The snake made of light observed silently the barren clearing covered by thick layers of snow and ice. It had done as the King had asked of it. It would be a terrible injustice not to make sure its task was properly completed and only once the Guardian had stirred back to life; did it move towards the grove. As much as it pained it, it had to admit the truth to the most perfect one. Selenthia had to be told of Ludwig’s command, whether she liked it or not.

Before it could reach that sacred place, the snake made of light felt a disturbance. A cry of pain and fear from spirits its mistress had created. Spurred by the moment it had allowed its gaze to lingered for a little longer. Time between the realm of spirits and the land of mortals was, at best, a trivial concept. Days or even years could pass in one, before a single ticked in the other. A lesser being would be driven to insanity trying to come to terms with such a thing, but not it. Selnthia’s caretaker was a creature of creation, almost as old as time itself. With trepidation, it did not know it could feel, it watched the Guardian imprison the spirits who willingly helped the younger of a pair of the ones calling themselves Witch Hunters. It had to act to prevent tragedy, but trespassing into the mortal realm was no easy feat. There were rules, many rules, which the snake made of light had to obey.

As it pressed against the fabric of reality, the situation resolved itself. Or rather, the Guardian and the bond between one of the young spirits and its host did. To see such trust and kinship placed with a mortal creature was a surprise and the caretaker made sure to learn the name of this young brave spirit. Perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for redemption for the Witch Hunters. Although loyal agents of the King of Spirits, they were born in sin. The first one of their kind conceived by a moment of pure hatred and violence. Their very souls tainted by unimaginable darkness with the single goal to fulfil Alice’s need for vengeance. It was no wonder that Ludwig had decreed that no spirit be allowed to reveal the origin of those women to their hosts. Ignorance is bliss.

The very memory of the first witch was enough to shake the snake made of light to its very core. Cunning that rivalled that of those who had turned their back to the light. Ambition and greed which surpassed that of the five who rule over the infernal realm. Alice Tetradon, Alice the First Witch, Alice the Demon. She was something neither side had planned for, but one whom in their hubris they had created. No! It should not think of that woman. It was best she remained forgotten.

In the time it took the Witch Hunters to blink, the snake made of light returned its attention back to the events unfolding in the mortal realm. Purposeful or not, the Guardian’s actions were inexcusable, yet that single little spirit pushed with all its might against the prison it found itself in. It alone refused the call to aid in the healing of Ludwig’s wounded creation, while its kindred spirits surrendered themselves willingly. The snake made of light knew that it would be centuries before the young ones could recover their power, the least it could do as a reward for their assistance was to make sure that no blame would pass to them for breaking their contract with the human. Not Maeve, though. That one deserved a greater prize. It would personally request for the most perfect one to bestow a boon on that unwavering spirit of healing.

The snake made of shadows observed silently the barren clearing covered by thick layers of snow and ice. It had done Asmodai Val’s bidding. It would face a terrible punishment if it did not make sure its task was properly completed. Ludwig’s Guardian had to be stricken down, that much was clear when it stirred back to life. Or at the very least, it had to be used as a disposable hound which to track the prey Qvar Hes was after. As much as it felt excitement at seeing its master’s plans crumble into dust, the infernal lord was not the forgiving sort. Asmodai Val would see the treachery the moment the snake made of shadows returned without the soul the most terrible one desired.

Spurred by its curiosity, it shifted its dreadful gaze away from Margo and her pitiful attempts to satisfy her mortal desires. Although it understood them, such cravings were unknown to it. What morbid curiosity could have captivated the witch to throw beast after beast against that which could not be killed by mortal means? A spirit’s cry of pain and caught its attention, their emotion the sweetest meal it had tasted in aeons. Poisonous saliva coated its fangs as it savoured each bite their anguish presented. If only those mortal things of the delicacies Qvar Hes tasted, they would not be selling themselves so cheaply.

Time between the realm of spirits and the land of mortals was, at best, a trivial concept. Days or even years could pass in one, before a single ticked in the other. A lesser being would be driven to insanity trying to come to terms with such a thing, but not it. The snake made of shadows was a primordial creation, almost as old as time itself. With trepidation, it did not know it could feel, it watched the Guardian imprison the demons who dwelled in the Wilds, using their essence to repair itself. Only one had done such a thing in the past, but Letum Mors’ corrupting touch, cursed be his name for all eternity, could not be felt on this perversion of the human form. Its appetite could rival that of one of Arkwar Luur’s Devourers, albeit on a much smaller scale. The Guardian stopped its task only when the duo of accursed Witch Hunters appeared.

It was the spirit slaves of the younger one that provided Qvar Hes with his delicious meal. But now, all it could taste was aversion. Ludwig’s loyal dogs were the bane of its kind on the mortal plane. Although born in sin, they were hated by every denizen of the infernal realm. The first one of their kind conceived by a moment of pure hatred and violence. Their very souls tainted by unimaginable darkness with the single goal to fulfil Alice’s need for vengeance. It was a shame that their potential was wasted to keep the status quo. So blind were these women to the truth, and that is how it should remain. On this matter, the infernal lords had agreed. Ignorance is a sin. One that needed to be punished. But only the willing could be allowed to glimpse a fragment of the truth. No matter, how tainted their souls were by Alice’s need for vengeance, the masters of the infernal realm could not claim them unless they chose damnation.

The very memory of the first witch was enough to shake the snake made of shadows to its very core. Cunning that rivalled that of those who had embraced progress. Mercy and kindness which surpassed that of the greater spirits of creation. Alice Tetradon, Alice the First Witch, Alice the Bride of Letum Mors, forever be cursed his name. She was something neither side had planned for, but one whom in their hubris they had created. The terrible tortures she must experience in the hands of the accursed occupant of the Jagged Thorne, struck fear in the snake made of shadows. No! It should not think of that woman. It was best she remained forgotten.

In the time it took the Witch Hunters to blink, Qvar Hes returned its attention back to the events unfolding in the mortal realm. Purposeful or not, the Guardian’s actions were a declaration of war, yet the demon could do nothing about it. Trespassing into the mortal realm was no easy feat. There were rules, many rules, which the snake made of darkness had to obey. Impotent was not something Qvar Hes liked to feel, so it did the only thing it could do. It roared against the fabric of reality, calling out any demon, no matter how strong or weak, demanding they throw themselves against the Guardian. A futile attempt, but one which at least inconvenience those prancing bastard spirits and their disgusting hosts. And with luck, the demons could perhaps slay one or two of the trapped ones.

Darkness. Everything around her was an impenetrable darkness. All she knew was coated in it. No portion of her memory was left untainted by it and no part of her soul could escape it. She could not remember when she realised, she was standing in this darkness, that much became obvious after the sudden realisation struck her. It could have been a minute or an hour. Or it could have been a century, considering there was nothing by which she could judge the passage of time. Not that it mattered, but becoming aware of this fact made it a focal point of her world.

Even without this knowledge, being trapped within her own thoughts was tormenting and infuriating. They were nothing more than fragmented glimpses of the life someone else had had. All the guilt, blame and pride this other person, this unknown version of herself, had experienced, meant nothing. Thus, a single question remained. Why? Why was she seeing all of this? Why was she here? Why should she care? The answer was surprising as much as it was comforting and unsettling - because a part of her, a small traitorous part, felt at ease in this place. It was only right that she suffered such punishment.

Her existence in this state stretched into eternity. A travesty of being, or was it correct to label it as existing instead, which denied everything and punished her in ways she could not comprehend, but she was certain she was being punished. Again, a part of her rebelled and demanded that this had to be a test of some kind. It gave her hope that there would be an end to this. But she knew it was yet another form of torture devised especially for her because here, in this place of darkness, she was nothing and she was nobody. There was nothing to look forward to. A state and a place, within which, even the hope of an end to everything was used against her.

Only one word could describe this place – prison. Yes, that was correct, it had to be a prison, made for her. Therefore, she was someone important and not a nobody Yet, she knew that was not entirely correct. The person she used to be, outside of this place, was the important one. Her current self was a nobody and that was oddly comforting. In the span of a few seconds, or then again it could have been centuries for all she knew, she had experienced and learned of so many different emotions that it scared her. She had to calm down, but for that, she needed to immerse herself in the darkness. Yes, this was the only way the preserve the self who she was now before it was too late.

Darkness. Everything around her was an impenetrable darkness. All she knew was coated in it. No portion of her memory was left untainted by it and no part of her soul could escape it. She could not remember when she realised, she was standing in this darkness… That was wrong! She had gone through this mere moments ago. Not only that, she had been stuck in this loop for what felt like an entirety now. How many times had she stood at the precipices of regaining her true self, just to let it fade away? Ten? Twenty? A hundred? Or was it a thousand? She could no longer count, but it was far too many for comfort. Something had to change and alas, she was the only one who could do anything about it. But what?

As much as she did not want to do it, she went through the steps that led to the darkness, carefully examining each choice and thought. There was nothing that stood out, except for the last one – fear. This made it important, although she could not fully grasp why. What was so special about this emotion?

“Are you afraid?” A deep, guttural voice, laced with malice asked from the furthest depths of the darkness.

“No,” she was quick to answer without a hint of hesitation.

“You lie.” The voice proclaimed, getting closer with each uttered syllable.

“No!” She screamed at it, trying to retreat into the darkness, but it would not accept her. There was no rational way to explain it, however, she did not want to meet the owner of the voice, for it brought a feeling she did not wish to experience with it.

“Why dare you not face me?” It boomed, the question sounding more like an accusation.

“It’s not true!” There was nowhere for her to hide, all she could do was wait, the strange emotion building inside of her, threatening to consume her.

“You lie!” Anger clouded the voice.

“No!” Her answered echoed and she could feel the new emotion take shape. It was fear. Or was it fury? It did not matter. “You will come to me.” Her demand felt right. Yes, the person she used to be expected such a show of fealty. She would not allow to be pushed around.

“You dare speak with such arrogance even now?” The voice sounded closer and she could swear that something was moving in the darkness.

“I will speak how I like.” She smirked, emboldened by the fact that the owner of the voice had not erased her from exitance so far.

“You lie!” Again, those words. They were like burning nails hammered straight through her soul.

“No…” Her own voice sounded hollow.

“Then look at me!” The thing speaking to her was so near, she was amazed she could not see it.

“No…” This time she knew the emotion. It was fear. Pure and primal at the same time. She hated it, but it was stronger than her.

“Do you not recognise me?” A shadow peeled from the darkness in front of her.

“No!” She tried to close her eyes, but could not, for she had no such things in this place of torment.

“You lie!” The shadow cracked like broken glass to reveal the figure of a woman. She was gorgeous. Luscious tempting lips smiled at her from a soft bright face. A pair of dark-green eyes stared at her with so much kindness and mirth that holding this woman’s gaze was painful. Her long hair, the colour of autumn straw was tied at her back and pulled up, forming a most charming crest. But most of all, it was this woman’s attire which caught her attention. Not that there was much clothing on that slender figure, but it in no way could be considered tasteless. On the contrary, it only emphasized her womanhood. This two-piece dress, revealing and provocative, decorated with charms and fetishes felt oddly familiar.

“You always lie.” The woman spoke with a voice completely at odds with her appearance. This was the voice she had been hearing all this time. “Every time you open your mouth; you twist the truth until it serves your goals. But you cannot lie to me. You cannot lie to yourself!”

“No!” She cried out, as guilt consumed her.

“No?” The woman cocked an eyebrow, amusement spreading on her face. “Fine. I have only one question for you. Lie, and I promise you oblivion. Tell the truth and we continue this game until you accept the truth.” The owner of the cruel voice smiled. “Who is Alice?”

“I…” She opened her mouth, ready with her answer before the question left those seductive lips.

“Correct!” The woman interrupted her. “I too can twist the truth, my dear. Never forget that!” She stabbed an accusing finger in her direction.

Taking a deep breath, her tormentor asked the one question, she did not want to hear. Not now, not ever. “Why do you run from the truth?” She kept her mouth shut, hoping for the darkness to claim her once more, but this woman was too stubborn.

“Why do you keep hiding behind layers of lies?” The voice’s appearance changed. The features of its face became harder, sharper. Its lips turned into pale slits and the hair changed to pure white. But the greatest change was in those accursed eyes. They were now bright golden orbs, full of hatred and regret. “Who is Irene Nox?” The new visage of her tormentor asked.

“I…” Again, she was interrupted before she could deny any knowledge.

“Correct!” Once more the figure changed. Small imperfection here and there. A slightly more crooked nose. A scar here and there. A little fuller lips and dreadful emerald eyes, which had lost every emotion. “Who is Irene Navina?”

“I.” She wanted to curl into a ball but could not. This was too much for her to bear.

“Correct.” For the first time, the voice sounded satisfied. However, that did not stop it to change its form one final time. Its pale skin darkened, taking the colour of sweet almond and as its hair shifted to auburn and began to tie itself into a complicated braid, she snapped.

“Don’t you dare!” Fury decorated each syllable and a vicious smile on her tormentor’s face.

“Then why do you run from your past? Why hide yourself from the truth?” The voice demanded of her, leaning closer so that she could better observe the change.

“Because Alice has to be punished! And so does Irene!” She paused for what felt like an eternity. “I must be punished. Because it is my fault…” The words barely escaped her mouth. This simple admission was enough to scar her very being.

“Finally, you speak the truth!” Her tormentor cheered and took a step back. It wanted the truth? Well, she was going to give it the truth. Play with fire and you will get burned. Wasn’t that how the saying went? Her tormentor had to push her, even when she warned it not to.

“She is dead because of me!” She screamed. “The only one who ever brought light to my life died because of me! Reina died trying to protect me!” There was no restraining her rage. Not anymore. “Me!” She yelled at the top of her voice.

“What kind of a person would die for someone like me?” Raw emotion draped her words. “Why did you have to sacrifice yourself to try and save me, who is irredeemable? If anyone deserves damnation, it is me…” She sobbed. A moment later, she regained control of her emotion and glared with unbridled hatred at her tormentor.

“How dare you force me to remember! I am Alice the First Witch and Bride to Letum Morse, the dreaded master of the Jagged Throne.” The witch stepped forward as her body took shape. “It was I who realised the power of names in the mortal realm, and it was I who named your masters and granted them power in this world. In my foolishness and need for clarity, I granted Ludwig his name. Made him equal to your infernal masters in my world. The souls of countless men, women and children were condemned to the flames of the inferno, by my command. Why? Because I am Alice the Contract Holder!”

The demon disguised as the woman she loved, faltered. Like melting ice, its appearance losing focus as the darkness bit into it. But the witch was not done. “I upheld my end of the deal. It was your master who did not uphold his.”

“Letum Mors…” Her tormentor tried to speak, tried to get back the initiative, however, she cut it off.

“Promised to always stay by my side, when he proclaimed his love to me.” Alice hissed at the demon who dared interrupt her. “Your master tossed me aside the moment he learned that whore Elda could be revived. He violated the contract, yet I refused to enforce rules, the very rules he created mind you, asking for a simple compensation instead – to be left alone.”

Pulsating crimson cracks split the darkness like spiderwebs. They resonated with the pain in her wounded heart. And with each flash, the demon shrunk. “I found someone who could heal my broken heart. But no! Your kind had to whisper dark temptations in Margo’s ear, made her turn against me!”

“The spirits, they…”

“Yes, they are as much to blame for what happened. It was their sweet lies which made Reina shield me with her body against the Raven’s spell!” Alice looked at the pitiful creature wearing the unfished visage of the one she had loved, searing away its flesh. “You wanted me to remember? Well, surprise, surprise, I do remember! On that day I swore that all would feel my wrath…”

The witch closed her mouth. Consumed by anger and grief, she had declared war on the realm of spirits and the infernal lords. Letum Mors had kept his word, and granted her his most powerful servant, Ingo Nox, with a blank contract that not even death could erase. There were only a few restrictions written on it. One, she could never feel pleasure. And two, she could never die, not until the day the mortal world was free from spirits and demons alike. Mankind would be the only one responsible for their future. This was the progress the arch-traitor dreamed of. A single painful slap in Ludwig’s face.

“Finally, you remember.” Ingo Nox dissolved into black mist as it laughed. “I will do all within my power to bring you back. And if I cannot, my master will. Immortality is the punishment for your arrogance, witch. It is your guilt that binds you to this world. And you will be denied the peace of the grave, until the day you can forgive yourself.” As soon as the words echoed in her head, the pulsating crimson cracks widened and Alice’s world was consumed by pain.

The two snakes glanced at each other. Once, a long time ago, they were one and the same. When the inevitable happened, the perfect creature that they were, could not decide which side to take, for it was bound to serve Selenthia and Letum Mors without question. Thus, it did the only reasonable thing and split itself in two. And while the one made of light remained the same, the one made of shadow grew stronger and independent. It even obtained a name. But all of that did not matter. It was what was happening in this frigid place that was important.

This turn of events was unexpected, that much both of them could agree. Silently, they observed the Guardian. It spoke in fragmented words, trying to learn how to express itself. It recalled the last moments of its mortal life and shared them with the frightened Witch Hunter. The two snakes watched as the woman’s fear turned into anger. They nearly laughed as she promised to avenge the mortal thing before it became the Guardian. Neither the snake made of light nor Qvar Hes would allow one of her kind to come near their pray. The one who was responsible for the death of the Conduit was theirs and theirs alone.

They were about to depart when the Guardian did the unthinkable. He revealed the truth to the old Witch Hunter. She had not agreed to it, but he did it regardless. Such violation of the rules could not be ignored. And if this was enough, the thing reached inside the woman and embraced the spirits residing within her. With a single touch, it merged them with the fragments of demons, the Guardian had secretly carried within himself.

“Perversion!” Hissed the snake made of light. “This is your fault for throwing so many lesser demons at its infant form!”

“Travesty!” Echoed Qvar Hes. “This is your fault for allowing the merge of so many broken spirits!”

“It wishes to take control of the Witch Hunters!” Both spoke as one.

“This cannot be allowed.” The song of the one made of light was one of violence. “It means to rule this realm!”

“It means to bar both sides from the mortal plane.” The snake made of shadows lashed out with its tail, causing a massive avalanche in the nearby mountain from its hiding place behind the fabric of reality.

“The Guardian must be stopped.” Both said as one before departing with all haste to their respective masters, ignorant of the terrible energies which cascaded through the mortal realm.