One

Ifis'uuyat sk-ma. Ak'magg yuvaan. My agony is yours. Our suffering shared.

Vil ak'skshgn vokzul-ak'yel uvuul. Let fear at last find purpose.

The rays of the afternoon light could not reach them, not as they walked beneath thick branches, tangled together, like spider webs. They were a curious pair. The girl, dressed in dark colours, like the hero of a children's tale, but she was not running from the monstrosity that was meant to haunt her. It was crawling by her side, small and vile, with its maw wide open to portray its sharp teeth. Tendrils of darkness kept clawing at the ground which the two passed, dragging the mass of the creature forward, so it may follow its mistress. Its mother, Celysiel wished to think of it.

This little being was a part of her, a shard taken away, a fragment ripped violently and, at the same time, so freely offered. Yet for the first time after so long, if not in her entire life, she could feel complete.

The voices were not silenced, but that of Keeper, as well as the maddening laughter of the other were nowhere to be found. Now, the whispers were different. Crystal clear in her mind, just like the night ago. She wished to listen and now she could. The treasure imprisoned in the shell of silver could finally reach out to her, as she could to it. It felt like, if in time on need, its power was beckoned, it would freely offer it.

Because they were one now. No one else could have it. They were too late. They were all too late. It belonged to her and that would not change. She knew.

Girl and mostrosity passed over blankets of fallen leaves, rotten, only to turn into a disgusting mush as they were crushed from the boots. Each sound made gave away that the silence of the Ghostlands had been invaded, though both of the invades sought a home in it. Far from the world that could not understand the calling of the lingering shadows, far from the blinding, burning light. They had wandered far, crossing the Dead Scar with no fear. For Celysiel knew that danger would not reach her now, not as long as that fiend of darkness walked by her side.

They did not stay for long on the path, nor did they head towards the beach. Soon, they came across a point where the land was split, rock eroded and beneath, water, slightly murky, carrying remnants of bones after having passed from the Scar. On the other side, with the promise of a crossing by a seemingly still sturdy bridge, lay the ruins of yet another elven village razed by the Scourge. Once, the apprentice's parents had praised the beauty of Goldenmist village, for it was built by a waterfall and surrounded by water, just a breath away from the sea. There was very little that could spring such an image to one's mind anymore. The overgrowth had claimed the stone, just like the shadows had taken the Ghostlands for themselves.

Winds blew, soft and tender, causing the doors of the building to creak. So many years after the destruction, several of them remained open. Of course, the previous tenants of the houses had opened them in great rush, hoping to escape the menace of the undead. Clothes of wonderful silk were now rags thrown torn at the side. And a strange weight thrown in the atmosphere, not so different from the one felt in Val, felt in the Crystalsong Forest, told Celysiel that there was something lingering beyond the veil of the reality her eyes could see. They were not alone.

The young elf looked down at the being stirring by her left side, lightly screeching every now and then. The sounds it produced did not bother her, not anymore. Nor would they ever again. Walking, she beckoned the creature closer. Together, they began their march to find the path. The bridge was crossed with ease, the steps made on the hollow wood haunting. Calmly, Celysiel and her strange companion stepped forth, entering the forsaken village.

Finally, the first rays of the afternoon sun came to greet her. They seemed pale, however, weak, as if something was filtering their wonderful, golden colour out. It fell on a tall building of magnificent architecture, the paint of which had already began to fade. Somehow, though, to the eyes of that curious elf, it seemed better at its current state. Nothing was more captivating than after it had been destroyed, a part of it remaining, just enough to make the viewer wonder what it had been like before. It was all about the mystery. The chance of guessing, the truth that would never be revealed.

That was something Celysiel knew well. Stories had always been her weak point, yet, even though books could spin the tale of the Crystalsong Forest, the massacre of Eldre'thas and the demon Immol'thar, the creation of the great Desolace and the hives of Silithus, all refused to whisper to her ears the tale of Dar'khan's treachery, the marching of the dead. They left only pictures behind, but not facts. And there was so little the mind of a child was willing to hold and not erase. So much her parents had made sure their daughter would never recall. All that had been asked denied to give answers, calling her insolent, unwilling to revive the pain of these days.

But there was someone she had not asked yet. He would tell her, she was certain. He had guided her in the darkness, he had showed her the way. He would not deny her something so small.

Tendrils of darkness reached for the skirt of her dress, tugging it, clinging. Drawn out of her thoughts, Celysiel looked down and a smile, small, shy, came to adorn her lips. She regarded the little monster with care and love, nodding. Her eyes turned back to the village soon after, steps to be made deeper inside. The being followed.

"This is what remains of the village." she explained, her voice soft, dear. "All else is gone. The undead marched, led by the prince with the sword. But you probably know that, don't you? You are not one of the voices in my mind. Not anymore."

By her side, the fiend kept stirring uneasily. It did not bother her as it would others. She held great fondness for it. No, it was not like Abakin, no demon, no meaningless tool that would be bent to her will. It was so much more.

Wandering among ruins, it was as if she could finally feel the tenants of the village linger there still. But she could not see them, nor hear their whispers. It could only be her imagination. It could be the Heart's caress, stronger now, convincing her again. Whatever it was, it only made her feel calmer, in control. Alive.

"Several died here." the apprentice mumbled as they reached the fountain, its intricate design still clear among the ruins. Celysiel walked close to it, only to turn around, her palms placed against the marble. She took a seat, her gaze offered to the village. "Some survived and ran, only to die in the city. I wonder if anyone of those who once lived there survived. I... I wonder..."

The shadowy tendrils kept expanding on her, their clutch stronger, as the creature started crawling on her. She looked down at it, another smile shining on her features. It was welcome to do so. Placing itself on her knees, the small monstrosity opened its maw, letting out yet another screech. Celysiel shook her head. Her left hand came to the little being's head, prodding it lightly. "We will find out together, yes?" Her voice a gentle whisper. "We will be together now. No one will take you from me. No one can take anything from me."

On her knees, the undefined mass of the creature howled again, a sound sharp and disturbing. Oddly fitting for the Ghostlands. It made Celysiel raise her head and look around, only to emit a soft sigh.

"We need a new home. I cannot keep you in the city. We need a new home. A new garden."

It was a thought that gave her hope. It gave her reason. All the doubts of the past, the pain and fear could be erased, even if for so little. It was shared, it had found purpose.

"And in that home," she uttered. "we will place the mirror. And we will look at the other side."

Her eyes closed, but she could still feel the being bound to her shake on her body. Their link was there and it would only grow stronger. Now, as everything around her was black, the memory of a woman could return. Grey skin and eyes purple, faded, hair white and tangled, like spider webs. She had seen her in water. She had felt her fingers around her throat beneath the tides, trying to keep her there, carry her into oblivion. That other, the one lingering at the opposite side of the mirror, that twisted reflection.

Celysiel's left hand left the shadowy creature, coming to the locket. The Heart within reacted, as if it was beating. It would harm her no more. They were one.