You're...Immortal?

******

We were in the wastelands. The moon glowed full and bright in the sky, and we were in the middle of a camp. Warders had already drawn the necessary sigils and signs in a full circle around the tents, magic pulsing in a protective barrier. Everyone was gathered around a roaring campfire, tucking into their meal for the evening.

Our Pied Piper was dressed like one of the guards, laughing and drinking and telling bawdy jokes, along with the rest of them. One thing was for sure, he was an excellent actor. Then again, I expected no less from him.

The only person who was clothed differently was a young man with blond hair and crystalline eyes. My blood chilled. He looked exactly like the Pied Piper ruling as Lord Himmel.

The young man smiled with the rest of the men, but didn't quite join in the revelry, as though he meant to set himself apart. The Pied Piper noticed this and waved at him from across the campfire. "Milord, relax! The wards will hold, I assure you. We aren't in any danger of being attacked."

"I'm not a lord, Hans," the young man replied dryly. "And it's all right. Please do carry on with whatever it is you all were doing."

The guards stared. "Well, if you're sure you're all right..." said the Pied Piper.

"Yes, I'm sure."

Silence fell over the group.

The young man heaved a sigh. "Fine. Who wants to hear a story about how a man got his head stuffed into a boar's bottom by a maiden?"

"That's the spirit, milord!"

"For the last time, Hans, I am not a lord!" But even as the words spilled from his mouth, his crystalline eyes were laughing. Sparks from the fire danced within them, illuminating them with a beautiful glow. I had a feeling that he and the Pied Piper were particularly close friends.

The rest of the guards lost some of the tension from their shoulders, and began to laugh. "Hear, hear!" one of them cried. "Let's hear the tale of the man had his head stuffed into a boar's bottom by a maiden!"

The young man leaned forward eagerly, a mischievous expression on his face. "Well now, it begins like this—"

An unearthly shriek pierced the air.

Everyone leaped to their feet. Then I saw it—or them: black, writhing figures, like shadows coming alive, surrounding the barrier. The wards started to spark when the figures tried to throw themselves into the campfire, and it held. Sighs of relief were emitted.

Until the black figures slipped through the barriers.

The sighs of relief immediately transformed into barks of disbelief. "Wights!" screamed a guard. The numerous scars on his face marked him as the leader. "Everyone, to positions!"

But despite the fact that their leader was trying to rally them, the guards were scattered, scrambling all over the area. The wights sensed their fear, and in turn they shrieked in delight. They began to swoop down on the guards one by one, swallowing them up in shadows.

The Pied Piper was standing with the young man, completely calm amidst the calamity. They stood back-to-back, fending off the wights with everything they had. "Markus, I'm going to cast an illusion about us," said the Pied Piper, forgetting all titles. He blasted light at the shadows with his hand, making the creatures writhe and howl in defiance. "Defend me!"

As soon as he finished his sentence, the Pied Piper changed tactics. He started to hum, and I sensed a subtle veil of invisibility fall over the pair. Meanwhile, Markus—the young man—continued to fight the wights with his Medium, a lute. It looked odd, him strumming the instrument as a tempest roared about him, but there was power in the song. It was actually pushing back the wights, like it was neutralising their shadows, in a way. Unfortunately, even he wouldn't be able to last long. Signs of fatigue were already starting to show in the strain of his brow.

At long last, the Pied Piper dropped the song. But my view of him and Markus were unchanged. "Why can't I see their illusion?" I asked Elise.

"Remember, you're seeing the event unfold from Lord Himmel's eyes," she replied. "In his eyes, he wouldn't be able to see his own illusion."

"Oh," I said, just as a wight caught Markus in its grip and started to devour his mind.

It was an ugly sight: the creature of darkness bent over Markus' face, a semblance of a mouth set upon its head sucking something out of the young man's mouth. Markus' face was twisted into pure agony, the whites of his eyes showing and his cheeks growing more sunken with each passing second. "Help..." he managed to groan.

Then the wight released him, and he collapsed onto the ground, mindless and lifeless.

And yet the wight seemed to completely ignore the Pied Piper. In return, he smiled. A snake's smile.

He crouched down beside Markus' body, drawing a vial out of the pocket of his jerkin. I squinted, noting that the liquid was silvery, glowing ever so slightly. He also took out a needle from the same pocket. Deftly, he removed the stopper from the vial with one hand, and with the other, he pricked the needle into Markus' neck. Dark red blood oozed from the wound. He gathered it on the needle and carefully allowed it to drip into the vial.

The liquid started to change colour, adopting a reddish tinge. Ancient magic radiated from the vial. Ancient magic that felt familiar.

It was Saint Bromilde's.

The Pied Piper sloshed the liquid around for a bit, letting the blood mix into the original liquid. Then he put it to his lips and tipped the contents down his throat.

His features began to shift.

Not by much, but it was shifting. Where his nose was once broad and prominent, it was now sharp and aquiline; where his dirty blond hair reached his shoulders, it shortened and lightened in colour; where his blue eyes were once the colour of the sky during daytime, they now resembled crystals instead. Even his clothes were changing: scarlet uniform shifting into something of a finer cut, something that showed off more wealth.

Something that looked like what Markus was wearing.

Once the transformation was complete, the Pied Piper pried the lute out of Markus' limp fingers and hummed another tune. It sounded like an illusion of sorts, being woven over the corpse. Once that was done, he stood up and gave a low whistle.

The wights dissipated instantly.

The other guards, still scattered around the area, looked at a loss for words at the sudden ambush. Only the leader, the one with the scarred face, composed himself and shouted, "Head count! How many have we lost?"

Everybody gathered around the campfire which had gone out somewhere amidst the fighting. The leader of the guards started to count the men. "Two, four six, eight...Four men lost. Quite all right. Could have been worse. You all right, sir? You seem...shocked."

All eyes flitted towards the Pied Piper, who was wearing Markus' face. "Y—yes. It's just—" He clenched his fists by his side, expression in a semblance of anger. He even sounded like Markus. "Hans is dead. I should have done something to help him. I could have saved everyone here—I'm a Magus, after all."

The leader shook his head sadly. "No sir, nothing you could have done. Poor bastard was the one who drew the wards anyway. It was because of his mistake he died."

"But still..."

"We shall speak of the matter no more," the leader cut him off. He jabbed a finger towards several men. "You, you and you. Gather the bodies and make sure you cleanse them properly before the burial. The rest of you, take down the camp. It's no longer safe to remain here."

The men saluted and quickly went about their duties, not wasting another moment. The Pied Piper stepped forward, still in Markus' mask. "I can help," he said.

The leader considered him warily. "All right then. You help the sorcerers with cleansing the bodies. Make sure they don't skip a single step."

The Pied Piper nodded. "Will do." He wheeled around and strode away from the campfire, towards where Markus' body lay. He smiled, a smile that was concealed in the shadows.

A snake's smile.

******

Pale. Elise's face was so pale. Yet she kept pressing forward, saying that we had no time to lose. Only when a gash had suddenly split up by my side and Elise had explained that our bodies were being wounded in the physical world, did I relent and go along with her.

We were standing in the wastelands. It was night time again, and I didn't think that the full moon was a coincidence. There were the barren forests around us, and a beaten path cutting through the shrivelled trees. Not a soul was in sight.

I frowned. "What is—"

"Shh. Wait," said Elise.

I clamped my mouth up and waited.

Then I heard a rumble in the distance. Horses, galloping. Fast. Carriage wheels screeching against the dirt. Panicked cries for help.

Then the horses appearing. A screech tearing through the night, coming from the air. The carriage came rolling down the path, its doors ripped apart and windows shattered.

A creature with wings came swooping down upon the carriage.

It was a bloodbath. The gryphon first ripped the two horses' heads off. Then it tore the roof of the carriage apart and started to claw the people inside it. There were screams. There was magic. But nothing could withstand the gryphon's wrath. There was nothing but a broken heap of wood in the end, and the mutilated bodies lying atop the wood. And there was blood.

A lot of blood.

I tightened my grip on Elise's shoulder, looking away. Heidi, on the other hand, seemed fascinated by the sight. Not surprising. She was a Healer. If she couldn't withstand scenes such as this, she had no right to call herself one.

"Thank you for your assistance, Bromilde," said a familiar-sounding voice. I finally gathered the courage to look, and saw that one had survived the massacre. It was the Pied Piper. His clothes were rumpled and bloodied, but he looked uninjured. He was actually stroking the gryphon, cooing in its ear. "I'll find my way back now."

The gryphon emitted a high-pitched squawk.

"Don't you dare! The people will see you, and they will kill you. Unfortunately, Heidelberg has an excellent army of sorcerers, and I dare not put you at their mercy."

The gryphon squawked again, flapping its wings.

"Shoo! Be off now! I can find my way back just fine."

The gryphon lowered its head and clawed at the ground, tail between its legs.

"Just go. I promise I'll be fine. I have your master to protect me, no?"

The gryphon finally seemed to relent, taking a few steps backwards. It took off into the sky and screeched in farewell. The Pied Piper watched until it was no more than a dot streaking through the night.

******

We were in the town square of Hamelin. The buildings looked brand new, and the streets weren't crumbling into pieces. Another full moon in the sky. The darkness was complete. The wind chilled me to the bone. A figure was standing in the middle of the town square, a figure who had a pipe in hand.

"This is the night," I whispered.

Elise's shoulder went rigid under my grip. "Let us get this done and over with." She propped the violin on her shoulder, readying herself to alter the memory.

I bit my lower lip. I wanted to see how the events of that fateful night actually played up, but I knew that it was extremely painful for Elise. Even now, as her expression remained as stoic and as cool as ever, there was a ripple of sorrow lying beneath the mask. I felt like if I just pushed her the slightest bit, the mask would completely crumble, and she would instantly break down.

I didn't stop her as she pulled the bow taut across the strings.

******

My Core was running dangerously low of magic, yet I kept lending energy to Elise. The gash on my side had healed slightly, but it was still dripping with blood. I didn't know how I was still breathing. Barely, really. I felt so light on my feet. Heidi fared slightly better, though not by much, since she had to give out more magic than I did. Elise looked like she had just been resurrected from the dead, her skin stretched so thinly across her features that her cheekbones stood out unnaturally sharp. Her eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark rings beneath them. I could have sworn that she was thinner.

Slowly, the memory formed before us. There were shouts everywhere; the air lived and breathed chaos. The sky was on fire.

I blinked. It was the battle in Hamelin.

We were somewhere in the middle. The sorcerers passed through us, screaming murder and spells. All of their magic passed through us harmlessly. My head spiralled, reeling from the witnessing of the heart of the battle. Scorched corpses, mutilated corpses, sunken corpses—they were everywhere. I closed my eyes, smelling the stench of magic and blood thick in the atmosphere, listening to the spells being flung about everywhere, feeling the pain and the terror from all sides.

"Last memory," said Elise. She sounded relieved. "Give me all you have."

Her violin rang out, singing a mournful tune. Heidi and I poured the last dregs of our energies into her. We couldn't fail now, not when we were so close.

Not when we were so close.

There was strange buzzing in my ears, and the chaos sounded muffled. I opened my eyes. The outlines of the objects were all blurred. Elise continued to play, taking her song higher and higher, until I felt the rush of us passing by the memory.

Then we were shrouded in darkness, like in the beginning.

"All right, I'll bring us back into the physical world. Whatever you two do, don't let go—"

Heidi released a sudden shriek, and she twisted onto the ground, letting go of Elise's shoulder.

Elise began to curse.

******