The crow sailed through currents of mist, perching atop twisted trees as she waited for Alex. He hiked up the mountain, wary, but not of wraiths, and not of monsters. Nothing with enough sense to detect him would come anywhere near right now. Omen was something all creatures could feel, whether they recognized what that feeling was or not.

Alex recognized it, and his fate felt as cursed as it ever had been. Still, he followed. When he reached the branch where the crow had perched, she was off again. She stayed always just out of sight, a silhouette on the fringe of his perception. He pushed aside bushes and ducked under branches as he walked. The mist's moisture collected on the leaves of dead bushes, leaving his skin damp as he rustled past. He grunted, climbing a steep section of ground. Although the paths felt like an untamed slice of the Misting Valley's wilderness at times, he still observed it was far more difficult to traverse the mountains and ranges when he veered into the mists.

That soon changed, making Alex feel a creeping uneasiness. The difference was subtle at first—bushes that grew further apart, trees that stood more upright, no longer crooked or impeding him. Then the ease of his travel became more obvious as he noticed the absence of trip-worthy roots and ground-dwelling plants. He walked what must have been a trail, a path in the truest sense of the word, natural and native to his world.

But that wasn't what unsettled him. There was something else here, something he ought to remember but that remained just out of reach of his recollection.

The crow cawed. Then she took off again, a black feather drifting languidly down in a slow, seesaw motion, like a canoe rocked by gentle waters. Alex caught it between his fingers. Further up the path, the crow stared back at him, perched atop a carved stone inscribed with unfamiliar letters. A statue of a deity sat atop it—one he felt he'd seen before, but couldn't place. There was something here, something he was missing.

But whatever it was was neither here nor there at the moment. He approached the crow and bowed low, as decorum decreed, offering back her fallen feather.

"You may keep it, little bird. Lift your head, I can hardly see your eyes as it is."

Hesitantly, he did as she demanded.

The crow's eyes shone with an otherworldly light.

Corvus, "The Accursed Witness"

Constellation of Omen

Alex's bad feeling intensified as Corvus tilted her head, her eyes peering into him. Across the entire universe, there were constellations of all origins, each terrifying in its own way. Some, like Orion, were once men who walked among mortals in times only remembered by fable. Others were beings of mystical origins, whose thoughts and perspectives were so alien to his own that he couldn't even begin to understand them. He had no idea what to expect from Corvus. And a mortal's only reasonable reaction when faced with but a fraction of her attention was terror.

The unsettling quiet didn't help. His eyes drifted back to the statue. A turtle with a deer's antlers—or so it seemed. It was too familiar.

"...If I may ask, honored Constellation," he said, breaking the silence, "Why have you brought me out here?"

"This shrine still holds traces of holy significance. It is one of few places where I can speak freely with you."

"I see."

Another uncomfortable silence ensued, and Alex began to think he preferred bowing his head to meeting the crow's pure white eyes in this prolonged moment. If this was Corvus's idea of free speech, it was a skewed one.

"You… want me to lead the conversation?" he asked.

"On the contrary, we have already conversed."

Alex's expression must have betrayed his puzzlement because she added, "It is not a riddle, little bird. I simply see much farther than you can as of yet, and I see you face a choice."

Well, he would hardly call it a choice. But he supposed that depended on the outcome of this conversation. Incurring a Constellation's wrath was never good, but taking Gloomy's head may still be worth it.

"Then, if I may beseech your enlightenment, honored Constellation," he said, a little unsure why he was slipping into archaic dialect, "You're Gloomy's patron Constellation, are you not? Why did you give me that holy gauze in the second scenario?"

Corvus pecked at a small root overgrown on the shrine. A gift from a constellation always came with strings attached, and he had no desire to be anyone's puppet in this life. That fact had been bothering him ever since she had revealed her presence.

What purpose does she intend for me?

"Must there be a purpose?" she asked.

Alex gaped. Had she just read his surface thoughts—

No, of course. Alex was generally agreeable to the idea that the universe needn't have purpose in every happening. As it happened, crows were also one of his favorite animals—

"You misunderstand, little bird. To see is not always to hear, and to hear is not to listen." Her voice was light, almost amused. "You, who are in many ways blind, cannot presume to guess what I see or cannot. Falsities, little lies—they have their place, but not here. I speak freely, so it insults me that you do not."

Alex suddenly felt immense pressure bearing down on him. He gulped. "Well, forgive me for my presumptions, then. I just didn't want to accidentally offend someone who could smite me with so little effort."

"Integration of Earth is under the System's watchful eye. To smite you would not be as easy as you guess."

"There are ways," he said.

"There are," Corvus agreed.

Alex sighed, puzzled as to whether she could read his mind or not. Was she being obtuse on purpose? This was the problem with godly beings—he really just couldn't know. So he supposed it only followed that he shouldn't presume to know what would offend her either. It felt wrong to engage with a constellation so disrespectfully, but he'd just have to believe she wouldn't smite him for it. Though he noticed she had not exactly given her word.

"It's as you say, Corvus. I am blind in many ways. So forgive me for doubting you, but I find it hard to believe you would go behind the System's back to drop me a life preserving artifact without expecting anything in return. Especially since I am now here, traveling with one of your chosen, and have somehow, unwittingly stumbled into forming a contract that requires I protect her from assassins seeking to take her life. These decisions that led me here were my own, but with this far-sightedness you speak of… did you really not foresee this happening?"

Or rather, had she manipulated things so that it would? Had she nudged his fate? He hated this feeling—the idea that his every step could have been orchestrated, this total invalidation of agency. It was the entire reason why he'd refused the Constellation's offers, and yet here he was, once more, dancing to a tune not entirely his own.

"If you truly want me to speak freely, I refuse to believe you didn't intend for this," Alex spat.

"That is fine. You are free in your beliefs, even if they are wrong. You believe there is purpose, but purpose implies certainty, when little is certain until it has happened. I deal in uncertainties—omens—and how they are received is not my jurisdiction. Our paths crossed. I saw that they might cross again. Lo and behold, you are here, and now you must choose."

"To kill Gloomy, or to spare her," Alex said.

"And much more."

Corvus released a shrill screech and suddenly Alex was elsewhere—in a dark tunnel.

He ran, clutching his side in pain, panting heavily. Blood seeped between his fingers, and in his other hand, he held a staff.

He wasn't alone.

An older man with grey in his hair dark steel armor ran alongside him, holding a sword soaked in blood. A woman sprinted by his right, wearing a stealth cloak and speed-enhancing boots. Behind him, a pale boy decked in robes struggled to keep pace.

And further still, in the tunnel's dark reaches, came the final pleas of people in their death throes.

Alex understood their urgency when a large hand stretched around the corridor's corner and seized the pale boy in its grasp. He was dragged back, shrieking. Alex screamed out his name, but the voice was girlish—so unlike his own.

The boy's flesh popped like a grape.

Alex wanted to cry out but fought the instinct. Already, an unfamiliar incantation was on his lips, and his staff was raised in the direction where the hand had retreated.

"Damn it! Just run! We have to get out of here!" the older man yelled.

He didn't listen. Running wouldn't save them—fighting might. He condensed as much mana as he could into his staff, aiming it toward the creature as it rounded the corner.

The man gripped his shoulder.

"Alyssa! We have to—"

* * *

Alex gasped for breath, collapsing to his knees before the bird as the vision faded. Corvus stared at him with an inquisitive gaze that was too inhuman for him to handle right now.

"What was that?" he yelled. "What happened to her?! Show me the rest of it!"

"The rest is still uncertain," Corvus said.

"Uncertain? So much for having no purpose! Was this the idea? You dangle my sister's life before my eyes and blackmail me with it?! You want me to spare Gloomy? Fine, I don't give a shit! I just want—"

Alex froze. His sister… was alive?

No… how could he even know this was real? It didn't feel real. Corvus could've easily shown him an illusion to win him over. It was unlikely—constellations weren't known to bargain in falsehoods, Orion aside. But even on the off chance… could he risk that? Was Lys… was she going to die? Again?

"I said you could speak freely, little bird. But do not expect me to take insults lightly."

A chill touched his bones like a promise, and Alex suddenly felt so much colder. He knew he should grovel, beg forgiveness for his slight. He just couldn't bring himself to care.

"Is she going to die if I do nothing?" he asked.

"Do you think she will?"

"Just answer the damn—I mean—just, no riddles please. If she's going to die, then I beg you, please just help her. That's why you showed me this, right?! If you need me to protect Gloomy… I'll…"

Alex cringed, remembering what Gloomy was. His blood roiled, and the knowledge that this would put him beneath the Constellation's thumb again bubbled to his mind, making his next words harder.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

"I'll… do it," he said. "I'll protect her."

Yet, for all the determination that took to say, Corvus seemed to show no appreciation for it.

"I have already told you I don't speak in riddles. I have shown you all that I've seen, but I deal in uncertainties, little bird. I could lend her my help, and even that might not save her. I could do nothing, and she could be just fine. It is yours to interpret as you wish. Yet, you seem to mistake what choice you face truly."

Alex's pulse raced. He tried to calm himself, to think rationally. It was hard. Could Lys survive this?

She was brilliant, and even in the short time he had spent in her body, he had sensed more strength than he ever expected. He wanted to believe in her. But… she had died once already. A voice in his head whispered that her fate was inevitable, no matter what he did.

Had she read his texts? Or was this just how it all happened? They were underground. It had been dark. Was it Earth or Nightmare?

"Wait, what do you mean? What choice do I have then?" he asked.

Corvus shifted from one clawed talon to the other. Alex had seen crows do that action countless times, but he had never thought to notice it. It was a casual mannerism, so out of place with the weight of her words.

"A life for a life," she said. "If you kill the girl you call Gloomy, I will lend your sister my aid."

Alex's eyes widened. Kill… Gloomy? But Gloomy was Corvus's own Chosen. And he had been about to kill her anyway!

"What…what's the catch?"

"There is none. You must dissolve the contract before you take her life, but I will not inform her of your intentions."

That bad feeling in Alex's gut intensified. This made no sense.

"No, but—why? She's your own Chosen! Has she betrayed you or something?"

"This has nothing to do with her, little bird. It is your choice to make. But do make it. The window where I can interfere is closing."

Alex's breath caught.

So it was his sister's life or the vampire's? Was that even a choice?

No, his sister wasn't necessarily going to die if he didn't accept this. But then, she also wasn't guaranteed to live even if he did? What kind of choice was that?!

Eric had said she was alive, and… he'd been right at the time. Just… for how long would that hold true?

No. Lys had to have seen his texts. She was a capable girl. She could still…

Alex frowned, his mind finally realizing what Corvus said. "Wait, you're going to dissolve the contract? So Gloomy can defend herself?!"

"Do you think you'd fail to kill her if she did?"

No, he didn't. But then why do all this in the first place if not for that? Shit. He was running out time. His sister could be dying this very second, and he was sitting here worrying about himself?!

But even if he did kill Gloomy… what would be the consequences? Was there something he was missing? What was Corvus's endgame? There's no way she had none in mind. He could be signing away all his freedom just from this one—

"I see you've made your choice."

Corvus ruffled her feathers.

"No, wait! I—"

Before Alex could plead otherwise, Corvus had already disappeared into the starry sky, taking her place in the Constellations. His heart raced; his mind spun. But… she was right. He had decided, hadn't he? It just didn't add up. None of this… Not a single…

He choked back a guilty sob, fearing what he might have just done. Then he felt stupid for that. He knew the futility of it all. His actions rarely affected anything positively. Or if they did, it was always too late. What use was crying about it now? He had made his choice the second he'd chosen Nightmare, hadn't he?

And… he'd abandoned her. He'd abandoned hope.

As Alex accepted his guilt, tears welled in his eyes. He knelt before the shrine of a forgotten god and prayed. Not because he believed it would change anything, but because he knew the gods they still had did not care.

* * *

It was essential when venturing into the mists to remember the direction you had come from. Circumstances could make that more difficult—such as when you were running for your life—but Alex knew every twist and turn Corvus had led him through that night. He was in no danger of losing himself as he once had.

Yet as he ambled through the mists, retracing his path, he thought he might not care if he were whisked away. But the impression was fleeting… and entirely false. Memories of that long night were becoming clearer. He had been out of it all those years ago, consumed by the voices of the Lost Souls, but ever since returning to the mists he began remembering more and more of the route they had taken him through these woods. And when that unnerving feeling refused to leave him, he finally realized where he might've recognized that shrine from. He had passed it in those final hours, before he'd stumbled upon the Path of Buried Ghosts.

That place… was close.

He held the doll Gloomy had made of him in his hand, squeezing. He didn't want to release the contract. He didn't want to hear what the Lost Souls had to say, and he was sick of being pulled in directions he had no control over. But as soon as he'd brought out the doll, Nychta had stirred, and he could feel the desperation in her desire. He was not alone in this anymore.

Alex pushed aside the bushes bordering his path and noticed he was wetter than usual. He didn't know when it had started raining. Gloomy was soaked, and a muddy puddle had formed where she lay unconscious. Her legs were still a mess but were healing quickly, and he realized it wasn't just her health potion at work. Vampires were capable of regeneration, and he reckoned hers was stronger than most.

He drew Nychta. Despite refusing Corvus's offer to kill Gloomy, his decision remained the same. Morality wasn't up for debate. By nature, vampires were all warlocks. They grew their magic by consuming the essence of lifeblood from others. And, as is the nature of warlock, inevitably, they always grew corrupted by their own power. There wasn't a single one with a shred of goodness in their heart.

He could still hear Laura's voice in his mind, telling him to listen to himself. He was. Laura had died because of these abominations. Just because this one had shown enough guilt to bury her victims didn't change what she was.

But in another sense, something definitely was wrong about Gloomy, and that required investigation. Alex took shallow steps, masking his approach with the rain. He used stealth to ensure Gloomy didn't wake. There shouldn't be anything he had missed, right? Her damage reflection was dangerous, and he didn't doubt she had made other dolls of him in preparation of her demise. Still, the Lordling Chimik had at least sensed something was off when Gloomy bound their fates, whereas Alex, with dangersense and soulsense, couldn't recall any tampering. Then there was also the fact that Gloomy had to have her dolls in hand.

Alex leveled Nychta at her neck. He didn't intend to give her the chance to retaliate. But he'd torture her first so if there was any inherent damage reflection he would soon know.

Corvus's offer still had alarm bells ringing in his head, but maybe he was being needlessly paranoid. Perhaps it was all an overcomplicated ploy at reverse psychology. After all, Constellations betraying their own Chosen was almost unheard of. Even if it didn't feel that way after how things had ended with Orion.

Orion… is Orion part of this somehow? Alex had humiliated the god, and he knew the hunter didn't take that well. There was also the matter of the assassins. Gloomy had stolen something precious from the Blood Lotus Clan. What was the story there? Her being a vampire changed everything—was she a renegade?

Judging that Gloomy was still in deep sleep, Alex hooked her beaded bracelet around the point of his sword and carefully slid it off her wrist, then onto his own. She didn't stir. With his blade at her neck again, he wound back a heavy kick to her ribs.

Gloomy's eyes shot open.

"Don't try anything," he warned. "You so much as reach for your dolls, and you can kiss your life goodbye."

A flash of emotions crossed her face—confusion, anger, shock when she realized he had taken back his gift. And puzzlingly, betrayal. Then more anger, more than he remembered the spitefuly demon even having.

"Fuck you Alex," she snarled. "You had me starting to second-guess myself."

"Yeah, me too," he said. "Until you bit my damn neck, at least."

Her eyes widened. Guess she didn't remember that part.

"What, you're not going to threaten me?"

"I'll just haunt your soul after you slit my neck."

Unnervingly, Alex couldn't tell whether she was joking.

"Well, I'm glad you understand your position, at least," he said. "Because, Gloomy, I really fucking hate vampires. I don't really care what you try after you're dead. There's nothing you can say to stop me from slitting your throat. But there is a way you can convince me to make it quick. What is your connection to the Blood Lotus Clan?"

Gloomy stared at him. Not fearful, but more surprised, as though she had heard something she hadn't expected. Then she laughed. The crazy bitch. Alex drew a line of red across her neck. It didn't faze her, and he hadn't really expected it to after seeing what she had pulled against the Lordling. It didn't even stop her laughter.

"Your amusement won't last," he warned. "I have experience torturing your kind, and I know how to make use of your regeneration. Don't bother lying—I'll be able to tell."

Forget lying… she was laughing so hard she didn't even look like she could answer.

Alex gnashed his teeth. "What's so funny about this?"

"Oh—nothing, it's just…" She wiped a tear from her eye. "I spent all this time hating your guts, Alex. And the first time you actually say something agreeable… it's with your sword to my neck!"

She snorted. Alex struggled to figure out what the joke was exactly.

"Enough! Tell me what you stole from them or I'll—"

Alex froze. A subtle, uneasy shiver climbed his spine. It screamed of danger and terror, but he struggled to pinpoint where it was coming from. He searched his surroundings. Nothing. Gloomy just continued writhing in laughter on the ground, making him see red. Then she stopped too, sensing something was off.

His skin felt moist, but it had stopped raining. The air suddenly felt thick and hard to breathe in. The red in his vision deepened to a light crimson, and the taste of blood clung to the roof of his mouth like oil. He recalled something he had once been told:

"By the time you find yourself in the Blood Mists, you can already count yourself among the dead."

Wings flapped and Corvus perched herself on a tree.

"You have made your choice, Alex. Now deal with the consequences."

There was no time to think, and yet he hesitated. But when his soul began to burn he yanked Gloomy up by her arm and slung the small girl over his left shoulder. Raising Nychta, he shielded Gloomy as much as possible with his stance. Then he waited. He waited for the killing intent, for the moment he knew what direction it lay in.

When he turned, he saw a lone figure approaching through the mists. Scarves were wrapped around his face; his blade was drawn at his side.

"Alex! He's—you can't fight him!"

He knew that already. As soon as he saw from where the Bloodmist Assassin approached from, he turned and ran in the opposite direction. He breached the wall of mists lining their path and scrambled up the mountain. They'd ended up on the wrong side of the slope, and Alex had extra baggage weighing him down thanks to this god-damn contract.

No… no! Gloomy! What the fuck did you steal?!

She must have really pissed them off to warrant sending one of the two vampires Alex had no chance of beating. He cursed his fate, trampling bushes and stumbling over roots in his rush. He entered stealth and demanded Gloomy do the same—for all the good it would do now. He could feel their assailant closing the gap like a tingle at the back of his neck.

"Tell me you made him a goddamn doll!" he yelled.

"I did! Don't have any of his fucking hair though!"

"Well, is there anything you can do to slow him down?"

"Working on it!" she said.

Alex felt a pulse of power and looked back as blood shot from her wounded wrist like a bullet. The assassin swatted it aside effortlessly with a bloody shield of his own.

Fucking vampires.

Alex had been trying his best not to breathe in too much of the Blood Mists, but he couldn't hold his breath forever. With each inhale, his temperature began to rise bit by bit. He couldn't stop the mists from seeping into his wounds, either. He'd bandaged them, which helped a little, but as soon as he got another scrape, he knew his luck would run out.

He was completely useless here. There was nothing in his arsenal that worked at a range—

He remembered his Glock. Then summoned it and handed it to Gloomy.

"A gun?!"

"You have any better ideas?" he yelled.

"He'll have defensive enchantments!"

"Then test their limits! I have more bullets where that came from!"

Gloomy yelped as she squeezed the trigger. She'd never shot a gun before, had she? Alex cringed, trying not to startle at the constant bangs near his head. Seventeen rounds went off. He handed her another magazine, struggling not to trip over himself as he taught her how to load it.

Featherfoot was an amazing skill, and it was the only thing saving his life right now. That, and the rain, which the skill made him advantaged in. Even with it though, he was struggling not to slip in the mud, and knowing just how terrifyingly fast the assassin was, Alex could only assume the slippery ground was slowing him down.

Otherwise, I'd be dead.

"Is the gun working?"

"What do you think—oh! Wait, it's cracked a little!"

Alex passed her another magazine. It was the ninth one he'd given her, and he only had three left. One hundred fifty bullets just to crack the defenses a little wasn't good enough.

But it did seem to make the assassin hesitate. Alex glanced back and saw him standing still, unmoved, his gaze emotionless as he disappeared behind the mists.

No, that wasn't a good sign. The Blood Mists were still here, and Alex knew the assassin hadn't given up. They'd simply lost his position. Running this fast while carrying Gloomy was exhausting him too quickly. His movements were growing sluggish. Mud splattered as he took a heavy step into a puddle. His body had heated to a fever's pitch, and the boiling would begin any moment now.

Something rattled in his pocket. He frowned, reaching in and pulling out the doll he'd trapped the Lost Souls in.

"Coome… find usss…"

A shiver ran through him. He scanned his surroundings. He didn't hesitate, taking a sharp left through a thicket of bushes. Before long, he found himself at the shrine once more. He ran straight past it.

"Alex…? Where are we going?!"

He was back in his memories, scrambling head over foot in maddened flight. His blood boiled. There was no priestess here to soothe the heat, no potions to seal his wounds. He'd collected a scrape on his cheek from a branch not far back, and that had been all the Blood Mists needed. He groaned from the excruciating pain. Gloomy thrashed in his grip, feeling it too.

He leapt over giant, bulging roots, leaving the cleared path behind and struggling with his footwork through the thickets. His veins bulged as if simmering with lava. His skin burned as though pressed by hot irons. He fled into his past. Another left here. A right at the crooked tree.

"Seee… you do… know the wayyy…"

Alex ran in the dark, vision so red he was practically blind. But he could see himself there in his memories: standing at the edge of the ravine, staring into the abyss, feeling it stare back. A million souls trained on his own, beckoning him into the depths. The sheer terror had been enough to tear him from the trance the Lost Souls had put him under. He'd fled that place and never imagined coming back.

Now here he was once again, with no other choice. His muscles seared and ached. His footsteps thudded under the weight of exhaustion.

"Alex!" Gloomy screamed.

Something moved to his right. He raised Nychta too late to completely parry the assassin's strike. The blade cleaved into his left shoulder, just inches from his heart, before he stopped its momentum. He stumbled backward. Then gravity failed him.

He plunged into an endless fall. From the ravine's abyss, the Lost Souls welcomed him.

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