To the door, she retreated. The truth was inside the book. Gaze into darkness and it peers into you, but if you can persist, one can find wisdom. Maybe, she promised, Dim Cassilda's secrets would be unveiled to her. She would never sacrifice her sanity to obtain it. The curse in her blood, inherited madness, had something to do with the land and tome. Escape had been the only choice, even if it meant leaving Bethany and Tim. Love had sought to imprison her with its gentle snare, and freedom from the accursed land. Truth, love, and secrets were unable to hold her, in the end.

Tim paused beside her, saw Dim Cassilda, and tossed a towel over the book. "I'm staying here tonight," he said, and stepped in front of her.

"We," she wiped her brow, "need to find more witnesses." Marie forced the shakes to stop, "Tim, thank you for…being here. I know I can be hard to deal with, but you are a great man, too good for me."

"I don't know," he blushed. He failed to keep Eve safe, so he was worth nothing to everyone, Tim cursed. "Inky, why did you run off after we, you know?" He saw her shift away, "I won't press you on the answer, but I have to know."

Lush green eyes, flecked with gold, found him, "I knew you would never leave Hemlock Hurst."

He nodded, though after his wife died, the town was filled with ghosts. There was nothing left here for him, and Marie was the first light in his life. "I have friends, and I'll get in contact with all of them," Tim smiled, though his eyes were haunted.

"Thank you," she rubbed the back of her neck, for the embrace of the shadows lingered.

"I'll sleep on the couch," he sat down, and rested the shotgun beside him.

Marie sat beside him, and ignored the whispers. She closed eyes against the sway of darkness. "You were never far from my mind," she laid her head on his broad shoulder.

"I…Never forgot you," he blushed, ashamed. Even though he loved Eve, Marie lingered in his heart. Words slipped, he searched the room, but it failed to help. A snore beside him was light, and she shifted, took her hand.

The heart of Ashless Hollow had prowled the mire in wait. Dreams bled from its decay. They were all born from the coagulated, quiescence of the world. Even the land has a soul, though its spirit was truer. Nightmares gallop through phantasmagorical landscapes, as they preyed upon the dreamer. Along the lines of power, they were illusory, truth hidden in a lie. Wise was the one, who could navigate the bog at the bottom of reality. Memory of land congealed to be fed to the sleeper.

Marie was devoured by the accursed heart of the woods. All was a velvety darkness that swept over the flesh, and chilled the bones. Gingerbread sweetness lapped at the senses. The creak of wood was whispers. Dark waters moved in a languid sigh. There was only the endless swamp.

Pearlescent-white seeds formed from the glimmers of spirit. The earth received them, swallowed the memory. Cracked open, they spread into the bog to receive nourishment. A sprout soon followed to reach up into the starless night, and thousands joined in the thrust into the sky. They grew ancient. The storm above, which threatened yet waited to strike, was above a thick canopy. Throughout the woods a whisper carried the name of Dim Cassilda. Marie listened to it.

Earth pulled apart, and the corpse flower emerged. It spread open. Dim Cassilda was held inside. Closer she strode in terror and awe, till it was before her. Eleanor gathered to them, with such wonders to show Marie. A room in the house was kept secret to all but the La Voison women. Until now, only once had she stepped inside, the night had ended in Tim's bed. Shelves contained many ingredients, tools, and notes of formulae. Precise measurements were kept, so they could be catalogued. Astrological and geographical maps plotted arcane flow of death energies. Beside the book, upon the table, were all the tools needed, though their purpose was unclear at first. Bethany had set them here, before death had claimed her, Marie was sure.

Mindless terror had seized her last time. Fear was captivated by curiosity. The truth of her blood waited to be accepted. Accursed knowledge opened itself to imprison Marie. This dream was born to free her from life, consign to death. She felt Ashless Hollow, ancestral woman whispered, and the shades of their spirits came. Dim Cassilda opened to the last, freshest page.

The ritual was intricate. She was a natural, soul burdened with innate knowledge. Steps flowed in an intoxicated dream, as Eleanor and Ashless Hollow bound to her will. Words passed her lips to focus the energies that swirled around her.

Gloomy tides swept away Eleanor and Marie. Plutonian waters were a pearlescent, endless sea of night. Motes of flame danced above the waves to light the world. The spirit of death and life permeated the air, which rained down from the earth. After the cessation life, memory of its existence gathered at the recesses. It pervaded these waters, and the shades of the land's soul traversed boundless. Witches of Nekyia, such as the La Voison, could sail those streams.

Under Marie, it stretched into the infinite. Out of the waters the truth will be shown. It waited for Marie to look into the darkness that held all the horrors in man's heart. Truth demanded one gaze deep, despite the toll taken. A great dragon, serpent that dwelled beyond the known land, rose to look into her. Pupils were slits of deepest black, irises filled with the motes of flame, and they gazed into her. Both linked, all her will forced to hold mind and spirit together. Deeper into the well of the worm's regard, she pressed.