Dance Macabre: Tales from a Cursed Land

XII: Viscount of Shadows

Nightshade was waiting for them at the edge of the forest, a safe distance from the harpies' lair. "How did it go?" he asked in quite emotionless tone, not even flinching at the sight of Raviel carrying Tessa's bloodied body.

"We got it," Raviel simply stated. "Now restore her to life."

"First, that was not the deal we had. Second, I can't."

"Enough with your lies! She told me with her dying breath that you're the Viscount of Shadows."

Nightshade paused. Then he pushed away from the tree he was leaning against. "That is true. But I still can't. Unless you'd like her to rise as one of the undead?"

Raviel gritted his teeth. "You could have saved her...Why didn't you?!"

Nightshade turned away. "Do you or do you not want to hear about your brother? That was all our agreement was about." When there was no response, he looked at the elf from the corner of his eye. "I can arrange for her burial, if that's what's bothering you."

"I will do it myself."

The minstrel sighed. Then dark mist surrounded them all.

As the mist faded, they were met with a beautiful garden - despite its dark color scheme. Black walls surrounded the area on one side and a castle of similar rock on the other. There were walkways layered in obsidian and spotted brown granite. All around them grew bushes, some kinds of grasses or herbs and flowers of black and darker shades of blue and red. Everything was neatly in order, no doubt tended to every day.

"Choose whichever site you want for her grave. Here no beast or grave robber will ever disturb her." Ghostly figures appeared at Nightshade's side. "My servants will assist you with digging."

Raviel slowly nodded. "Thank you."

"Come, boy," Nightshade steered Saska towards the castle. "Let's leave him to say his goodbyes."

~*~*~

Saska remained cautious with every step in the hallways of the castle. It was just a second nature to him, even knowing there wasn't much he could do against someone as powerful as the Viscount of Shadows. Surrendering to the inevitable was one thing, but as long as there was even a sliver of hope, he would -never- just give up.

Nightshade was aware of the boy's every movement, but paid it no mind, to all appearances ignoring him completely. He headed to his bedroom without hesitation and stopped in front of a huge mirror on one wall.

Saska swallowed nervously. There was a person inside the mirror, standing but with his eyes closed like in deep sleep. His chest didn't move either, not even the slightest bit to prove he was breathing. His hair was dark gray in color, a little below his shoulders, yet his face bore not a single sign of age. His clothes were plain linen a shade lighter than his hair - pants, tunic and a short cloak accompanied by a pair of thin leather boots.

Nightshade laid one hand on the mirror's surface and closed his eyes. The image on the other side faded, somehow being...absorbed into the minstrel. Then he opened his eyes, now the color of dark amber, and smirked as he noticed the boy's expression. "What's the matter? Didn't you already know who I am?"

"Yeah, I knew. Doesn't mean I can't hate your guts." It wasn't really hate he felt at the pit of his stomach. It was fear. The presence of the Viscount of Shadows still terrified him beyond words for some reason.

"Really? That's a shame." He moved back to the doorway where Saska stood. "I like you. You turned out a lot more useful than I initially thought."

The boy didn't move.