Wandering in the turbid dark of that unknowable realm, the spirit continued her wayward journey. 

So many threads had unraveled, plucking apart the spirit at the seams, though she held tightly to some, refusing them leave despite the persistence of their dissipation. She knew there was a reason for their presence, and there was something she was meant to do—but in the nothingness of that place, meaning didn't exist.

The only point of existing was the onward sway of the spirit's motion and the slow dispersal of all that she was.

She held no conception of time, didn't know minutes from hours from days from weeks—and, for all she knew, she had always been in this place and was yet another part of its inflexible weave. Even so, she felt like she belonged somewhere else and wanted to believe that feeling, because it was one of the few things she still held onto.

In her sightless meandering, the spirit became aware of something else existing in the void ahead of her. She didn't know what it was, but she was drawn to it, her motions no longer meaningless as she drifted nearer the disturbance. 

Like a moth to a flame. 

The expression came unprompted to her mind and the spirit delighted in its meaning, because she recognized what a moth was and what a flame was, and even recognized that she could delight in such things. She knew the disturbance was a light issuing from a flickering lantern, and—as she came to its feathered edges—saw there was a person standing in its glow. 

A person, just like how she was a person: a person who didn't belong in this place.

The spirit looked upon the man as he gazed out into the colorless abyss. His hair was white but not with age, the strands like silver and platinum woven into fresh snow, swept forward in severe, jagged pieces. The two eyes resting beneath the sharp slant of his gray brows were glowing—glowing like the lantern—and colored like a summer sky. 

The spirit remembered the sky and could have wept for the beauty of it.

He was not overly large or strong, his muscles lean but spare beneath the snug embrace of leather armor. With his slender legs and small feet, the man's physique was not unlike that of the dancers the spirit had once watched spin across a ballet stage, but given the knives strapped to his vest, the spirit knew the stranger used his dexterity for a far deadlier purpose. 

The man turned and the glass lantern suspended above him by a creature of wisps and impressions turned with him, catching the spirit in its influence. 

The void blurred his outline and sketched black lines across his skin.

"Oh," the stranger as he caught sight of her. "My, to think I'd be found by a spirit whilst in the middle of my search for one." His gaze took in every aspect of her, and the spirit realized she had hands and feet and a body and even a face, though she didn't know what she looked like. "Your soul is remarkably strong to have remained so intact here. I could make use of you." 

The spirit didn't know what he meant.

Sensing her confusion, the stranger extended one fair hand in her direction. "I am the Wanderer of the Far Vale," he said with a tip of his head. "Come with me, spirit."

She wasn't sure she should take that proffered hand, but his eyes were the color of the sky and she wanted to see it again, to know it again, and so the spirit drifted closer to the stranger bathed in the lantern's light, her hand tentatively stretched toward his.

The shadows tapered about the light's ring wavered, roiling like a turbulent sea as the man's eyes snapped to what lay behind the spirit, alarmed. Heat spilled through the cloying chill of the void and filled the spirit with vigor she hadn't known existed. An arm cinched about her middle and she was lifted up—up into those painted shadows, away from the stranger's lovely eyes.

She struggled to return because she didn't want to lose her glimpse of the sky, but when she looked into the face of the new stranger who held her at his side, she saw that he had eyes like the sun and was enraptured by them, drawn to the slender line of crimson encircling his pupils in bloody rings. Crimson. She loved crimson.  

"Apologies, Doricar, but this is one of mine," the second stranger said to the first. They were floating, or flying the spirit supposed, as there were great black wings hiding in the dark and she could feel every beat of their motions in the strength of the stranger's arm.

"Veleph," the blue-eyed Doricar sneered, fingers curling in upon his supine palm. "Having trouble keeping your fold from wandering?" 

The one called Veleph laughed, his amusement crawling through the void like a sinister beast, its sound mimicked by a high-pitched chorus of chittering voices at his back. His response went unheeded by the spirit as his wings fanned ever outward through the unknown, and together they departed from the light into the mysterious domain of the dark. 

Itheria Port was much smaller in size than its Bostonian neighbor or Verweald in the west. The bulk of the city ringed a shallow harbor and a cliff that hung above the water, and upon that cliff rose an angular tower of blue steel, glass, and white stone. Its bronze dome caught the sun's dying rays, reflecting both the muted light of gold and the cooler ambiance of the anterior sea. All of Itheria was kept picturesque and pristine, its streets sown through the sloping plain like ironed filaments, and its outlying homes tarted up with shutters and white picket fences.

Such a serene face hid a darker truth. Magic whispered in the very air here, gathered like an immiscible fog one could feel and taste but not see. The iconic tower upon the cliff was the headquarters of the Blue Fire Syndicate, and in its recesses, deep beneath the earth and the crashing ways, lay the Facility.

I stared at the city through the motel window and, finally, snapped the curtains shut. 

Our arrival had taken yet another day of my precious time, though such a thing couldn't be avoided. It'd been three days now since Cage's capture and internment beneath the seaside city, and I worried the mages would become impatient and rush their judicial proceedings. They wouldn't wish to leave the black mage in their Facility for long, not when they were short on manpower and needed to detain the witch Mistresses as well. Cage was a drain on vital resources and wouldn't be kept indefinitely. 

I turned to the huntress and the witch in the room with me, both women slumped and exhausted by the relentless pace I'd forced them to travel at, Saule's dog nothing but a breathing, snoring lump on the grubby carpet. I lifted my chin and stared down the length of my nose, jaw tight with displeasure. Pitiful. 

"We need a plan of ingress," I stated, tipping a hand at the now covered window. "Voice your ideas."

My words were met with resounding silence. I scowled until the huntress spoke up.

"Well, can't y'all try talking with a mage in charge?" she asked, scratching her chin. "They can be civil, can't they?"

Her astounding lack of insight into the mages wasn't surprising, nor was it the reason she remained in our incongruous party. "No," was my curt reply before directing my attention to the witch, who gave me a sour expression.

"Don't look at me."

As I said, pitiful.

"We must approach the situation from a logical advantage," I sighed, leaning against the water-stained wall. The cheap wallpaper was slick against my red t-shirt. "Consider all facets of the problem at hand. What do you believe to be the most daunting aspect of our current task?"

Saule rubbed the back of her neck. "The literal shit ton of flash-bangs in this city?"

"All them locks and wards barring entry to the tower," Connie said, struggling for the proper terminology. "And that ang—." 

"Do not call him that."

She swallowed, blushing. "That, err, Absolian's a problem, if he comes here—and all the vampires acting crazed out of their minds is a problem, too."

"Fair points," I acknowledged with a stiff nod. "But not entirely accurate. Though you may think the magnitude of mages in Itheria to be greater here than elsewhere, you are wrong."

The witch snorted. "Yeah, how so?"

"Is it not obvious? To capture and detain all the witches, the Blue Fire Syndicate was forced to send many of its own mages to either attack the covens themselves or to organize the outsourcing of labor to another syndicate. While many of their leaders and a bulk of their wardens will have remained here, their numbers will be lower than what is average. The lack of drones will equate to a lack of internal security, and a much needed deficit in prying eyes. It will work in our favor when we attempt to breach the Facility."

Looking thoughtful, Saule propped her chin on her hand and chewed at her bottom lip.

My gaze moved to the huntress. "And you," I intoned as she sat straighter and a shade of pink tinged her already sunburned face. "Your vampire problem is a direct consequence of the Absolian's presence here in Terrestria. He will either need to be eliminated or persuaded to leave the realm—and I have an idea on how we may accomplish this goal."

Saule was shocked and the huntress was confused, hard creases appearing around her mouth as she sucked her teeth in thought. "But ain't they really difficult to kill?"

"Impossible to kill, really, but it won't fall to us." I paced from the window to the bathroom and back again, a length of perhaps ten feet of disgusting carpeting. The room held two double beds, the women seated together on one as they watched my restless movement. I didn't tell them that I wouldn't be sleeping in the other bed, as their proximity was...unsettling. I disliked the idea of being totally unawares with a vampire killer and a witch near me. Napping in a moving vehicle was one issue: this was a completely different one.

"The Facility holds a black mage I intend to release." Saule knew of my plan and wasn't fazed, though Connie's mouth popped open with a small gasp. I'd imparted my true motivation to the witch, but didn't speak of Sara's resurrection to the huntress. She didn't need to know, and it wasn't pertinent to my idea. "He is more powerful than he lets on. Indeed, the true depth of his ability escapes even my comprehension...though I suspect if he does not hold the power to defeat the Absolian himself, he'll know where we can find it." I tapped my lower lip, fighting the urge to sneer. "The man is a bastard, but a font of knowledge. I will free him with the Mistresses—which returns us to my original statement: we need a point of ingress."

Both women looked at each other, then at me, mimicking the same wide-eyed, incompetent stare.

I released an aggravated breath and rubbed my face.

"I may not know much of mages, but I am well-versed in warfare and the syndicates are not wholly unlike small armies with tactical units at the head. We require a localized diversion. Their numbers may be thinned, but the Blue Fire Syndicate is not known for being careless. We will need to divert the attention of the mages that remain here to an issue affecting their direct power base—Itheria. If the diversion is large enough, it will force them to scramble and to reevaluate the situation and their handling of it. They will want to recall mages from the field, while sending out those stationed here to deal with the local problem. In the thin window presented between shifts of the guard, as it were, we will find our best chance of getting into the Facility."

I steepled my fingers, canting my head toward the dingy overhead light. "First we must decide upon what the distraction is."

Though I understood the necessity of it, I couldn't quite think of what that distraction should be. Frankly, I wasn't a mage and didn't fully comprehend their reactions or their methods, so I couldn't say what would achieve the results I'd outlined. It was frustrating to not be able to simply walk into their building and devour their spells with my mere presence—but that avenue was closed to me, and I couldn't dwell upon it. What I needed now was the proper maneuver to outplay the Blue Fire Syndicate in its own city.

"Perhaps...."

I glanced at Saule as she spoke, her small fingers absently picking at a bloodstain in her jeans.

"Yes, witch?"

"Well...I don't know if this would work, but what if one of the bigger covens in the county limits turned against the syndicate?"

My brow rose. "I'm listening."

"I mean, most of the covens here are known to be all but inducted by the flash-bangs," she said, green eyes roving from one end of the ugly room to the other as she organized her thoughts. "They kowtow and jump when told to, yeah? It's expected I guess, living so close to the main city of the flash-bangs—but there's also coven-clad witches out here, though a lot of us moved west after the mages started burnin' us for sport in the late sixteen-hundreds."

I twisted my hand to indicate that she was trying my patience.

"Anyway, I know about a coven out here that's not the easiest to find, and it's an...urban-traditional branch. They keep to a lot of the old practices and aren't known for respecting the flash-bangs. Whenever that fat twitch finger came by with some garbage referendum from the Blue Fire boys, it always lists the Circe coven as an inciter of any new rules or disciplines they're imposing upon us."

Intriguing. Even I had heard of the Circe witch coven. Cuxiel had once spoken of them and their distinct lack of modern conformity. In general, the Sin had used witches for information, for bribing, blackmailing, and coercing enchantments from—but Cuxiel had warned against approaching the Circe coven, and the Inari coven in the far east.

"Then you will take us to these witches, if they've escaped the brunt of the mages' retaliation, and we will convince them to turn upon the syndicates." When Saule began to shake her head, I glared. "What do you mean no?"

"I can't take you with me. Either of you."

"And why not?"

The Baba Yaga witch fidgeted with her sleeves and refused to meet my gaze. "I said they're a traditional coven, yeah? A-and traditional covens...kill humans who know of their existence, then use their bones to create vision barriers around their homes." Her shoulders rose toward her red ears. "So...you can't come with."

"Dang," the huntress muttered, mirroring my sentiment with much less finesse. I hadn't thought the covens capable of such hedonistic barbarity.

Perhaps they had a chance of surviving after all.

"Then you will go to this coven and convince them to rise against the mages." When Saule began to stammer uncertainties, I silenced her with a swift, downward slice of my hand through the air. "You will convince them, or you won't be getting your Mistress back, witch. Remember what is on the line."

Saule fell silent, paling, and I spoke instead to the huntress. "You and I will look for a way into the tower tomorrow," I said, disliking the excited light that flared in her brown eyes. Now was not the time to be excited. This was not a game. This was not an excuse for her to revel in her recklessness and get the both of us bloody killed. "Be ready and prepared."

Connie nodded far too quickly and I sneered, scorning her thoughtless obedience. She was arrogant and foolish, but not in any of the ways that I liked. She was narrow-minded in her abilities, naive to trust me at my word, and much too flippant with her own life. She was young and unburdened. She shouldn't risk herself. Doing so was just stupid.

I had no inclination to dissuade her from her foolishness when it worked to my benefit. I simply understood I wouldn't allow myself to be killed by the undoing she brought upon her own head.

"I tire of you both," I said, not bothering to restrain the harshness of my tone. I went to the door and, with a final disparaging glance, stated, "Do think upon what we all risk in the coming days."

Once outside with the door shut at my back, I didn't move far. I lingered at the motel's balcony and gazed across the parking lot and the roaring freeway. I stared at the gleaming tower under which the black mage was hidden and I inhaled, fingers curling upon the cold, chipped railing. Ice yet clung to the streets and air of this eastern clime, and I enjoyed the biting sting of it in my lungs.

"Soon," I whispered. "Soon."