"All aboard!" The ferryman calls in a hoarse voice over the creaking of wood. The boat is deep, and the passengers are few. A few weeks ago these seats were full, until those who were eager to go stopped coming back. Through the still silence and heavy fog, he rows, pushing back water with the paddles. A lantern hangs from a post affixed to the bow, metal rings clinking as it sways with each motion. Although it is daytime, the mist is tinged red like the last few hours before nightfall. We arrived at the ruined city of the dead. Instead of the phosphorescent green one normally expects, the entire area has taken on a hue of crimson. Leaving behind the boatman, she trudged forward into the abandoned open square, devoid of any living or undead.

An oppressive aura hung in the air, but there was no sign of the missing people in sight. A growing headache was drumming in her temples; shading her eyes, Shiloh looked up at the eclipse overhead. As she stared into it, it felt as if the ringed black circle was growing closer and closer…

A stifling mist began to swirl around her as she was enveloped by a flaming circular portal, revealing an unfamiliar valley in its last moments.

After a few moments, she regained consciousness. Stale air greeted her nose as dry dirt crunched beneath her boots as she forced herself to stand. The sky was now awash in red, with a black sun ringed by a corona hanging in the sky. Before her stretched a valley that was once lush and vibrant, now silent and deathly still. There was no wind, and not a single blade of grass moved. There were no birds, no sounds of insects or animals. For a second Shiloh could've sworn that she was in one of the circles of Inferos–however there was one difference. While Inferos was a place of death, instead this valley was in a state of perpetual stasis. No life, no death, no changes. Eternally trapped in this moment, it was as if this place was frozen in time.

In a way it was worse than death itself. 

And as for life signatures, she couldn't sense a single one. Upon entering here it was like her head was in a haze, like there was pressure inside. Behind her was a gaping circular portal, showing the scenery of Tyr. Whatever was interfering with her senses was radiating from this realm. She had no idea what to expect or who she should be looking for, but she could tell she didn't belong here. Dressed in plain clothes over leather armor, she pulled up the hood of her cloak and put on a blank clay mask. Hopefully she would be able to leave soon. The energies of this place felt wrong. Even an unskilled mage could see that.

Looking down, there was a winding path stretching across a narrow canyon that then sharply climbed upward towards a fortress. Endless steps were carved out of the rock lined by broken stone lanterns and humanoid statues. The rest of the valley was empty and desolate. Unfortunately, there was nothing else to see aside from the obvious building complex ahead. Quickening her pace, she hoped to find a safe place to set up camp before night fell. 

When the moons turned blood-red and the sun was blackened by an eclipse, Mithras sensed something ancient and powerful was at work. Where phenomena manifest, people would flock like moths drawn in by promises of gold or secrets. The world worked in mysterious ways, and it would be untrue if he himself had no curiosity for it. Such powerful phenomena had occurred only a few times, but each instance was inexplicably tied to something of great importance.

Arriving at a dead city was his first stop. Striding into the heart of the mirage, the lion-headed lord was briefly overwhelmed by the aura of ancient power before counteracting with his own. If one would describe it, it was like thick smoke—trapped and condensed inside this realm that had been sealed away from the world long ago. Having been removed from the rest of the world for so long, the power here had stagnated and turned foul. It was nearly on par with the primal energy residing within Onnen—almost.

Ascending the ramshackle stone steps, Mithras could feel the weak, throbbing pulse of the earth desperately trying to sustain itself. In his eyes, this ‘cursed’ land was quite pitiful. Like a sickly beast, it was barely clinging to life on its dying breath. And yet, it still continued to live. Whatever creatures that had managed to remain since the day of its sundering would be beyond saving. His thoughts were then confirmed upon the setting of the eclipsed sun, as a blood red moon ushered in the terrible night.

While the day had been as still as death, the night was like a ravenous ghoul resurrected. Under the pale crimson light, the silent valley became a hotbed of chaos. Creatures, hideous and deformed from ages of imprisonment in isolation, began to swarm from the dark. Humanoid figures with gaunt bodies let out inhuman shrieks as they charged at him. It had been ages since they sensed new life and blood, and anything would do. Mithras met their bloodlust with his own, baring his teeth in a grin as two bronze chakrams appeared in his hands. His trespass onto this desolate valley had not been in vain after all–now he could fight without restraint!

Time passed differently in this place, as Shiloh soon learned when the valley was plunged into chaos. When the moon came up, all hell broke loose. She felt a chill run down her spine as her senses were telling her thing were going to get ugly fast. Immediately she ran to get to higher ground. At least if she was higher up she could have the advantage of seeing what was coming. With ruined buildings all around, she wasn't left with a lot of choices. Scaling up the rickety ladder of a watch tower that was still standing, Shiloh quickly took out a few skyshard boomerangs and Equilibrium's Edge. If the passage of time wasn't the same as the outside world, then any timepieces she had would be useless. Now she would have to survive the night until morning. 

Straining her eyes, she cautiously looked around in hopes of seeing where the sounds of fighting were coming from. She hadn't met any people so far despite coming in with the goal of rescuing stragglers. There were bright flashes of light in the distance as horrible noises were punctuated by the slashing of weapons. Then, she heard an echoing laugh that made her hair stand on end. Unfortunately, she recognized that voice. She had heard that laugh only once, but she never forgot. And here she had been hoping she wouldn't run into anyone she didn't want to be meeting…

Despite his persistent 'tenacity', Shiloh thanked him for being a great distraction. If it was anyone else, they would've been torn apart by the swarms of grotesque things running towards the sounds of explosions and fire. Someone like him was durable enough to take several hits and stay standing. But she couldn't stay here, not when she was at risk of being discovered. Those thoughts were stopped short when she saw something with abnormally long legs skitter past her elevated position. Forget thanking him–the man was monster magnet. Now he was just making all of the realm's horrors crawl out of the woodwork. 

Hans…floated, or at least he felt like he was floating, but on what? He couldn’t tell it felt as if there was nothing there. Nothing beneath him, nothing around him and nothing in front of him. And yet he had to float on something didn’t he? He tried to move his body, but it refused his commands, remaining as rigid as a corpse stricken with rigor mortis. This should have made him feel anxious, panicked even but he remained calm. Though he couldn’t move or for that matter, feel his limbs, it didn’t feel unnatural, quite the opposite. He began to recognise this lack of feeling, this sensation of floating…he was dreaming and with his dreams came visions. And as this thought crossed his mind he already began to see images forming in front of him, however there was something no right with them, they appeared to be obscured, fuzzy as if covered up by a thick fog. Hans wished to get closer to them but again, he neither controlled nor felt his own limbs so he could only watch. And what he saw was confusing. Sharp edges, oval shapes, something going up? Squares…no…rectangles…? No… no…they were three dimensional, bricks perhaps? He tried putting it all together into a coherent picture but whatever obstructed his vision, his connection with his god, it made it impossible.

Then he felt a rumble, and then a tremble. And with it he began to feel his limbs again, he felt his hands, his feet, chest and head placed upon his neck. He began to move his limbs, small movements, barely even twitches. Slowly but steadily he felt he was regaining his consciousness. Just a little bit more and he would be there, the thought. However his plans for a calm exit from the land of dreams were suddenly dashed by another rumble and another tremble, now stronger than before, he actually felt shaken by them. As he tried to pick up the pace and wake up faster, he felt another tremble, this time so strong that he felt that if he stood he would lose his balance, but it wasn’t the end of that. Soon after this tremble occured, Hans felt like he was hit with a great force by something straight into his chest, he felt like all air, that he just began to feel enter his body, was knocked out of him. And as he flew backwards due to the force of the impact he suffered, Hans began to see his visions clear, and the myriad of shapes and sizes taking on a coherent form…

Hans opened his eyes and immediately gasped for air with the desperation of a man who was forced to hold his breath underwater for a prolonged length of time. He felt his body, in pain and sore all over, but he felt it and it meant he could control it even if it begged him to stay put by assaulting him with sudden spikes of pain when he began getting up unto his feet. His armor clanked and made all the sounds one would expect from plate armor, whose owner was getting up from the ground. Hans looked around, it seemed to be night where he was right now…whatever this place is. Next to him he saw a rickety looking old ladder that led somewhere higher than he was…and he was in some sort of ruins from what he could gather, a watchtower perhaps? He tried to move away from the shade of the tower so he would get a better look of the area, or that was what he wanted to do until he looked up into the sky and saw a blood red moon.

- What the…? - He asked, his voice, a quiet, low whisper that came out of his lips hoarse from what he felt was lack of use. He blinked several times trying to get his bearings in order to see if his senses were not playing tricks on him. In his fixation on the moon he didn’t pay attention to his surroundings, to ruins all around him and to the person that stood in the tower above him.

A blast with a flash of light echoed in the near distance as Mithras was doing…whatever he was good at. Shiloh didn't really know nor did she want to know at this point. A new sound caught her attention, something familiar and metallic. While she wasn't one to wear full plate on a regular basis, she did know how it looked and sounded. Cautiously she peered over the side of the watch tower, eyes spying a figure that had a skull-like visage. If her head wasn't swimming from the constant pressure this realm's energies were putting on her, she would have been able to tell that this was a living, breathing person. Unfortunately she couldn't right now, so she was hedging her bets on the possibility it was one of the less corrupted revenants. Shiloh weighed her options. She might as well take a chance; she had the high ground after all. If the thing in armor turned out to be a humanoid abomination she'd pelt the thing until it crossed over to the other side of the Soul-Stream. 

Throwing her voice, she called out to the walking armor suit below. "Pssst–hey! You, in the metal plate! What's the password?" This was a rhetorical question. There was no password, it was just a test to see if she got a human reaction. After seeing the extent malicious Void creatures could go through to stalk and capture prey, she could at least rule out a shoddy imitation. Hidden from the stranger's view, Shiloh had her Equilibrium's Edge ready along with a hand wielding three skyshard boomerangs–ready for throwing. The pale red light that shone down illuminated the night landscape with a brightness that made the distinction between light and shadow all the clearer. The evening sky was without a single cloud, its darkness emphasizing the blood moon. It was a terrible night to be lost and confused.

As Hans stared transfixed into the Blood Red Moon, his mind was flooded with all sorts of thoughts. Where was he? What was this place? Why the air felt so…wrong, thick with something he couldn’t describe but it almost felt like inhaling fire, it burned his nostrils and made him dizzy. However he didn’t not have to marinate in those less than pleasant sensations for long, for suddenly someone called out to him…from above?

Startled by the sudden sound, Hans turned around and looked above to see…a…a lady with deep brown hair and brown eyes, staring with such intensity into him, that one could swear she tried to drill a hole through him with just her stare alone. However he was quite groggy and didn’t catch what she just said to him so he stared at her for a while until he gathered enough strength and will to speak.

- I’m…- he begun only to notice that he whispered instead of speaking up properly, so he composed himself and tried again - I’m….sorry… - his voice was hoarse and pained, clearly showing that the action of talking was less than pleasant to him at the current moment - but I didn- and then mid way through what he was about to say, he was interrupted by an hacking cough, that sounded like the man never drank anything in his entire life. This coughing fit would continue for a moment until he composed himself, puting one of his hands up to signal for the woman to wait a moment.


After a while his coughing fit ended and the armored man straightened himself out and looked back at the mysterious woman.
- Sorry…for that…didn’t hear what…you said earlier…could…you…repeat it?

'Stay calm, just repeat the question and watch him again.' She mentally told herself. Shiloh was still extremely wary about this strange armored figure, and his struggle to speak was starting to make him seem more and more like one of those Void mimics. The image of a horrid toothy maw emerging from his armored midsection gave her chills. Doing her best to remain calm, she repeated the question again. "What's the password?" Desperately she hoped this was a person. If it wasn't she wasn't going to be very happy with herself fighting a humanoid monstrosity in these cramped quarters. In the distance another loud explosion boomed, this time much closer than before. She threw a worried glance in its direction, only to hear the sound of something quaking very loudly. There was something unsettling about it that made her stomach knot itself. Racking her brain she scrambled to put the feeling into words until she found it at last.

With eyes wide in horror, she finally found what it sounded like–a stampede! While Shiloh spoke with the coughing metal man, Mithras had found the swarming hordes to be quite boring. His disturbance in the realm attracted many smaller fry, revenants that were more or less like ghouls having lost their sense of reason. But fighting these weaklings in a group grew dull, so once their numbers were thinned, the wild man was now heading further up towards the temple complex in search of better prospects. While the decreased numbers didn't bother him, it did bother Shiloh, who could see an advancing tide of human-like things coming this way. 

"Oh no–ohnononono!" Panic gripped her as what she feared was now happening. Even if the armored man below wasn't some horrid shape-shifting monstrosity, the two of them wouldn't be enough to hold an entire stampede down. As for a certain blond barbarian…he'd probably end up causing more collateral damage. Obviously he'd be fine… "They're coming! Get on the ladder–they're coming!!" She hissed loudly. Shiloh braced herself for the incoming storm that was approaching, reluctance and dread written all over her face. This rickety excuse of a bell tower probably wouldn't stay standing long once the wave of revenants hit.

As Hans prepared himself to ask what she meant by password, and also other questions that were on his mind at the moment, he too heard a large boom in the distance and the quaking of the earth that followed in its wake. He already got a bad feeling about this, but a single look at the person with whom he was speaking just confirmed his assumptions.

Her eyes were wide, horror could be seen as clearly as the sun in good weather. And then the panicked “Oh no” reached his ears and soon after that the "They're coming! Get on the ladder–they're coming!!", hissed out in pure terror. Although some part of Hans wished to inquire as to what was going on, his training and experience of his time in the desolate Chaos Wastes of Norsca, taught him well in situations like this it’s better to follow orders rather than question them.

And so, with newfound vigor, he dashed for the ladder and began climbing it. The process of doing so was quite unpleasant as the ladder was an old, rickety thing. In his haste to get up to the lady who ordered him to get up to her, he stepped on one of the rungs with little too much of a force, and broke it beneath his feet. At that point he lost his balance and almost fell, but his grip was strong and he managed to stabilise himself to a point where he could continue his climb towards relative safety.

As soon as he reached the top and dragged himself next to the panicking lady, Hans collapsed on the floor. Not because he was tired, but because his muscles felt like they wanted to kill him. They felt stiff, and numb, as if they have not been used for the longest time. He loudly gasped for air, which in itself felt like it was burning up his lungs. Once more he began coughing, with the same, if not maybe worse, hacking cough as before. Just what is this place, he thought, as he tried to sat himself down against…something.

When the blood moon emerged, he was met by a swarm of gaunt-faced creatures in human shape. Emaciated to where they seemed less alive than dead, they charged at him with frenetic fervor. Like vultures drawn to a carcass, he was soon surrounded–yet this was exactly what the lion-headed lord had hoped for. His smile widening, his elongated canines were exposed as light coalesced into his hands as two large razor-sharp chakrams. It was about time, and he was itching for a fight! In a battle numbers, though the enemies were weak individually they posed a unique challenge in contrast to a lone combatant. Your attention was forcibly split and vigilance must be expended to detect attacks from all sides. With wide sweeping attacks, the hurled chakrams and blasts of radiant light cleared large swaths of the gaunt-faced ghouls by the dozens. However after the fifth round, Mithras was growing bored.

These ghoulish creatures gave little challenge once their numbers were thinned out. Their attacks had little variation, and they lacked the intelligence to subvert his expectations. A single slash from the razor-sharp edge of the bladed ring would leave them in pieces, too broken to pose any threat. And once a few started falling he noted that some of the others would turn on their own. This was the law of the land–the weak were devoured by the strong. Those who could not hunt became food for those who could. Despite their human-like forms, that was where the similarities ended. Having lost interest in these revenants, he turned on his heel to proceed towards the ruined stronghold. Unleashing an aura of light and flame, Mithras ascended the stairway unimpeded. The single-minded horde of revenants continued their siege–incinerating themselves when they came too close only to stumble and fall down into the valley ravine below. Many of their numbers dropped this way, so by the time the primal lord had reached the broken gate of the temple there were only a few dozen left.

That was a few dozen too many for the two hiding out in the bell tower. Shiloh's eyes glanced rapidly between Hans and the rumbling tide approaching as both grew closer with each passing second. Her ears caught the sound of brittle wood breaking, and assumed that part of the ladder had broke. The heavily armored man threw himself onto the floor of the raised wooden platform, just in time for Mithras' arrival. There was a bright flame moving into the desolate courtyard of the monastery's walled complex, followed by several gaunt, ghoulish beings. Inhuman grunts and screeches came from them in a cacophonic chorus as they lunged at it, only to recoil back in pain. The smell of burning flesh and something else filled the air, making Shiloh gag. With her acute senses, this was many times worse than what an average person would experience. Muffling her mouth, she laid low and hoped they wouldn't be spotted. As long as they kept quiet, those things wouldn't know they were here. She strained her eyes trying to determine what the epicenter of the swarm was. It was hard to make out, but it seemed to be moving in a human way?

Oh right, how could she forget? That was him, wasn't it?! And even worse, he was walking this way! The ugly, gaunt-limbed creatures were only a few meters away, close enough for her to see them in their hideous, grotesque glory beneath the red moonlight. 

As the horde of terrible ghoulish monsters drew ever nearer, Hans was still pinned to the ground due to his coughing fit which seemed to only get worse. He could barely catch air between his coughs, and at certain points it sounded like he was about to throw up on the floor of the Watchtower. He tried his hardest to remain as quiet as he could manage, seeing how scared his new…companion was. But he didn’t do a good job at it.

The Knight of the Raven felt weak, and not just that, it was the most weak he had felt in a long, long while. They were clearly in danger, something was coming and here he was, barely holding himself up on all fours, about to cough up his own bloody lungs on the ground. It must look pathetic to all those that can see him right now…so the brown haired woman he just met. Not the greatest first impression.

Still he had to do something, even in this miserable state. So he did the only thing he thought he could do at this juncture and began praying to his god. He prayed to Morr, so that he would deliver him and the woman from danger, to postpone their inevitable ends. To grant him strength to be able to still serve him in the mortal realm, so he could help those that were still lost. To hunt down those that would defile the holy rest of the dead.

He didn’t pray out loud, didn’t speak a single word. Merely he mouthed his prayer in between the fits of the terrible cough. Hoping that his words would reach his lord, for he was all that he had right now. As his mortal coil bagan to fail him, what else can a man turn to if not his faith?