Before night had truly fallen, and before both operations in New York began, blue candles were lit and placed around a pentagram, a chalk circle around the grave of Scott Havenbrook.

“No, they have to be exactly five and four-fifths of an inch apart, says it right there.” Connor said, repositioning one.

“Then you do it, I’ll prepare the incense.” Riley said, taking and combining strange oils from various bottles into one and shaking it, dipping an incense stick into when it had settled. As a precaution, they had decided to burn incense that would ward off evil spirits, just in case. After all, Scott wasn’t evil.

“Are you sure this’s gonna work? We never did find his soul. I don’t know what’ll happen if we try the resurrection without it.” Connor said worriedly, biting his lip.

“It’ll work. I know it. I can feel it.” she said, putting on the bravest face she could. Her stomach felt shrunken and dropping down into her body, but she had come this far. This was it. It was now, it was real, the moment of truth, where she found out if she was a real necromancer or not. She went over the incantation again.

Connor was doing the sigils, and his hand was so steady there was nothing to worry about there. But what did happen when you tried to resurrect someone without their soul? The Necronomicon didn’t say, and they had never asked Scott. Riley had to hope it would just pull his spirit into his body for revival. It had to.

“Okay, we’re ready here.” Connor said, brushing dirt from his knees. Riley nodded. She checked the sigils and the circle again. Everything seemed right, so it was time to begin.

“Err-hem.” She raised the Necronomicon, reading the incantation aloud. “Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Ha! Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Ha! Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Ha!"

The wind whipped up harder, and Connor glanced around fearfully as the trees creaked and swayed. He had a funny feeling it wasn’t because of the storm. There was a sense of danger in the air.

“Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Zebightas, va’anesh tyumjd algorrah messanaigos. Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Quo! Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Zebightas, va’anesh tyumjd algorrah messanaigos. Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Quo! Allaghvah, goochun esteros. Zebightas, va’anesh tyumjd algorrah messanaigos. Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Quo!” Riley raised her hands higher, eyes flickering. She felt strange, energized, like something was flowing through her. She kept chanting.

Connor saw the lake, barely visible in the distance, begin to swirl and bubble. The earth started to tremble. This didn’t seem right; the Necronomicon didn’t say this would happen. In fact, he didn’t think it was supposed to take this long. She had been chanting for a few minutes now, Scott’s body should have broken down into essential salts by now and reformed. Was this because they didn’t have the soul?

He peered anxiously over Riley’s shoulder at the book while she chanted, almost in a trance. His eyes widened as his ears caught up with his brain. The spell she was chanting didn’t match up to the text on the page.

“Uh, Riley…?”

A branch snapped, and he whirled around to see two teens coming into view, one conventionally handsome but looking strung-out, the other unhealthily thin and horse-faced.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Brad said, grinning. “A couple of little ones doing something that looks pretty Satanic to me, huh?” The other one guffawed with laughter, showing his teeth.

“Hi. What’re you doing here? What do you want?” Connor said, meeting Riley’s pleading eyes while she chanted, and stepped in front of her.

“Chill, little dude. I reside a couple of houses down from the cemetery, and I saw some weird lights coming from here. My associate and I decided to check it out. Isn’t that right, Dalton?” Brad said genially.

“Sure is, sure is!”

“But isn’t this a sight. I wonder how two little punks like you got your hands on this stuff.” Brad continued, pulling out his last pill of Taboo and chewing it up. He swallowed and sighed satisfactorily. “Ah, that hit the spot.” Connor’s eyes zipped from one to the other in fear. “Now, children shouldn’t be out this late. However, my friend and I would be willing to overlook this transgression. For recompensation of your Taboo, of course. How fortuitous we have come across these little dears in our hour of need, wouldn’t you say Dalton?”

“Yeah! We’re outta Taboo, so we’ll get theirs!” Dalton said, sniggering. Brad stared at his minion, then sighed and rubbed his face.

“I-I’m sorry, but we don’t have any Taboo. We don’t do drugs.” Connor said nervously. How long was she going to chant?

“Oh?” Brad said, tilting his head. “Then what’s up with the circle of symbols and candles?”

“We’re just…playing?” Connor said lamely. Brad snorted.

“Sure kid, sure. Now why don’t you do yourself a favor-” he said, reaching down to pull Connor up by the shirt with one hand “-and hand over all the taboo you have?”

“Let me go! Let go!” Connor tried to struggle, but the teen laughed at his flailing. His muscular arm might as well have been a steel bar, as far as Connor was concerned.

“Grab her.” Brad ordered Dalton, and he went to pick Riley up, desperately chanting as fast as she could.

“No! Allaghvah, goochun esteros! I have to… zebightas, va’anesh tyumjd algorrah messanaigos! Finish this! Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Quo!” she cried, kicking her legs to no avail.

“Whadda we do if they really don’t have it, bossman?” Dalton asked. Brad grinned.

“Then we take our pound of flesh one way or another.” he said simply.

“No! Help! Scott! Scott!” Riley screamed.

Lightning flashed, and thunder boomed.

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Darkness. There was darkness everywhere.

“Wha-? Huh? What’s going on? Where am I?” Scott said, looking around into the void. There seemed to be some kind of light around him, but nothing else. Suddenly, he heard clicking footsteps behind him. He turned to see something coming into view. The clacking sound turned out to be…Ms. Peabody?

“Huh? What’re you doing here?” he asked accusationally, pointing a finger at the severe librarian. She regarded him over her bifocals.

“More to the point, do you know where here is?” she asked sharply.

“Huh? What kinda question is that? I dunno, everything’s black!” he snapped.

“Indeed.” she replied snidely. “But what happened before you came to be here?” she said, staring down her nose at him.

“Gimme a break. We were taking on the Metatech building, and I got to Delacroix on the roof.” he snarled. “We fought, and I would’a won but then…” His face froze as he recalled what happened. “Then…that thing showed up, and then…and then…” He seemed to collapse into himself, deflating as he remembered the bastard making him walk to the edge, and off it. He hugged his arms around himself, trying to stop shivering. He looked up at her. “I’m…I’m dead.”

“As a doornail, as the saying goes.” she deadpanned. He shook his head.

“But…but then what’re you doing here?” he asked, a numb sensation creeping up his body. She sniffed.

“I thought that would be quite obvious. Look around.” Scott did, but there was only black as far as the eye could see, which wasn’t even spitting distance across the pool of light. But-wait, no. It was faint, so faint as to be nearly imperceptible, but he could hear a faint whispering, whispering and…slithering, like a snake across paper. The words were too quiet to make out, but Scott could tell they weren’t sweet pleasantries. They spoke of terrible truths and mindbending charnel realities.

“What’s going on? Where exactly am I?” He turned on her with narrowed eyes. “Who are you, Ms. Peabody?” She gave him a thin-lipped smile.

“At last, Mr. Havenbrook. That so-called genius brain of yours has figured out the question that is correct, even though you should know the answer as well.” She raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Instantly, the abyss was replaced by a vast desert, stars shining coldly overhead. Scott stumbled as he found himself on sand, Ms. Peabody staring at him imperiously from her throne atop a rocky outcropping. “Welcome. This is a place of my memories, where I wandered for ten years, seeking the truth, and the world beyond that.”

“What is all this? Tell me who you are!” Scott demanded, readying for a fight.

“But you already know who I am, young man. I am the author.” she said, a hint of amusement on her face.

“Author? Author of what!? Listen, I’ve had enough of being jerked around, and-” He froze as he jabbed a finger at her angrily, the answer coming to him. Suddenly, everything made a sort of sense. “Oh my god. You. You’re…you’re…”

“Abdul Al-Hazred. Author of the Necronomicon.” There was a flash of lime green fire, and Ms. Peabody’s form burned away to reveal a tall, dark-skinned man in a tattered robe and cloak sitting on the rock. He scratched his scraggly, grey-streaked beard and looked down on Scott with eyes of purest black. “In the flesh. So to speak.”

“Oh my god, oh my god.” Scott said, freaking out. “This…you…how!? I mean-I mean, this is…you’re-!” His babbling was halted by the man holding up a hand.

“It is true, Scott Havenbrook. I am the one who first transcribed the dark text. I have travelled far and wide, collecting knowledge that others had deemed forbidden, but it was not until the end of my journey that I truly understood why. When it was deemed my time in the mortal realm was past, I was taken and my soul came to rest as one of the many spirits in the pages of the Necronomicon.” he proclaimed, the stars shifting into unfamiliar constellations overhead.

“Is-is that where we are?” Scott asked hesitantly.

“Yes. It was your fate, Scott Havenbrook, to fall here when you died. And for that I am truly sorry.” Al-Hazred said. Scott raised an eyebrow.

“Huh? What do you mean?” Al-Hazred closed his eyes and crossed his legs.

“It is what is, and what should not be. As you know, fate and the future are set in stone, even for what you call gods. However-“

“‘-they are those that shape the stone as well, carving chaos from order and form from nothingness. They are bound yet boundless, free to change what was and shall be forever-given the chance.’” Scott quoted, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, that was like chapter three.”

“Indeed.” AL-Hazred said, half-opening an eye to scowl down at him. “But if I might elaborate, my fate had been altered, due to my curiosity. It had led me to reside forever here, in this dusty desert like the one I knew. Such is the fate of all who delve too deeply into the forbidden knowledge I once sought and collected into the Necronomicon. I now act as a sort of guide, or guardian.”

“So you’re the reason why the book keeps moving around on its’ own.” Scott said, hitting a fist onto his palm. Al-Hazred nodded.

“It is one of my tasks to find those who seek what they should not, to reveal what they should not discover. Had you ever bothered to go to the library when it was busy, you would have discovered ‘Ms. Peabody’ was never an employee. She never existed.” he explained.

“What? But she was one of the town’s librarians since I was in third grade, at least!” Scott said, his eyes widening as he realized. “All along?”

“Yes.” Al-Hazred nodded, a small smile on his face. “Time means nothing to me now. I had seen the one destined to find the Necronomicon next, and had moved to position it where it needed to be. Behold!” His head tilted back, and light shot out of his eyes. In the sky, flickering and translucent, was a great black mass of writhing shadow, standing over a blasted heath. There were several figures shrouded in light standing against it, but their forms too small and their lights too dim to drive it back. One small, human-sized figure made its’ way to the center of them, holding a book and staff aloft, glowing with green energy. The mass opened and glared at it with a baleful neon pink cyclopean eye.

“Th-That’s the Calamitous Ruination!” Scott gaped, and recognized the staff as topped with a soul-gem, an army of spirits flowing forth to attack the black mass. “Is…is that…me?”

“No.” Al-Hazred said, and the vision focused in on the figure. Though wielding the Necronomicon, and dressed in robes inscribed with mystical symbols, the obvious necromancer had long, dark blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, and wasn’t even as tall as Scott was now. He could see the figure was still a teenager, and was actually a girl. He gasped at her face.

“W-What? Riley!?”

“Yes.” Al-Hazred said, ending the vision and staring at him with solid black eyes. “It is, was, and was to be. Recorded in the DNA of destiny, the being known as Riepaimva set his schemes on Earth once before, and was thwarted due to the interference of several magicians and the Great Ones they called upon. In the process, the oceans swallowed Atlantis. He is the forbidden one, destined to fail again and again, for no other Great One wishes for him to achieve his goal. But he is patient, and crafty. Though he lacks the power of others, he has scoured all of time and space, looking for even the meagerest scrap of knowledge, in order to further his ambition. He collected it in a book, much like myself. Those of your world, when coming across this knowledge, called it-”

“The Libris Malefactorum Arcana.” Scott finished breathlessly, cold dread seeping through him. AL-Hazred nodded.

“Yes. He has tried before and was killed, his special power broken and sealed into three objects, scattered across your world to elude him. However, this time is…different. He has come across your world, and a relic of his failed ritual, and has used it to divine that Riley Dawson was to play a crucial role in his defeat and sealing. Because of this, he wrought a terrible and subtle spell, woven from and into fate itself. He has caused her to be born seven years later than she should have been, an alteration to the flow of destiny too small to be noticed immediately, and by some unknown power all attempts at undoing this event have proven futile. She is the chosen one, but she is not of age. She is unable to use the knowledge contained in these pages, while his time is at hand and he may move freely. I am afraid Riepaimva has won.”

There was a long stretch of silence as they looked at one another, one shocked beyond words, the other solemnly forlorn. The desert wind howled in the distance.

“But…that’s…I mean, nothing can be done? That’s it?” Scott asked.

“It is so. The Great Ones that concern themselves with this matter are outside your dimension, where they are locked even from the normal esoteric gods. They cannot interfere, despite their awesome power, not unless invited by the proper rituals. And it is too late to cast such a spell now, in any case. In a short amount of mortal time, he will complete his plan.” Al-Hazred said sadly, bowing his head.

“But…but-”

“No buts, ands, or ifs.” Al-Hazred shook his head. Scott looked down dejectedly.

“Then…then why me? Why did you give the book to me, if Riley was going to be the one?” he asked in a quiet voice, feeling smaller and more powerless than he had ever felt when he was alive.

“Because. The Necronomicon had to go to someone. And I saw you. You seemed to be filled with so much hatred, an ocean of malice and despair. I felt you could be a suitable candidate for the teachings of necrotic energy. I have seen your work. I wanted to let you know, you have made me proud, boy.” Scott broke into a small smile despite himself, but the old hermit’s next words took even that wind from his sails. “But you are deceased now. Your spirit is here, to reside forevermore in this lost tomb.”

His words fell on Scott like a coffin lid, heavy and full of finality. He sank to his knees, then collapsed to all fours, shaking and beginning to cry. All his magical might, all his spells and brains and tricks, everything he had ever done or overcame, all of it, in the end was as nothing. It didn’t matter now. This was it; he was dead, and soon everyone else would join him. His mother, his father, Clay. Their figures flashed by in his mind as he thought of them. His family, erased. So too would be Riley. And Detective Cross. And Leo. And Connor. And Kevin, and his mother. Lord Harvaste too, along with Genevieve, Gregor, and Will. All of them, going to die. He blinked. He realized…that was a lot of people.

He reached back and rummaged in his pocket. After all, the cloths he was wearing when he died were here, so…yes. He pulled out a spectral copy of his phone, opening his contact list. He remembered once not long ago there was only his mother, father, and brother in it, and his brother was added under protest form both of them. But now, he saw Cross’s number, and Leo’s, and Connor and Riley’s. He smiled as he sobbed. Really, a moldy old necromancer like him, unable to be anything but a villain. He thought he would spend his life alone, with any people around him attracted to all the money he’d surely make through his work. How in the world had he gotten to know so many people? People who needed him, who respected his talents, who despite how he acted seemed to want to keep being around him and listened to him. It was slow, and seemed like only small things at the time, but even less than a year ago his contact list was as empty as his heart. For better or for worse, his life had changed. And he realized he liked his new life.

Scott’s fingers clawed through the sand as he formed a fist, pushing himself up as he thought of the reason for that change. The girl who, through just being there, being herself, had opened him up and introduced him to what he had now. The girl who had been thrown into his world, and proceeded to become a permanent part of it. The girl he loved, and through some twisted eldritch magic loved him back.

Amber.

“Al-Hazred.” he choked out. “I, I have to know. If anything supernatural hadn’t happened. What would have happened to me, had I not found the Necronomicon? How my life would have gone?” The old hermit held up his palm, containing a lime green glow, emanating scenes like photographs.

“Had you not had the tome thrust upon you and you used it, your life would have been…a normal one. Your misanthropy would grow, experiencing the ups and downs of adolescence, and you would graduate high school very lonely. Your family would love and support you, but the world would be indifferent or scornful, on the whole. You would go onto college, where you would find and fall in love with a girl with similar interests to you.” Scott stared at her as she was projected, a slightly chubby goth chick with bright eyes and black lipstick. He nodded. He could see himself caring for her. “The normal trials and tribulations of life would go by, where you would eventually marry her and have two children, with a job as a store manager for a sporting goods company. The money would be tight, but enough to live on and raise a family, with her work as an illustrator and freelance designer. You drive an old blue Civic, and are content to go to the shore every summer or two. You are happy.”

His words hung in the air like a hanged corpse. Scott sniffed and grinned sadly, wiping his face.

“So I guess Amber and I never met, then.” he said.

“You bumped into her once in senior year. You pick up her notebook, apologize, and only see her in passing and when she accepts her diploma, salutatorian.” Al-Hazred said, narrating the scenes.

“Yeah, makes sense.” Scott stood there pensively, mulling over what Al-Hazred told him. “Happy, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Wrong! I’ve heard what it’d be like if I never found the Necronomicon, and that’s a load of crap! After everything I’ve seen, done, felt…” He closed his eyes and put a fist on his chest, thinking of Amber. He opened them to glare at Al-Hazred, glowing toxic emerald green. “There’s no way I could be happy with a boring, ordinary, normal life like that. Sorry, but this life is my normal. Even with all the bad things that happened, even if I died young, I can’t regret even a single moment of it.”

“I see.” Al-Hazred said, standing up. “Then, if you had a chance to return to the mortal realm, you would?” Scott raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“Keep up, boy. I am asking you if you would like to return to life.” he said, jumping down form the rock.

“You can do that, old man?” Scott asked.

“No. It is beyond my power, beyond any on this side of the veil. There is no magic ritual that can restore you to life from here.” His black eyes glinted, and he smiled darkly. Scott took a step back; he was sure Al-Hazred’s teeth weren’t pointed before.

“What do you mean?” he said.

“There is much that even you, who has studied the Necronomicon extensively, does not know. You have seen a bare fraction of the secrets within. There is another spell that can return you to the mortal coil, should you be willing.” Scott’s eyes widened.

“Then what’re we waiting for dude! Get casting!” he exclaimed. Al-Hazred held up a hand.

“This can be done, but it will not be easy, nor come cheaply. Should you do this, you will return to the mortal realm-but since you will be going from this side, you will not be alive as you were. And this passage requires a terrible payment: you will be indebted to the Great Ones for the rest of existence. They command, and you must obey, no matter what. DO you still wish to return, knowing this?” he said gravely. Scott snorted.

“How is that even a question? I got too much to do. Whatever comes, I’ll handle it.” he said, grinning confidently.

“I thought as much.” Al-Hazred grinned back. “Very well. You must have the knowledge to perform this darkest of rituals, and someone on the other side must be accepting of your return.” Al-Hazred cocked his head, listening to something very, very far away. “It seems your young apprentices desperately cry out for you. They are being assailed.”

“WHAT!?” Scott exploded. “The kids’re in trouble!? Hurry up, I don’t have much time! Show me how to do this!”

“Patience, my young friend. All in time, and time is nothing. There is only one way to know, and the price of knowing this is gaining the knowledge. Are you ready?” he said ominously, but Scott was about ready to tear his hair out.

“YES! C’mon c’mon, let’s do this!” he shouted.

“Very well. I will share with you this knowledge.” Al-Hazred snapped his fingers, and Scott heard a thump behind him. He turned to see…

“Aaaaaggghhhhh!” A nightmarish apparition, a thick grey shimmering worm larger than he was, stubby tendrils oozing out and retracting as limbs to raise itself up, its’ head a gaping maw surrounded by writhing tentacles and feelers, engulfing his head and swallowing him whole.

All colors visible against infinite black, every strand of him ripped apart and born anew, inexorable pain among undeniable ecstasy, all of creation raveling before him. The inhabitants of existence, great and small, all failed in their illusions in the end, and there was nothing but cold, hard truth. He was the Key, he was the Gate; in that moment, the processes of mind was strewn out before him, and he KNEW.

Scott found himself on the ground, panting. The worm creature lumbered off, clicking as it went. He clutched his head, still throbbing with newfound thoughts and knowledge.

“Ow…uh, wow, uh…ow.” He sat up, wincing, and turned to Al-Hazred. “You…you bastard. It worked, old man. I know now. I know how. I only caught a glimpse, but I saw…everything.” he finished, words wholly inadequate to describe exactly what had happened.

“Yes. It’s like that.” Al-Hazred said, smiling. “Come now, it is time. “ He clapped his hands, and the sand formed into the magic circle that he desired. Scott got to his unsteady feet, blinking as he now recognized it, the ritual inscribed into his mind forever. He stood on the sigil he was supposed to. “Are you ready?” Al-Hazred asked, grinning madly, his eyes shining with ebony darkness as the whispering voices rose in unison to chant, a thousand years of incantations passing in a heartbeat.

“Let’s go.” Scott said, grinning back, his eyes glowing a toxic emerald green. They put their hands in front of one another, and began to incantate

“Allaghvah, goochun esteros! Allaghvah, goochun esteros! Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Ha! Allaghvah, goochun esteros! Allaghvah, goochun esteros! Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Ha! Allaghvah, goochun esteros! Allaghvah, goochun esteros! Ael shith, tivam se ael nath! Follahl xerph'um estios! Ha!" they both recited in unison, a glowing green light forming between their palms. The world began to spin and whirl, shrieks of dark, unknowable creatures echoing around as Scott began to fade.

“Heh. You’ve been prepping me for this for a while, haven’t you, old man.” Scott realized. “You’re the one that stuck those tentacles in my brain last November, weren’t you? That’s how the knowledge seeped into my mind so easily. I know now.” His form was translucent, and growing dimmer as he floated up. Only his shining eyes remained bright.

“Perhaps not for this reason in particular. The timeline is quite muddled, the future is strangely unreadable.” Al-Hazred admitted. “But as I saw terrible plans in motion, I needed to do something. Since you proved receptive, I thought you should be granted this opportunity.”

“Hah.” They both could feel eyes on them, witnessed as an ancient bargain was agreed to. Scott shook his head. Honestly, these elder gods and dark spirits were so predictable, and so boring. They really had nothing better to do than try to nail him down in a contract? Just how desperate were they? Well, if they wanted him that badly…

He grinned.

“See you, old man!” he cried as he faded away.

“Don’t die again!” Al-Hazred said, waving goodbye.

…they’d have to deal with him, then.

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“Scott! Scott!” Riley cried out, being held up by Dalton, in sobbing tears.

“Relax, kid. Just give us the Taboo, and you’ll be fine.” Brad said, nonchalantly waving Connor around. “Besides, my neighbors are practically deaf, there’s no one around to hear you.”

“You’re wrong! He’ll come!” Connor said, attacking Brad’s hand in vain. This guy was huge! What did he eat?

BOOM.

Thunder rumbled overhead, the wind making the candles dance as lightning flashed. Both Connor and Riley looked up. There was something…wrong about it.

“Only ones around here on a night like tonight are the dead, and I doubt they care.” Brad said. “Now-” The lightning flashed toxic emerald green.

The ground shook, and the grave trembled. As the lightning split the sky, the magic circle was disrupted as the coffin burst from the earth, standing straight up in defiance of gravity. All stared at it as it began to creak open.

“Uuughh.” A pale, torn and stitched hand started to slip out.

“Jesus! Dalton, get it!” Brad cried, but his minion was ahead of him.

“Ziiv!” The horse-faced boy was a blur, picking up a branch and thrashing whatever was inside like a blender, intent on liquefying the horror within before slamming it shut, grabbing Riley before she hit the ground.

“K’vzah!” Brad pointed his hand at the coffin, and fire streamed out like a flamethrower, enveloping both it and its’ contents. “Hassaig verngnah leith!” The flame turned white, and the children screamed as the coffin was burned away, along with what was inside. The charred remains fell into the hole of the grave from whence it came.

“Ho-lee crap! These guys were bringing back the dead!” Dalton exclaimed, staring at the smoking hole.

“Peh. Trying to.” Brad spat in disgust, a shiver running up his spine. This whole thing felt familiar, somehow. But he had the power of flame, and nothing could stop him now. They turned to the wide-eyed kids. “Your little ploy didn’t work, not against our mighty powers. After that, don’t tell me you don’t have any Taboo, you little goddamn brat. I should break your neck or blow you away for trying to scare us like that, you bastards don’t-”

It was then that Brad and Dalton noticed the boney fingers crawling across their shoulders to wrap around their throats from behind. They looked between them to see a charred, blackened, but still whole skeleton put its’ skull between their faces, two points of hellish toxic emerald green light shining eerily in otherwise empty black sockets. The air had a sensation, a feel of cold dread and the barest taste of tanginess, like raspberry lemonade.

“Hello, boys.” Scott said, a permanent grin on his face. “So just what exactly do you think you’re doing with my apprentices?”