“I don’t understand.” Willow sighed once Arwen finished explaining. “Why did this happen?”

  Midhir shrugged. He was laying on his back on the soft mattress that was his bed. He kept his eyes closed, and his mind focused on the conversation. “I’m not sure.” He exhaled.

  “It must have been because of the wave of power that spread from the portal.” Arwen muttered. The young witch was pacing the room anxiously. She seemed really worried about him. He couldn’t help but wonder how much of this was genuine worry.

  The door swung open, startling all three of them. It slammed against the wall as footsteps rushed. Midhir’s eyes shot wide open. He ignored the alien plant life decorating his room at the moment and focused his gaze on the two visitors.

  Ilya stopped as soon as she passed through the door, and closed it behind them, while his mother ignored Willow and Arwen fully, rushing to his side instead.

  He sat up with a wry smile. “I-“

  “We knew the risks when you went into the mist.” His mother’s voice was kind, but firm. “Ilya tells me the historian passed through the tear. Is that so?”

  Midhir nodded. “We failed to stop him. The cultists… they were behind all this.”

  “I’m well aware, Midhir.”

  “Your Majesty.” Arwen spoke up before anyone could speak further. “With all due respect, if you are able to cure him, please hurry. The more he sees, the more difficult it will be for him to remain as he is. The otherworld is not for a mortal to gaze upon.”

  The Empress’ lips formed a thin line. “Do you think I can cure him, girl?”

  Arwen’s lips parted. “The princess said you have once before.” She muttered, shooting a questioning glance at Ilya. “Have you not?”

  The Empress glanced at Ilya as well. “Oh,” she folded her arms. “That’s not quite what happened, though I suppose you wouldn’t know. Your father didn’t want you to know at the time…” Her voice faded. “Midhir, I’m sorry, but I can’t-“

  “It was a woman wearing a veil.” He cut her off. “I remember it vaguely. Who was she?”

  Passing through the hexagonal chamber, her steps slowed to a halt as she waved the mist away and looked at the ground. Roots covered most of the floor, sprouting small flowers and leaves. Her brows furrowed, and her lips formed a thin line as she stared at the dried blood covering most of the roots.

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  She crouched and swiped her finger over the blood. It was cold, but not fully dried yet. It had only been a few hours since something bled here. With narrowed eyes, she corrected herself – many things had bled here.

  With a sigh, she stood back up. The bodies were gone, likely taken by the spirits from the other side. With a brisk pace, she marched into the chamber on the other side – the one housing a broken altar, and the portal connecting this world with the one beyond the Veil.

  Her gaze locked onto the vortex hanging above the ground. It was stable, undisturbed.

  “What do you think happened?” She glanced at the raven.

  “Nothing good.” It landed on the door hanging from its hinges. “Many died here. It must have attracted attention.”

  “Surely.” She nodded, then turned back and left the chamber. “And I doubt the killers were the ones who took the bodies. And then there’s what I saw…” Her voice faded away as she pondered a while. Her slow steps carried her out of the catacombs, and the estate of the accursed bloodline. She only stopped once she was outside. “I worry, friend. A half-man passed through the portal. There will be repercussions.”

  “Madness must have taken him.” The raven replied, hopping behind her. It avoided flying as it was easy to get lost in the thick, swirling mist that covered the sunken district. “What will you do now?”

  “Visit an old friend.” She replied. “There is a lie I have uncovered. I must have answers.”

  They had all left his room, but Arwen.

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice was but a whisper as she looked at her own hands. She was sitting on the couch. “I shouldn’t have insisted we go into the estate...”

  Her words didn’t linger in his mind for too long.

  A friend, his mother had called the woman who healed him all those years ago. She had promised she would attempt to reach her.

  “You’re a witch.” He spoke up, startling Arwen. He narrowed his eyes, trying to ignore the vines and the black flowers growing on them all around the room. They hung from the vaulted ceiling and grew on every flat surface. Instead, he focused his gaze on Arwen, who had a soft, golden glow around her. “You know more than what you’re telling me.”

  The young woman’s lips formed a thin line. “Only bits and pieces.” She admitted with a sigh. “Nothing that could help you. I’m sorry.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Tell me.”

  Arwen raised her gaze to meet his, but immediately looked away. “You should keep your eyes closed. The more you see, the more your mind will try and comprehend. It will kill you, if not worse.” She glanced at the window again. She had been doing that since they came into his room. It was almost as if she was waiting for something. “Please try and sleep. You need to rest.”

  “I need answers.” He insisted. “Arwen, tell me why you’re even here right now. I know you’re a witch, and my mother will find out sooner or later.”

  “She already knows.” Arwen grimaced. “I’m not a powerful witch, Midhir. I’m weak, so I was given the task to roam the mortal world, to learn about Eldoria, to live here as if I was a normal citizen, so our coven knew what it was like out here.” She clenched her fists. “The charm I cast on you – it just makes you not think about a few things. Where I’m from, mainly. It’s too weak to have any real power.”

  Midhir scowled. “It made me want to help you.”

  Arwen smiled. “I think that’s because you’re a kind person. My charm had no such power.” Her smile faded. “I suppose I betrayed the trust and kindness you freely gave.”

  She did. But she was still here, worried, afraid and remorseful.

  Once again the door swung open, slamming the wall behind it as his mother followed another woman inside, her face pale. “Wait!”