxia. Hakara carefully extended a hand, meeting with at least tentative approval as it sniffed her, before it returned to Janaxia.

True night fell, the silvery light of the moons shading everything into greys and blacks. The shadows coalesced into clearer forms, elves returning in all their ancient glory. They still didn’t seem to be aware of them still, even as they danced and whirled. 

Hakara gasped. ‘That’s beautiful, I’ve never seen the like!’

‘Nothing similar will have been seen on this world since the fall of the Empire.’ Even Janaxia spoke softly, entranced by their movements. 

Stathis dragged their attention back. ‘You two, stay focused. It’s pretty, but we need to watch out for the banshee.’

As if on cue, the ghost entered, the crowd parting to make way for her. Stathis gestured at Hakara, who lit the rags, the firelight pushing back the darkness and the pale moonlight. The banshee began to sing, a lilting, incomprehensible song that nevertheless clawed and scrabbled at Stathis’ mind. As Janaxia and Hakara both went misty-eyed, Stathis threw the first of the molotovs, hurling it downwards.

It shattered, fire quickly spreading over the raised platform as the alcohol spread. The banshee turned to look at them, skull catching the firelight, as the others scattered backwards, away from the flames. Empty eyesockets looked up, glowing crimson. It screeched, no charming lullaby now, but a vicious, piercing keen stabbing into Stathis’ eardrums. Janaxia managed to recover herself enough to throw one of the bottles (not very well, but at least she tried), Hakara screaming and covering her ears. The fire grew, licking at the edge of the banshee’s robes as it stared at them, eyes burning red.

The fire warded off the lesser creatures as the banshee screamed again, sound echoing throughout the building. It stepped forward, its mere presence enough to stop the flames, the fire flicking out as the dark cloak swept over it. Stathis threw another one, this time hitting it dead on, black robes catching alight.

It drew back with a hiss, even that sound enough to make Stathis wince in pain. Then it rose off the floor, robes fluttering close around it, pulling around a normal-seeming body, despite the skull glaring at them. A wind started to blow, bitterly cold, enough to make Stathis shiver, as it advanced, the flames guttering and dying. Stathis grabbed Hakara and spun her around, shoving her towards the window, yelling at Janaxia to move as well, the cat being more sensible, gemstone flashing scarlet as it leapt outside, tail twisting in the moonlight.

They ran, moving along the rooftop as the banshee gave chase, wind already getting stronger, sky above turning stormy. Through the clouds above the stars could be seen, each one now a long slash of light stretched across the sky, as time began to twist and warp. Another shriek came from behind them, this one too far away to have an effect. Stathis glanced back – it was now flying, surrounded by bitterly cold winds. 

Outside, there was still the horde of ghost-skeletons waiting for them, all turning to look at them. They dropped to the ground at the first opportunity, Janaxia and Hakara both pelting nearby targets with their spells, one lighting up in a flare of fire, before Janaxia hit it with an arcane blast and it went flying back, fading into the shadows. There was a shriek from above, and the banshee dove, Stathis barely able to spin and block in time, bony fingers scrabbling against her shield.

‘Blast it!’

She winced, fully expecting to be enveloped in viciously cold burning darkness again, but Janaxia restrained herself, settling for her usual eldritch blasts. As she shot it, dark energy crackled over its robes, the creature’s eyes burning even brighter now, shedding red light over the surroundings, bloody crimson atop lunar silver. Hakara caught it with a firebolt, forcing it to back off.

The three of them ran, Stathis forcing herself to slow down to keep between the banshee and the others, barrelling into a skeleton she hadn’t seen, a cold shiver running through her as she felt its spirit touch hers, an endless, cold yearning overcoming her. She pushed it off and kept running. There was a meow from somewhere ahead of them, cat reappearing from the darkness and running ahead, hopefully not leading them into an ambush.