Shadows waltzed about the woodlands; the howling of beasts and the rustling of leaves mingling into a nocturnal symphony of sorts. I felt cornered, even in the small specked-about meadows, for the darkness masked the dangers of the woods.

Rosemary rode behind Grandmother Astrid's spectre-turned-corporeal mount. Within the span of the first few minutes of striding down the Grove, I couldn't refrain from asking what it was. But her answer was as vague as usual: Magick. Thankfully, she clarified with a small addition; she had bent the very air and vapour to her command- an apparent technique she oft used for travelling.

A sudden itch spiked in my side as an otherworldly shriek sliced through the night. I realised it was the fallen feather I had picked up, solely to adorn the woven dreamcatchers. Nevertheless, my heart was pounding, even with the Elder near.

Her mount slowed down, beginning to ride alongside Rosemary in synch.

She furrowed her brows, eyes seemingly far and deep into their sockets. The wrinkles, high and distinctive cheekbones, as well as her bony frame looked like the shell of what once was human, especially in the bright, glowy mist originating from the beast's eyes. It was as menacing of an appearance as the images depicting the Death Knight and fallen-from-grace royal executioner, Yvvarik.

A tragic tale, really. A fairy-tale of the age in which Magick had not supposedly died out yet. While memory oft serves me ill, it revolved around the premise of social acceptance of love atop the legendary Khalastorian Skylands. A single choice that inevitably led up to the total annihilation of the levitating isles. Whereas the inhabitants turned their backs on the monarch's right-hand man, the heavenly skies, in turn, gave up on their disdainful nature; blasting the magical island down into the tidal waves in a relentless, brutal onslaught of repeated lightning bolts.

Their conscious decisions to banish whatever oddity they encountered upon the clouds ultimately tarnished their favourable reputation with the Sunwarrior, the grand phoenix that once bestowed life to all beings.

Grandmother Astrid snapped her finger, "Don't drowse off, I won't come back for you if you fall off your mare."

"It's Mother's horse, not mine."

Her mount sped up, leaving me in the dust and the trail of the Elder's voice, "Marvellous, but frankly, I don't give a damn."

She made her point clear- simultaneously elaborating on the suspicion that she'd make for poor company. But it shouldn't matter all too much, we were to advance through the woods, in the middle of the murky night. Not even twenty-four hours had gone by since semi-successfully warding off the pirate invasion; granted, they had caused a great deal of damage and dragged irreplaceable souls across the Shallows. Ah, may they live on happily ever after in the afterlife.

A few branches snapped betwixt Rosemary's hooves and the grassy forest flooring. While the shattering crunch was soft, the looming silence tended to magnify roaming sounds. The fragrance of maples was strangely faint, especially for a place deep within the Grove. Patches of land ahead were illuminated, not by a direct cascade of moonlight; no, the beams of light rained down through the small gaps and crevices between the leaves.

I instructed my mare to catch up to Grandmother Astrid- although, she profusely refused to obey. It was as though Rosemary sensed the distorted nature of the Elder's mount. Then again, a horse made of clouds and water, branded with the stamp Kelpie, did not seem all that ordinary. I bent slightly forward, stroking the black manes on her neck. "Thank you, Rosy," I had whisperingly vocalised my appreciation.

"You aren't scared, are you?" The Elder had noticed the attempt to speed up- and the poor results that came to fruition. "Giddy up already, the Sacred Mountains are still a long way ahead," informed she, her eyes fixed onto the general direction of the said deemed-holy area.

"No," was my muttered reply.

Slowly, she glanced over: the gradual movement and the deadpan face both characterising her clear annoyance. "Not very convincing, darling."

"Well, my sincerest apologies. It's just that I've been told that the Grove is incredibly dangerous at night, because of the boars and-" I intended to speak my mind. However, she cut me off like the impatient, haggard witch she proved to be.

"Ghouls."

"Ghouls?" I asked, my voice touched by a sense of confusion, "What's a ghoul?"

Grandmother Astrid's Kelpie slowed down, matching Rosy's sloppy pacing. "Flesh craving, man-slaughtering necrophages. The Ghoul is one of the many, many terrors of the night; a freak of nature, roaming about on all fours in their desperate search for blood."

Undoubtedly, she had realised a disturbing look on my face, and added, "Fortunately, we don't have many around these parts. Thank the S.H.E.D. for that blessing."

I was still unsure what she meant with the shed. Whether it be a place, a codename, or perhaps, even a person. But at this very moment, it was far from my main priority. We had to traverse the stretched-out island, east to west; from the tip of the curved shoreline and cliffs on the east, to well beyond the Sacred Mountains.

Only a little before the full moon met its zenith in the dull sky, we had arrived back at the Wharf's entrance gate. We were forced to halt; the metal frame beneath the gatehouse had apparently been lowered earlier. I remembered Father praising the specific material of the bars; a supposedly rare, tough-to-dent ore.

I called out, hoping guards were patrolling atop the city walls. "Anyone there?" My voice sounded desperate, but honestly, it came as a real surprise that no response met my inquiry. Especially after last night's events- Father was definitely going to get into trouble for this.

The Elder locked eyes with me.

"I know what you're going to say, already, so don't even." She smoothly dismounted off her beast, the being turning into no more than water drops and air. Its colours began to fade out, as the shapes mingled down into a blend of tattered forms. The mystical blue eyes that lit so avidly within the dark woods switched their prominence for a dull blue: only to entirely be vaporised thereafter.

My mouth stood agape.

Grandmother Astrid approached me briefly, laid a hand on my cheek and shut my mouth, literally. "Watch it, you might catch mosquitos otherwise."

I wanted to snap back with some witty reply but suppressed the rising urge.

"Girl, you know how to operate the gatehouse?" She asked, head up and gazed firmly lying atop the beefier building installed within the wall.

Replying, I muttered, "Afraid I'm not."

"Very well," said the Elder, beginning to trace her distinctive veins with her veiled-down-to-claws nails. Her index finger began from her wrist, slowly making its way down her underarm as she drew her arm closer to her chest. Within a matter of seconds, her fingernail had commenced glowing a faint red.

She punctured her skin.

I was taken aback, unsure of what sort of a satanic ritual I witnessed. Blood was gushing out the Elder's arm and wrist. It was a river of crimson, sticky liquids. I felt nauseated and disgusted by what she did next. She had consumed her own blood, a little stain on her leathery lips and shallow cheeks.

She glanced at me, smiling at my visible discomfort. "Magick requires sacrifice, little one. The greater the offering, the greater one's power shall, in turn, temporarily be enhanced." She moved over to the gate, coiling her hand around one of the many vertical bars.

Grandmother Astrid whimpered, her head trembling in pain, murmuring, "O-Oxduster-infused," followed by a grunt. I watched as her hand began disfiguring. The bars were seemingly burning her small hands. However, while her body suffered under direct contact with the gate: so did the metal. The fallen gate began to glisten, as the Elder became capable of moving the whole thing aside. I stared in awe, realising she had liquified the entire thing to rearrange it. Within seconds, she had forged a gap broad enough to fit through on even horseback.

"Go through, girl. Meet me at the end of Conquest Road, just before the Great Waltz. You'll need help travelling across that sundered Riverland."

"You're not coming alone?" I asked, tilting my head, curious for the reason and confirmation.

She nodded, "I'll be back."

"Where are you going? It's like the middle of the night." I didn't mind admitting I was clearly confused. I felt like a stereotypical blonde girl at this very moment, but honestly, could one blame me for it? The world I believed to have known so well and I became such estranged acquaintances, I felt as though I needed to ask everything. I wondered whether it'd sooner annoy me, or tick someone else off.

"I must see to Helen's whereabouts. I ought to assure she is safe and sound, because if not, well... Some real nasty things are going to happen." The Elder answered, walking away from the gate, yet with her blood-soaked arm raised, hand open with her fingers violently grasping inwards- shakingly.

Her eyes signalled me to proceed.

Disbelieving she would be able to meet me in time, I could not help but ask, "And you honestly believe you can catch up when I have such a headstart? By the way, why didn't you check on her before?" I furrowed my brows, shifting a bit atop Rosemary's saddle.

"That's none of your concern, girl. My business is mine and mine alone, I don't need you sticking your nose into my dealings. Remember, I am no friend who wishes to get to you- I am solely travelling along to ensure your wish is properly executed." She grew silent, folding her arms and sternly looking at me. "Besides, I told you before, the art of water-based Magick is only limited to one's creativity- and I know far too many ways to navigate more efficiently than men and mortals alike."

"All right, all right," I quickly apologised, although, accidentally adding, "you sore hag." At first, I had not even realised I spoke my remark out loud. Though, she definitely did.

Grandmother Astrid sighed, "Pass before I turn the gate solid again." She had chosen to ignore the excessive words, thankfully. I wasn't keen on having any sort of argument with her. Especially at a time like this, it'd both only prolong my inevitable loss through sleep deprivation, as well as supporting Adelaide at her trial.

"Very well." I rode passed her, the messy hodgepodge that became of the gateway strung itself back into its original state; a cobweb of bars running from left to right and up and down. I turned my head around to face the Elder, but she was gone without a trace- or any parting words.

I made doubly sure Rosemary wouldn't hurt herself on the stone tiles. Just carefully trotting through the streets, I noticed the abundance of wooden structures. People had been busy with their reparations all day, it seemed. But it was to be expected, the islanders had always been renowned for their ability to take a substantial hit and still keep going. Their vigilance was admirable, I wish mine was similar. But I firmly believed, had I lost Mother or Adelaide, I'd doubtlessly lose my way.

There was nobody on the streets to see. Almost as if a time curfew had been placed into effect. Although, while admittedly hard to believe, everyone could also be vast asleep. However, most men and women around these parts had the tendencies to work all night; be it sewing at home or physical labour at the mill near the outskirts of town.

Further down the docks, I could make out the silhouette of a figure in the darkness. Solely via the moon reflecting off the glistening waves. I considered approaching, but the wiser part of my consciousness digressed- for curiosity oft killed the cat.

I watched on as the figure dissipated into a mist of sorts; entirely and utterly vanishing into thin air.

The wind gently phased through the tangled mess that had become my hair - ah, I had always been a great fan of riding through spider webs on horseback. I rolled my eyes as a sensation like earlier that day emerged from the shadows.

"You have brought great shame upon the blood of your ancestors."

I had instantly identified his voice. Its deep-rooted nature with a caressing touch, it was, without a doubt, Theos'. He left me dazed, unsure what to think. I looked about the docks, then back to the streets, he was nowhere- yet, most likely, he was present nearby.

"Meet us, enact your aid for Adelaide's plea of innocence, my child," added Theos' disembodied voice.

Unconsciously, I nodded, visible agreeing with his wishes. I wanted to know what was going on- every small detail, from why Adelaide had been dragged off to some shrine, to the reason Theos had forced a profound state of sleep upon me. Though, I was aware that I was most likely going to receive silence as an undesired answer.

A seemingly out-of-place solace surged through my body as he continued, "Maintain your flow, continuation shall pave the path to results."

I quietly nodded as my eyes caught a glimpse of a cloud of swatting fireflies, each illuminating the tiniest bit of air enveloping them wholly. For the briefest of moments, I believed I imagined the drew near. I blinked slowly, multiple times actually before concluding the luminous bugs were in fact approaching.

Something felt incredibly odd. The insects all spread out in an unnatural, uniform shape. A wall of lightning bugs hovered amid the sky before they joined their brethren and sisters to form a shining orb of light. They had all seemingly been molten down into a cast to create the image of a radiant circle.

It merely floated still in place, emitting a softening noise. Some sensation of curiosity pulled me closer, reaching out hesitantly. Upon touch, the very tip of my index finger felt ablaze. The sudden, sharp feeling traversed down my nerves, rippling through every blood vessel and shaking me at my core.

It exploded, a dazzling light numbing my sight.

I was squirming in place, attempting to remain perched atop the saddle to the best of my ability, but the fading sensation left me freaked out. But it was nowhere near the bizarre nature of the feelings induced by Grandmother Astrid's telepathic link.

A swirl of gold enveloped the top of my finger- a burning feeling running deep enough to carry through my bones. I ushered a barely audible groan whilst the pain eased. However, the golden aura of sorts still laced my index finger and had slowly spread out to the middle of my palm.

I tried rubbing it off.

...To no avail. In fact, it only worsened. Tiny crescent slashes etched into my hand, each immediately sewing right away. Slash after slash, the cuts moved over the middle of my left palm in a circular motion. I briskly laid my other hand atop, hoping it'd eliminate whatever foul, dark Magick was at work.

But the phantom carving remained on-going, albeit now, too, inflicting harm upon my right palm. Each cut twisted and turned into a spot not yet exposed. I had squeezed my eyes shut, only to regret. For, at the lack of vision, the sensation only felt increasingly difficult to bear.

Then it stopped.

I was about to unfold my hands, the slight friction between my palms was smooth. And far from sticky. Convincing myself to take a peek, I beheld the result. My eyes widened in horror, solely seeing bloodless scars.

The very colour of my skin had altered at parts, from what one could narrowly call a relatively light tan to a darker hue. Darker lines ran across my inner hands in a smoothened-down zigzag, racing up and down, left to right, everywhere. Yet all focused around carefully centred around their focus point: the exact middle. It was the darkest spot, consisting of many slices, each contributing to what could only be described as a sort of tiny gilded leaf, or perhaps a lotus. It was far too minimalistic to make out accurately. Though, the larger circles and diamonds were more than prominent enough to pinpoint exactly what they meant to appear like.

Truthfully, the reason why these marks were meant to meet me at the crossroads of destiny didn't bother me as much as how I was going to cover up for them. Father would most surely conjure forth a killing storm of verbal onslaught if he found out.

I frowned, closing my eyes and hoping to wake up form some sickening, miserable dream. But frankly, everything felt far too real to be as little as a twisted play of the mind.

Something had suddenly altered. I glanced and immediately took notice of the scars' absence. I still felt them, however. It was as if they had turned invisible or, mayhap, something had lulled me into a new perception: in which the purple-esque scars were of no importance.

I stared ahead, locking eyes onto the gateway up ahead; its bars distorted in a similar fashion to those at the entry point of the Wharf. Theos' voice re-emerged as soon as the dim, orange glow of the torches faded into oblivion.

"Worry not. You need only follow the darkness, for it shall only accentuate whatever righteous path unfolds ahead."

I grabbed a tighter hold on the reigns, and the journey to beyond the Sacred Mountains continued; unsure of what I was bound to face, nor the nature of the marking engraved into my flesh.