“Remind me what we’re doing again?”

  “Going up to the lighthouse.” She said, watching Killian struggle to keep up with her. He was much taller than her, but he was still very much in the process of waking up. During the time she spent being his friend she had come to know that the man was very cranky in the mornings.

  “Oh, and that warranted waking me up at the ass crack of dawn? Have you slept? It’s barely six in the morning! You look rough.”

  “Thank you so much. Is there anything else about my appearance you have a problem with?”

  He looked thoughtful for a second, and Evita thought it would feel really nice to curse him, (something very minor and harmless, really), before he hurried to catch up with her, “You could’ve brushed your hair- Evita, just slow down for a second, the lighthouse is not running away.”

  “Well, I don’t have time. Did you know that Mrs. Yarrow is pregnant again?”

  “What! Isn’t it her fifth, now? Or sixth? You delivered it only a few months ago.”

  “I lost count. She wants me to go visit her at nine. Something about her belly having a weird shape?”

  Killian scoffed, “Pregnancy is rough on human women. Careful. Hole.” He said, grabbing her wrist and steering her towards safer terrain.

  “Ew, your hand’s clammy and… cold. Like a lizard.”

  “It’s a vampire thing.” He shrugged. “Speaking of. I was promised fresh blood.”

  Evita huffed, “Yes. Just come to the shop later and drink your fill. It’s cow blood.”

  “I don’t like cow blood.”

  “Tough luck.”

  “You are a terrible woman as well as a huge liar. And I have met my fair share of horrible people in my day. Why are we even on a hike at this hour? That lighthouse is terrifying and just… plain ugly to look at, but you’re suddenly interested in it. Why?”

  The witch recounted what had happened the night before, unable to hide her annoyance regarding the weird interaction she had with that stranger.

  “I love mysteries.” Killian said, once she finished. “Look at us. Two friends, a terrible secret-”

  “Well, we don’t know yet if the secret is terrible-” she interjected.

  “-a haunted, five centuries old building, never been opened before, nay, unsealed-”

  “Again. Not haunted. I just want to know why people are suddenly interested in it-”

  “-a love story!”

  “Where did that come from?!”

  He frowned at her, “I really, really hate when you interrupt me. It’s rude.”

  “You said a love story," she spluttered.

  “So, what, we’re going on an adventure without a love story in it? Psh. Bo-ring. Count me out. Not an active participant anymore.”

  Evita rolled her eyes, “You are making it extremely hard for me not to hit you.”

  “Yes, but see, you’d have to catch me first. I have super speed. It’s a-”

  “A vampire thing, I know.” She huffed and puffed, severely out of breath, while glaring at Killian. He was walking serenely next to her. “I dislike the fact you don’t breathe. Truly, I do.”

  “Sweetheart, you’re doing the breathing for both of us right now, anyway.”

  She grumbled a bit, but he continued, “That lighthouse has been sealed for centuries, I don’t remember why, though. I was there when it happened.” He shrugged, “Right after the end of the Great War, I think? Now, that was a terrible time, let me tell you. All the mud and the corpses… Very unsanitary.”

  “Just… how old are you?”

  Killian laughed at her puzzled expression, “Lost count a few centuries ago. And I was already quite old. I went through a phase once where I joined a gang of outlaws. It was pretty fun, up until the point where they started betraying each other. There was so much backstabbing going on, you don’t want to know the details. Literal backstabbing.”

  “Right.” She said, disgusted. “You were saying? About the lighthouse?”

  “Oh, right! It’s locked by this amulet that’s been there for a really long time. Touching it makes you pass out, it’s neat.”

  “I think we have very different ideas of what constitutes something neat. Thank you, though.”

  “Of course. We should hang out more often.”

  “You are literally always at my house. I’d like to hang out less.”

  He waved her off, “Humans and their boundaries. So passée.”

  “You are-”

  “Don’t be rude to me or I swear I will befriend your children and grandchildren and make up a ton of fake stories about you for centuries to come. I’ll tell them you had chronic halitosis.”

  “-a fantastic and precious friend. I appreciate your presence in my life very much.”

  “That’s better. Now hurry, we’re here.” He said, walking ahead. Evita groaned and followed him, careful to avoid puddles and particularly muddy areas. She noticed with annoyance that the hem of her purple dress was already dirty. Doing laundry was such a hassle, even if one could do magic. She really needed to hire someone.

  Distracting her from her thoughts, the lighthouse stood on the tall cliff like a hunched, petrified giant. Its greenish color contrasted horribly with the gloomy sky. Some of the stone bricks were missing, maybe they had been destroyed, or eroded by time and the birds had made their nests inside the empty spaces. Nature had taken ownership of it, judging by the moss and the climbing ivy it was covered in. Part of the roof had been destroyed, also, leaving behind a hole that looked like a huge, gaping wound. Overall, it looked like an empty husk or a chrysalis, forgotten and dead. But Evita could feel something alive coming from it, something old. The knowledge of that sent a shiver down her spine.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  Some may have called it a gut feeling, but that was a magic trace, plain and simple. Something of note had happened there, a long time ago.

  “What a letdown.” Said Killian, a few steps ahead of her. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold northern wind blowing aggressively towards them, to the extent that he had worn a simple white cotton shirt and green pants, foregoing anything else. Meanwhile, Evita had to bundle up in a long jacket and gloves, but the low temperature was still making her shiver. She missed her little fire spirit very much.

  “I agree. But I feel something weird…” she said. Her teeth chattered due to the biting cold, and she startled when the wind howled violently, making the lighthouse’s windows rattle. How was that glass still intact?

  “Could it be that huge glowing thing, maybe? Impossible to miss? The one that’s right in front of you?”

  Busy as she was looking up at the overall structure of the building, she had missed the green medallion embedded in the center of the wooden door, shining green and pulsating with energy. The moment she looked at it, countless whispers reached her ears while innumerable clawed hands picked at her brain, begging her to listen listen listen. There were so many and they were so aggressive that she couldn’t make out what they were saying for the life of her; they spoke over one another, while tugging her attention in every direction. A slimy presence slowly crawled all over her spine in a corrupted, disgusting caress, which made her stiffen in response. She shuddered and broke into a cold sweat. With surprise, she realized that the lighthouse looked like it was… in pain? She could’ve sworn that she saw it curve its stone body slightly towards her, the foundations of the building trembling and creaking under the effort.

  “Do you hear that?” she asked, breathless.

  Killian cocked his head to the side, “Hear what?”

  “Just… the whispers? They’re saying… wait.” Evita held onto her head tightly with a grunt of pain, nails sinking into her scalp, and scrunched her eyes closed. The voices were getting more insistent the longer she stayed there, and she felt like she couldn’t breathe properly. She could not move.

  Her friend was next to her in a second, holding her up. The witch realized she would have crumpled onto the wet ground if it wasn’t for the strong grip he had on her. “Evita? What’s happening? Talk to me. You have to talk to me.”

  She realized, distantly and not very concerned about it, that Killian sounded terrified. She couldn’t move her mouth enough to speak and reassure him that she was fine, her tongue just felt heavy and dead in her mouth, but it was seriously nothing to worry about; she told herself that she would talk to him in a moment, she just needed a couple more seconds to understand what the whispers were saying, they sounded so close and urgent, so-

  Evita opened her eyes to the interior of what seemed to be a wooden hut. She looked around, noticing that it was scarcely furnished; it held nothing but the essentials: a few bookshelves, a cauldron, a desk, a bed, and a table. She arrived at the conclusion that this was somebody’s home, but how had she gotten there? She remembered the whispers and noticed that she couldn’t hear them anymore. The silence was deafening, making the situation somehow worse. And Killian! Had she left Killian? A full body shudder racked through her, leaving her shaken and on the cusp of a panic attack. She felt light, even lightheaded, as if her senses were dormant and not as sharp as usual. Was she dreaming?

  There wasn’t time. She needed to get back to him, which she would’ve done immediately, if it weren’t for the fact that the hut didn’t have any windows, or a door, even. It was a huge, messy, lived-in, wooden box. But a box, nonetheless. And she was trapped in it.

  She walked towards the cluttered desk, hoping that maybe one of the letters strewn messily over it would serve as a hint to let her know where she was and if she was in any danger. But the moment she tried to touch the closest envelope, her hand went right through it.

  Evita paled and her heart started thumping loudly in her chest. Was she a ghost?

  “You are not dead.” Said a low but feminine voice coming from behind her back. The witch was sick and tired of people sneaking up on her.

  She turned around slowly, schooling her features into a deadpan expression. If she was in danger, it simply wouldn’t be the wisest course of action to give her opponent the upper hand by looking scared. The woman in front of her, with her curly, cherry red hair and long, emerald dress, looked powerful and regal. The very image of what Evita was trained to be, but sadly wasn’t. Her skin seemed to glow from within, healthy and rosy, completely at odds with the dark environment of the hut. She would have looked more at home in a palace, she thought.

  “Where am I?” she asked. Her voice didn’t waver. A small victory.

  “You are still where you were. It is just your magical essence that has been displaced. But don’t worry, you are not in any danger. This isn’t real, but it also really, really is.”

  “…Who are you?”

  The woman swallowed in what seemed to be like a nervous gesture. Evita noticed that she looked awfully young, perhaps only a few years older than her. “If you reached me this way, then I’m your ancestor and I must be dead. Tell me, did we win?”

  “Win what?” she asked, “I don’t know who you are. What have you done to me?”

  The woman waved her off, starting to pace all around the room apprehensively, “I did nothing to you, this is just a memory. A small part of myself stuck in a pocket dimension, left dormant for… you, apparently. What year is it? No,” she stopped, staring at Evita with wide, frazzled eyes, “Don’t tell me. But forgive my selfishness… I- I must know. Did we win?”

  She didn’t seem like a threat. It occurred to Evita that the woman seemed to be the one in danger.

  “Who are you?” she repeated, “What are you talking about? A pocket dimension? Like the one where the goblin market is?”

  “I- yes? That’s still there? Oh, no… you must be closer than I imagined, then. This is bad. This is very bad.”

  The pacing started back up and frankly, Evita was over it, so she tried again. “Who are you?”

  “Right, I apologize. This must be all so strange to you, and we can’t really waste any time, you see. We tend to have so little of it.” She stopped her ministrations and took a deep breath. “My name is Rowena of the Adler family, the same family you belong to, I suppose. If you are here, then… No.” the woman, Rowena apparently, plopped herself dramatically onto the bed, shaking her head. “The lighthouse. Do you live in the town near the lighthouse?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, “It’s called Cliff’s Drop. For the cliff.”

  “It’s not because of the cliff, it’s because I-” she glared at Evita in frustration, “Of course, you must know everything about it already. I made the history books, didn’t I? Was our family disgraced?”

  “There is nothing of note about the Great War. Even the people who were alive during that time have forgotten.”

  Rowena sucked on her cheeks in annoyance, looking like she had eaten an entire lemon. “I should have expected that from him.”

  “Who?”

  But Rowena closed her eyes and sighed. All the fight and the regality seemed to come out of her body like air out of a deflated balloon, leaving behind only the pale image of a young girl playing dress up with her mother’s expensive wardrobe.

  “My sacrifice was all in vain, then. He did it.” She said, looking at her left hand. Evita noticed she was missing a finger. Dark magic? What was going on? Who was the mysterious “he” she was talking about?

  “Rowena.” She said, “What is happening?”

  The red-haired woman whipped her head up to stare at her, as if having forgotten her presence. Her pupils were blown out and her breath started to come out quick and fast. “Listen to me. You have to get away from that place. The Adler witches cannot go near that lighthouse, the building is cursed. I hope for your sake you haven’t opened it yet.”

  “Me? Open the lighthouse?”

  The older witch grabbed her by the shoulders hard enough to hurt and Evita let out a gasp. Why was she able to touch her? She noticed that the hut was slowly disappearing, object after object. The bookshelf was empty and what was once a bed, was now only a mattress. The wind, coming from everywhere and nowhere at the same time, started howling, reminding her of the sirens of the legends. She heard the crack of thunder in the distance.

  “You have to listen.” Her hair was crackling with energy. She did not blink once. “I can’t hold the enchantment much longer. If the lighthouse has been opened, you’re going to have to fight!”

  “Fight?! Fight who?!”

  Rowena shook her head, green eyes staring into her own amber ones, before she started to cry. Big, fat tears were rolling down her pink cheeks, leaving behind wet tracks and smudged kohl. “Look for me in your time. Traces of my magic, of- of me! They are still there, and they’ll make themselves known to you if you look for them! We cannot have a second War! Remember, in the woods-”

  Evita woke up with a shout, scrambling up onto her feet, still reeling from the experience. Her heart was beating so fast against her ribcage that she thought it would simply come out and run away to greener pastures. She held herself tightly, gasping for breath and stumbling a little bit, until she noticed Killian staring at her with a terrified look on his face. No, not at her, he was staring at something behind her.

  The medallion lay broken in half onto the wet grass, the green light that once was its life-force dimming and dimming until it fizzled out and died. The wooden door it had been embedded in for five hundred years creaked open slowly, with all the difficulty of an object that sat unused for centuries, before slamming against the rock wall and crumbling to dust. The lighthouse had been opened. And it was her fault.

  Evita noticed that her cheeks were wet with tears.