Chapter Thirteen
One week later …
The night was as dark as the catacombs beneath North Academy, not helped by the odd mist that had settled over the campus grounds, although the light shining from the moon and stars in the sky helped illuminate the area somewhat. At least Darek could see where he was going as he walked down the path that wound around the Arcanium down to the graveyard.
As he walked, he drew his mage's robes more tightly around his body, because a cold wind was blowing in tonight from the northern Walls. Granted, the heatstone that made up the school's buildings radiated enough heat to make the cold tolerable, but ever since nearly freezing his hands off trying to stop that chimera last week, Darek had been even more susceptible to cold than normal. It was getting so bad that he was starting to rethink his decision to become a pagomancer.
It's too late for that, I suppose, Darek thought as his shoes crunched lightly against the gravel path he walked upon. I've spent nine years training as a pagomancer. I don't want to spend another ten learning to specialize in some other area of magic.
Darek knew he should have been sleeping right now. It was midnight and everyone else in the school was soundly asleep in their dorms. Besides, he had a pyromancy class early in the morning, right around dawn. Jiku, if he was awake, likely would have told Darek to go back to bed.
But as much as Darek wanted to, he couldn't sleep. It was probably because of that dream he had had a week ago, in which he spoke with that strange voice that had said so many odd things to him. The memories of that dream had faded from his mind since then, but he still recalled the strange, purplish-black wall and what it had said about itself.
Not only that, but Darek was thinking about Aorja as well. Just like he thought, the feelings of betrayal that Jiku had experienced were starting to affect him. Just thinking about Aorja now—without even thinking specifically about how she had betrayed him—was enough to make him want to smash something.
But Aorja was gone now. After the teachers had transported Aorja out of the medical wing, they had taken her to the Superior's study, where the Magical Superior had interrogated her for hours. The Superior had not revealed exactly what he learned from her, but he apparently learned quite a bit, because afterward, Aorja had been sent away.
'Sent away' was probably not the best word for what they did to her. According to Junaz, who had been there when the Magical Superior had made his decision about Aorja, Aorja had been sent to Rock Isle, an island far to the south of the Great Berg. Darek had never visited Rock Isle, but he had heard plenty about it.
It's the most dangerous, worst prison in all of the Northern Isles, Jiku had told him after they learned about Aorja's fate. Only the worst criminals are placed there. The Magical Superior must have been very angry with Aorja if he decided to send her there for her crimes.
Jiku had sounded very happy about it. That made sense. Jiku was a follower of Grinf, the God of Justice. No doubt he saw this as perfectly just, although Darek had a hard time feeling happy about this when he thought about how awful Rock Isle was supposed to be. As much as he hated Aorja for what she did, he wasn't sure if she deserved that kind of punishment.
Darek didn't get a chance to say good bye to Aorja, either although looking back, he realized that was probably for the best. He had been so angry with Aorja that he likely would have attacked her if he'd seen her one last time. Part of him regretted that he would likely never see Aorja again, but another part of him thought Good riddance.
He suspected that Aorja's sentence had probably been influenced by Yorak and the Institute mages. He well remembered how Yorak, upon learning that Aorja had been the cause behind the destruction of the Soaring Sea and the Third Dorm, had demanded that Aorja be executed right here in the school in front of everyone. Only the Magical Superior's calm and collected reasoning had prevented that from becoming a reality, although Darek was under the impression that it had just barely worked.
Her sentence to Rock Isle was probably a compromise, Darek thought. This way, we get rid of a dangerous traitor and the Institute mages can rest safely knowing that someone who had tried to harm them is no longer a threat to their lives.
Even though Aorja had been captured and sentenced to Rock Isle, the Institute mages had still left the next day when another airship—this one blue in color and possibly an older model than the last one, based on the loudness of its engine—flew in and landed in the sports field in almost the exact same spot where the Soaring Sea had landed the previous day. The Institute mages climbed inside without hesitation, left in three minutes, and hadn't been seen or heard from since.
Darek stopped for a moment on the path and looked up at the dark night sky, remembering how the Institute's new airship had looked as it zoomed through the sky over the Walls and out into the Great Berg. He didn't miss the Institute mages very much, mostly because he had barely gotten to know them, except for Auratus and Kuroshio.
And based on the conversations he had had with the other students, none of them missed their aquarian counterparts, either. If anything, the general consensus among the students seemed to be that the fewer aquarians in the school, the better. Apparently, some of the Institute mages had been incredibly rude and bigoted toward the Academy mages, made even worse by Yorak's display of blatant disrespect toward the Magical Superior.
Hence, Darek had not heard any of his fellow students wishing that the aquarians had stayed a little while longer. Nor did he hear any talk of possibly inviting the Institute mages back again some other time, perhaps when things had settled down. Even the teachers did not seem to miss them much and he certainly hadn't heard anything about the Institute mages from the Magical Superior.
Maybe the Magical Superior's plan to bring the two schools together backfired, Darek thought, shaking his head as he continued walking down the gravel path. Guess it doesn't really matter. Doesn't change the fact that I can't sleep.
Granted, Darek could have used hypnomancy to put himself to sleep, but he was never a very good hypnomancer. Once, in a lesson on hypnomancy, he had been given the simple task of casting a basic sleep spell on one of his fellow students. Unfortunately, Darek had somehow messed it up and instead cast an insomnia spell on the student, which prevented the poor guy from sleeping for almost a full week before the teachers found the counter spell.
So Darek had decided that he would go out to the graveyard in the middle of the night and walk around until he got tired. Walking around a graveyard in the middle of the night certainly seemed like a foolish thing, but only if you were superstitious. There was nothing to fear about the school's graveyard. No spirits or ghosts lived there, despite some of the rumors he had heard from the other students.
It's just a normal graveyard, Darek thought. Anyone who thinks otherwise clearly hasn't walked in it before.
Another reason Darek decided to go to the graveyard tonight was to see if he could find out why those two katabans intruders from earlier had come here. He had learned that the katabans had been searching for a particular grave, but whose and why, he didn't know.
So he decided that solving a good mystery would be enough to tire him out. He doubted he would find anything, but the thought that he might solve this puzzle that had stumped even the Magical Superior spurred him onwards. He liked having a goal better than aimlessly walking about, anyway.
In another minute, Darek reached the front gate of the graveyard. It looked as normal as it ever did to him, at least from what he could see of it in the darkness, mist, and moonlight. But according to Junaz, a large, strange-looking tree had sprouted in front of it a week ago, which the two katabans had tried to use to enter the graveyard. The tree had since been removed, its wood to be used for magical purposes, but Darek could see the plot of dirt where it had been growing.
Darek opened the gate without hesitation and entered. He was well aware of the various traps set up around the graveyard's perimeter by Junaz, but he did not think he would accidentally set them
off. The traps, while mostly non-magical, did have very simple scanning spells cast on them that allowed them to tell the difference between invaders and mages who lived here. That was why Darek felt comfortable entering the graveyard through the gate.
The graveyard was quiet and cold tonight, as it usually was, the only significant difference being the thick mist that covered everything. What made the graveyard so strange in comparison to the rest of the Academy was that the tombstones were not made of heatstone. In fact, the oldest tombstones were made of marble, apparently imported from the south. The old stone path, too, was made of gravel, but why that was, Darek didn't know, as the graveyard was one of the oldest parts of the school and much of its history had been lost due to the lack of good record-keeping in the school's early years.
As Darek walked, looking at the various cracked and faded tombstones, he wished he knew what to look for. The two katabans probably did, but as far as he knew, only the Magical Superior knew what they were looking for, and he, in his usual secretive way, had not told anyone what they had said to him about it. Darek had considered speaking to the Magical Superior himself, but he rejected the idea because, as close as they were, he knew better than to ask the Magical Superior about topics that he refused to speak about. The Magical Superior usually had good reasons for keeping secrets, anyway, so Darek did not see any reason to badger him about it.
Besides, Darek didn't expect to find anything tonight, not really. Solving the mystery of what the katabans had came here for was merely a trick to help cure his temporary insomnia. As long as it did that, he didn't care if he solved a mystery or not.
That was when Darek realized that he wasn't alone. By now he had almost reached the back of the graveyard when he noticed, through a break in the mist, someone standing in front of one of the graves.
Darek stopped and stared at the figure, for a moment uncertain who it was. He thought at first that it might be one of the Diogian students, as they sometimes visited the graveyard at night in order to perform some basic rituals to Diog, the God of the Grave, and make sure that the graves were undisturbed.
But then he noticed the auburn robes and the staff and he realized who it was.
“Magical Superior, sir?” said Darek as he approached the old mage standing before the grave. “What are you doing up so late?”
The Magical Superior turned to face Darek. He looked tired, far more tired than Darek felt. His eyes had bags underneath them and he was leaning on his staff more heavily than usual. It was probably his age showing, although Darek didn't think that being up so late could be good for the Superior's health.
“I was about to ask you the same question, Darek,” said the Magical Superior with a yawn. “Students are supposed to be in bed until morning.”
“I couldn't sleep,” said Darek. He tapped the side of his head. “Bad dreams and all that. Thought taking a walk through the graveyard might help some of that.”
“That's an unusual way to cure insomnia,” said the Magical Superior. Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Perhaps I should return to my study. I have a full day tomorrow and I need all the rest I can give my old bones.”
Darek nodded, but he was still overcome with curiosity, so he said, “That's probably a good idea, Superior sir, but you didn't answer my question. Why are you out so late?”
For a moment, the Magical Superior looked like he was going to avoid answering the question entirely. That would not have surprised Darek.
So Darek was surprised when the Magical Superior said, “I came to visit the grave of my deceased pupil, Braim Kotogs. You know who that is, of course.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Darek. “He was the guy who brought me and Mom here to the school when I was very young. I wish I could have gotten to know him better before he died, though. I didn't even get a chance to thank him.”
“And I didn't get a chance to say good bye to him, even though I was there at his death,” said the Magical Superior. “Nonetheless, we were able to give him a proper burial, which is ultimately the only thing we can do for those who passed away.”
“Yeah,” said Darek. “But why did you come out to visit Braim's grave? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that. It just seems like an odd time to do that.”
The Magical Superior rubbed the back of his neck, like he was thinking hard about what he wanted to say next. “I suppose I can tell you that. I trust you, Darek, so I must ask that you keep what I am about to tell you a secret, at least for now, okay?”
Darek nodded. “Does this have to do with what you learned from the katabans from last week?”
“Yes,” said the Magical Superior. “It does. That is why I want you to promise me to keep this between the two of us for now.”
“All right,” said Darek. “I won't mention a word of this to anyone without your permission, then.”
“Excellent,” said the Magical Superior with a tired smile. He stepped aside, allowing Darek a chance to see Braim's grave. “I will get straight to the point, seeing as I am tired and would like to return to my bed soon: The katabans invaders had been looking for the grave of Braim Kotogs.”
Darek frowned. “Why?”
“I am not sure,” said the Magical Superior. “I have been puzzling over it since last week. Even with Aorja's confession about her allegiance to the Ghostly God, I do not see any reason why they would want to find Braim's old grave.”
Darek scratched his chin. The mist was getting thicker, but he decided not to mention it because he figured it was made by Junaz, who was also the school's katamancy teacher and was in charge of controlling the weather to make sure it didn't become unbearable.
“Did Braim know or worship the Ghostly God?” Darek asked. “Maybe the Ghostly God was trying to find the remains of one of his supporters?”
“No,” said the Magical Superior flatly. “Braim did not worship any of the southern gods. He didn't even know about their existence until Skimif revealed them to everyone else. That's what puzzles me. What connection exists between the Ghostly God and Braim?”
Darek shrugged. “I wish I could help, but sadly, I'm in the same position as you.”
“Maybe it's not worth worrying about,” said the Magical Superior, looking at Braim's grave again. “There has been no activity from the Ghostly God or his servants since last week. Skimif told me that he was going to speak with the Ghostly God about his involvement in the matter, but I have not even heard from Skimif since then.”
“Maybe the Ghostly God has given up whatever he was trying to do?” Darek suggested. “Skimif probably told him off, maybe punished him for causing so much trouble. I bet that was enough to make the Ghostly God give up.”
A deep, bellowing laugh echoed from the mist just then, causing Darek to jump and the Magical Superior to look around in alarm, holding his staff more tightly as he did so.
“Foolish, naïve mortal,” said a voice from within the mist. “You clearly do not know or understand us southern gods if you think a slap on the wrist from an upstart godling is enough to make us give up.”
“The Ghostly God,” said the Magical Superior, although there was no way he could have known that for sure. “Where are you? Show yourself.”
“Amazing,” said the Ghostly God. “You not only are willing to stand in the way of the plans of a god, but presumptuous enough to demand that I show myself to you? And here my northern siblings are always telling me that you mortals treat us gods with respect and reverence.”
The Ghostly God's voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. The mist was too thick for Darek to see through, so for all he knew, the Ghostly God could be right next to him and he didn't know it.
“My loyalties lie first and foremost with my students,” said the Magical Superior, his voice firm and clear. “And it was your servants who put the lives of two of my students in danger. If you think I will just ignore that, then you clearly do not know me.”
“I do not care what you mortals think about me, anyway,” said th
e Ghostly God. “You mortals never respected us southern gods, which is fine because we never wanted you to. I will admit, however, that I am surprised that you want me to show myself when I've been hiding in plain sight.”
“What do you mean?” said Darek. “All I see is thick mist everywhere I look.”
The Ghostly God's chuckle was right in Darek's ear. “I see you must not know what other domain I rule. I am not only the God of Ghosts, but the God of Mist as well, and right now, that means I am the mist.”
Metal fingers—as cold as the mist—wrapped around Darek's neck just then. Darek choked and his hands flew to the fingers to pry them off, but the grip around his neck was as firm as a mountain.
“But I suppose it makes sense that you would show such startling ignorance,” said the Ghostly God. “You mortals only barely understand us southern gods. It's not like I have a temple and religion that you could go to and find out all about me, like my northern siblings do.”
The Magical Superior pointed his staff at the fingers around Darek's neck, but he did not fire anything from its tip.
“Trying to save your student?” said the Ghostly God. “Pathetic old man. You know you can't free him from my grasp without putting his very life at risk. I know how much you value the safety of your students, Magical Superior, so your bluff doesn't scare me in the slightest.”
A brief glimpse into the Magical Superior's eyes was enough to tell Darek that the Ghostly God was correct. Lowering his staff, the Magical Superior said, “What do you have to gain from threatening the life of one of my students, Ghostly God? What did he do to deserve that?”
“I am looking to strike a deal with you, Magical Superior,” said the Ghostly God. “A deal I did not think I would ever need to strike, but considering how my plans to open Braim's grave coincided with your need to find out what my idiotic servants were up to, I consider it a necessary deal.”
“What kind of deal?” said the Magical Superior.
“A simple one,” said the Ghostly God. “In exchange for letting your student here free, you will dig up Braim Kotogs' grave for me. That is all I ask of you.”
“Why do you want me to dig up the grave of my deceased pupil?” the Magical Superior asked.
“That is none of your business,” said the Ghostly God. “What matters is whether you accept the deal or not. Don't forget that I am more than willing to harm your student if you choose to reject the deal.”
The Magical Superior looked from Darek and the grave and back again before saying, “Where is Skimif? He told me he was going to deal with you.”
“Skimif doesn't even know I'm here,” said the Ghostly God with a snort. “When he came to Zamis, my island, last week, I told him that I was sorry for causing so much trouble. The naïve idiot seemed to believe me because he left me alone after that and I haven't heard a word from him since.”
“So you are a liar and a deceiver,” said the Magical Superior. “Of course you are. I've heard all about the southern gods and their lack of decent morals. It is disgusting.”
“I am beginning to rethink that all of the rumors I heard about your devotion to the gods were severely distorted,” said the Ghostly God. “Disgusting … you make us southern gods sound like rock slugs. But it doesn't matter. The point is, Skimif doesn't even realize I'm here. So I am waiting for you to agree to my deal.”
“When did I say I would ever agree to that awful deal you offered me?” said the Magical Superior.
The Ghostly God's grip tightened around Darek's neck; not enough to cut off his air supply completely, but enough to make Darek gasp in pain. Darek reached for the deity's fingers again, but he was so weak now that he couldn't do more than pat the Ghostly God's fingers futilely before letting his arms fall to his sides.
“I will kill him,” said the Ghostly God simply. “Without hesitation or mercy.”
“But the Treaty says that you southern gods cannot kill mortals beyond the Dividing Line,” said the Magical Superior. He pointed at the ground. “This is far above the Dividing Line. Therefore, your threat is empty.”
“Can you be so sure about that?” said the Ghostly God. “The Powers were creative geniuses of the highest order; however, they were not legal scholars. There are many loopholes in the Treaty that we gods, whether northern or southern, have learned to exploit over the years. No doubt I could find a loophole that allows us southern gods to kill mortals on the other side of the Dividing Line.”
“Could is different from can, Ghostly God,” said the Magical Superior. He pointed his staff at Darek. “Now let Darek go.”
“Only after you open the grave,” said the Ghostly God. “But I can see this is getting nowhere fast. The longer I stay here, the more likely it becomes that Skimif will notice I am here and come to stop me. Uron?”
At that moment, the sound of something long and heavy slithering across the ground entered Darek's ears. He at first could not see the snake (that was what he assumed it was, because what else slithered across the ground?), but then he felt something thick and powerful climbing up his body.
Looking down, Darek saw a snake—almost twice as long as his body—curling up around him. Its body felt icky and slimy, clinging to his torso as though it were covered in paste. Its skin was purplish-black, a familiar color, but Darek was too petrified to remember where he had seen that color before.
Soon the snake had wrapped its body around his completely, acting like a thick rope, making it impossible for Darek to move at all. He couldn't even reach for his new wand, which was in his left pocket.
The giant snake twisted its head so it was looking at Darek. Something flickered behind its sickly yellow eyes, something dark and intelligent, but the flickering was there for only a minute. In the next instant, the snake's eyes returned to normal, but that did not make them look any less frightening or intimidating.
Then Darek felt the Ghostly God's fingers leave his throat. Gasping for air, Darek breathed hard as the Ghostly God himself—a large titan of a deity—materialized into existence beside Darek. He began stroking the snake's head, a wicked smile on his face as he looked down at the Magical Superior.
“Meet Uron,” said the Ghostly God, gesturing with his head at the snake. “My pet teleporter snake. He is a loyal servant, infinitely superior to my other servants in just about every way. He does whatever I ask of him, without question or comment, and always does it efficiently.”
“I have never seen a teleporter snake that big before,” said the Magical Superior, his old eyes focused on Uron's head. “Where did you find it?”
“That is none of your business,” said the Ghostly God. “But allow me to give you a brief lesson about teleporter snake biology. The average teleporter snake is capable of crushing rocks into powder, making teleporter snakes one of the strongest species of snake in the animal kingdom. I know this only because my brother, the Loner God, once told me about them years ago.”
“I don't understand,” said the Magical Superior. “How is that trivia relevant to—oh. I see.”
The Ghostly God's pasty grin grew even larger. “Perhaps you are intelligent after all.”
“What is going on?” said Darek. He was almost too frightened to speak, but he had to because he didn't like the way the Magical Superior's eyes had widened in horror. “I don't understand.”
“But apparently, your student here has failed to take after you,” said the Ghostly God with a sigh. “You see, student, I am incapable of killing any mortals beyond the Dividing Line, as your headmaster so accurately put it. But that says nothing about any of my servants who I may employ to kill mortals I do not like.”
“Is that Uron's job?” said Darek, looking at the snake's face, which looked content being petted by the Ghostly God. “Is he going to—”
“He will,” said the Ghostly God, without looking at Darek. “Unless the Magical Superior here agrees to my deal. I do not know, however, if he cares enough about you to want to save your life like this.”
; Darek returned his attention to the Magical Superior. He looked far more torn than Darek had ever seen him in his life. Under ordinary circumstances, the Magical Superior would probably keep resisting, but these were no ordinary circumstances. This was a god threatening to kill one of his students, a god who could easily carry out that threat no problem.
It was a hard choice to make. Even Darek had a hard time figuring out what the Magical Superior should choose to do. Darek didn't want to die, but he wasn't foolish enough to believe that the Ghostly God's plans for Braim's grave were benign.
Then the Magical Superior's shoulders slumped. “Fine, Ghostly God. I will dig up Braim's grave in exchange for Darek's safety.”
“Excellent,” said the Ghostly God. “You are a far more reasonable man than I thought. Good for you. Now get to work.”
“Why don't you free Darek first?” said the Magical Superior. “That way, I know you will keep your end of the bargain.”
“You mistake me for a businessman,” said the Ghostly God. “And a very foolish one at that. I can see right through your tricks. You want me to let Darek go so you two can escape. I will not fall for it. Neither will Uron.”
When the Ghostly God said that, Uron hissed at the Magical Superior. Its deep red tongue shot out of its mouth when it did so, the sound so loud to Darek that his ears ached.
“Get to work,” said the Ghostly God. “Or I will order Uron to turn your student into little more than a fleshly sack of bone powder.”
The Magical Superior looked like he was going to attack the Ghostly God, but then he let out a sigh of resignation and turned to face the grave. He pointed his staff at the grave, and for a moment, nothing happened.
Then the dirt began to rise out of the grave. It was like a giant, invisible hand was scooping up the earth. It rose slowly, but in a minute or two, the grave had been dug out. The giant clump of dirt, resembling a crude sphere, hovered in the air above it, bits of earth occasionally breaking off and falling into the open grave below.
Without a word, the Magical Superior moved the mound of earth over to the right of the grave. He placed it gently on the ground and then stepped back and looked at the Ghostly God.
“There,” said the Magical Superior, gesturing at the now-open grave. He sounded close to tears. “The grave of Braim Kotogs, my former pupil and my nephew, is now open for your perusal.”
The Ghostly God hovered past Uron and Darek, his eyes focused entirely on the open grave before him. Even Uron appeared eager to see what was inside, for his yellow snake eyes followed the Ghostly God's progress and his body tightened around Darek's.
As the Ghostly God drew closer to the grave, the Magical Superior stepped in his path. The God of Ghosts and Mist stopped and looked down on the Magical Superior, but it was impossible to see his facial expression with his back facing Darek.
“What are you doing, mortal?” said the Ghostly God. “Get out of my way.”
“Not until you uphold your end of the deal and let Darek go,” said the Magical Superior. “That was the deal.”
The Magical Superior did not look even slightly afraid of the Ghostly God, despite the fact that the god was several feet taller than him and at least a foot thicker. That made Darek admire the Superior even more than he already did, which was saying something, seeing as Darek already respected the Magical Superior more than anyone else at the school.
But his admiration turned to horror as the Ghostly God slapped the Magical Superior in the face. The blow sent the Magical Superior staggering to the right. He tripped over his robes and fell on his side, a stunned expression on his ancient features as the Ghostly God let out a sound of disgust.
“Superior!” Darek cried out, but Uron constricted more tightly around Darek's body, thus cutting him off before he could say anything else.
“As I said before, Magical Superior,” said the Ghostly God, shaking his head. “I am not a businessman, especially not an honest one. As a god, I have no need to respect the pitiful agreements I may make with mortals, even if these mortals are allegedly faithful supports of the gods.”
The Magical Superior groaned in pain, but he didn't say anything. Clearly, the Ghostly God's slap had been stronger than it looked if the Magical Superior was incapable of recovering from it. Darek was thankful the Superior wasn't dead, but he didn't look like he would be getting up anytime soon.
Then the Ghostly God pointed at the open grave. His hand balled into a fist and he jerked it upward.
At the same time, an old, boxy coffin rose out of the grave. It was almost too dark to see its features, but Darek could tell that its lid was cracked, almost in half, and that it was covered in dirt. He was surprised it was as whole as it was, seeing as the coffin had been in the earth for thirty years without being disturbed by anyone.
The Ghostly God directed the coffin over to the other side of the grave. When the coffin touched the ground, the Ghostly God pulled his arm back. A happy smile spread across the Ghostly God's face, the kind of smile that only someone who had succeeded in what they had longed to do could have.
“I am so close now to achieving what I want,” said the Ghostly God, his voice low, but excited. “So close now.”
He snapped his fingers. The coffin's lid exploded off, flying up into the mist and out of sight. A loud thunk was the only indication that it had landed somewhere, although Darek was too busy looking at the coffin in horror to care about where its lid had landed.
There's nothing I can do to stop him or avenge the Magical Superior, Darek thought. Looks like it's over. He's won.
So he thinks, young mortal. He may be a god, but that does not make him intelligent or clever.
Darek froze. That voice. He recognized it. It was the same voice that had spoken to him in his dream. He had not expected to hear it again. But where was it coming from?
Without really knowing why, Darek looked over to his left. Uron was staring at him, but his eyes no longer looked animalistic. An intelligence far above that of any teleporter snake gleamed within and Uron's snake-like mouth was twisted in a mockery of a smile.
That was when Darek put two and two together and realized just who the voice belonged to.
But before he could ask Uron just what—or who—he really was, the snake let go of his body. No longer constricted, Darek fell to his hands and knees, too weak to stand. The pressure that Uron had applied to his body had taken more out of him than he realized.
Nonetheless, he managed to look up in time to see Uron slithering toward Braim Kotogs' open casket. The Ghostly God must have noticed Uron making a mad scramble for the coffin as well because he shouted, “Uron! What do you think you're doing? Stop right this instant or—”
The Ghostly God did not get to finish his sentence. Uron slithered into the casket as fast as lightning. As soon as the tip of its tail disappeared into the coffin, a blindingly bright erupted from the coffin, so bright that it drowned out the whole world.
But although Darek was completely blinded by the light, his hearing worked just fine, and what he heard frightened him more than any sudden loss of sight:
A horrible, deep laugh … the laugh that Darek had heard from his dream. And it was coming from Braim's open casket.
***