“Elegantly accomplished," said Nehemiah Trot. "I shall compose an Ode. Would you like to stay and listen?”

― Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

Vanessa jumped to the side, escaping the worst of the intense light, even though she could not suppress a hiss of pain as the flesh on her right arm blistered, and she hastily pulled her cloak tight.

Alyssa winced and pressed her hands against her smarting eyes, cursing under her breath.

Burning brightly, the figure of Zygmund von Nordmark twisted in on itself. Burning pieces flaked off and drifted like fireflies around the macabre scene.

The cultists shuffled backward, and one of them fell heavily on his backside, letting his incense bowl fall to the ground, spilling bones of a distinctly humanoid slant slathered with a dark substance that was still burning fitfully.

Jumping between the cultists and the stairwell, Mireille brandished her lightning spear. irritated by the blood dripping from her nose, she absentmindedly smeared it all over her face with her backhand before addressing the two robed figures. "Where do you think you are going?"

The fallen cultist looked at the other, and then both nodded before ripping free wavy-bladed daggers from their belts.

With a meaty thunk, several crossbow bolts sprouted from the backs of the two, and gurgling, they fell to the ground in a steadily spreading pool of blood.

The captain still had his weapon and shield raised and eyed the group of friends and more or less willing allies suspiciously.

Jamila put a hand on Alyssa's shoulder, jerking back as a biting frost invaded her flesh. She grimaced only for a moment before she stepped around the girl while discretely waving her hand to get some circulation back. "Karl. Good to see that you still have some sense left. As I'm the highest-ranking noble of Nordmark here in this castle and definitely not with the rebels I command you to obey me."

The calculations going through the head of the guard captain were plainly written on his face- unwillingness, disgust, then apprehension, and finally, acceptance. "Might as well. Never was well-spoken enough to argue myself out of this mess." He eyed the undead lying on the floor and then, with a grimace, added, "Please. We should try to help my men. Perhaps some might be saved."

Alea cautiously walked up to the downed men and women, and with a short prayer, light energies played over the broken and bleeding bodies, mending some superficial wounds and stopping the bleeding. With a visible effort, she raised her voice, "I cannot do much more in this crypt. The very air is foul, and anathema to all that is light- Please get them up the stairs at least. Perhaps Alyssa can use some water-magic? The one over here is too far gone to carry." Stumbling a bit, she began to take care of the worst of Mireille's wounds, which were mostly superficial in nature.

Alyssa nodded and walked toward a downed female soldier, a large gash in her abdomen, leaking copious amounts of blood. Keeping an eye on the rest of the men and women around the captain, Karl she reminded herself. She lowered herself to one knee and intoned the waters of life. The waters that appeared had a sickly greenish hue but seemed to do the job as the ragged edges of the wound slowly grew back together.

Vanessa looked at Iseret while rubbing her smarting arm, an unpleasant burned odor hung in the air mixed with the musty, cold air carrying hints of rot and the sickly-sweet-smelling incense still burning in the cultist's bowls. "Do we follow the elf? Or is it too risky to leave Alyssa and the rest?"

"I fear we can't trust them yet. Let Jamila and the captain catch him. She is nominally in charge now, isn't she?" A sardonic grin graced her impassive features. "But how about you?" She stepped closer. "Let me have a look at your arm."

"Later." Vanessa motioned with her chin at the group around the fallen. "Let us see if something is left from this failure of a duke."

Walking back, they saw a group of five more or less unharmed soldiers cautiously descend down the stairs accompanied by Leomund and his apprentice, both of whom had a distinctly unwilling look.

Somewhere, the cackle of the impish devil reverberated through the darkness.

Forming makeshift stretchers from spears, shields, and cloaks, the remaining soldiers began to carry the seriously wounded up the stairs.

Alyssa and Mireille pulled Alea with them as they approached Vanessa, Jill trailed along behind them while muttering a prayer under her breath.

Alyssa clenched and unclenched her hands before addressing Vanessa. "What now?"

"This place must be cleansed." Interrupting the vampire girl's answer, Jill spoke up, and there was a barely suppressed fury in her voice. "This is heresy. We have to lay the poor souls to rest."

"Yes, but not just about now. The army will be here in two or three days if they hurry. By then, there will be priests and templars galore. We should not risk Alea's health to save some time." Vanessa said firmly. "This here has been going on for months at least. One or two days will not make a difference."

"But...!" Jill began to argue.

"Help the soldiers clean this place if you will. Alea is needed by the wounded." Alyssa shrugged. "We killed Zygmund von Nordmark, the cause of all of this. Can you not be a bit more happy with that?"

Jill seemed about to say something, then stopped and heaved a sigh. "Yes, you are right. I will go and help them. You go and help the soldiers. Until then."

As the silence between them began to become uncomfortable, Mireille cleared her throat. "Then that's it? Nirileth be with you." Not waiting for the faint outrage at the 'good' wishes to become something more, the redhead pulled Alea toward the stairs.

The rest followed before Jill turned around and walked toward the stairs the group of soldiers, along with Leomund, had descended.

They had made some room in the dining hall on the ground level of the castle. The vaulted ceiling vanished into the darkness as the light from candles and torches was too feeble to illuminate it all. The narrow windows showed only scattered stars and the bare branches of some trees, probably growing in some sort of courtyard. Alea walked between the tables where the injured had been placed on hastily requisitioned blankets, her healing magic flaring brightly and briefly lighting the hall.

Jamila came up to them. "Thank you." She said quietly. "When I fled this morning, I never thought it would lead to this." She hastily added. "But I'm very glad it did."

"What will you do now?" Alyssa asked curiously while feeding Cyrus a bit of jerky.

The older woman wrinkled her forehead and then grinned. "Send a request for parlay to the army and then try to mitigate the damage. Rebuild. Not how I had envisioned it when I dreamed of getting power and recognition. And no. I don't think it will be easy even remaining in charge, much less getting this catastrophe sorted out."

"You should try and get the priestly orders to cleanse the castle. If not, you cannot live here. There will be ghosts and specters born of the void still lingering here, and the deaths and necromancy will have made it worse." Alyssa looked around, her eyes lit with dark energies.

Another flash of light bathed them, and Vanessa pulled her hood down lower as Alea finished another healing spell. "Could we use some of the guest chambers? And is there someone who can show us around?" The small vampire asked.

"Of course. I will ask one of the soldiers, they should know the castle well enough. The servants, what's left of them, will still be in hiding. They have keen instincts, those that survived, that is."

"Then we would be much obliged." Vanessa nodded at her.

A harried-looking older man in chain and leather armed with a sword but missing his shield guided them through the silent castle. Corridors and stairwells were empty of life. Burned-out torches and dust stood mute witness to creeping neglect as they reached a higher floor with several rooms that had formerly been used to house less important guests. The beds and a few pieces of furniture were shrouded in protective cloth covers that were quickly stripped, revealing cold and musty but clean bedding.

The soldier gave them a tired wave and began the trek back to the dining hall.

Iseret pulled Vanessa into the first such room with a short nod and "Good night."

Mireille grabbed both Alea and Alyssa while the latter was still protesting. "I don't know if that is such a good idea...!" Her clothes were stiff with cold, and she self-consciously tried to extricate herself from her friend.

"You just have to..." Mireille was fiddling with Alyssa's coat, much to the white-haired girl's consternation. "Aaaaand..." With a small crackle and a hiss, the enchantment activated, and heat began to emit from the spell circuits embedded in the coat.

Alea giggled at that before she realized herself doing it.

"The bed is big enough." Mireille eyed the large bedframe holding two stuffed mattresses. "But we should try to get a fire going. Would you do the honors?" She looked at Alyssa.

"Okay." Stacking the dry but cold wood logs they found beside the open hearth, Alyssa incanted her firebolt spell, aiming for one of the bigger pieces of wood, and with a swooshing sound, it burst into flames. Finally, she arranged the remaining kindling so that it would catch on quickly. They retired to the bed, not bothering to change their clothes as the room temperature was just below freezing, and the water in an old washing basin had a solid layer of ice.

"Are you asleep?" Mireille turned and looked at Alyssa in the darkness.

Her friend turned to regard her with an unfriendly look. "How could I."

"Just making conversation." Mireille blinked.

"Could you please do that tomorrow?" Came a small voice from the bundle of blankets that shrouded Alea.

"I could not sleep so I thought I could talk to you for a bit." Mireille lowered her voice but heard a quiet snort from Alea as the latter pulled herself further into her blankets.

"What did you have in mind," Alyssa whispered back.

"What do you think will happen when the temple warriors arrive?"

"They will be overjoyed...and then try to kill Vanessa and me. Probably."

"Do you really think so?"

"Yes. I think Jill is pretty open-minded, actually. The rest will be worse."

"And then?"

"I will try to cross the mountains."

"We."

"What?"

"We will cross them. You won't try to go alone, will you?"

"But the mountains in winter..."

"This is or was a duchy. They should have some magics lying around that could help, and you don't freeze anymore, do you?"

Mireille cautiously tapped Alyssa on the shoulder, and as the latter stared at her uncomprehendingly, she was suddenly grabbed and hugged. "Only wanted to make sure you were no longer freezing," Mireille mumbled. "Ah, that is nice." The warmth of the enchantments had slowly built, and Alyssa was actually quite cozy to the touch, at least in Mireille's humble opinion.

"Do we have another day before we have to go?" The living girl mumbled.

"I think so. I can have Calmund have an eye out for the troops." Alyssa mused.

"Could we talk about that tomorrow?" Alea grumbled.

Steady, soft breathing was her only response. Raising herself, Alea saw the slack-jawed look on her friend's face. Relieved, she buried herself in the blankets again. "Good night."

"Good night."

'Good night.' Asandria turned from the shuttered window and looked at the trio.

The woman standing on the dais overlooking the silent broken city turned her hand, and a glowing orb formed from swirls of energy drifting from the shadows surrounding the carved marble throne behind her. Beautiful eyes inspected the greenish energy before she closed her hand with a decisive motion, extinguishing the faint light.

Undead giants lumbered through the night carrying great blocks of stone and smaller skeletons, looking from the distance like white ants, were carving, digging, building.

What was it she had instructed them to do?

Ah yes.

Turning, she stroked the back of the marble throne, feeling the pitted stone, damaged from exposure to the elements, and with a frown, she drew power into herself before speaking some grating syllables. With a shiver like a pebble thrown into water, the marble became indistinct and then appeared again, smooth as the day it had been carved.

If only everything was that easy.

Her mind was full of other thoughts, the remnants of the beings she controlled, the spirits she had consumed to further her power whispered in her mind. Years upon untold years, she had simply...waited. The tantalizing scent of freedom she had felt from the East had been the impetus for her awakening but she realized.

She was still half-asleep.

Like an unthinking juggernaut, she had thrown the damned and the undead at the southern lands, her more intelligent subjects she had sent over the mountains but she was less than pleased.

They had played the games of short-lived fools and died like those they emulated.

Zygmund von Nordmark. She eyed her empty palm, still feeling the lingering rage of the shattered soul. He was not even worth devouring. What had Tarus Iram been thinking? He had probably aimed higher. Wasn't there something about a younger royal?

Her thoughts drifted toward abstract formulas, runes of power, ways to turn a soul into a torch that shed light by which one could understand secrets.

With a conscious effort, she forced herself back to the present. Her momentary lapse had dispelled the illusion cloaking her bones, and the unblemished ivory of pale bone shone from her hands and wrist where it emerged from the robes she wore. Clenching her jaw in distaste, she forced the crystal heart in her chest to work its magic, and alabaster flesh, smooth and beautiful, hid the still bones underneath. The hall she stood in became vibrant with plant life covering the stone walls that stood whole once more, elves in all manner of dress and regalia swayed to unseen music. The throne was shining with a bright and gentle glow. Carved vines and flowers grew out of the lifeless material and opened to emit wonderful scents.

With a wave of her hand, everything vanished, and only the illusion of her flesh remained.

"You feel it, too?" Her voice was a cold, hollow whisper before changing to a seductive, husky drawl. She patted her chest, visualizing the crystal heart beating in her lifeless husk. "When I devour her whole, I will be free at last, and then I will find a way to regain what was taken from me. Vyarlis told me, he promised me." Madness shone in her blazing eyes.