Here, there was no such thing. Like we were closed into an airtight box with limited oxygen. The only light that did exist was from flickering flames. As I glanced around, I noted that I was on a main thoroughfare.
The underworld was a realm not totally unlike those of the living, except there was no life here. A black, murky river swept along to one side of me. I stood on a path beside it. Little shops lined the dirty street, and it appeared I was on some sort of main thoroughfare. I looked ahead and noted that at the end of this road rose a crooked, spiked castle into the heights of the blackened sky.
The entire realm felt like a layer of dust had settled on it. Even the blackness wasn’t vibrant; it was like a faded, knockoff gray that had been marred by years of soot and grime. There were beings here, not unlike myself, but they moved like ghosts—with an element of floating. I looked down and indeed saw that I had a form, my body, but that it was not solid. I shimmered like smoke from a bonfire and felt just as fragile. Like a strong wind could blow me completely out of existence.
I began to walk. Even that felt unnatural. My legs moved, but that slight element of floating, like I couldn’t exactly control allof my limbs to the degree I was used to, clung to me like a shroud I couldn’t quite ditch.
The land was such that it sucked all semblance of hope and energy out of a person, their soul, whatever I existed as in this moment. I had been here a brief time, and I already felt depleted. I couldn’t imagine spending a lifetime here.
Already, my memories of the living world were beginning to fade. I remembered The Isle, the vibrancy of it, but already it was like a translucent cloud of gray had slammed shut over my memories, dimming the reality of them.
I would’ve been downright convinced it hadn’t existed at all, except I couldn’t shake the feeling of Liza’s hand in mine. Of my ancestors whispering in my ear before I left. Of a faint melody, something of a lullaby, that I couldn’t quite place. I had a reason to be here, a reason to fight, and that reason was in the land of the living. I would return, if it was the last thing I did.
I glanced down, as if wishing to see Liza’s hand tucked in mine. I was grateful not to see it. She’d guided me here safely, and that was her only task. I hoped she was on The Isle now, waiting in comfort for me to finish my part of the equation.
I continued forward, taking in the sights around me. Despite the fact that this seemed to be a thoroughfare, with little shops along the way, most of them nothing more than a glorified cart or wheelbarrow, it didn’t seem like the sort of place where people stopped and gabbed.
Now that my eyes had adjusted, I noted the movements of the other figures, beings, spirits around me. Any exchanges at shop windows were done in hushed tones. Most wore hoods or cloaks, obscuring identities. Some were ushered through doors into dark buildings, the doors quickly swinging shut behind them.
A sense of dread swarmed around me. How could I possibly convince these spirits that I was from the living realm? That I could help them escape this prison? I couldn’t be sure howspirits ended up here, if the Darkest Lord claimed them for himself, or if they were truly lost souls with nowhere else to go, but either way, there would be a lot of convincing to do to spirits who didn’t seem to want to be bothered.
“You. In here.” A door swung open at my side, startling me. “Now.”
I glanced over, saw a hooded figure. The voice was raspy, but clearly that of a woman.
“You don’t belong here,” she said again. “Come inside now before he notices.”
That was enough to intrigue me. I slipped through the door, and it banged shut behind me. Inside the shop, candlelight flickered from a lantern in a wispy, ethereal sort of glow.
“Who are you?” The spirit moved around me with that bodiless ease that was quite unnerving indeed. “You don’t belong here.”
“How can you tell?”
Her hooded head shook. “Everything about you. Nothing about you is right. Where are you from? You’re new?”
“I’m from the land of the living,” I said. “I’ve come here with a message.”
“Impossible.” Already, that head shook again. “Nobody may enter from the land of the living. Impossible. Just impossible.”
“I’m a Fae Queen, and I had help from some very powerful, gifted people,” I said. “The circumstances of my visit are quite unusual.”
“Why?” Eyes glowed out from beneath her hood. “Why would you come here from the living realm?”
“With a message,” I said. “And, I hope, a way out for you. For the spirits who want to leave this place.”
“Impossible,” she repeated. “Impossible, impossible. There is no way out from his clutches.”
“As the Queen of Isles, I held the Procession of Spirits a few days ago and released hundreds of spirits that were trapped in our world. I can do the same for you.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To help you,” I said, and hesitated. Then, “To also help us. We have learned that the Darkest Lord is gathering an army of spirits and plans to attack.”
“His army is at peak strength, yes,” she agreed. “I know not why, and I prefer it. But I see it. I see them. Marching, training, disappearing.”
“Disappearing?”
“Some are here one day, then they get pulled. Taken elsewhere, presumably for another purpose.”
