The fabric of the realms stretched and strained around the flying form of Storm, before snapping back with a brisk rush of air. They appeared above the open plains, the sparkle of water visible in the distance and the swaying tops of the surrounding forests rustling beneath them. Off to the left, the jagged rise of the strange mountain range was still visible, the spires and towers shining as the golden afternoon light bounced off the metal. Upon a second viewing, Alex was convinced it had something to do with the noble elite, keeping the upper echelons safe, but well out of the way of any riff-raff who inhabited the other parts of the realms.

“What just happened?” Ellabell asked, breathless.

Alex grinned. “Storm just took us through the barrier between realms. Pretty cool, right?”

“Understatement of the century!” she whooped, as Storm settled into a steady rhythm, heading toward the rise of the keep, just visible on the horizon.

They neared the familiar structure, and Alex was pleased to see that very little had changed. It didn’t look chaotic, at least not from the outside. A sudden doubt hit him as to where he was going to land Storm, especially if he was going to have to smuggle Ellabell inside. She couldn’t simply travel up to the keep, as he could, considering the barrier that smothered the place. The Thunderbird, however, had no such fears, her course never wavering as she swept up onto the turret where Alex had performed his first successful attempt at magical travel. The rusty-colored fog that surrounded the keep didn’t seem to faze her in the slightest, her feathered body soaring through it with ease before her sturdy feet touched down on the stone surface of the turret. Alex braced for the release of red fog, but it didn’t come. Whatever magical energy Storm possessed, it didn’t appear to alert the barrier at all, and had kept Ellabell’s from detection too.

“You are quite the creature, aren’t you?” he murmured, patting the side of the Thunderbird’s silky neck.

As soon as Alex dismounted and neared the edge of the battlement, he could feel that the magical barrier was even stronger now. It pulsed, almost tangibly, through the air. Glancing down, he saw that it had set the hairs on his forearm on edge.

He knew he was going to have to tread carefully, and he shouldered the drawstring bag of essence. They walked cautiously down the turret stairs, Alex peering out at the bottom to ensure the coast was clear before they pressed on toward Vincent’s cell. He figured the necromancer would be their best bet, if he was still alive.

A tense optimism filled his mind as they followed the semi-familiar hallways. So far, nobody had jumped out to surprise them, and the dark glitter of eyes still shone from behind the barred panels in the center of the prison doors.

Somebody is taking care of this place, he mused, but who? Caius or Vincent?

Reaching the corridor that held the cells of Agatha and Vincent, and the guard room that had been repurposed for holding Alypia, Alex paused. He knocked, awaiting a response.

“Who goes there?” an anxious voice called.

“Vincent? It’s Alex and Ellabell—we come bearing news,” Alex replied.

There was a scuffling sound, as if somebody were running inside, before the necromancer finally made his appearance at the door, pulling it open with an over-enthusiastic flourish. To Alex’s relief, he saw that there were no specters to be seen, and Vincent seemed to be his usual self, though his eyes were perhaps blacker, and the veins beneath his translucent skin had darkened to a deep, ugly black. His appearance was now closer to that of the other necromancers who lived within the prison walls. Alex felt a pang of guilt, knowing that it was because of him that Vincent had sunk to the darkest realms of necromancy. It was as if the act of summoning the specters, and the attack he had made on Caius, had somehow poisoned Vincent’s blood.

His demeanor, however, didn’t seem too much changed.

He hurried toward them. “Can it really be you? I must say, it is rather splendid to see both your faces—I feared I might never see them again, after your sharp exit. At least you heeded my warning,” he remarked, relief washing over his face.

“We can’t stay long,” said Alex, feeling the weight of the beetle beacon in his pocket. “We just wanted to check in, and deliver something to the others. It’d be good if we could catch up with them, too, see where they are on their side of the planning table,” he added. “Have you heard from them?”

“There will be time enough for shop-talk, but for now you must both sit,” Vincent insisted. “I have refreshments, if you would indulge me in partaking?”

Alex frowned. “We really don’t have a lot of time, Vincent.”

“Surely you can spare a moment, after everything we have been through?” Vincent replied. Alex shared a look with Ellabell. The necromancer had done a lot for them; it was literally all over his face, and yet the thought of pausing too long here made Alex feel antsy.

“Of course, Vincent, we can sit with you a short while,” Ellabell cut in, answering the offer before Alex had the chance to refuse it.

“Excellent! You can tell me all your news, and I would be more than happy to play messenger,” Vincent promised, but there was a tightness in the necromancer’s voice that made Alex nervous.

It’s all in your head, he told himself. It’s just this place, playing tricks with you.

“How is Caius?” Alex asked, sitting opposite the necromancer.

A grim look passed over Vincent’s face, his shoulders sagging. “I could not bring him back from the brink of true existence,” he said miserably. “I’m afraid Caius is trapped in the otherworld—his body still breathes, the blood still rushes in his veins, as if he is merely asleep, but it is a lights-on, no-one-home kind of affair. In necromancy, we call it the ‘Waking Death.’ For all intents and purposes, you are alive, but there is no substance to the life you continue to live. You cannot speak, think, move… You become a breathing husk.”

It was a darkly poetic end to the life Caius had lived, and Alex tried his best not to feel responsible. Vincent had done what he had to do, to keep Alex safe, and to give him the time he needed to escape. It was just hard to focus on that fact with the image of a half-dead husk repeating in his mind, haunted by the wide, dead eyes of the specters.

“You got rid of the specters though?” Alex said, glancing around, as if they were about to pop out at any moment.

Vincent inclined his head in an elegant nod. “It took some time, longer than I care to admit, but I succeeded in banishing them back to the underworld. As you see, the exertion of returning them hasn’t exactly enhanced my beauty.” He smiled tightly, then gave a short, sharp laugh.

“And Alypia?” Ellabell asked.

“She is quite safe—as you may have observed, this place has yet to go to wrack and ruin beneath my leadership,” Vincent replied. “I have increased the strength of the barrier, just to be certain of maintaining order, but aside from that, I have had to do little else to retain the control Caius enjoyed.” It seemed the necromancer was still haunted by what he had done to Caius, keeping the old warden at the forefront of his mind in his decision-making. There was a repentance in Vincent’s actions that wasn’t easy to ignore, as if he were trying to make up for what he had done to Caius by being the best replacement he could be.

Ellabell frowned. “Has any news come from Stillwater House yet?”

“No, not as yet, though I will definitely pass on any messages you might have,” Vincent replied, though he seemed to change his mind as soon as the words were out of his mouth. “Actually, I tell a lie. There was a note, a day ago, from one of Helena’s messengers, if memory serves. It said they were okay, and still working on things on their end, but everything is going smoothly. No alarms have been raised, and they are still working on the Spellshadow aspect of the scheme.”

The words were music to Alex’s ears. It was precisely what he wanted to hear, but that in itself brought concerns with it: was that why Vincent had changed his story, simply to give Alex the news he thought he wanted to hear? How could Vincent have forgotten something like that?

“I think we’ll head through to Stillwater ourselves, just to touch base with everyone,” Alex said, trying to keep his tone casual.

Ellabell nodded. “That’d be a good idea, just in case there was anything they forgot to mention in the note,” she added, evidently attempting to humor Vincent.

“Nonsense, I won’t hear of it—as you already explained to me, you are on something of a tight schedule. I would not keep you from your tasks back at Falleaf House. I shall deliver your message with as much care as if it were a precious jewel,” Vincent insisted. “And, I will seek to inform you, as soon as I have better news from the others.”

“Not that we don’t appreciate your offer, Vincent, but we have some essence to give them too,” Ellabell said.

“I can deliver that as well!” Vincent promised.

Alex flashed a sideways glance at Ellabell, and saw the same confused expression on her face that he felt upon his own. There was something amiss. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Vincent, because he did, but there was an undercurrent of something uncomfortable that Alex couldn’t quite put his finger on. It was a gut feeling that he couldn’t push away. Vincent seemed unusually cagey, with an unsettled shift in his eyes.

“Either way, Vincent, we’re pretty set on seeing the others ourselves,” Alex explained firmly.

A worried look furrowed Vincent’s brow. “No, no, there really is no need.”

“Regardless, we’d like to see them,” Alex repeated. “I’d like to see Alypia too, while I’m at it—if that’s okay?” he added, trying not to show his concern.

Vincent nodded. “Of course… I suppose you’re wanting to put your mind at ease?” His mouth curved into a strange smile, and an unnatural chuckle bubbled from the back of his throat.

“Something like that,” Alex said, giving nothing away.

“This way then,” Vincent sighed, rising sharply from his seat. Alex and Ellabell followed Vincent out into the hallway, hurrying after him as he strode toward the door to the old guard room.

The necromancer turned a large key in the lock, opening the door cautiously. Through the crack that appeared, Alex could see the slumped figure of Alypia sitting in the chair by the fireplace, her manacled hands held out on her lap. She appeared to be sleeping, her patchwork face oddly peaceful.

“I’ve been keeping her under a sleeping spell,” Vincent explained. “Have you seen enough?”

Alex nodded, more or less satisfied, though he couldn’t push away the dubious feeling that persisted. There was something wrong; he was sure of it. He hoped the others might be able to shed some light on the problem.

With that, Vincent pulled the door shut again, his manner furtive.

“We should probably get to the portal, and make our pit stop to the others,” Alex said, turning to walk back in the direction he knew the Stillwater portal to be, out in the open courtyard. Ellabell followed him, walking with conviction.

Vincent hurried after, a perplexed look on his face. “Honestly, I do not mind delivering your wares and wants,” he called, but Alex and Ellabell were already farther ahead.

A piercing shriek split the air.

It was the beetle beacon in Alex’s pocket, signaling a warning at Falleaf House. Alex flashed a panicked look at Ellabell as he drew it out, seeing the blinding flash of the lights on the tempered carapace. The sound was louder without the cloth of his trousers to smother it, and it was all Alex could do not to cover his ears, to try to protect his eardrums from the deafening siren. Ellabell cupped her own palms over her ears as Alex pushed his anti-magic into the small clockwork device, silencing it to a dull whine.

“What was that?” Vincent asked, catching up to where Alex and Ellabell stood.

“Bad news,” Alex muttered. It wasn’t ideal. There was more he needed to do here, and yet he knew he had to get back to Falleaf. If Aamir had pressed his beacon, it meant something important was going down. Unfortunately, it took priority over his suspicions of the keep, and whatever Vincent appeared to be hiding.

“It’s fine,” Ellabell announced. “I’ll stay, while you go back to Falleaf House. I’ll make sure I get the message to the others.” She flashed Alex a knowing look, tilting her head subtly towards Vincent. Alex realized she wanted to stay to get to the root of why Vincent was acting strange, and though he too wanted to figure that out, he wasn’t sure about leaving her to it, if something dangerous had taken hold of the necromancer.

He frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Remember what we talked about?” Ellabell said, a warning in her eyes. “It’s just for the time being, and you’re the only one who can ride Storm. I’ll be fine, I just want to make sure everything’s okay,” she added. Alex knew she was right, even if he didn’t like it. He was still getting used to not worrying. “Though you should probably take the essence back, and bring it with you again when you return,” she whispered, just out of the earshot of Vincent.

“Good thinking,” he murmured. At least then, the essence would be safe if something went awry. He had a feeling he might even need it, to face whatever it was Aamir was warning him about. Two bags were better than one, and right now, Falleaf was in greater need.

Leaving Ellabell behind didn’t sit well with him, but there was nothing he could do about it now. If anything dangerous arose, he knew she was more than capable of handling herself. It was the not knowing that plagued him. Until he returned to Kingstone, he wouldn’t know if anything bad had happened, or if she was perfectly fine, the message successfully delivered, and everything covered in rainbows and cupcake frosting.

He kissed Ellabell gently on the lips, vowing to come back as soon as he could. With a trail of snowflakes flurrying around him, Alex raced toward the turret. Falleaf was calling, and he was ready to answer.