The cemetery snapped back into vibrant, noisy life around them. The oppressive silence was replaced by the rustle of leaves, the chirping of crickets, and the soft, murmuring chorus of the dead going about their eternal business. The shattered yew now stood a clear, honest distance away, its lightning-blasted form no longer a taunting illusion.
Eris stared at Dáinn, her mind reeling. "A spell?" she breathed, her voice full of wonder and a touch of fear. "Those are... real?"
Dáinn let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of a thousand such explanations. "Yes. And it appears you were the primary target."
Her brow creased in confusion. "But we just met! How could someone have—"
"Proximity," Dáinn cut her off, his voice low and analytical. His sharp eyes scanned the now-teeming graveyard. "The moment I entered your sphere, I likely fell under its influence as well. Or perhaps when the cat sought me out." He glanced down at Casper, who was diligently washing a paw as if he hadn't just been growling in alarm. "It was most likely triggered by a collective interest. As soon as we all focused on the same objective—the gate, the hounds—we became subject to the spell's parameters. A simple but effective way to delay and disorient a group."
Eris was still processing this when Benjamin Johnson floated closer, his translucent face etched with concern. "My dear Eris, are you quite alright? You seemed... lost."
Eris offered the ghost a wobbly smile. "Yes, Ben. I'm okay. Just... a weird night."
Ben's gaze then shifted to the space next to her, his expression turning politely inquisitive. "And who is your new... companion?"
Eris chuckled nervously, gesturing to the brooding figure beside her. "This is Dáinn."
Dáinn's eyes narrowed, watching Eris converse with empty air—empty, that is, to anyone without the sight he now knew she possessed.
Casper, sauntering past Dáinn's boots, let out a chuckling purr. 'Appears you have some competition for the maiden's attention, my lord,' he projected, his mental voice dripping with feline amusement.
Dáinn scoffed, a short, sharp sound. "With a ghost," he muttered, the concept both absurd and irritating.
Unaware of the silent exchange, Ben continued, eager to be of service. "You seem to be looking for something specific. I could not help but overhear."
Eris nodded, grateful for the distraction. "Oh, yeah. We're looking for a tree that was struck by lightning."
Benjamin's face lit up with spectral delight. Here was a chance to be useful, to prove his worth! "Oh! I know precisely where one resides! I would be honored to show you." He pointed a faint, shimmering hand toward a path that led deeper into the older section of the cemetery.
Eris nodded, turning to Dáinn. "This way," she said, her voice regaining some of its usual cheer.
Dáinn's scowl could have soured milk. He fell into step behind her, his movements stiff with displeasure.
Casper trotted alongside Eris, glancing back at the fuming Huntsman. 'Don't sulk,' the cat chided. 'The dead know the land better than the living. This is efficiency.'
"It is undignified," Dáinn grumbled under his breath, following a girl who was being led through a graveyard by a lovesick phantom from a bygone century. The path to his hounds was proving to be far more convoluted—and humbling—than he had ever anticipated.
Benjamin led them with a spectral confidence, gliding effortlessly through headstones that the living had to navigate around. He kept close to Eris, his form flickering with a mixture of relief and lingering concern.
"I am so profoundly relieved you are well, Miss Eris," he said, his voice a soft echo beside her. "I was truly besieged by worry when I found myself unable to reach you. It was as if a pane of thick glass had been placed between us."
Eris gave him a sympathetic smile. "Thanks, Ben. I had no idea I was under a spell. It just felt like... a quiet week."
"Who," Benjamin pressed, his translucent brow furrowing with gentlemanly indignation, "would wish to cause such ill will towards you? It is unconscionable."
Eris's expression turned perplexed. "Maybe that Camilla woman? But I don't really know why she'd bother."
"Since the recent... fluctuation," Benjamin continued, lowering his voice as if sharing a grave secret, "the new resonance from the opened gate, the atmosphere has been quite unsettled. The newer residents are particularly agitated."
Eris chuckled nervously. "You don't say."
Dáinn, walking a pace behind, watched Eris's one-sided conversation with a deepening scowl. "What is the specter saying now?" he asked, his tone implying he was asking about the weather report from a particularly irritating radio station.
"Oh, he's just commenting on the... uh... recent new residents. Since the gate opened," Eris translated vaguely.
Casper, trotting alongside Dáinn, offered a silent, clarifying thought. 'The ghost is gossiping about the demonic immigration problem. How quaint.'
They arrived at the base of the lightning-split yew. It was even more imposing up close, a monument to violent grace. The air smelled strongly of damp earth and the sharp, almost medicinal scent of splintered wood. Casper leaped onto a low, scorched branch, observing the proceedings with regal disdain. Dáinn drew a hunting knife from his belt, its reflective blade gleaming in the light. With a few practiced motions, he carved a shard of the dark, resinous wood from the heart of the split, the sound a crisp snap in the night.
"Great!" Eris announced, as if they'd just found the last ingredient for a casserole. "We got it! So, what's next?"
Dáinn looked at her as if she'd asked what to do with the sky. "We continue to gather the necessary elements for the ritual."
"Oh! Right." Eris fumbled in her pocket, pulling out the now slightly crumpled parchment. She unfolded it carefully, the strange script glowing faintly. Dáinn moved to stand behind her, leaning close to read over her shoulder once more.
"I say," Benjamin huffed, floating nearer. "He is standing entirely too close. It is most improper."
Eris felt a flush of warmth. Dáinn's chest was nearly against her back, his breath a soft disturbance against her ear as she read. The solid heat of him was a stark contrast to the cemetery's chill. She nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her fingers brushing against his jawline by accident. He didn't pull away.
She focused on the words, her voice a little unsteady. "A shadow-heart stone, worn smooth by a river of tears, collected under a blind moon's eye." She looked up and back at Dáinn, her face so close to his. "What does that even mean? A river of tears?"
Dáinn's gaze remained on the parchment, but he was acutely aware of her proximity. "It does not speak of a literal river," he explained, his voice a low rumble. "It means a waterway that flows from a place of great and lasting sorrow. A site of a massacre, a forgotten tragedy, a heartbreak so profound it seeped into the land itself. The stone from its bed absorbs that grief. The 'blind moon' is the new moon, when the night is darkest."
"Oh," Eris whispered, the whimsical phrasing suddenly feeling heavy and real. "So we need to find the saddest river in South Carolina."
"Essentially," Dáinn confirmed, finally straightening up, the loss of his warmth immediately apparent to her.
Casper, from his branch, let out a soft mrrow of amusement. 'Cheerful. Next, we'll be hunting for the sigh of a broken heart and the echo of a lost promise.'
The silence following Casper's morbidly amused thought was broken by the distinct click of Eris's phone being unlocked. The bright screen lit up her face, a tiny square of modern technology in the ancient, haunted dark.
Dáinn watched her, his head tilted in pure bewilderment. "What are you doing?"
"Asking AI about…" she began, her thumbs flying across the screen.
"Aye?" Dáinn interrupted, the acronym meaning nothing to him. "What is an 'Aye'?"
Eris chuckled, not looking up. "It's not a person, it's… it's like a really smart library that talks back. I can ask it questions and it gives me answers."
Dáinn's expression suggested she had just claimed she could consult a talking rock. "And what are you asking this… library?"
"To find the saddest rivers close to us. You know, 'rivers of tears'."
"I do not think a construct of human knowledge can quantify sorrow in such a—" Dáinn started, skepticism dripping from every word.
"I say," Benjamin interjected, floating protectively closer to Eris. "I do not like the look of this fellow. He is entirely too critical of a lady's endeavors."
From his branch, Casper let out a soft, chuffing sound. 'Tell her "Civil War,"' he projected to Dáinn.
Dáinn looked over his shoulder at the cat, his confusion deepening into utter bafflement.
'Just trust me,' Casper insisted, licking a paw with an air of supreme boredom. 'The girl will know what it means. It's a historical reference, something these modern minds are oddly good at.'
Grunting in frustration, Dáinn turned back to Eris and belted out the words as if issuing a challenge. "Civil War!"
Eris's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "That's perfect!" She ignored his bewildered glare as her fingers flew across the screen again. "The Battle of Shiloh! Fought near the Tennessee River. One of the bloodiest battles in the… oh." Her face fell. "It's in Tennessee. That's like a six-hour drive." She looked up at Dáinn, her expression crestfallen. "It's going to cost a small fortune for an Uber and to rent a—"
"We will take Skógr," Dáinn stated, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.
Eris squealed, her disappointment instantly replaced by exhilaration. "Really!" Then her brow creased. "But won't that take a really long time? Like, days?"
A rare, low chuckle escaped Dáinn. "He is… really fast."
Eris cocked her head, a slow, wondrous smile spreading across her face. "Really? Like, really really fast?"
"Yes."
"GREAT!" she beamed, before a more practical thought occurred to her. "But, ah… when?"
"We will go tomorrow."
Eris breathed a sigh of relief. "Good. Because I have class, then track. Fortunately, I don't have any shifts at the bar for a few days." She nodded, dramatically flipping her wrist in the air while listing her mundane obligations as if scheduling a mythical quest was a normal part of her planner.
Dáinn simply nodded, not understanding a word of 'class,' 'track,' or 'shifts,' but grasping the concept of a delay.
"So, meet you here again tomorrow?" Eris asked.
"Yes."
"I shall accompany you home, my dear," Benjamin announced, puffing out his translucent chest and cutting a stern look toward Dáinn. "It is not wise for a young lady to be out wandering alone at night. One cannot be too careful."
Dáinn merely watched, a muscle twitching in his jaw, as the cheerful mortal, the sarcastic cat, and the lovesick ghost from a forgotten war began to move away, leaving him alone in the cemetery with a shard of a mystical tree and the unsettling realization that his epic hunt was now subject to a college student's academic and athletic schedule.
*****
The lecture hall in Valdis's main science building was stuffy, the air thick with the smell of old textbooks and the professor's droning voice discussing molecular bonds. Eris stared at the whiteboard, but the formulas might as well have been written in one of Camilla's cryptic scripts. Her mind was a thousand miles away, trapped in the cemetery from the night before.
Dáinn's question—"Who or what are you?"—echoed in her head, a relentless, haunting refrain. She'd been too exhausted to process it last night, collapsing into a dreamless sleep the moment she'd hit her bed. But now, in the harsh fluorescent light of day, with nothing to do but listen, the question unpacked itself and settled heavily in her chest. The memories played like a highlight reel: the intensity in his blue eyes, the solid warmth of his body against her back as he read over her shoulder, the scent of cold night air and something wild and ancient that clung to him. She was so lost in the thought of his breath on her ear that she jumped when a body slid into the seat next to her.
"Hey, girl."
Eris blinked, the spectral image of strained t-shirt fabric over a muscular chest dissolving into the very real, very mundane face of Mike from her chem lab. "Oh. Hey, Mike."
"What did I miss?" he asked, leaning in with a conspiratorial grin. "Anything important?"
Eris shook her head, annoyance flaring that her perfect, unsettling daydream had been interrupted. "Nope. Nothing at all."
Mike nodded, undeterred. "So, hey, I was wondering, you doing anythi—"
Eris stood, cutting him off before he could finish the sentence she'd heard a dozen times before. "See you around, Mike."
Mike blinked, shocked. "Yeah, but…?"
Eris shouldered her backpack, giving him a flat look. "Class is over. Need something?"
"Uh, no. No. Catch you later," he stammered.
She nodded, already pulling her phone from her pocket as she walked out of the lecture hall and into the bustling main corridor. The noise of student life was a jarring transition from the quiet panic in her mind. She typed a quick text to her mom: 'Hey mom, you busy?'
Her mom's response was instant: 'No honey, need to talk?'
Eris pushed through the main doors, the autumn sun warm on her face. She hit the call button and put the phone to her ear, walking aimlessly across the quad.
"Hey, honey!" her mom's cheerful voice came through the line. "How is school?"
"School is fine," Eris said, the words automatic. "It's just school."
"How are your friends? Clara and Abigail?"
Eris managed a chuckle. "They're good. Abigail says she needs more of your cookies. She swears they have special properties that help her gaming stats."
Her mom's warm laugh filled her ear. "I will get right on that then."
Eris took a deep breath, steeling herself. "Hey, Mom? I was a normal child, right? I don't have some kind of secret past or anything?" She tried to make it sound like a joke.
"Of course you were!" her mom replied, a hint of laughter still in her voice. "You were the most perfect child ever. You had a spell with imaginary friends, but you grew out of that. That's perfectly normal."
Eris's steps slowed. Imaginary friends. Her blood ran a little cold. "You sure?"
"Of course I'm sure! What is this all about?"
"It's nothing," Eris said, forcing lightness into her tone. "Was just curious."
"Okay, well, since I have you on the phone, let's talk about holiday plans. You will be home for Thanksgiving and Christmas."
Eris clung to the normalcy of the conversation like a lifeline. "Yeah, you can count on that. I am not missing out on stuffing!"
"And pie."
"How could I forget the pie," Eris said, a genuine smile touching her lips for the first time that day. Suddenly, a sharp, high-pitched bark sounded in the background. "What was that?"
"Oh! We forgot to tell you! We have a new member of the family. Your sister finally won your father over."
Eris squealed, drawing a few looks from students passing by. "We got a dog! Oh my god, you have to send me pics right now!"
As she gushed over the new puppy, the image of a tiny, wriggling creature temporarily overwriting the looming figure of a fae huntsman in her mind, a cold certainty settled in her stomach. Her mother's answer about her childhood had been too quick, too practiced. The word 'normal' had been repeated just a little too often. And 'imaginary friends' didn't explain why she could still see them, or why one of them was currently trailing her as a spectral chaperone, casting jealous glares at anyone who looked at her for too long. The world of chemistry lectures and holiday pie was real, but so was the other one. And for the first time, she was truly afraid they were about to collide.