Aisling's voice woke him up.
She was shouting his name. She sounded frightened—no, terrified. He couldn't stand the fear in her voice; he wanted to assure her that everything was fine. He just had to get up.
For some reason, he couldn't. His limbs felt heavy, as if they were covered by giant weights. It brought to mind the awful memory of waking up in that cave, surrounded by the corpses of people he'd known, people he was supposed to protect. He didn't like it at all.
So he forced himself to sit up, taking stock of his surroundings. He was in a yard of some sort; a large house loomed towards a moonlit sky in the middle of it. There were two bodies lying in the grass not far away from him. One of them he recognised as the golem he'd killed just before he passed out—the dreadful snake creature. Scattered around him like dark, glittering ropes were dead, two-headed snakes.
Pride filled him as he surveyed his victory. He'd won. He'd actually gone up against a golem and not only survived, but killed it. With three kills under his belt now, didn't that mean he'd proven he deserved to be a mage?
A dark shape in the corner of his eye caught his attention. His head snapped around when it moved. Was that… a wolf?
He frowned, squinted at the thing.
No, it couldn't be a wolf. The creature's legs were too long, its fur too thick. Ift Street was also a good distance away from any forest; someone would have noticed it and raised some alarm before it got into the wealthiest and most secure neighbourhood in the town.
It looked more like a sort of hound dog, only no hound dog was large enough to be chest level with Marvel or had red eyes that seemed to glow in the dark.
He had the faint impression that someone was standing beside it, keeping it leashed.
"Marvel!" Aisling's voice, at the top of her lungs, drew his attention from the animal. "Marvel!"
He turned in the direction of her voice. She was running up to him, skirts bunched up in her hands. Grimm Boll trudged after her, looking wary. His eyes widened when they fell on Marvel.
"Aisling," he said, suddenly on guard. "Aisling, maybe you shouldn't—"
Aisling didn't listen, rushing to close the few feet between her and Marvel. Except she didn't. She dropped to her knees by the other body lying on Marvel's other side. He hadn't taken the time to examine that one.
Whose could it be? Only he and the golem had been out here during the fight. Had some neighbour, drawn by the noise, come to investigate?
Aisling let out a horrible, bone-chilling sound Marvel had never heard before, one he prayed to Satis he'd never have to hear again. It was full of heart-wrenching grief, the same emotion reflected on her face as she gathered the body into her arms.
"Marvel? Marvel? Are you—" She choked on her words. "Marvel, please, talk to me. Please. Marvel."
Marvel observed the scene with growing confusion. What in Satis' Paradises is going on?
Before he could speak, Grimm Boll stepped forward to clutch Aisling's shoulder. "Is he—"
"No!" She swung around to glare at him, her eyes flashing with furious, white light. "Do not touch me! Just stay—stay away from us, or I swear to Pelen—"
The look on her face was enough to make Grimm Boll back away immediately.
"Marvel?" Aisling's voice was spiked with barely concealed emotion. "You're not dead. You're not going to die. Did you hear me? I'll just—I'll do a spell, just—"
This was beginning to get a bit ridiculous. Marvel pushed off the ground, reaching for her. He found he couldn't get close enough to touch her. "Aisling, what are you talking about? I'm right here."
She spread a palm over the corpse's chest, a mist of blue light softly falling into the unmoving body—a healing spell that faded into sparks of nothing once it left her fingertips. She formed another blue orb, another healing spell; it dissolved into nothing just like the first.
"Nonononononono." Despair filled her voice as she tried over and over again. Her face was red. Tears tracked down her cheeks. "Oh Pelen. Why aren't you healing? Wake up, Marvel. Godsdammit! Wake up!"
Alarm poured through Marvel, an icy feeling crawling through his veins. "Aisling! Aisling, listen to me. I'm right here. I'm right—"
But Aisling wasn't listening. She'd given up on the healing spells, just hugging the body to her. She rocked back and forth on her knees, heaving with sobs that made Marvel want to tear his hair out. Her blonde hair hid away the corpse's face.
He glanced up at Grimm Boll, who watched the entire scene too, his face taut with guilt and regret. Grimm's hands twitched as if he wanted to touch Aisling but was restraining himself.
Marvel moved toward him instead, making to grab the Enchanter by the front of his apron. His hands slipped off, catching only air. What in the hells was happening?
A tight ball of fear grew in Marvel's chest. "Grimm Boll. Tell her I'm here. Just tell her I'm here. Can't you—" Frustrated, Marvel gave up trying to grab the other man. He swore loudly. "Why aren't you listening to me?"
"They can't hear you."
Marvel jumped at the voice that suddenly came from behind him. Automatically, he stood in cycling position, ready to defend himself. Then stumbled out of it, startled.
He couldn't find anything inside of him—not the shards of his broken centre, not the magnificence of the new one. His arrays were missing. The troublesome but powerful akathar he'd used to kill the golem only a few minutes ago was gone too.
The last discovery covered him in a wave of disbelief. He stared down at his hands. Now that he looked at them, his skin seemed translucent, almost like the moonlight was passing through him.
"H-how—how—how—"
"The athar is safe," the voice assured him softly. "I promise you no harm will come to them."
He lifted his head to look at the speaker and was met with burning red eyes. The giant hound dog loomed over him. Up close, Marvel could see the matted, black fur and sharp teeth that gleamed like steel knives in the silvery light. Steam poured from its nostrils.
Marvel was of the mind to run until he registered that the dog was held on a leash by the figure standing next to it.
It was a girl who was not nearly as tall as the dog. Her hair was cropped in the style of a man's, and she wore a man's hunting attire, though it was far too big for her small frame. Her features were soft and rounded. Her big, dark doe eyes looked overlarge in her small and delicate face.
Marvel looked back at Aisling and Grimm Boll. Were they not seeing any of this?
"They can't see us either," said the girl.
"Why?" Marvel choked out, his heart cold with the knowledge of the answer.
The girl looked at him sadly. "I'm so sorry, Marvel Satis."
He knew what he would find before he looked, but it didn't stop him from rising to his feet to confront it anyway. Legs heavy, he staggered over to where Aisling clutched the body and peered down at its face.
His own dead, empty eyes stared back at him.