Between trees, she rushed eyes wide in terror. Her mind begged for a logical reason. Why was this happening? She tried to think, but the Hallowed Dream had devoured her. All was a shift of shadow, taste of rot. No matter where she ran it waited. The Uroboros followed, burst from the earth, and sent great waves of filthy water. Marie ran through the bog.

"Why are you doing this?" she fell to the mud.

Again, the Uroboros rose before her. Its head threw back, it bellowed up at the storm. Shadows pulled from its body to the earth, and like vines, rose up into feminine figures. The Shades of La Voison women stood around her, some she knew, and others were strange. None spoke, these pieces of her family's past, which were a part of her. They were what she denied, a memory in blood. Fragments of them lived in Marie, and in the book Dim Cassilda. Their knowledge and strength were hers. No words came from them, but she felt their intent. The past was to be accepted as part of ourselves, never define us. They wanted her to add to the tapestry of their Blood. Bethany stood before her, eyes filled with pride. Her eyes moved passed Marie.

The La Voison women gazed out onto the army of Shades that populated the forest. Each bolt of the lightning sent shafts of brilliance to the mud and dark water. Black silhouettes were caught in the flash. Murdered stood next their murders, addicts, and the broken of Hemlock Hurst. As they had corrupted the land, so it had despoiled them. The cycle turned, until the corruption was throughout. Where the end should have cleansed the deeds, they were brought back anew. Unhallowed memories filled the bog to be seen by Marie, lost in need of salvation.

Over the faded pieces of life, the trees loomed. Among the bough and trunks, they grew into a prison. Shades were drawn into cells, bars of branches. None escaped. Every broken man and woman was locked away in the labyrinthine prison. They were dragged along helpless to change their fate. It could only turn, regardless of the Shades' laments.

She stepped back, but Bethany laid a hand upon her shoulder. The cycle was corrupted, Marie knew, and it needs to be destroyed to cleanse itself. It also could be saved. Though terror wracked her, she looked upon the horrid memories of past evils. Fragments of souls or sins, they had been corrupting the machine. Once the wheel turned without the ephemeral decay, it would be restored. The La Voison women had served as a bulwark against the entropy. They had been powerless to stop the sources, but only alleviate the symptoms. In the Uroboros' mad rage it had lashed out. Maybe, she thought, there was still a way to save some of Hemlock Hurst.

The face of Diana, cold and furious, lingered in her mind. She would have blood for Blood, and it would be swift. All her power would be set upon the path of vengeance, yet Marie knew she had a duty to the truth. Being truthful was more than words, but also actions were true. Her journalism had saved lives and exposed falsehoods. Some played political games or just earned a paycheck, though she used the pen to bring to light all in shadow. Fortitude of conviction made the idea of her real.

"Somehow," she promised. Marie wished she'd listened to Bethany more now. All the lessons on finding the way to free spirits, cleanse the world, had faded.

For a moment, she closed her eyes. The Hallowed Dream receded, but became clearer. Fat drops struck. Decayed flesh and vegetation swept over her, low and rich. Every Shade seemed to caress Marie with their gazes. The sweet smell of gingerbread drifted up to her, sweet though bitter with memory. The horrid whispers became pleas of salvation. Like lost children, they wished to only go home.

Marie opened her eyes. Inside of her strings pulled to guide her, and she followed. Ashless Hollow had shifted to confuse the eye, and it cleared. The Hallowed Dream made the world real. Trees parted, bough lifted, and capricious branches no longer snatched at her. Even the mud relented, dark water flowed away. Through the underbrush, she burst with resolve. Before her this new visage astounded.

The Hallowed Dream unveiled the lies kept secret by the world. Before her, Alice stood with an amused smirk. About her tiny frame, fine blood woven into lace floated. A shadow moved with her, mimicked every move, yet was a step behind. So corrupted was her heart, it had mangled the woman's soul. Alice wore a plain, button up shirt and jeans oddly enough struck Marie as bizarre. The blonde hair was up in an elaborate braid. In a small hand, she held a tranquilizer gun. At her feet were Tim and Carol, who were unconscious, darts still in them.

"You went wild," Alice said, cool tone amused, "and you're impossible to catch. It was magnificently odd." She had followed Marie, but had returned to the La Voison house over and over again.

"I'm sorry about Jacob," she held up her hands.

"Yes," the smirk died, "He always tried to protect me." The La Voison book, Dim Cassilda, could help in that regard, Alice thought. Maybe, Jacob's soul could be returned in some fashion.

"There is no need for further bloodshed," she swallowed, for it was hard to look at her covered in the crimson lace.

The laugh was brittle like thin ice trod upon, "I think history counters that assertion. I care less the Federals live, except they're a…nuisance. I'll have complete control, and they'll be swept from the board, all of them."

"You can't kill all of them."

"Oh," she shook her head, as if Marie was dull, "I can and I shall."

"Someone will stop you," she countered.

"You can," Alice offered.

"What do you mean?"

"I want Dim Cassilda," she smiled. Alice had based a lot of her work on the La Voison cousin's papers. The book would advance it, and all its secrets would be hers.

Marie recoiled, "You're insane!"

Alice's eyes darkened, "You don't realize what you hold, the power and knowledge!"

She opened her mouth to deny her, but closed it. The Hallowed Dream was more than sight. It filled all the perceptions. Part of her pushed to give it, beyond all reason. "I…okay," Marie frowned, "it isn't like you can read it."

"I know enough to read some of it, and in time, I'll be able to read all of it," she held out a hand.

Marie pulled the book from the pack. Alice's eyes danced a victorious dervish, caught the flash of the lightning. She took it and trembled.

She bit her lip, glanced at Marie. The tremble in her hand shook the leather tome, which was soft, supple. With her thumb, she opened it, and the pound of her racing heart echoed in her ears. The smirk had grown to a grin, but it froze, eyes faded. Blonde hair, already a light hue, became white as a hoary frost. Alice fell to her knees, smile gone, mouth agape in awed horror. The tranquilizer gun tumbled from her slack hand to the wet earth.

Back Marie stepped, terror at the unseen. Before she could regain herself, another quake rocked Hemlock Hurst, as the stones of the earth groaned beneath her. Trees toppled in the bog. Bloated droplets fell in a torrent, dull roar lost in the barrage of thunder. Savage lightning struck, tore all it touched asunder. The world was fit to destroy itself. The Uroboros bellowed up into the downpour.

Through the Hallowed Dream, she could see Ashless Hollow's torment. As a bolt from the heavens struck, the Shades danced in gleeful torment. In the boom of thunder, there were screams for revenge. Each shudder was the last heartbeat of the dying and damned. Marie could smell their desperation, soured and bitter. Darkness shook. Shadows bled. Judgment, a reckoning, had finally come to reap who it may.

She pulled herself from the macabre speckle of death and light that sweated darkness and decay. She pulled the darts out of Tim and Carol. Both were alive, though unconscious.

"Alice," a thick voice growled, like an old wolf who suffered a grievous wound.

Marie turned to see large, scarred hands.