
# Invisible Worlds

AWAKENING

For my husband and partner throughout time, Adam Heath

The other 11 to my 11

Thank you for the adventures

xxx

A NEW-FASHIONED GHOST STORY

BY

PAULA HEATH

Author of the Number One British Vampire Series on Amazon

# 1

I used this Journal and everything makes sense. I close the leather-bound cover and I know, so well, I will never need another word in it. My story is finished. I am done here. I would like to say it's been an incredible adventure, but I would be lying. You know this experience of this so-called life is just a conspiracy. It's not real! It's all an illusion. I found the answers. If you don't believe me – read this Journal. Go ahead. Unlock its secrets; I double-dare you. You may see me as a ghost for very soon I shall blood-let, purge, purify and return whence I came, back to reality. Back to the Now, to conscious existence; awake from this nightmare; this dimension with its ties and burdens and I will shrug off this weight of vile flesh; this tiresome body. You want to do this journey? Are you curious? Open the Journal, reader of this letter; are you not wondering of all the wonders?

Wye considered opening the Journal, her hand shaking, mouth drying. It lay on the desk before her, so easily discovered. She dared to move her leg to stave cramp and tried to ignore the fallen corpses at her feet; their failure evident. What of Truth, Wye wondered, stroking the Journal with growing fascination. What of Death?

She looked down at the dead faces; the scared, the tortured, the macabre; the more she saw the less she knew. Would this Journal hold the Truth to all things? If by the end of it, would her journey in this life be complete? No more searching? No more bullshit? No more egos bitching between faiths and beliefs?

She rubbed her fingers across the indents of gold leaf scrolling and the symbols of ancient runes and admired the beautifully bounded ledger. She picked it up and felt a rush. Should she even be here, doing this? She turned the Journal onto its side and ran her finger along the smooth curl of inlaid parchment which appeared iridescent as mother of pearl to her touch. What words of Wisdom lay amongst these pages so sacrosanct?

Wye became aware of her surroundings as she heard footsteps along the stone corridor outside; the echo of fortress soldiers moving in to trap her. She grabbed her rucksack open and pushed the Journal and letter inside then snapped the bag shut, and turned to face her aggressors.

"Where did you disappear to? I've had KII (K2) activity in The Guards Room, second floor of the West Tower," Jay announced in the doorway.

Wye smiled across at him. How oblivious he was to the dead on the floor. So oblivious, he could only see through them. Still at the start of this journey, though very enthusiastic to his cause. She held on to the stone wall and moved through the sea of corpses; multiplying, a swelling ocean of faces reaching out to her with their suffering. "There's been much pain here." She breezed her hand.

"What, in this room?"

"No, in this dimension."

Jay chuckled; Wye was so 'way out', really out of her box. He had to admire her. She was beautiful in her strangest of quirky ways. Jay had a sense Wye would play down her oddities and try to move normally through mere mortals. He had glimpsed Wye in all her mad, crazy wonderment that seemed to run its course through her and every strand of her untameable long red hair, and amongst all of this, he had seen innocence. - Yet her body was pure woman with breasts and hips that jutted out in just the natural and perfect proportion.

He didn't fancy her, with her amazing blue alive eyes which bore right through him. Too crazy. He feared insanity. Wye took crazy to a new level; off the dial Fairy realm style. He wasn't even sure he wanted her joining his team. He had worked with her several times in the past, and each time had been a bizarre experience. He wasn't sure the rest of his Paranormal Team would be able to withstand such an eccentric character but then the rest of his team weren't here. They had rained-off. Wye was here, leaning into him with quizzical eyes as mayhem raged beneath.

"Are you picking anything up?" she asked.

Jay shrugged, "Not really, but it is a Castle so we can expect there to be loads of history. It's going to be a good weekend."

"Indeed it is," Wye said, doing her best to hide her excitement; the Journal hid safely in the bag on her back. "Have any of the other teams arrived?"

"They're all here, signing themselves in. I've not met any of them yet, but I heard them in the Dining Hall when I was coming down the stairs from the Guards Room."

"Did you find the Events Organiser? Have they allocated rooms yet? I need to freshen up."

"I got side-tracked. This place is amazing; so much atmosphere. There's a thickness in the air like it's holding its breath, waiting."

She smiled at his passion. "Ok, you went on walkabout."

"Something like that, but then so did you." He surveyed the room he found her in for the first time, besides a dusty and faded tapestry hanging along the rear wall, the room was probably the dingiest of the otherwise elegant monument to the Past. Unimpressed, he said, "Think we should join the others, sign in and meet everyone – conform for a bit? It might be polite."

Wye moved passed him into the corridor, the echoes of the stronghold soldiers drawing her closer. "You go right ahead, I'm ok here doing my own thing." She held her hand out to the stone wall. Underneath was cool jagged pudding stone, intricately laced with quartz from the Queen of the Fairy Realm. Wye felt the buzzing against her hand and the energy of the quartz vibrating so fast against her touch, it was as though her hand was numbing.

"What are you getting?" Jay asked, as Wye felt along the wall slowly. He usually had low tolerance for such frivolities as he was a tech head, and liked his latest inventions to do the communicating; and not some crazy lady, picking up the latest research on the place and compromising his intelligence. He was beginning to realise Wye wasn't like that. At the very least he was prepared to keep an open mind with this one. She had something, although he was unsure what; a coolness, a level of detachment he found intriguing. Something in her eyes gave her away, but he couldn't describe it. The depth with which she sought him out when she looked him in the eye. The way she seemed to strip everything away to get to the essence. She was on the same quest as Jay just coming at it from a different angle.

"Nothing of significance," Wye announced, and moved on along the corridor into the dark to sounds of condensation dripping from the dank arched ceiling into large dirty puddles. A little boy ran passed her, laughter travelling round the tunnel, the cheekiness on his face, trapped in time as an older girl gave chase, splosh splash, more slowly followed by a disgruntled Cook.

The all-seeing wall let go of Wye and she was standing back on dry tiles and shrouded in the green glow of the Fire Exit sign.

Jay reached into his rucksack and pulled out a beef sandwich. "The quest begins," he smiled, saluting his sandwich to her for a full on whiff. "A man can't work on an empty stomach." He shoved it in his mouth. Down in one; true Paranormal Investigator style. "According to history books, this corridor is one of the oldest parts of the building. They've done loads of alterations over the centuries."

"It used to be a tunnel."

"Ah, you've done your homework on the place." Jay felt his bullshit antennae twitch. "Keep it to yourself because I'm in here cold. I know nothing of the stories, just enough about the building. I want to see what my equipment can detect, try and get them talking. It's got to be active. I bet it comes alive at night. Bet it will all kick off by midnight."

"It could kick off way before that," Wye mused as she became aware of the Journal pressing against her back. "Are you up for it if it does?"

Was that a challenge? "Hell yeah, bring it on."

"Hmm, that's just what I thought you'd say. Bring on what? What do you believe is out there?"

"Whatever. To catch something on camera would be great. Something so amazing that everyone will know my team doesn't fake evidence. You know, something impressive and substantial; non-refutable proof in the paranormal that would blow every sceptic's doubts sky high. Something strong enough to make a lasting impression on me, that I am completely convinced. I've been doing this for fifteen years, and I still haven't got the answers."

Jay was animated as he delivered his truth, pacing, gesticulating, creating in his imagination; conjuring his worse and inviting to receive it. Wye could see he was an eager explorer. With his wisps of dark hair and his war cry, even if it was mainly let out with local thrash metal bands. She knew he had the stamina to stay awake by the end of night two, as for the rest; not even she knew the way ahead and what it entailed.

The letter had intrigued her to pick up the Journal. The Journal had begged to be read. She had no idea of what lay amongst its pages, if it would supersede her every dream or if her nightmares would come crashing down.

"Sometimes you've just got to be," Wye offered, as she skipped by him back towards the main part of the Castle and the awaiting guests. "And then other times you've just got to be in it to win it. Are you coming with me?"

"It looks that way."

# 2

Events Organiser, Amazeballs T was disappointed. He mumbled into the mic, "Could I have your attention, please?"

The room of paranormal enthusiasts remained milling round to find seats and throw their belongings onto the tables, their conversations full of nervous excitement for arriving at such a haunted and remote Castle as this. Some looked around the place with growing trepidation, imagining the walls as a potential prison for all here. Others saw the macabre yet beautiful carved rafters and wondered what stories they could tell. Nobody was listening to the little man at the front.

"I repeat: Can you all find a seat to face me? Settle down." His attention focused on individuals, in turn, making assumptions, sizing them up as, in his mind's eye, he went around the room sticking labels on every guest. He got out a note pad in his mind and jotted down the names of the guests he believed worthy of knowing. The blonde leggy creature in the back of the room, giggling like she was terrified and needing to be protected. Generally that type.

None of the others mattered in all fairness. T was a Paranormal Investigator who lost the bug for it a long time ago. He had experienced nothing and had come back round to nothing. But these victims didn't know that. They were still keen, chomping at the bit to sit in the dark and see what you get.

Piles, in T's experience, especially on these cold floors. That and cramp in your hips: brutal at three in the morning. T was here now doing what came naturally. The showman was in the house. "I am Amazeballs T from Elite Paranormal, I am not your tour guide; that would be the ghosts of the place."

He waited for the roar of laughter he expected. He waited a bit longer for these dull-wits to understand his joke but it seemed they were far too stupid. "I hope you've all had chance to sign the disclaimer, admitting to drug abuse – see me at the front of the class so I can confiscate them and take them myself later." He waited for the next wave of laughter to sweep over his Showman Ego and fuel him up, but the room was silent still. Painful. His ego ached. "That was a joke," he prompted, egging the gathering to join in. Stuff them then - he thought - it's going to be like that.

The tall gangly man at the back stuck his hand triumphantly into the air, waved, and poured out a delicate voice, "Have you sorted out the bedrooms? I need to change."

"All in good time."

"I have travelled since six this morning to get here. I'm sure everyone else feels the same?" he nodded at the faces surrounding and they nodded back, showing approval. "I need to centre myself and focus, walk around the grounds and get a sense of the place. I need time on my own; just me and the lost ones." Rick closed his eyes dramatically. No images came to him. He tried to picture a scenario and found an image of a black dog at his feet, snarling at his leather boots. His eyes sprang open and he grabbed his companion's arm. He wanted her to believe him so badly. "I'm getting a dog, lovey. How thrilling." He slammed shut his eyes. "Tell me your name, dog. Tell me where you're from? Are you lost?"

T could have groaned right there. There it was, right there. One in every event he had ever arranged at the Castle – the wannabe medium. The extra sensitive type; born with the gift of dramatics and artful with stories without substance. The token Crock of Shit who everyone wants to know and everyone wants a reading by - tell me my future? Is my guide walking this path with me? Will everything be ok? - The type of showman who gets all the praise and accolade as they so obviously prey on the vulnerable. He put Rick's name at the top of his mental list to avoid.

Amazeballs T tried to take control of the room once more as people were chatting about ghosts and bedroom arrangements. The blonde blew on her pink bubble gum until it popped over her pretty pug nose. "Hands up who has been on a Paranormal Investigation before?"

The majority of twenty guests had. "I know most of you are in Teams. You have come from all around the country to be here with me tonight. And you know this date is special as it's not just any Friday; it's Friday the thirteenth, for those who are superstitious. And it's not just any moon rising up out there, folks. It's a full moon. Ah it all collides this day of June 2014. Remember that when you're running around later. Any Pagans here would know it's the Honey Moon closest to the Summer Solstice. – Any witches want to dance naked in the grounds later; let me know. And rest assured, you are staying in the most haunted Castle across this Kingdom; and better still – that forest you all had to navigate through to the heart, that forest which surrounds this place at a twenty mile stretch – the one outside these gates – that forest is haunted too."

T twisted a crooked smile. He had their attention now. All of them wide-eyed, believing every syllable that passed his milky voiced lips. Legs eleven – bypass heaven. Eighty eight – two clairvoyants stuck in debate. He was on a roll.

Outside the Dining Hall, Lois and Avis were really excited as they wheeled their small travel cases along the carpeted floor of the main concourse between the South and West Towers. They came to a pair of large Dining Hall doors. To one side there was a billboard. It read, 'For a true Paranormal Experience, please enter. All welcome. Witches leave your broomsticks by the main gate.' They giggled at each other. Their old bones not getting in the way of their Will and Intent, they opened one of the doors zealously and stepped into the fray.

"I'm so glad you could join us," T said. Unbelievable. How rude and how late can someone fashionably be? To barge in and disrupt his performance. "There's two seats by the window. Hurry up, we haven't got all day." T checked the time: nearly half five. Fifteen minutes behind schedule; running late. "I am about to conduct a tour where you will all be shown your rooms en-route. How's everyone feeling?" He wished he hadn't asked.

Rick announced, hand flopping to his forehead, "I've had two names passed to me by my Guide and I'm feeling a sense of dread."

So did T but that was nothing new. The two old lady friends found a seat and sat down like two naughty school girls, clutching their case handles tightly. T dismissed them until Avis chirped up, "We have contacted the Castle. We are in the Chaplain's Room. We know where it is."

T was put on the spot. "Indeed you are. Chaplain's Room. East Tower. Third floor." It hadn't been his job to allocate rooms. The Castle decided that fate. Names into his Top Hat and pulled out at random. Therefore it wasn't his problem. "You're in the Room at the Top. Nice view once you've climbed up there."

"It is indeed, dear. It's like life itself really. Climbing the stairs is part of the journey," Avis said.

Lois giggled, "So is falling back down them." Outside the window was a courtyard fit for Kings and Queens and opposite was the East Tower looming against white puffy clouds in the summer sky. The diamond leaded window of the Room at the Top looked harmless. The figure shifting in the shadows was less friendly.

In the Dining Hall, a huge mirror hung on the wall over the main fireplace, both framed in marble and etched with ivy, sculpted around decadent pillars, with crystal jewel spiders and mayflies dangling from emerald leaves.

Debbie Maddox was so busy admiring the craftsmanship to pay interest in anything else. She was already a believer; had felt sure something had touched her hair earlier and could feel her excitement brewing. Her husband, Dave, was the sceptical one. He mocked her and she mocked him. He was moving around the room with a KII device in his hand; a little grey box with a row of different coloured LED lights. Only the first green light was lit, proving the device was working. He was checking for the rest to light up. He held the KII near emergency lighting because he knew a spike on a KII along an electricity cable would show up as normal electro-magnetic field. No spikes thus far which was very odd as he was expecting all the LEDs to light up in a flurry. He was doing his base-line test as quietly as his size twelve feet would allow. Debbie wasn't bothered by Dave, she was more interested in the mirror.

"We will begin the tour," T announced. "We will visit each room and as we move along I will inform you of your bedchamber. Lock your belongings in your wardrobe and keep the key with you. You don't need to haul all your luggage around." The door opened again and in walked two more gullible victims. Now the tour was officially late. "Glad you could join us. Are there anymore of you straggling around out there too scared to enter? Perhaps a coachload would like to walk in willy-nilly. And you are?"

"Jay and Wye."

"Is that Wye as in 'why'?"

"It's Wye as in the river. It separates two great countries in our Kingdom. It has depth."

T checked her name off his list as she walked away. Bloody hippie parents, T jotted on his notes. He informed the latecomers, "We are about to embark on the amazing tour of this place; I will show you the Castle in all its splendour and glory. I will tell you no tales."

"We won't need a tour," Jay said, "We've already checked the place out."

"You've done base-line tests? – I have the results of all the rooms' natural energy fields written on a graph on the wall over there," T hissed.

"Maybe so, but I prefer to do my own; no offence."

"Plenty taken. So what's your conclusion?"

Jay had found this phenomena very weird. "This entire Castle is dead. There is no electro-magnetic field anywhere, no phone signals, nothing. The base-line here is zero; zip, nada. I've been extremely thorough, trust me. I've been doing this for years and I've never come across this before. We have electricity here so naturally there should be some background EMF. It doesn't make sense. I had a few significant spikes above the base-line in one room. This could indicate Paranormal Activity. It will be interesting to see what everyone else gets."

"Well done, Jay. This is Jay, everyone; he will be your tour guide for the weekend because this guy knows everything." T couldn't help his sarcasm. It came naturally.

Jay addressed the room, walking to a table laden with his cases, full of equipment, "I've got a feeling it will all kick off later. I've brought along CCTV and monitors and will set them up. We might catch something great. Anyone want to help me run cables, fit cameras; feel free?"

Jay stuffed another sandwich in his mouth as two youths stepped closer to check out his treasures. Either that or he was suffering double vision which, in a state of heightened paranormal investigating, anything could be possible. They both had ginger curly hair and brown flecked eyes with mischievous grins on identical faces.

T was frustrated with all the attention Jay was receiving for swaggering into the room with his lady of flaming red locks while acting as cool as embalming. Attention seekers did his ego in most. Amazeballs T was beginning to loathe this event more by each minute. He made to steal the show. "Ah, you are twins!" he announced to beat Jay to it.

"I'm Gareth and this is Euan." The young man leaned closer. "How perceptive of you."

"It doesn't take an Einstein," T rebuked.

"I mean, how perceptive of you to see I have my Guide with me," Gareth said.

From the back, Rick shrieked, "I see him! I see him!"

"How incredible," the blonde squeaked. "I see him too! Ah, does that mean I'm open? Does this mean I'm psychic? I've always wanted to be."

The two old ladies giggled.

"Na – we are twins." Gareth said, stifling a laugh. "It's just Euan doesn't speak."

One side the room laughed, the other side didn't. Amazeballs T wasn't laughing.

Wye smiled inwardly. There was only one spirit in this room who she could see as she leant against the stone wall, and that was the lady in black, standing in front of the fireplace and gazing into the embers through her black shrouding veil, silvery tear running down her cheek, dripping off, turning sorrow to blood which exploded into the red pool of grief at her feet.

# 3

The Widow lifted her tearful eyes and looked out through the veil. She saw many faces, yet not every face. She could see the man at the front and the young lady leaning against the wall, staring back at her in a trance. She was The One.

The Widow remained gazing at the girl across the void, her hand still resting on the marble mantelpiece providing the connection as she tapped into the earth energy and transformed it into a visual vibration.

Anyone across the void vibrating on this frequency enough to receive it, would see a visual representation of the sender's Intent. The Widow was sending this image of herself the best way she knew how, given what choice she had. The colour of this vibration was red, the same as her blood at her feet. The frequency she was sending was of Root Chakra, governing survival and passion.

The Widow was very aware of what she was projecting; a shadow of a memory mixed with symbolic emotion to gain effect. It had worked. This girl called Wye, a river with depth, was impressed. She needed to connect further. This was a hello, please recognise me, acknowledge this one; stop and stay for a while because I have something for you. Of all the ones running around the tunnels splashing, marching, please see me as different; I am a gift you seek.

Wye pulled herself away from the wall as her bare arm was cold and she readjusted her rucksack securely.

The Widow screamed in despair as Wye disconnected from the earth energy.

She pulled her veil up, grabbed her black skirts and ran along the perimeter of the room around the grand table in her dimension and drifting through any tables in the Physical Dimension, where resides Wye.

She needed her to plug back in and wake up. She was impatient to accelerate Wye's skill sets and get the communication going as soon as possible. Wye was obviously only capable of understanding and accepting Stone Tape Theory enough to zone into it. She was obviously only capable of seeing replays of images caught in the silica naturally found in certain stone. The Earth's crust being made up with silica enough this world was spinning on record. Wye was only able to tap into re-runs like watching old movies on video tape or viewing a memory caught on a silicone micro-chip. She had no skillsets for real time to see through to the Now. This was a limiting start. Wye didn't possess the gift of clairaudience therefore she was deaf to the dead.

As the Widow screamed so she knew none of them could hear her; the people heading out for their tour of the Castle, led by the Events Organiser who was deafer than most. In fact the Widow viewed Amazed-balls T as deader than her; a zombie, dead inside; no love, no light; shuffling around a dense place trapped in a limited grumbling mind as the ego raged on to take total control over the soul. Sad to see, but there it is.

The Widow gave up screaming. She calmed herself as Wye and Jay stayed back and began to unravel cables while studying the plan of the Castle on the wall.

The Widow leaned in to study the map. She could feel the heat of their alive bodies close to either side of her. The man's energy was a difficult one to decipher; too many layers. He had demons; drawings of them in ink, gorged into a sleeve on his skin, lest he forgets. Jay had demons. She could feel them, hear their distant cries caught on a storm as they clawed at his soul fighting to hold on. He also had a deep energy of the Self; steadfast, grounded, and more - much more when he allowed himself a glimpse. And he did this with the brakes on and a huge steady anchor. The Widow sensed this. He had death music and serial killer books, and knew subjects of magic and the arts of this magic both black and white. He was well-rounded and self-educated in his search as he read it all from books and information highways of the cosmos. She looked into his depths and peered down as far as she could see and realised how deep and turbulent this ocean. He hadn't scoured his own true depths. There lurked those demons. Perhaps it was too scary a place and best stay safe. The Widow decided to like him. There were no real warnings she could sense, his cause was justified and he had a wide sense of the universe even if he was too blocked to experience it.

It didn't matter. He wasn't The One.

The Widow's attention unlocked from Jay as she leaned gently in to the young lady. Wye had a beautiful fascinating face. The Widow studied her lips, her fine nose, high cheek bones, alabaster skin and lush alive hair which had a life of its own. She was the essence of life. Heartbeat. Blood pumping through biology; micro-organisms invading for the kill – and all they worry about is chasing ghosts.

The Widow informed, "I can't kill you." She leaned in closer and sought out the blue eyes and connected to her depths, hoping to be heard, even just a whisper and implored, "Only you can kill you. Please listen to me. Open your ears. I need you to hear me. You need to hear me."

Wye moved away from the map, wondering how the hell the two of them were supposed to run around this place with miles of cable and set everything up. She hoped Jay wasn't expecting her to crawl around on all fours, taping it all down to the floors to save trip hazards. She had better things to do like lock the door, change her clothes and open the Journal.

The Widow moved in front of Wye again, more anxious. She called - slowly – deeply, "Don't – open - it!"

No response. Wye was still closed.

The Widow searched further for a connection which might work. She pushed her lips coolly towards Wye's and felt her soft breath of life drift over her own. She pulled it in; gasps and gasps of the element of air and took this element, transformed it to health and blew as hard as she could, all the wind she could muster back across the void until she was empty.

Wye rubbed her face. She had felt a gentle breeze like something had moved passed her. Probably a draught in this cold stone Castle. The Paranormal equipment lay in cases before her and Jay was busy planning a mission like a commando about to enter a great adventure in a misleading jungle. She picked up the KII, pressed the front button a few times and placed it back down. "Which is your favourite piece of tech stuff, Geek?" she jested.

Jay was sifting through the camera case, picking out four for CCTV and the wires to go with them. "It's hard to say. We've got to try it all and give them every opportunity to communicate. I've caught some amazing evidence from lots of different equipment. Some really impressive stuff, which tells me there has to be intelligent life out there, able to communicate back, real time. You must admit, the few times we've worked together have been interesting."

He picked out his HD video camera and switched it on. "That's strange. The battery's dead." He moved across to another case and checked two Walkie Talkies. "Dead too." He was well-prepared for this weekend and had spent two days at home, everything on charge to capacity before he got here. He said, "Everything was fully charged."

"Something is draining the batteries?" Wye asked in her paranormal reasoning.

"It would seem." Jay looked around the room and came back to Wye. "There's no EMF anywhere in this place, either."

"Are you suggesting something is stealing all this energy, including battery life?"

"What other explanations are there? It's not really normal, is it?"

"And if it's not normal – then it's paranormal," Wye gasped in growing excitement.

"Precisely. I need to get everything back on charge." Jay found wall sockets and began his mission again. "I think we will use this room as Base. Get all my stuff out, keep it charging and change batteries regularly. There's too much equipment here to shove in a bedroom anyway."

"I like your style," Wye smiled. "I really would love to stay and help but I'm going to catch up with the others and find my room." She really needed to start reading the Journal.

Jay was disappointed by her indifference.

The Widow was totally distraught at her commitment. Nothing was working. She took all the energy from every level, including EMF from the Physical Realm and still she had no power to get her message across. Mute. No voice. Desperate lips falling on deaf ears.

She grabbed at the black lace at the breast of her dress as her heart burned to the discord running through her and fought desperately to find an answer. There had to be a way. She had to warn Wye. There would be consequences; heartbreak, loss, death itself could come crawling. She had to warn Wye not to get sucked in. There were enough lost souls trapped within these walls.

The Widow needed Wye in this room to engage and to warn her. Wye was making her excuses to leave. The Widow stared down at the KII meter in the case. She had drained the battery earlier to fuel up on the chemical energy stored in the Physical World, this potential energy; and converted it in her realm into a state of Wu Chi of countless possibilities. She had loads in reserve. The Widow focused hard on the line of LEDs. She mustered all her Intent and, converting Wu into the active energy of Yu Chi: the energy of creativity in motion; she threw her hand out to it. With all her Will, she blasted the potential into kinetic energy in the Physical Realm, backed up with heartbreak, and demanded the lights to flash.

The line of lights flickered.

Wye turned her back in that instant.

The lights flashed and lit up from green through to yellow, orange, through to red; a full belt.

Wye missed the KII activity in the flight case as she made her way to the door. Jay was kneeling on the floor plugging everything into electric. The Widow ran fast in a desperate need to grab Wye. "Don't go!" she begged. "Please. Look in your box of tricks a moment. There is no hurry." She tried to grab Wye's arm but made no connection; no sense of touch, bar the breath in her face. At least Debbie Maddox had felt the Widow thump her on the head. Wye remained unfazed and walking.

Wye reached the threshold of the Dining Hall and turned to Jay. "See you later." She placed her hand on the doorframe. She glanced at the fireplace. The image of the woman in black was gone. She took her hand off, unplugged, and carried on her journey.

The Widow made to run after her. Not a chance. Nothing had changed. Energy far greater than anything else known, repelled her backwards; a force-field of multi-universal magnitude in the threshold threw her backwards into the Dining Hall and the Widow landed in a heap on the floor, shook up and tearful.

The Dining Hall door was the edge of her Existence. There would be no crossing it. She wasn't trapped in her own realm. She could go anywhere in her own realm as free as a bird as freewill governs. The boundaries between her worlds were set however. This Dining Hall was the edge for the Widow; the borderlands, the crossover where her worlds interlinked. The Dining Hall was where she died in the physical life and the first place her soul recognised as home when it woke up. The threshold wasn't a portal for her. Beyond it just did not exist.

The Widow got to her feet, holistically bruised and brushed herself down as she walked to Jay. She studied his dark wisps and childlike eagerness in a mission he knew so little about within this vastness of never-ending possibilities.

She crouched down before him. "Help her," she pleaded. Jay frowned and carried on his task. The Widow closed her eyes, placed her lips against his forehead and felt his warm alive flesh with a kiss. She focused into his aura and metaphysical being, sought out his third eye Chakra in the centre of the spinning vortex, while picturing his pineal gland as a wondrous pinecone ready to open. "Help her," the Widow whispered.

Jay nodded. It was an unconscious nod. The Widow stood up with new-found hope he had heard her. On some level she had permeated through to reach him. His unconscious mind had heard her. She walked to the fireplace and placed her hand on the mantelpiece.

Jay rubbed his forehead. Although he had felt frustrated, he was determined to stay calm. Even though he had so much equipment and needed help, he would do it all himself if needs be. He rubbed his forehead again, his thoughts full of Wye.

The Widow looked into the mirror: and through the portal. She saw everything she knew was there, everything in place and sought out Death. He was in there hiding from her; she sensed him, could feel him moving through the trees, backing away having seen everything.

"You leave her alone." The Widow called, as though calling through a closed window. "Leave these ones be." She glanced around at Jay. She looked inside the mirror and pressed against the charged membrane separating the realms. "Wye is not yours." She pleaded to be acknowledged as Death fell further back into the outer regions. "Wye doesn't belong with you. Don't start this." She glanced at Jay and whispered, "She is his."

# 4

Amazeballs T threw his hand out to halt his dwindling followers. "If none of you are interested in this tour, I can stop right here. You can all run around this Castle lost for the entire weekend, and this suits me as I have better things to do. What do you think?" He studied expressions on half of the remaining audience he had started out with. The other half had dropped off the tour along the way, because that was how rude and ungrateful they actually were. It wasn't that T wanted to be boring. He wanted to give hints of the reported ghost sightings along the way and make it more real for the guests, but he just couldn't be bothered with all the blah blah blah. To top off that decision was the need to tell nothing to the wannabe mediums; there would be no auto-suggestion coming from his yapping jaw. Let them squirm – he thought.

"All the rooms have clear labels on each door," Rick chirped from the back of the group. "We can find our way to our own rooms if you just tell us."

"Well I'm sorry for that inconvenience. Truly I am. I just thought it would be hospitable to show you all to your rooms and get a sense of the layout."

"But you're not telling us anything we can't do for ourselves."

"Precisely," T smiled triumphantly.

"Tell us about the history a bit? These beams look like they came off a ship for a start," Rick suggested with a huff after climbing to the top floor of this the West Tower.

"Did they?" T challenged the so-called medium to seek out his so-called Guide, so pleased that they had just reached his room. "I am relieved to tell you this is your lodgings, Rick."

Rick read the sign on the oak door, The Hanging Room.

"This is the key to your wardrobe." T handed him a bag, labelled with the room name; key and welcome pack inside. "I hope you enjoy your stay with E.P.E - Elite Paranormal Entertainments. You'll find my business card in there too. Any problems; scream," T scoffed.

He turned next to Rick's female companion and felt a cringe crawl through him, he shuddered. Age and riches had not been kind to this one. Her perfume was overpowering it was choking him. Little gems of importance dangling from her throat and ears which twinkled at him so shiny; tempting their trickery in this certain light. T drew himself away and was met with an orange wrinkled face of too much sun and foreign travel. "Crystal Powers," he announced.

"Yes?" the lady asked, holding her delight. "That's me."

"Of course it is. You are to stay in the room next to Rick. That is to be this one chosen especially for you by the Castle itself." T pointed at the next door. "How do you like those apples?"

Crystal Powers was relieved to be close enough to Rick if needed. She read the sign on her door. How bad could it really be in there? A room with windows. She hoped it had windows. A room with a bed and wardrobe and blank walls.

"I present to you the Prison. Off you go now. Enjoy."

Rick and Crystal took their labelled bags and opened their doors. They were met with the same décor as they had glimpsed all the other guest rooms which had gone before. Cream walls, bed, wardrobe and chair.

"It's all a little bleak really," Crystal said, wandering over to Rick's door as the remaining tour moved away back down the dreadful, narrow spiral stairs. "I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the Castle is so grand I would have assumed grandeur."

"By the way," T called back. "Your bathroom is on the next floor down and you'll be sharing that with the Guards Room. I'm afraid that's as grand as it gets. If you had wanted en suite perhaps this place should have afforded the Roman Empire to dwell here for a respite as a watering hole from invasion. Sorry about that. Perhaps Mr Hilton could modernise and bring it up to date?"

"I'm not sure about a quick trip to the loo in the middle of the night on those stairs," Crystal muttered her only real worry. Her imagination started to run riot of prisoners chasing her down the stairs to her death; savages digging spears into her back to shove her down the cold and merciless precipice. The images seemed so real. Frantically, she tried to lock out that part of her brain, and stepped inside her room. She walked to the one glazed, slit window obviously used by archers in the past at some point. No escape route.

There was a knock on her door and T poked his face around it. "I meant to warn you; see the engraving in the wall over there? If you look more closely they are letters, disjointed words."

"Really?" Crystal ran her fingers across the etchings, some deeper and some faint. She tried to read without her glasses.

"It's a curse. It is possible, a disgruntled prisoner wrote it before being lynched. I'm only telling you so you don't read it to its end as it draws you in. Wouldn't want you running around possessed; trying to kill off all the guests. Risk assessment should you decide to sue. It's nothing really to worry about; it's urban legend and nonsensical rhyme at best. Sweet dreams."

T shut the door and left Crystal with the curse of imagination and descended the fortress steps. Once on ground level, he met up with the remaining tour and pointed back along the main concourse. "Past the Dining Hall to the other end is the North Tower, where you will find the Porter's Lodge on ground level. That would be where you'd expect to find me. But no." He opened a short and narrow arched oak door, revealing a built-in cupboard in the nook of the stone stairs. "This is where you'll find me if you want me. Quaking in my boots," he mocked, using old jokes for laughs he realised he wouldn't receive.

"It's a bit small." The blonde inspected his hidey-hole; the closet.

"It's the safest place here," T tried to cover his mischief, winking at the blonde leggy creature chewing gum. He was beginning to enjoy himself; the blonde stared wide-eyed in amazement; he the Amazeballs T, coming at you in surround sound high definition clarity; millions of viewers loving his every word – oh for his own TV show.

He was about to head the group to the South Tower, along the mirrored concourse, and prolong the blonde's aching feet in heels, but the tiresome Wye appeared from nowhere.

Eventually Wye found the group and Events Organiser, more or less back where she had started in her search for them. They had obviously been on the top floor while she was running around the storeys beneath. A little breathless, she asked, "Have I missed my room?"

"Christ on a bike," T groaned his last. "Of course not, Wye. You're just in time." He glanced down at his list.

Above the main concourse were two floors housing the State Rooms, the regal quarters of Kings and Queens with four posters and plush curtains and forest views from giant windows enough to die for. He read along the page and read Wye and Jay. He snapped his pen against the clipboard and delved his hand into his large briefcase to search for two bags as Jay appeared from nowhere with cables on reels. T invited him into the fold, "Follow me."

Jay asked Wye, "Everything ok?"

"Why shouldn't it be?" she asked, following the tour; the rucksack of burden growing heavy on her shoulders, a reminder to keep moving. "I can take care of myself. There are some things I need to research on my own."

"Just checking," Jay stated, unsure why he was growing concern for her wellbeing. He felt a bit daft.

T opened a small door along the main concourse, opposite a row of eight elaborate mirrors, and stooped down to enter. He slid around a narrow corner expecting all to follow; everyone bigger than his nimble agile frame which just loved to dance; spin shapes on his own in the dark; big box, little box, rabbit out a hat. The only thing truly out his hat was the guest rooms.

"Keep up," he called, hardly containing his joy.

He descended two narrow flights of stairs to the belly of the Castle in a labyrinth of warrens, dimly lit with the very occasional green Fire Exit light over yet another junction in the maze beneath the foundations and courtyard. He came to two doors opposite yet offset from each other. So the Castle had chosen Wye and Jay to be royalty? No such Stately Rooms for these two. T presented the labelled bags he had just chosen, ignoring what had been clearly written. "Your rooms."

Jay groaned. "In the basement catacombs? Really?"

"I'll take it," Wye grabbed the small bag from T, happily. She was back in the very room she had found the Journal.

Jay peered over her shoulder at the grey damp walls. "It's the dingiest of them all."

T smiled. "Not quite." He handed Jay the other welcome bag. "That would be that room over there." The satisfaction of Jay's reluctance was enough. T walked away, escorting the tiny group back the way they came, checking his watch for kick off and the skimpy mini-skirt and firm buttocks swaying atop the pair of longest of leggy legs.

# 5

The thought of Amazeballs T watching her ass was really creeping Lizzy out.

The thought of staying in this Castle all night was creeping her out more.

Three months ago, she had visited a Medium for her first-ever reading. He had told her she had a Native American Guide who was keen to give her a message; an encouragement of great adventure. The Medium had given her a card with information regarding this Haunted Weekend break away. Thinking it was sign from her new-found Guide, she booked a ticket. Deep beneath the blonde surface was a sixth sense, she just knew was bubbling away. Well, that's what the Medium said her Guide had said to his Guide.

She had always wanted to be special; to be seen as a princess yet known as a great defender, guns under skirts. It would have to be a very small gun; tiny really; microscopic; a magic gun maybe. One that only she could see but deadly enough to kill an army. Her own army would love her and worship her for all her special abilities. Her men wouldn't fear her like in times of old. They would adore her. Each would marvel at her deadly weapons and not wonder of sorcery because they would feel safe, cossetted in her silicone bosom, capable of picking up everything in High Definition. A magical bosom full of deathly powers.

"This is your bedchamber; the bottom of the South Tower," T announced to the blonde leggy creature's breasts. This wasn't strictly his fault. Nature could be cruel. They were static, perfect, round, plump, firm and mesmerising but more to the point they were on his eye level, give or take two inches.

The blonde's jaw dropped, bottom lip quivering. She stared at the little man and fought back tears. She had yearned a fine chamber, silk sheets; and wake in the morning to doves cooing at her windows and, in the rose gardens below a bright rainbow, albino peacocks fanning out white, silvery angel feathers displaying dewdrops of bling. "The Oubliette?" her voice quivered. "You're giving me..." she gulped, "The Oubliette?"

"Not my decision," T lied. "The Castle chose this one for you." T lied again. "Oubliette comes from the French verb to Forget. It made a great dungeon back in the Norman days: a pit in the floor with a mighty long drop to the bottom. Many prisoners would have been thrown down that hole and broken their necks from the fall; if they were lucky. Otherwise they died a slow, lingering death; forgotten until they rotted. Unless of course they were cannibalised by a stronger, hungrier prisoner. Survival of the fittest." He shook the welcome pack for her to take. She declined.

"But isn't this the room with the notorious Scary Bed?"

"It depends where your fear level is. If you're ok with big hairy spiders then you'll sleep fine. If you're scared of being dragged from your bed by the deafening darkness and pushed into the hole in the floor which, at the very bottom, resides all things evil, then you might have a problem."

"OMG! Really?"

"I'm joking." Was he? He was having fun. The blonde was flushing nervously. He was being mean by not giving her the royalty chambers; State Apartments chosen by the Castle. Her doleful, timid squeaking was actually quite irritating, but she was good for entertainment; so naive and gullible, like putty in his moist hands. "People have been dragged from the Scary Bed, that bit's true. Entire teams have fled this place because of what goes on here, apparently. But I've been Events Organiser of this Castle most weekends for the last two years and I've not seen anything. I'm sure they just exaggerate. The only advice I can offer is that if you do decide to flee into the night, come and let me know before you go. - We've lost a few in the past." T twisted his weasely smile. "I'm joking," he lied.

"You'll be in the cupboard?" the blonde gulped back tears.

"Just knock three times."

"Are you winding me up?"

"If you had wanted a nice summer break away, perhaps you should have gone with Crystal Powers on a Mediterranean cruise; sip cocktails in Jacuzzis?"

"You're not a funny man." The blonde fought back. "Nobody's laughing."

"Perfect, then I'm in good company."

The blonde snatched her little welcome bag from T and opened the door. There was only one mirror – that of which was inlaid in the front wardrobe door a million miles away from the only double socket for her straighteners. There was only one dim beam of natural light – and that was coming from a large crack in the top corner in the floorboards from the room above.

There loomed the Scary Bed.

It was a tiny rickety child's bed; practically a cot. No four poster. Update status – guess where I am? Yes peeps, I'm spending the night on my own in a Haunted Secret Castle – and I'm in the Scary Bed! Check me out. Check out my Selfie with or without 'duck face' ghost. None of this felt clever now.

She concentrated on the logistics in these heels and pulled hard on her giant suitcase; limping it over the threshold and tugging it across the bare wooden floor. The fire door slammed shut banishing T from her sight. Immersing her in virtual darkness.

She moved to the only ray of light and grabbed her mobile phone from her pocket. No signal. Of course. Nervously she fumbled to find the torch on the device as something cold touched her bare ankles as she stood heels up and teetering. The darkness was deafening. The ground below was not wooden, it was moving. Icy fingers grabbed her legs. Trembling, she pressed on the torch and looked down. She was standing on a metal grid. Shock stole her phone. It fell, hit a bar, bounced and fell through, falling all the way to the depths. At the bottom were countless deaths borne of abandonment, torture and despair.

She wanted to scream, a piercing scream to summon the living. She fought it down in case she summoned the dead. Again, something touched her legs. They were beginning to ache but she couldn't move. Fear paralysed her. She was in the dark without orientation. So much despair, she could feel it rising from the pit beneath, tangible in the breath of darkness.

Tortured souls were coming for her. Terror began throttling, choking her throat as her tongue pulsed to a beat in her ears. Nothing could deafen the silence pulsating around her, sucking out what air she had left. The darkness was alive and real; dread was a thousand hands reaching up through the cage on which she was tiptoeing. The Forgotten were at her ankles, feeling out for flesh, desperate to grab her. More rotting corpses and skeletal hands grabbed her ankles and coiled around them, shackling her above the precipice.

She couldn't scream as worse was coming. She sensed him. She had his attention. He was in the depths, and he looked up as he sensed the commotion. She tried not to think of him. She sure as hell didn't want to summon him but he was on his way climbing over the helpless corpses; bones breaking, skulls cracking. Tears welled in her eyes. She was his prisoner.

The Hooded Demon stopped and stood on a mound of bones and stared up at the light above. He saw an angelic face surrounded in a golden, shimmering halo. He held out his tongue and closed his eyes for the delight; a single silvery tear falling from an angel's face; catching the setting sun and full-moon energy from the Physical Dimension. Water held all life within; the potential endlessness of all creation. This beautiful perfect and bountiful tear energised with male and female properties of sun and moon as it hurtled toward him like a bullet through the forever night. With grace and accuracy the tear drop exploded on his tongue, from an angel to a devil and he was ignited. Such a creative element water. The giver of life.

Lizzy felt him wake fully. She had his full attention. She heard him. She heard him pull in a deeply satisfying breath.

He breathed in the rank smell of death as rotting flesh lay mounded around him. He clawed his way to the top, dragging down pathetic zombie creatures desperate to escape, and climbed out of his lair to view this mortal angel who was teetering on tiptoe with closed eyes so not to be seen.

She wasn't The One.

The Hooded Demon leaned in against her. She could feel its proximity; the darkness was a solid mass taking form, smelling of hate, snarling, sniffing her, searching for her weaknesses. Face against face, it breathed her in; a low guttural growl uttered from deep within his black soul.

The Hooded Demon watched her life trip by in his search of her nobility. She was here to learn more about her Life Purpose. He granted her that for at least she was facing her fears. He searched her memories. He read her thoughts, he read her wishes – bubble bath on a boat – a lame distraction. He removed his black glove and pressed his hand against her breasts. Heart thudding as she sensed his touch and her attention was at one with him; a deeper connection.

Fear ripened within her, firing his spark. The angel was breathless. She uttered, "Don't hurt me." His cruel lips smiled and he bent to her pleading lips and softy kissed her pretty words away: stole the final music and fuelled up some more.

He spoke to her if she could only listen, 'You are an angel with the propensity to be a little devil. You do move between worlds. You just need to wake up and see it.' She couldn't listen because she wasn't The One.

The Demon stepped past her and went through the door, in search of his Queen.

She felt him leave. The skeletons undead fell back into their pit, bones cracking. She was overcome by the realisation of knowing. She caught her breath and composed herself. Her eyes had adjusted to the light; their own natural night vision. She stepped off the trap door and sat on the bed in shock, trying to think.

Update status; ghosts exist. This sounded completely crazy. She couldn't put that on her Facebook wall when she got home. Everyone would laugh. But WTF was that then? What sane person would come on a first investigation, stand in the dark on a pit of death and face evil? What would the world think? She was a good for-nothing Drama Queen like her ex had told her enough times.

Then she remembered why she was really here; her Guide had said she would go on a great journey of letters and exchanges and a heap load of chance. Randomly, the Medium had pulled a Tarot Card from its deck. He wrote details of this Paranormal Event on the one side then handed her the card: picture side up – Seven of Wands. - A quest made ready; and she would need to complete it, this great adventure where she would get chance to conquer all her fears and find herself. Well that's what the Medium told her.

She sat there on the Scary Bed rationalising everything. Across the room was the mirror. Something moved; a dimly lit, shadowy figure marched past it – in it. She questioned herself. In her peripheral she had seen a shadow inside the mirror itself move from right to left. This thought was enough. She slipped back to terror.

The density of the room rushed in on her in another eerie, tangible wave and this time she knew death would consume her. Lizzy screamed loud a throttling cry and ran to the door. "O.M.G. - I can't spend a night in this room! This Castle is haunted! Get me out. Get me out!" She pushed hard on the door to open it. It was locked. She pushed again and again. The dead began clawing away at the trap door, fuelling up on her fear and crying back at her with soulless voices of the children damned. "Open the fucking door!" She screamed at the Castle.

The door opened.

Jay opened the door she should have pulled not pushed, and stood back as the blonde ran past him. "What's up?"

"This Castle is haunted. And that room is downright weird. I hate it!"

"Ok, calm down. Come back a minute." He caught up with her, realising she wasn't faking it. "What happened?"

"I've got demons, zombie skeletons, shadows, breathing and grunting going on, and I can't deal with it. I'm off."

"You've just got here."

She grabbed his arms desperately. "Either shit's just got real in there or I'm going insane. Either way, I'm out. – You can have it, feel free. I'm not dancing with crazy, I have enough to contend with."

"You have to give me something. Come on. I'm an investigator. See me as your Spiritual Policeman, Top Detective, Chief Inspector of the dead." He went to the Oubliette and switched on the light, flooding it in yellow to banish the shadows. "I'll leave a digital voice recording in here, see if it picks up grunting and breathing."

The blonde calmed. She took note of the light switch as she studied the gridded trap door from over Jay's shoulder, protected and shielded. She could trust him actually. No actually she changed her mind, he was a man, but he was an investigator man. "Skeletons were trying to climb out of that pit and grab my feet and you can investigate all you like but it all felt very evil and bloody real."

"I know it does. In the dark, on your own, noises of us lot walking about. The Castle has got strange acoustics. It could have been your imagination. We have very powerful minds, especially when put under duress of fear." Jay pressed 'record' on the digital voice recorder and placed it on the chair, which he moved next to the trap door.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. Naturally, this is going to be a scary room. A lot of bad things happened in here. It's bound to play havoc on your mind. Some people are more suggestible than others; they tend to go with what they've been told or what they've read. We only use ten percent of our brains at best. What's the rest imagining?"

"Are you calling me an airhead?" the blonde dropped her coy face. "You think I over-react to little things; get too excitable, maybe?"

"In the nicest way." Jay offered, "You are what we term The Screamer."

The blonde bit on her lip, feeling silly. "I dropped my phone down there." She dared to peer into the hole and found clean dusty dirt to be the only thing at the bottom besides her phone."

"Your best bet is to let Amazeballs T retrieve it. He's probably got the key to the trap and a ladder. I don't expect you're the first. Just try to remember the voice recorder is on the chair. Try not to knock that down there too."

The blonde snorted a laugh extraordinarily crossed between a dying donkey and a stuck pig. Jay collected himself. He spoke to the recorder. "For the record, that laughter was nothing demonic. We are in the Oubliette. The sun's going down and the full moon's rising. It's Friday the thirteenth of June, 2014. If there are any spirits here in this room and you'd like to be heard then speak out. I'm leaving this device for you. When I listen to it back I will be able to hear you. Thank you."

Still she felt the need to be protected. "Perhaps, I'll hang around with you for a bit, and you can detect away. I'm Lizzy."

I'm busy - Jay groaned. This wasn't what he had in mind. He had to get rid of her now before she cramped his style and he would have to hurt her feelings and it would be a long and drawn out process because he wouldn't want to hurt her. But she was boring. "Take this cable to the top floor and tape it to the stairs with this." He handed her the grey Duct Tape which complimented her pink nails. "I will run a CCTV in here as well, if you don't mind? I can fix it to the wall up high to capture most of the room. We might record a visual representation of what's going on."

"I'm not sleeping in here so it won't bother me. I've decided I'm going to stay awake all night. Stay around people. I'll tape this cable down then find Amazeballs to go down the pit of hell and get my phone. This is a nightmare."

"I take it you won't be up for the Lone Vigil later?"

# 6

Wye stared down at the Journal she had replaced on the desk, her hand resting on it as she wondered about the gold embossed symbols of ancient runes. This was just too ironic, to be allocated this room. Destiny was obviously playing a hand. She had changed her T-shirt and was now contemplating her choices. She felt sick. The sea of corpses was all around, symbolic, maybe of a certain fate; maybe her own fate? The leather-bound answers lay before her. The answers to everything she had ever wondered could lie within these iridescent pages. How would this affect her if she started reading it? What if she didn't like what she read? The letter which accompanied the Journal had dared her to open it. Friend or foe?

Wye knew she would open it. She knew this because the alternative would be to walk away. She didn't want to spend the rest of her life in regret and carry on like a droid plugged into the government; society's safe laws streaming through the TV and internet; – being told what to think, what to eat, what to worship, what not to believe, what to earn, what to wear, what to look like with the majority of humanity.

She wanted Closure and Clarity. She longed to open her pestering mind from all doubt and craved clarity to see clearly, in every waking moment, beyond the norm. Wye had developed the skill from a young age to tap into physical objects and sense their origin or the energy of the owner. Over the years, she had opened this gift of Psychometry enough to tap into entire scenes, which played themselves out in her mind's eye. The times she had announced her findings were met with raised eyebrows. Nobody had believed her from the start. Nobody - except for the strange gypsy lady who lived at the top of her hill. This woman was deemed crazy too.

Wye had learned to shut up a long time ago, realising at a very young age that she didn't care what others believed. She didn't need to share this gift; she needed to master it. To master it she would have to go deeper than Closure and Clarity. She needed Truth. She needed Wisdom. The old gypsy woman had told her this, recently. She had told Wye to come to this Castle, this night and search the catacombs for the Sacred Journal of All-Knowing Truth; and prepare for a great discovery.

The sea of corpses didn't seem like a good omen. They were not a good attachment to this room. If only they could interact. If she could connect to them enough to stop them moving and make them listen, she might gain advice from them. If she could plug into them on their frequency and save them from torment, they might be able to spend time explaining how they got here. It wasn't the case of would she open the Journal. It was everything to do with should she open the Journal?

She opened the Journal.

Who do YOU see in the mirror?

What? – Wye reread the sentence twice. She was flabbergasted. There were no other words on the page. The page was otherwise blank. She turned to page two. Nothing. It was blank. She turned the next and the next and shuffled quickly through the rest 'til the end; studying every page full of nothing. The Journal was blank besides all the subtle ever flowing colours within the parchment. She could tap in and feel the intensity; a need to unlock the potential, yet all she had seen were seven words. She had been duped. She had come all this way for this? She went back to the start and stared down at the black words written in neat calligraphy:

Who do YOU see in the mirror?

She turned to the letter and reread this slowly, digesting every word for hidden meanings and nuances; discrete yet obvious clues:

I used this Journal and everything makes sense. I close the leather-bound cover and I know, so well, I will never need another word in it. My story is finished. I am done here. I would like to say it's been an incredible adventure, but I would be lying. You know this experience of this so-called life is just a conspiracy. It's not real! It's all an illusion. I found the answers. If you don't believe me – read this Journal. Go ahead. Unlock its secrets; I double-dare you. You may see me as a ghost for very soon I shall blood-let, purge, purify and return whence I came, back to reality. Back to the Now, to conscious existence; awake from this nightmare; this dimension with its ties and burdens and I will shrug off this weight of vile flesh; this tiresome body. You want to do this journey? Are you curious? Open the Journal, reader of this letter; are you not wondering of all the wonders?

The letter seemed so elaborate compared to the seven words in the Journal. The Journal had turned out to be such a disappointment. Now she was in a dingy room with despair being its energy and little hope of exploration.

There was a bed big enough for a small child, she would have to lie in the foetal position if she were to grab any sleep. This was crudely made with stiff linen and not inviting her to try it out. There was the desk and chair – and a large drab wardrobe. No mirrors. Sub terrain, there were no windows just a hanging tapestry. There were no answers. She went back to the source. How did the Journal get here? Who would leave it in plain view for anyone to discover? For what purpose?

None the wiser, Wye took the letter and Journal and went to the wardrobe. She would lock it away from lesser mortals so no other paranormal investigator could find it. She had no intention of carrying it around all night. There wasn't exactly a lot to remember.

She unlocked the wardrobe and discovered a mirror. She placed the Journal on the shelf and the colours within the binding faded to gold leaf parchment. She dropped the letter atop it, and was transfixed by the mirror begging her focus.

The small mirror was sitting on the shelf before her. It was solid brass, oval and ornate. It was a swivel mirror on its own stand. She dared not touch it, but allowed herself to peer at the mirror.

She saw what she knew to be real; a true reflection of herself and the room behind. "Of course I see myself. What do you see?" she asked the mirror, still a tad peeved. "What does anybody see?" But she wasn't just anybody. It dawned on her. Her hands became clammy, her mouth dried and nausea returned. Was she being tricked into picking up the mirror, where she could tap in to anything within the field of its energy? How sinister could a mirror be? She wasn't sure about testing it. Mirrors held a lot of energy, she knew this; had discovered it a long time ago. Witches knew this as they used the Looking Glass for scrying; to read the future, to foretell danger, to see their face transfigure into someone else completely. This face would move and blink and talk and, stared at long enough, would disappear altogether. A true witch would know the power of a mirror. The knowledge was passed through such light-hearted fairy-tales and out to the masses through fiction, whispering to a closed humanity in a voice louder than the messenger. Wye knew the powers of a mirror enough to know of the dangers. Part of her wanted to go find Jay and sit in the dark and experience nothing. A bigger part picked up the mirror.

It was heavy. It was pure. This was incredible. Not really possible by Wye's understanding because everything was energy. This would have an imprint or impression too. Somebody had put it in the wardrobe; so there's one energy right there. Wye was adding to it by touching it, like an animal leaving its scent, she would be leaving a psychic marking – a calling card to others with a gift of Psychometry, who might come along in the future and get a sense of her; her personality maybe, or her red hair and blue eyes, or the fact that she hates butter.

This mirror held nothing. No residual energy. No such calling card. Nothing to stir her ESP, (Extra Sensory Perception). In a moment of clarity, Wye realised why. It was because it was Pure; truly pure. She held it more gently in her hands and closed her eyes. She focused on what Purity feels like. The energy of Purity hit her crown chakra in the top of her head, sending the vortex to spin faster, healthier, seamlessly. She had never experienced this before. The ringing tone in her ears was so high it was faint and near to the outer range of human hearing. Time stood still. This was its vibration. She couldn't get enough. It was absorbing and calming, so tranquil a place, so balancing; so healing.

She took a moment to compose herself and anchored this experience into her psyche so she could call upon it again and recognise it if ever Purity should present itself: so clean and immaculate with harmonies ranging so far apart and one perfect tone.

"Wow." Wye felt her heart race with the excitement as she held the mirror a little higher to take another look inside. "How can you be pure?" she asked the mirror. It became obvious to her logical side. "You've been cleansed?" Whoever had hidden the mirror in the wardrobe had cleansed it after touching it. It was the only thing that made sense. She knew Frankincense was used often in cleansing rituals and protection. White sage was another White Witches would use while chanting an Intent and clearing a space of negative energy. Salt was a good one to set boundaries from evil. There was something for everything – well, that's what Wye thought.

"What am I supposed to see?" she asked, more intrigued. "What are you trying to show me?"

Sadly, nothing changed. She was still in the dingy room, looking at herself in the mirror. Slowly she moved round on the spot, checking the walls behind her. She was about to turn full circle. One more step to complete a powerful ritual - so subtle yet so obvious.

The circle was complete. A portal opened. There behind her was a sword.

Dumfounded, she stared at the sword through the mirror, hanging in mid-air behind her left shoulder. The sword was everything it should be; silver blade glistening, fine handle. It just wasn't in the room. Wye would have seen it in a heartbeat. The sword was so significantly placed. Scared to check over her shoulder, Wye did so anyway. The room, the ceiling, the walls were bare. Of course they would be. She checked the reflection in the mirror again. The sword glinted at her. Double edged; deadly protector. Majestically, it glinted again in this windowless place; the setting sun and rising moon emulating from the magical silver metal, hanging there in between worlds, in this strange 'mirror dimension'.

Wye stood for some time watching the sword. The sun's fire burning, dancing up the left side of the blade and moonlit waterfalls cascading down its right blade. It was a fixed vision. It didn't alter with her changeable moods or opinions on this phenomena. Nothing else appeared in the mirror no matter what she wished. She tilted her head to the side. As she did, more swords fanned out, too many to count. It seemed too real to be an optical illusion. The swords were so alive. Still she had no time to wonder.

There was a knock at the door. Jay appeared in the threshold, catching her gazing at herself in a sideways fashion with a look of perplexity. "You look great," he said, astonished that she would spend so long getting ready, and not looking any different since he last saw her, bar for her T-shirt. He didn't really have her down as vain. "Seriously, you look fine."

"Actually, I'm trying to save my universe."

"Sure you are," Jay chuckled at her. She really was outrageous.

"Are you going to stay in here all night, or are you coming to investigate this amazing Castle? We're about to start."

"Start what?" Wye put the mirror on the desk and locked the wardrobe, dropping the key into her rucksack.

"The two older ladies, Lois and Avis, have gathered everyone together. They want to get us all in a big circle and open up."

Wye nodded cautiously. "Right... Open up what, exactly?"

"They reckon if we all visualise opening our third eye, we might have a better paranormal experience. They'll talk us through it. It's got to be worth a try. Nothing ventured, and all that. They told us it works for them. It's worth a shot. I'm always willing to try something new. What about you?"

A big eternal Circle and two witches; two witches chanting? Yeah two would be ok, surely? Now, three? Three would be dangerous. Wye weighed it up. "Oh, what the hell. There's nothing really going on here. I'm in." She smiled at Jay as she passed and clocked his delight. She noticed for the first time just how handsome he was. "Two eccentric women or two witches casting magic of who knows what from who knows where? What could possibly go wrong?" 

# 7

"It doesn't matter what your beliefs are; it makes little difference. If you decide to partake in this; then you are in it. There is no leaving. What you are doing here is potentially harmful. On so many levels it could kill you. Any holistic therapists here?" Lois asked every guest standing in the circle surrounding her. Several guests nodded. "Then you will understand what I mean; this could destroy you mentally, spiritually, emotionally and/or physically. In the balance of all things, and in every dimension there is good and evil. Without separation. For this is how we know ourselves. You are to take personal responsibility."

Avis moved around the outer circle in the opposite direction to her friend. "You might think it's all such fun, this recreational hobby; as seen on TV; chasing ghosts, playing with boards and acting like experts, but you must take caution. You know why wise-men told the naïve not to dabble. – You know. - Who here would like a demon on their ass?" Avis leaned into Gareth's ear then moved on for effect. "Who would like to be driven insane when things go bump in the night?" She stopped at Lizzy. "Ah, not so dizzy." Avis winked at Lois to let her know Lizzy is Sensitive.

Lois pushed her face up against Lizzy so she could see her more clearly through failing eyes. "And will you run and deny your experiences, cast yourself back to doubt; the biggest killer of humanity. Or will you take up your mantel and join all the other ascended beings walking this plane?" Lois stopped and pointed to them all. "You must shield yourselves well. You must wear an invisibility cloak as you slip undetected by nastier beings on other dimensions. You must put up your own Protection. We can't do this for you, so easily. We can guide you through it but ultimately it's got to come from you. Free Will. Only you can protect you. – Everybody happy?"

Jay shifted uncomfortably. Part of him was mocking these two ladies with their over-zealous reasoning. Part of him was terrified because he didn't want to open himself up. He was better protected shut down. He decided to stay in the circle; maybe only half-visualise where the two ladies were about to take him; keep both feet on the ground.

There were only two people not in the circle: Amazeballs T who thought it better and more beneficial to go put the kettle on and sneak outside for a cigarette, and Dave. Dave was actually annoying. Like he had ants in his pants, he just couldn't keep still; giant feet shuffling his giant frame in the growing darkness of the room.

They were in the Chapel, top floor between the South and East Towers. A fine large open room with high rafters and more recent stained glass windows. The only furniture was the altar and a row of chairs stacked along one wall.

Dave pretended to be doing his base-line tests around the perimeter but really he had no intention of humouring the two ladies in everything he believed nothing in. He was here to prove to his dappy wife that nothing exists. So far, he was on to a winner. He pressed record on his digital voice recorder and pushed his earphones into each ear, and began to concentrate on the natural noises in the room, amplified to detect any background noise. He checked the temperature with a digital thermometer. Twenty three degrees. No wonder he was sweating.

The twins, Gareth and Euan, were up for anything. From birth they were able to read each other, feel what the other was feeling, specifically what the other was thinking: classic twin-like behaviour except Euan had never spoken out loud. He never had to; his brother and equal other could do it for him. They were two halves of one whole. Happily they stood waiting alongside Crystal Powers, Rick, Debbie Maddox and the other teams.

Wye was aware Jay was beside her. She could feel his tension. He was out of his comfort zone, clinging to the edge of reason. She pondered for a moment; he was so dependable and self-assured and yet now he was struggling with something deep and eternally meaningful, it seemed. Before she knew what she was doing, she reached out to him and took his hand. It could have been such a beautiful moment but Lois broke them apart and stood between them. Avis came to stand the other side of Wye. Witches either side of her.

Avis said, "Everybody hold hands, close your eyes, take in a deep cleansing breath. And let it out. I want you to visualise a White Light above our heads. As it passes through our crown chakra it opens our third eye to communication with Spirit. Pass the White Light down through your body and push the roots from your feet deep into the earth; knowing you are grounded and centred at all times. Now - pass that White Light to the person on your left."

Wye felt the energy rush in from Avis' hand. It was so forceful her hand throbbed; the energy shot up her arm and into her system; every blood cell consciously knew itself, as endorphins flooded her mind and natural DMT triggered her third eye to open. It seemed she was no longer in the room. She was nothing; had no body, but was pure consciousness observing without judgement. It felt a natural state, such peace away from attachments. She opened her eyes to check she was still in the room.

Opposite her were nondescript faces; behind them something lurked. In the blackness beyond the circle something was stalking, prowling slowly round, summing up each person, and deliberately biding its time. It was very tall, hooded and dark. Darker in nature than the blackness it was consuming and impending doom. It was searching for something. It stopped sniffing the people opposite and lifted its hooded face. It had no face. The hood was empty. It had no eyes yet Wye felt them burning into her. It felt masculine but never of this dimension. This wasn't a ghost of residual energy playing out in a recording stored in the silica of the building. This wasn't a Spirit waiting to communicate. He was menacing, powerful and clever. He was reading her. She tried not to think of any secrets or acknowledge this demon; top-ranking above the Legions.

Lois said, "Prepare to receive the White Light from the person on your right." She squeezed tight on Wye's hand. She squeezed even tighter then relaxed. "Visualise this White Light as your protection, visualise it going around our circle. Really feel it. Relax into it and know it is real."

His search was over. He had found The One. The Crusader of the Truth. The One who had touched the Journal and left her calling card on the mirror. The only person in the room to recognise him in return. There were others in the circle who felt his presence. He saw the chinks in their armour, the holes in the White Light buzzing around, preventing him in to the inner circle. How naive of them to think they could become invisible from him. The more cloaks they donned the more illuminated they became, governed by fear. He stood there admiring their colourful auras and spinning chakras - a true light fantastic show in full Technicolor from infra-red to ultra violet. Keep those chakras spinning and opening – fledglings; come unto me – I can take those precious colours of yours and turn each one to black. He couldn't see the two witches. They were the only wise ones here who were obviously getting it right. He had a sense they were here and they mattered not. He stared back at The One; with her hair of fire and eyes of crystal blue waters. - A true prize. As he mocked, so he snarled.

"What was that?" Jay asked, breaking the silence.

"My tummy. Sorry," Dave called from across the room. "Think I've caught it on my digital voice recorder."

Lois said, "Keep that White Light going around us. We call upon our Angels, Guides, Gatekeepers and Arch Angel Michael for their Protection."

"Something growled again," Lizzy said in a strained voice. "It came from over here. It's behind me. Did anyone else hear it?" Several others had. "I heard it earlier in the Oubliette. Omg! It's found me. It's followed me here." Lizzy bit on her lip, terrified.

"It's your tummy rumbling then," Dave jeered. "You want to get some food into you."

Debbie Maddox jumped. "Something just pushed me in the back. – Get off. That hurt."

Dave rolled his eyes at his wife. Always the first to jump on the hysteria and make things worse. He had never met anybody so suggestible. To confirm this, he lied, "It's gone really cold over here." He checked his thermometer. "It's dropped five degrees in a minute."

Debbie said, "It has. I feel it. My legs are like ice. They're freezing." Point taken - Dave thought. He had just won another round against her beliefs.

Avis said, "I want you to visualise that White Light going around us and I want you to take it - and throw it out into the universe, where we call upon any Spirits, Elementals and Astral Beings who wish to communicate with us. They can do so knowing we are grounded and protected at all times. Our circle is up..."

The coldness had set in as, before Wye, knelt a mother holding her baby. The mother was calling up to Wye, desperate to get a message to her. "What is it?" Wye asked. She heard her ghostly voice. It was incredible. Never before had Wye heard their voice. Not with her own ears; only as EVPs – Electronic Voice Phenomenon caught on recording equipment. She really had opened a window in her mind; the third eye chakra governing sixth sense and psychic abilities. She could hear the woman's voice; not clearly but in shrill echoes, drifting in and away, breathing in, breathing out; enough to be heard, "My little girl is lost. She is running around and won't come back to me. It's been two hundred years since I last held her to me. She is loved and so missed. Help me... Help her..."

The girl ran passed the outer circle. Wye saw her. She broke the circle to go after her.

The Hooded Demon, known as Bane, had found one of her many weakness. Compassion. How romantic a notion. He commanded the mother away. She clung to her baby and grabbed the girl's arm, and scurried from his view, having acted out his bidding. The Truth Seeker stopped in her tracks before him. She looked up at him through crystal pools and knew she was defeated. A cruel trick to have played: so easily she had been coaxed from her tribe. As defenceless as she felt, he could feel her armour securing its links. She was calling on a higher energy than her own. He sensed them coming from a long way off, it could take them all night to get here. An army. Her Guides, her Gatekeepers and the formidable Arch Angel Michael as her metaphysical body became so lustrous with multi-coloured shards so beautiful in her armour he could only shirk away. He spun round to watch her walk back to her circle. A truly beautiful creature so full of life and as yet; no way in. He turned his attention to Jay and recognised his demons.

Jay asked her, "What is it? Who were you talking to?"

Wye felt all eyes on her in the dark. "Can you play back your recording, Dave, please? You might hear a woman crying to be helped."

"I would love to, sugar cubes, but my battery ran out five minutes ago. A pain in the rear. I only bought them yesterday."

Jay was waiting for an answer. What could she say? She was stuck in the headlights. So many years of keeping quiet and now everyone wanted an explanation. Who was this strange lady in their midst? She had walked into this room with the abilities of ESP, she had stood in a circle and opened up – and now she was seeing through her third eye; the all-seeing eye. It had worked. The two women either side of her had activated something. She had seen the Hooded Demon and had interacted with him, much to her distress. She had witnessed the Spirit of a mother separated from her daughter, and clearly she had heard her voice begging for help coming in waves through to her dimension. Wye felt as though the veil between the worlds had become so thin suddenly, she was becoming mixed up in them both simultaneously. The only definition between that reality and this was that the people here were a physical solid mass. Everything in the other realm was slightly translucent.

Avis whispered in her ear, "Isn't this what you came here for, dear?"

"What?" Wye shot. How did she know that?

Lois said, "To have a paranormal experience; like it reads on the Bill Board. Are you going to keep it to yourself?"

"I'm not sure what's going on." She couldn't tell them how extreme this all was. She would be labelled; everyone would judge. Ultimately everyone would attack her beliefs. They always did. "I thought I heard a woman's voice, but it was probably the wind."

Bane saw another chink in her armour. She had humility. How pathetic. There were many ways he could play this. This was his Castle. This was never an issue. All who dwell here know this painfully well. All the walls on top of all the floors had been his since the dawn of time. All knew, except the next batch of lambs to the slaughter in the Physical Realm - just dying to cross over. And then his night just got a hell of a lot better...

Gareth said, "Anyone up for doing our Ouija Board in the Chapel?"

# 8

All the teams made their way out of the Chapel to leave the twins to their slightly unethical investigations. They went their separate ways to explore which rooms were active with various pieces of equipment.

Debbie and Dave were off to the old kitchen for pie, arguing all the way on who was right: across the top floor State Apartments and into the West Tower where they descended the spiral stairs to ground floor.

Rick was busy convincing Crystal Powers he had a dog following him everywhere. At first, he thought it was his imagination, but the more he searched its begging eyes the more it felt real. Crystal Powers was so far unconvinced Rick would make a good frontman for her new TV show she was considering with her production company. He had the weekend to prove his talents. She had a plan. It wasn't particularly nice. In fact it was quite bad but if Rick was everything he professed to be, she was sure he would survive – the Curse.

Lizzy wanted Amazeballs T to retrieve her phone ASAP but couldn't find him as she tagged along with a paranormal team, bragging they were all here all the way from the other side of the planet.

Jay had big plans to rig up a HD camera and trigger objects in the Chapel because he, and several others, had picked up on a dark negative energy. He was plotting a mission to place a crucifix on a ledge below the stained glass window and film it from two angles, two cameras on two tripods, and try to antagonise things a bit. If there truly was something dark there it might knock the crucifix over.

Wye was busy containing her brain as she walked alongside Jay in two worlds of her own.

Avis and Lois made their way swiftly; huffing and panting, as they scrambled their way to the East Tower and the Chaplains room – the Room at the Top. This extensive circular room took up the entire top floor of this tower, with four windows positioned to look out in every direction. They shut the door.

Lois pulled open her case. "Throw salt in all the corners here..." She sprinkled salt across the doorway. "Hurry."

The room being circular, Avis attended to the less obvious right angles, including the four window ledges, the fireplace with mirror above - because there are those who know the devil resides in right angles. "What happened back there?"

Lois clucked her false teeth. "I don't know where he came from. How did he get out of his pit?"

Avis opened her case of potions, candles and herbs, and grabbed a stack of white sage, prepared over-enthusiastically into a tight bundle and tied in an eternal loop of white ribbon. She lit it. Unexpectedly, it flared up into flames. It burnt her hands. She dropped it. It fell on the wood flooring. She stamped on it. It wouldn't die out. She danced on it manically to snuff it out; save setting the Castle on fire - which wouldn't surprise her at this rate because so far everything had gone wrong; even the two Tarot Cards they had played already this evening, weren't brilliant. These Tarot Cards were lying on the Cosmic Mirror on one of the beds: both were from the House of Swords.

Lois watched her friend; not so elegantly clutching up her skirts, wrinkled bloomers on show - doing a war dance in the smoke. "That's not as bizarre as it appears, dear." Lois decided to join in, and they both smudged themselves by twirling and dancing in the cleansing smoke until they were giddy. Lois turned to the unfriendly Chaplain, standing next to the chimney stack protruding from the circular tower wall. "Are you still here?"

"This is my room and I am far from evil. You can't banish me from here. You do nothing but meddle. In my day, you'd have been drowned or hanged or burnt for your sins."

"You didn't fare so well." Lois referred to his head propped on an angle from his broken neck.

"This is what you get for running up and down these stairs, trying to save souls when they're all off to hell in a basket regardless of your efforts. This is what you get for trying to intervene. You two have just opened those floodgates, you know that don't you? You have made the entire Castle a free for all. I'm not going anywhere. I'm safest here."

Lois picked up the smouldering sage and fanned it about her face and head. "We didn't summon Bane. I don't know how he got here."

Avis said, "I was surprised. It's quite irregular. Someone must have done some kind of ritual over his lair?" Avis was wafting smoke up her nose and pulling it deeply into her lungs. She held it, and held it then puffed it back out; not such a hit as tobacco – a distant friend. "The Genie is out the lamp. Now, what to do?"

"Hide," said the Chaplain Spirit. "Pray for a blessed miracle. – You may have made yourselves safe – and my room; but you are going to need a lot more salt and an army of angels to make safe this fortress. This Castle is a prison. You activated walls to open when you threw up your White Light and invited everyone out to play. Frankly, that demon is the least of your worries. You may have started a revolution."

"Well, I happen to think Wye is worth the cost." Lois patted her pulses with rose petal water. "She'll figure it out."

"You hope." The Chaplain sneered. "She's got a long way to go yet. Let's see how far this One is led into temptation. And if she ends up trapped in time in this fortress forever, like the rest of us sorry souls, don't say I didn't warn you."

"A little bit of Faith wouldn't go amiss, right now, Chaplain. Always the grump."

"Harbinger of Doom," Avis added theatrically.

The Chaplain scowled. "Evil is already winning."

Lois said to Avis, "He's got a point. Wye needs to stay grounded while she goes in search of herself. She has many layers to figure out. It's an uncertain, lonely place; stuck in limbo. She's more vulnerable than she probably realises. Yet we daren't interfere. Wisdom and Truth are biggies. We've done more than our bit bringing her to Enlightenment."

Avis said, "Jay would keep her grounded if their love blossoms?"

"There isn't time for that, Avis. Besides, I sort of came between them. I broke their hands apart. I probably should have given it five minutes so they could search their feelings for each other and deepen their kinship a notch as their young hearts skipped a beat - but the demon was loitering; practically salivating down his empty black chest - and protection became my priority."

Avis knelt down on her bony knees and stuck her head in her case. She rummaged around and pulled out a pair of apple pickers britches. "Clean knickers. I might need these later." She giggled. She delved in again; rummaging around in her case of tricks and came back out holding a silk pouch to the air. "Behold. I've brought along this." She marvelled at the red silk and all that was conjuring within.

Outside, the Honey Moon was rising to take possession of the night; a huge ball of silver on the horizon, bigger than any full moon – and this being Friday 13th.

"The Love Spell?" Lois was dismayed. She had asked Avis a hundred times not to bring it. Avis always put a lot of Intent into her Love Spells because she was such a romantic. Lois was also relieved. A solution to her problem.

Avis said, "My gift for Wye and Jay. Undo what you undid. Awaken them to each other. Bring them together quickly. Grant Wye be the damsel in distress. Grant Jay be her Knight." She pictured Jay on a white horse, plucking up Wye to sit behind: and they rode out the Castle gates and over the moat, twinkling in fairy dust; and into the magical forest where they would live forever as one; enchanted eternally by the other. Avis came back to the moment. "We haven't got time for nature to take its course; so let's give Mother Nature a little hand?"

The Chaplain clapped, sarcastic and slow. "Well that's the most unwise suggestion I've heard all night; and I've heard many. So much for daring not to interfere."

# 9

Amazeballs T secured his head phones more squarely on his little head and turned up the volume on the mobile TV in his hands. He loved a good football match, it suited his competitive nature; he could go tribal, wear colours of his team and scream at the ref who obviously had no idea what he was doing because Amazeballs T had practically invented the game. He sat in the dark seething at the idiot with the ball. He was propped precariously on his stool, small feet tucked safely under and hunching lower to the screen as he became absorbed. There came three knocks on his door, loud enough for the entire Castle to hear.

"Are you in there, Amazeballs T?"

Ah, the Silicon Princess wanted him at last. He knew she'd be along in time. Who could resist? He unbolted the door and nudged it a crack. "What do you want?"

"Can I come in?" Lizzy asked in her squeaky voice.

He turned up the volume on his head phones as her piercing tones went through him. "I'm busy until morning. Come back then."

"This can't wait. I've got an emergency."

T didn't doubt this. Every guest would have an emergency by morning, hence the cupboard. He was correct in his internal wager; written on a page in his brain: she was first to his door this night.

"I've dropped my phone down the Oubliette and I need you to fetch it."

T laughed. This was laugh out loud and genuine. He hadn't laughed in years. Not properly. Not out of appreciation for humour. He had laughed at plenty of others' misfortunes and of course his own jokes but that was it and this was funny. "Ah, the Gatekeeper to the underworld wants me to climb down into the abyss and risk my soul for a phone? What is it; an IPhone?"

"You're still not funny," Lizzy said, trying to push the door open more than a crack to see what he was actually doing that could be so important as not to help this fair maiden with her every whim and fancy. "Are you scared?" she asked. "Is that why you're in here really? Coz you're scared?"

Angrily, he pulled off his headphones. "It's got the best reception. Anyway, I can't be scared of anything I don't believe is real. Every week I do these events, and every week, teams run around screaming and crying and blabbing, and they try to get out and they tell me the main gates won't open and that they are stuck here. They demand keys and a connection to the outside for emergency services to rescue them which is totally impossible. They end up in the catacombs below, trying to find a secret tunnel that would take them beyond the Fortress walls and into the forests in a sad pathetic need to escape; only to find themselves back here in the magic of fairground mirrors. Frankly, I don't know why they moan at me. They signed up for it."

Lizzy had given up listening to T droning. Instead she was staring into the dark, beneath his stool. She couldn't see visually into the blackness but she could see something on a different level. Beneath the stool was a small creature. She focused on it harder. It was twisted, grey and gnarly, its bloodshot eyes injured by the light. Any light. She said to T, "So you're happy to stay in here, hiding in the dark alongside everything else?" She hinted cautiously under his seat. "You're ok sharing your space with that little goblin thing?"

Goblin hissed at her and shrunk back into the shadows.

Just then Rick and Crystal Powers met up with Lizzy. Rick said, "What's up, Hun?"

"I need to get my phone and - Amazeballs isn't all 'that' because he would rather stay in the cupboard watching football than help a paying guest out of a dilemma."

"God damn it. " T stropped out of the cupboard. "Is there to be no peace?"

Rick's hand welded to his forehead like a magnet, as his eyes rolled. "I'm getting contact. Quiet everyone. My Guide is talking. What is it, darling? What is it? Tell me?"

Amazeballs T wanted to climb back into the cupboard.

Crystal Powers grabbed her HD Camera and pushed it closer to Rick's face. "Who's coming through?"

"I'm being told it's not of this world. We have an Elemental in our presence. He wants to be left alone."

Everyone looked at Amazeballs T. He hissed, "I'm of this world. Try harder."

Rick sought deeper into his imagination. "It truly is an Elemental. It got lost in the Mystical Forest which surrounds this Enchanted Crystal Palace. In his dimension, this Palace is home to the Queen of the Fairy Realm and out of bounds to the likes of his feeble excuse for a Mystical Element. He says he hid here in the cupboard for seven hundred years and learnt all kinds of foreign languages and ancient tongues, until eventually he found sanctuary with T."

Lizzy squealed. "Ah, you're good, Rick. That's what I got – a goblin-like thing. It's in the cupboard now. Does that mean I'm good, too? Does that mean I'm becoming psychic?"

Rick needed Crystal's camera in his face not Lizzy's. He held her camera steady, and looked into the lens for effect in the editing of this fine show. "He tells me he is a Guide. It is how he stays safe from the Elemental world; one of many on the infinite Planes of Existence. He says he is your Guide." Rick pointed at Amazeballs T.

Amazeballs T grunted – what rot. He was more interested in Crystal Powers, suddenly. He was busy reading the label on her camera: Crystal Powers Productions. -Jackpot. Bingo and Candy Blast. – He would get a TV show. – Hi, I'm Amazeballs T, from Elite Paranormal; Elite because I'm the only one in my team, because I'm so great, and I'm so right, nobody compares to this magnificence of who I am and I am coming at you from all over the world. Have that, Little Miss Money Bags Dripping in Gems.

Rick was amazed at himself. Where had all that information come from, he didn't know. It sounded highbrow and yet it had such a lovely ring to it and his audience was fascinated. He waved his hand dramatically as Lois and Avis approached. "We've got a little grey sad goblin creature with us! Come and check it out, ladies."

Lois said, "He's not that bad," as she looked at Amazeballs T.

"In the cupboard," Rick gesticulated dramatically.

"Of course there is. " Avis smiled sweetly.

Rick needed to convince more ladies of the Fairy Realm. He rushed to open the cupboard and show his discovery to his audience. He nudged Avis' arm. The fine red silk pouch fell from her careful clutches, the glittery powder escaped from the pouch; the magical airborne particles landed on a very shiny shoe belonging to Amazeballs T, a plume of mystical rapture exploding up his trouser leg. To Rick, it looked like dust.

To the Spirit Dog it looked edible.

Amazeballs T wiped his shoes in disgust at the dirt. He had spent half the week shining them for his performance of the night. He wasn't happy now. What's more, he had a twitch develop in his leg. His calf went into rhythmic spasms. Great. This could go along with his piles and clicky hips.

"Whoops. Sorry," Avis said. "That wasn't meant for you."

"I gathered," T said.

"I doubt it will have any effect on you. Don't worry."

"I won't," T said, shaking his leg to ward off the tremors, growing more savage.

"It's a Love Spell: the good stuff." Lois thought it fair he knew. "You're probably immune to love by now. Let it go."

"I don't believe in this nonsense. I don't buy into it. Of course it won't affect me. It is dust made up of wishful thinking, nothing a bit of polish won't cure."

"I'm glad you see it that way." Avis grabbed her friend's arm; back to the drawing board: back to their room and the Tarot Cards and Cosmic Mirror. "See you round like an orange." The witches moved away, astonished and outraged. Their plan had failed. Worse still, they had meddled with the very powerful energy of Love which binds together all the fabrics of all the Multiverse; and this Love was intense. There would be consequences within Karmic Law.

"Bloody crackers. The pair of them," T announced.

Rick could see the Spirit Dog humping T's leg. Ravenous. Loyally with never-ending affection. He made his escape while the going was good, taking Crystal Powers with him. He believed the ritual of Opening and Protection had worked to some degree. He felt he was a little more open, genuinely. This was such an exciting place to be. Two nights in the Fairy Realm – how utterly exciting.

Lizzy tried to ignore the Spirit Dog she could see humping away in her mind's eye. "Are you going to help me or are you going to climb back into that cupboard?"

"I'll think about it after the match. It's the World Cup," T snarled, doing the latter and slamming the door on her. Obviously, he wanted to be alone with his Guide and new insatiable pet.

Lizzy stood in the main concourse. She didn't need chaperoning. Here she was in the near dark all on her own in a haunted, enchanted Castle, so different on so many levels, she was feeling proud; she wasn't a Screamer - she hadn't screamed for a while. This thought made her prickly. Suddenly, she remembered she didn't want to spend all night on her own. She made her way after the Medium and Crystal Powers. Whatever they were planning between them was bound to be better than participating on a Ouija Board in a Holy Room or standing here, all alone in the elaborate hall with its line of eight magnificent mirrors.

# 10

Wye was sitting in the kitchen, trying hard to focus on Dave's words as he argued with Debbie. She had left Jay to his investigation because she wanted no part in it. There was no way she was going to erect a crucifix and open up a door on the Ouija board. She had seen what already stalked there. It wasn't pleasant. It was horrendous. It was unnerving because it had no physical body. It didn't even have an astral body. It had no body, yet it held a universe of everything dark within it.

Wye wanted to be as far away from his attention as possible. He hadn't followed after her, which was a good thing. Well, she was hoping it was a good thing. Unless he was about to have more fun in the Chapel which wouldn't be a good thing. She didn't want to imagine what door those silly twins where opening. Did they even consider the consequences? Are they competent? Wye didn't know.

That was the thing she had against boards. Wye enjoyed tech equipment because it made better sense. There was an element to the board which had always scared her. They had the power to open portals if not done properly. The other thing that scared her, was this notion: what if she was pushing the glass unconsciously and her very own soul was spelling out letters; sinister messages warning her something really bad was going to happen? How frightening. She tried again to focus on Debbie's retort to Dave, trying harder not to think of a portal opening; the thing of nightmares. To play around on a board in a Holy Place was just plain sacrilege. It was asking for trouble. You just wouldn't.

Wye was sipping coffee. She had all the problems laid out before her and she was sipping coffee. She had so many insights and yet she was procrastinating. "They mustn't open the board!"

She jumped to her feet, and ran out the kitchen, nearly tripping over Little Boy. He put his hands to the air for her to carry him. Cook swept him into her arms as Wye carried on. She could see the ghostly apparitions going about their lives in the Castle like she was in a movie and hologram time machine. There were so many layers it was all so confusing, and everyone could see her large as life.

Stranger still, they were acting as though they were scared of her, and weren't forthcoming. Perhaps she was the ghost in their world? Perhaps she was the one walking through tables and walls from their perspective?

Either way, she had so many questions and now she was gathering even more. What of the answers she sought. Not so many. The Journal was just stupid. The swords meant nothing to her. She was experiencing more paranormal for having opened up with the two witches than anything the Journal had suggested – or so she presumed.

She was in the main concourse. She was about to run its length, Southwards, but a man stepped out from the shadows. He was a Spirit. He was intending to communicate and he was angry as sin.

"Can I help you?" Wye asked.

The Chaplain studied her hard. He studied the line of magnificent mirrors to the far end then he listened intently to the frequency of the Castle. "You are going to run this Gauntlet?"

Wye checked the huge hall. Maids sweeping in one realm, vending machine in her own. "Of course. You are a man of the cloth, I need to get to the Chapel."

"To save the universe?" the Chaplain snorted. "It's a bit late for that."

"They've opened the portal on the Ouija Board?"

"Not yet." The Chaplain leaned into her face. "You will feel it when they have. It will reverberate through the entire Castle; and then we will all be singing from different hymn sheets, trust me."

"I must run then."

The Chaplain wouldn't let up. "You opened the Journal. You opened a mirror waiting just for you for when the time is right. So I suppose it is safe to say, you had better run. You will run your Gauntlet."

Wye stared harder at him, defiance rising: How did he know about the Journal? Had he been spying on her? She hated riddles. Being practical, she said, "The Chapel is across the hall and up the stairs and along a bit. Anyway, what would you have me do?"

"Stop playing games you don't understand. Stop asking so many questions. The trouble with mankind is that they are so busy running around to save themselves and they all wind up dying anyway. Look at me."

"Sorry about that," Wye shrugged. "It was a long time ago." She could tell by his white cravat while trying hard not to put too fine a focus on his broken neck. She continued, "How do you know I opened the Journal? Have you been watching me?"

"The Castle knows it. No deed is benign. Nothing goes unmissed in this Game. I would be cautious to push for more. You have all the answers here, already. Look around. I'm communicating with you. You see all the dimensions and all the layers for how it is and now you can interact. Now go home. In fact, close down and go home; and take your friends with you."

"And that's it?" Wye asked.

The floor shook, the walls closed in and bounced back out. The bubble of energy was thundering towards her, warping the hall, activating the mirrors, in turn, in blinding light and travelled through her on its expanding journey to further open the entire Castle and forests.

"That's it." The Chaplain hobbled away, shouting, "That's another portal open. A very dangerous one. Now evil can seep through everywhere." He threw his hands around at all the mirrors as though seeking such evil. He turned. "Just so you know I personally risked my neck again finding you. It's too late. You're on your own. A Card has been thrown. Go hide now."

The nerve of the man. Wye would have made it in time if he hadn't stopped her. She stood still and checked her feelings about the hall. It seemed calm. She had no purpose to go to the Chapel now because it would only take her to the source of the trouble. She wasn't about to hide; only the weak hide. Still, she was unsure what to expect, savages drooling for her blood from the dimension of hell? What if the Hooded Demon was the Gatekeeper to this portal; already in place to open hell's door? "Jay!" she cried, "Shit, Jay's in there!"

She ran past the first mirror and was heading for the second. She collided with an invisible barrier. Shocked, she stared at it. She got up and brushed herself down. Wye reached out to the air and felt the impervious membrane. She turned to head back and away from this trickery. She was greeted with the same membrane. She was trapped between two invisible forces like a prisoner. The Castle had her. There was no way out.

She banged on the membrane to draw the attention of the maids but they didn't hear her. She shouted to summon anyone in the vicinity from any dimension. She had no idea what was happening. It seemed she couldn't be seen or heard, as others remained using the concourse freely around her; this is what it feels like to be trapped without a voice. To scream for others to pay attention, she has a message: save Jay. Shut the portal.

Wye screamed again for someone to save her. She had pushed the boundaries too far. She was trapped within a vacuum bubble. "Help me?" How she had gone from wanting to save to needing to be saved.

In her peripheral vision, the mirror shimmered. She turned to it. It was no longer a mirror for her. For her, it was a hole in the wall.

This portal was surrounded in embossed gold as the mirror but beyond was Utopia. A scenic view of mountains, waterfalls and colourful gardens. Wye moved towards it; this strange new world. For her, it was like standing in the doorway of the Castle and looking out at a fantasy kingdom: a Garden of Eden.

Was this the mirror she had activated when opening the Journal? If so, the Chaplain had been right. She leant her hand on the frame and sensed its magical power. She gauged its intensity and it gladdened her heart. The energy was welcoming. It beckoned her to enter and explore the twinkling path before her, perfectly laid with a kaleidoscope of wild flowers of every colour, from star-shaped to heart-shaped. Butterflies danced along caught on a soft summer breeze. Aluminous green Dragonflies hovered over a pond as silver fish jumped and splashed. A man was leaning against a mighty Oak. He was crossed arms, and relaxed, smiling at her, chewing a golden blade of grass from the side of his mouth as if contemplating with amusement.

Wye could see nobody else in the vicinity. In a way she was grateful to see someone. Someone human. She half expected to see Tinker Bell or God. This man was chuckling to himself, very light-heartedly. He called out to her.

"Are you going to come in? Or are you waiting for a better invitation?"

"I'm not sure where you are?"

"I'm here." The man gestured round at the purple mountains and yellow meadows and evergreen forests as the sun and moon shone in the blue together.

"If I come in will I die?"

"Are you alive now?" he called back laughing again. "You're the first One to hesitate."

"That's because I'm sensible."

The man stepped away from the tree and wandered through the luscious grass. He picked a Buttercup and twiddled it in circles, admiring the humming of the flower spinning 'til it too was giggling. He charged the flower with wonderment as he made his way towards her. He stood before her and held out the flower to reassure her. "You cannot die. You are Wye."

# 11

"D." Jay's hand was shaking as he held the camera over the Ouija board set on the altar. He and the twins were on the glass as it slid to the next letter. "I." He watched the glass beneath his finger glide over the oak board. "I don't like where this is going." Next letter. "E. – That's it. I'm not having it. Back to the centre." Jay pushed the glass himself and took control of the board. Nothing was going to move this glass without his authority – so he thought.

"Wye must die." He checked the twins and found them almost amused. Perhaps they had been pushing the glass, trying to scare him or test his nerve. He was about to confront them even though the spelling out of this message had been very concise. The energy on the board had seemed very adamant.

Before Jay had chance, Gareth asked him the question, "Were you pushing it?"

"Of course not. What would be the purpose in that? We need to review this footage and check if we caught something."

Bane was stomping along the altar, tired of their ignorance. He was towering over them. He was crouching down. He was sniffing two orange heads and the blood flowing beneath. He was waiting. He was bored and the devil makes work for idle hands. He kicked the glass and sent it hurling against the wall where it smashed dramatically. He ignored the three mortals scared and elated, cussing profanities within their amazement. He jumped down off the altar, black cape fanning, and stared up at the stained glass window. It was the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever seen. It was dazzling, lit further by the full moonlight behind; of angels and demons and saints and sinners. Angel Wars: Angels fighting Demons; a great battle across the sky. On Earth below; a Tower with a sinner falling downwards into the fire pit of hell. A Hermit walking a lonely road. A Jester jesting. The Empress, upon a white horse, her hair cascading as she rides out to battle in a hail of daggers. The Ace of Swords straddling the front of the scenes. None of this was as morbidly beautiful as the demon himself. He was up there. He was in the window, dressed in his hooded cloak reaching out holding a red diamond. And beside him in another pane was the mother of all demons. She was breath-taking; her slender arm reaching out to him, her perfect skin, finger-tips of blood. Another portal had just been opened – a powerful one. His Castle was coming alive; his domain reinforced. He focused on her blood lips as the moon moved into position behind them and offered up the energy of the female. Her face lit up, her eyes grew darker.

Jay retrieved the broken glass, heart in his mouth. He and the twins had witnessed this paranormal activity. All of them had been astounded. Logically, these three couldn't have thrown the glass across the room. Something external had done it. It had taken such force, the glass had smashed into jagged shards. He wrapped them in a tissue. "We need to look back through this footage and the two cameras watching the crucifix. We might have caught something. It took a lot of energy to do this. We've managed to antagonise whatever it is. There's been a negative atmosphere in this room ever since we got here. I think we've caught it." He studied the small screen on the camera; searching the footage with Gareth and Euan peering over each shoulder. - They were on the glass – WYE MUST DIE – They discussed it and then the glass flew out from under their fingers. "I need to get this on my laptop. I need to slow it down. I think I saw a mist go by the camera as the glass leaves us."

Gareth watched the replay. "It could have been your breath. You gasp at the same time. Listen."

"No I didn't. That's not me. That's an EVP. Something grunted. And none of that explains how this got from here to there." He shook the tissue to illustrate. "We'll go back to HQ, the Dining Hall and retrieve the footage off all three cameras to analyse. First, I just want to try to communicate with a KII. I'm worried something bad is going to happen to Wye - I want to find out who we were communicating with. It could have been Spirit kids messing around." He wanted to believe.

Bane stooped to the floor and retrieved his treasure. He turned his soulless eyes to the stained glass window and found the Darkest of all fallen Angels staring down at him. She moved as though possessed by a serpent and rose up through the glass. She threw her hands to the stars and watched them fall. Moving along the stationary scene, she leaned down over the Tower and blew the sinner to kingdom come. She marched on to the Jester and branded him a Fool. She flew over to the Empress and laughed in her face. She landed before the Ace of Swords and drew it from its restraints. "Let the battle commence!" She cried. She smashed through the window, splintering a billion shards of angels and demons across the Game. She stood atop a red staircase in the hole in the wall, her black and red serpentine dress flowing out, caught in the heat of the flames lapping at man's ruination. She was glad to be back. She took a step down admiring the view. Her hooded lover was waiting to greet her. She looked out upon the world and saw all the suffering; babies still being killed by monsters, the rich still bleeding the poor; the true horrors of this dimension so backward they were lost. Nothing had changed in a millennia. Such a good harvest. She took another step towards him and searched his hollow hood. She found him. Lurking there, watching her with such adoration it could almost blow her away. She stopped; her dress catching a shimmer from the full and glorious moon, her hair as black and wild as night moved to fulfil her charm and enchantment. Her voice so softly beguiled him, "There is so much emotion here. I love this place. So much to take back with me." He watched her descend the stairs towards him and held tight to all he knew, focusing just past her, not enough to look directly at her but enough to see. He felt her energy surge to him long before she got there and it was so unsteadying this drug. It sent him to rapture that could tear her apart if she hadn't devoured him first. He clung tight to the shard of glass, dripping in Jay's blood; his present for his Queen. She came before him. He opened his hand. She gazed down at this red diamond. She marvelled at its purity. Innocence absent of awareness. She gazed up at her lover sending him gratitude through black eyes. She took the glass and held it to the moonlight to get a better look at the quality of the blood. Good enough to eat. She placed it in her luscious mouth and sucked the blood. It blew her away this time. Such ecstasy as this: and this is why the mortals love this place. They all want the rush of blood. "Take me with you?" the Hooded Demon begged her. She could share this sharp diamond, cut a hole in her tongue; drip into him this blood of life. "Not this time. You are better served here." And her heart took a beat in her chest, her black corset sucked in and true breath blew back out. She looked past her lover at Jay holding a little grey box. She left her lover standing there so raw. It had to be done. She felt his pain. He had risen from his lair to meet her here. He had done all he could to tempt her to him. He had offered her his best gift yet; blood from a portal. The glass had opened yet another portal, enough to let her slip through. It had activated another link in this Castle. She was drinking from his key without sharing. She wasn't so interested in Bane. She had for all of eternity with him. She was far more interested in getting to know Jay. So many demons of his own, surely one more would make no difference.

Jay asked out again, hoping the LEDs would light up to show some sort of communication. "Are there any Spirits or Astral Beings here with us in the Chapel? Could you make the lights spike for a yes, please? We come with the utmost respect."

He felt someone other than Euan or Gareth lean over his shoulder to watch for a response on the KII. Jay turned slowly. He was met with black questioning eyes. He jumped back. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Well that's a nice welcome." The Goth chick spun around in a circle. She might have been an emo. Jay wasn't sure what she was. Thankfully she was human yet how to define her. "I'm Angel," she said. "It's been a hell of a night. I'm what you would call, always late to a party. I get so side-tracked doing all sorts of other shit, that I forget where I'm going. Anyway I'm here now so what have I missed?"

"We were doing a Ouija board and the glass got thrown across the room."

The Goth laughed, "Really? How thrilling." She sucked in on her blood red tongue, a diamond stud stabbed through it, and tasted the colour of her lips. Such an exquisite reminder. "Well I'm here to fuck shit up."

Jay studied her harder. He had met some crazy rock chicks in his time; had done stuff he shouldn't, but this girl was awesome; she spoke her mind; she was speaking his language. The language he used out in the clubs and gigs. The one he kept quiet whilst he was working, being a professional investigator; top detective.

The Goth leaned into Jay; onyx eyes twinkling. "So you are the Private Investigator of all things Supernatural and weird? Check this out." She spun again.

Gareth and Euan had spent the entire time checking her out. She had a body that was just super fit and a craziness that was alluring. They would happily spend an eternity admiring her over all creation. You just didn't get this level of fit, normally. She was a perfect hourglass; manicured nails, black eyeliner of a film star, and sultry soft lips and a bad attitude.

Jay nudged them. "Wake up."

"Who is she?" Gareth asked.

"I'm an amateur demonologist. I've read a few books." She pulled out a black lace purse. "I'm also a bit psychic." She pulled out a long cigarette and strutted around the Chapel as though to mock it. She pointed to the twins. "I've been known to read minds. You boys are so naughty. I can tell, I am going to have so much fun getting to know you." She gazed up at the stained glass window to admire it. She lit her cigarette and drew in the breath of a dragon.

Jay would have told her not to smoke in here; zero tolerance in this Castle but he was staring up at the window too. It had changed. Definitely. He questioned his memory; angels and demons fighting, the tower of flames and man falling. The window was none of that. It was a mosaic of a billion shards of every colour. He was about to remark on this. Did anyone else notice that the window was different? Or was he going mad? The Goth spoke, "You should get a bandage on that."

Jay noticed his bleeding thumb. The shard had dug deep. The blood was running freely. He sucked on it and the Goth gasped as if delighted by her every dream. She climbed up on the altar and lay down across it and the Ouija board, letting her black hair cascade around her black and red lace bodice.

She threw back her head, "If there are any demons here wanting to near me this night, then this is where I'll be, waiting to be devoured." She let out a steady and relaxing sigh and lifted her knees. "I've chosen my room." She said to Jay, as Bane crawled his way up between her legs. "Every deed has its price." She bared against her lover and prepared to be hurt.

Jay and the twins left her to it. This scene was a stretch too far for their mortal eyes. They left the Goth chick on the altar, writhing to her own thoughts and it just didn't seem right. Gareth sneaked one extra look of longing before they made their way down the stairs of the South Tower, each a bit bemused by their encounter.

On their way to the Dining Hall, they made their way along the main concourse, past all the mirrors. Jay stopped at the last one and checked his reflection. He looked quite handsome as he shone his torch up at his face. He saw the face of Wye for a second. He saw his face. That was a bit weird. He dismissed it. Stuffed a beef sandwich in his mouth and carried on to the Dining Hall. At least in the Dining Hall he would find some peace and quiet, be a true detective.

# 12

Jay uploaded the footage off his HD camera onto his laptop, his excitement bubbling away. Every time his memory returned to the Chapel, he had a tingling sensation that he had just experienced something beyond his world. There was no way himself or the twins had thrown that glass across that room.

At the beginning of the Séance, each one had placed their fingers gently on the glass. It had instantly moved with such force across the letters, choosing each one precisely. They were resting on the glass when it had been propelled across the room from under their fingertips. All three had been alarmed by this phenomenon. It wasn't natural. It was Supernatural. This stirred Jay; he had craved this for so long. The Holy Grail. Now, he was studying the laptop screen, watching the footage he captured, in slow, step by step account, frame by frame, motion. The twins were either side of him, as curious.

"There," Jay said, slowing the footage down further. All three studied harder. On the screen was a mist, moving fast. The mist had mass. It had form. Jay's excitement grew. "It moves with Intent. Look." He clicked the mouse, and moved the scene along frame – the white mass appears – by frame – it moves to the glass – by frame – the glass leaving their fingers – by frame – the glass exploding off the wall in the background – by frame – the mist disappearing. "Do you get it now? There is no way that mist was my breath. We've caught something fantastic here. You must admit, guys?"

Gareth said, "That's impressive. Something didn't like us doing that. Euan agrees. We can show this to people; but nobody will believe us. They will say we staged it all and faked it."

"Fuck um," Jay said. "We could catch a full-bodied apparition doing a tap dance in front of the camera, and nobody would believe us. They would say we faked it. If I worried about anyone else's opinions about the Paranormal, I would have given up ages ago. I've waited a long time to capture evidence like this."

He isolated the audio from the footage and moved it into his audio analysing software to search for EVP's and reinstated his headphones. "I'll analyse the grunt. I'm telling you, that wasn't me, either. We could have two pieces of evidence corresponding simultaneously. This could be fantastic beyond belief."

On the screen was a variety of squiggly lines along the top and various windows on the desk top, showing graphs measuring frequency, time and volume. The two lines running in parallel at the top, were the left and right channels of stereophonic audio. All together Jay was investigating the visual representation of sound. Every now and then there was a major spike in the lines. Jay paused and listened to these blips through his headphones. It was mainly them talking or the glass screeching as it moved along the board. No background noise. Jay listened to all the noises beyond, while studying the lines, blipping like a heart monitor on acid. He approached the footage where the glass had been thrown across the room, and there he heard the grunt, followed by himself and Gareth swearing all the profanities from f to f and then some, followed by the commotion of retrieving the fragments.

Jay went back to the grunt and noticed that just after the grunt there was a small, almost imperceptible, blip on the line. He isolated this section of audio and listened to it on its own. There was something there, hiding in the depths. He used the software to amplify this sound and there it was, in full stereophonic sound, "Die." Jay sat back, startled. He composed himself, like a true detective.

The grunt had been heard by the human ear and recorded at human range. The word spoken just after was at the level below human range; hence why they hadn't previously heard it on the equipment or real time back in the room. Jay married both sections up again and understood the bigger picture: the grunt was followed by a single word masked below human frequency, shrouded in a sinister threat. He heard it. "Die." The guttural - Die. He replayed it to loop; die, die, die. With a definite D and intonation. Not human. "We've got a great EVP."

Jay stuck the headphones on Gareth's ears and replayed the audio. Gareth lit up. "That's mean. It almost comes out at you." He stuck the headphones on Euan. Euan nodded in agreement and beamed his true thoughts back at his equal partner. "Euan thinks we should get back up there and stir it up some more. See what else happens."

"Really?" Jay asked. "Did neither of you hear the word? It says, Die."

The twins shrugged. Gareth said, "Bring it on. We're always antagonising things and nothing's ever happened to us. They're all wimps," Gareth announced to the Castle, "Well, I'm here and so is my brother. Why don't you show us what you've got?"

"I don't think that's wise, at this very moment. You've got to have respect for them, dudes. We don't know what we're messing with. Think about it."

"What's the worst thing that could happen?" Gareth said. "Euan wants to know." He looked hard into his brother's mind, then called out to the Castle, "If there's something evil here, perhaps it would like to touch one of us?"

"Are you sure you're not just thinking about that 'She Devil' on the altar?" Jay smirked.

The twins grinned, casting their minds back to her enrapture. "Sure, she can touch us wherever she likes. – Seriously though, we've done this shit loads of times and the worse we've ever had is a scratch down our backs. That's all they can do. It's all they have ever managed. It doesn't scare us."

It was Jay's turn to shrug. "Then you boys carry on. I still have loads of reviewing to do. Two static cameras to check out. I want to see if I've filmed the stained glass windows. Either that or check my brain."

The twins made their way to the door. Jay had mixed feelings. In a way he envied their tenacity. The twins really were out to test things, he could see that, but with this should come restraint. They didn't seem to possess any. Jay was all for pushing the boundaries but he knew the darkness enough to respect it. The warnings were in place. Something wanted Wye to die. It had spelt this out. It had said 'Die' aloud. What more warning did anyone need? He didn't believe this force had the power to kill, as such. In this he agreed with the twins. At the same time, he did see this as a message.

And where was Wye? Jay hadn't seen her for some time, since he had left her with Debbie and Dave. She was bound to be safe in her dippy hippie cute little way. Probably lost in a fancy, hugging walls and seeing what energies she could detect. She was very dreamy, when she did this. Jay had admired her enthusiasm and the way the moonlight shone in her eyes of pure blue oceans. He had dared not to fall in. He had felt how warm her hand and how reassuring her protective heart had felt. He had wanted to remain holding her hand as strange emotions flowed over him, through him; and he could stay in this moment of uncertainty; terrified to open up to face his demons clawing ever closer to be near him, so long as he could remain in her aura, holding hands; united against the world. – Shame Lois broke them apart – he thought.

He hadn't allowed himself to go there. He hadn't wanted to 'open up'. That would be way too vulnerable a place. He hadn't acknowledged Wye really, either. He hadn't let on that holding her hand had caused such a rush. He didn't wonder why he was still thinking of her and missing her company now. He wanted to show her this footage and get her opinion. He wanted to warn her to be careful, because something in this Castle thinks it's funny to make threats. Earlier, she had made her wishes clear; she had wanted to search the Castle by herself before hooking up with him. He had to respect that. She wasn't in his team. She was working as an individual, she had made this clear. A brave lady. He had to admire her for that. She was no screamer; he had figured out this much. She would make a good agent in his team. He smiled to himself.

He bit into another beef sandwich as he replayed footage from the first of two static cameras pointing at the crucifix on the ledge below the window. The only footage was the stationary golden cross. He fast-forwarded and searched the entire footage; beginning to end. He hadn't filmed the window. He hadn't captured the pictures change within it, and now he was doubting his own mind.

Not a safe place. He feared insanity. He had seen many things as a kid; his great-grandmother in a straightjacket, rocking in an asylum. Crazy scared him. The worse thing of it all was seeing her in her coffin – in the asylum. What sort of parents take their small son to see that level of grotesque. They needn't wonder why he was still screwed up inside. Still running around trying to make sense of it all; his great-grandmother's crazy fucked up dead face screaming at him to help as she lay there putrefying. She had heard the voices, plain and clear. She swore they were Spirits talking to her. They sectioned her for her own safety as these voices screamed out from her; spitting to the world.

Jay didn't want to hear their voices in his head. He was happy listening in on his devices where he could analyse and rationalise most things back round to normal. Stay sane. Sane is such a safe place to be. Safe is good.

Jay questioned his memory again. The stained glass window had been a magnificent work of art. He had admired the angels and demons fighting in a thunderous sky and the gleaming sword in the foreground, the demon handing his Queen a red gem, untouchable and invincible as battle went on around them. The noise struck Jay the most; it had been so graphic and all action he could hear their war-cries and the clash of weapons. He had studied the Earth below and marvelled at the beauty in which the sinner was falling from the black Tower; hands splayed in acceptance as he fell to the fires; consumed utterly. He had even marvelled at the woman on a white horse at the bottom centre of the scene. Now the window was different and all those scenes were gone; replaced with a mosaic depicting shards of broken glass of every colour; explosive and creative.

He began the process of searching through the footage on the second camera, with a burning hopefulness. In his flight case, behind, was a KII. Its LED lights were spiking frantically through the spectrum of colours. He didn't notice.

# 13

The Guards room was deathly quiet. The only furniture was the usual lame bed, rickety chair and a wardrobe. Along the one cold stone wall was an old dresser with a horizontal mirror, leaning back because the floors in this room were so uneven. There was one window, obscure, set back in the tower wall and from it was a gracious view of the forests and a slight view of the courtyard all lit in a blanket of moonlight silver. The canopies were like witches hats in the haunting sky. Clouds raced, hiding the moon, only again to reveal her; this silver sphere. Her magical energy gifted to this dimension from the Elemental Realm, if one knew how to harness it.

Debbie and Dave were in the Guards Room, investigating. They had left the kitchen together and come to this room because Jay had told them, along the way, that he had caught a few spikes on his KII when he first got here. Dave had been interested in this because he hadn't found any EMF in the Castle at all, and would have to see it to believe it.

The room was in darkest shadows. Debbie had just started asking out and was getting a response. She was holding her own KII meter and looking into the night-vision camera her husband was holding. "Are you female?" Debbie asked.

The LED lights remained motionless. Only the first green light was lit to prove it was working.

"Are you male?" the row of LEDs lit up through to red. The strongest burst possible on this piece of equipment. "So you are male. Can you confirm, please? Only light the lights for a yes." They lit up on cue. Debbie gushed to Dave, "I told you I felt something here when I came in. Look – Look at the lights."

"I am," Dave said.

"Film the lights. Not me. I'm going to ask out again," Debbie pushed the KII outstretched to the lens to block her features, as much as force the evidence in his ignorant smug face. "Show my husband you are here. He doesn't believe you. He thinks it is coincidence; my questions and your responses. Show him you can communicate with me. Make him jealous."

The quiet lights lit up.

"Ha – told you, Dave. What more proof do you want?"

Dave sighed, humouring the moment, "You're going to have to do a lot more than that to make me jealous. If you want her, you can have her."

Debbie dropped her shoulders and puffed. "Well that's just lovely – and who said romance is dead." The KII spiked crazily. Debbie stared at the lights. "Is romance dead?" Nothing. "If it's not dead then is romance alive?" Bang - bang, the LEDs lit across the spectrum in sharp blasts. Debbie giggled. "Are you flirting with me?" Nothing. "I said, are you flirting with me?" Debbie felt something touch her hair. In the darkness, she felt it. "Have you just touched my hair?" KII responded its Yes. "Do you like my hair?" Yes, again.

"This is all bullshit," Dave said, moving around with the camera because filming the stone wall would be better than entertaining his wife and her new-found fantasy.

"You made him jealous," Debbie continued, her red cheeks flushing. "He feels threatened by you. That's why he won't let himself experience you. I know you're here. My name's Debbie." She lost patience. "Give me the goddamn camera." She went to her husband and took the camera off him. She wanted to know more about this Spirit in the Guards Room, even if her husband was playing dumb. She paid him the dirty look he deserved, and she spoke into the lens for a Selfie while holding the KII in her other hand, in shot. "I want to know your name, lover boy." She ignored her husband's groaning in the blackness behind the camera. "If you speak out slowly and clearly, I will be able to hear you when I review the footage. Can you please tell me your name? Could you do this - now..."

Debbie waited thirty seconds, needing silence to analyse any unearthly noise, her husband still moaning and wining beneath his breath, stupid sized feet shuffling just for the added irritation. All the evidence would be corrupted therefore no 'Class A' proof, but still she would enjoy herself regardless. She knew she was communicating with the Spirit World. It was always such fun to make contact and bring the worlds closer together. Such fun indeed.

Debbie focused past the lens at her oaf of a man, making nothing out but sensing all wasn't quite right with this picture. She couldn't see into the dark shadows no matter how she strained. She turned the camera around and looked through the night vision camera at her husband. He had his back to her and was standing awkwardly in a haze of green. Unnaturally awkwardly like his neck was broken – except it was moving. And then he moved, and Debbie could make out the ghost in the room. The ghost was a woman, dressed in red and black Victoriana; hands all over him.

Debbie's turn to be jealous. Such great evidence and such betrayal in one mighty swoop. She knew she should remain filming but this was too much. "Dave? What are you doing?"

Dave felt the last of this woman's kiss leave his puckered lips. It had been so warm and enticing. He came back to his senses and stared hard at his wife behind the red LED on the camera. He had been kissing another woman. She had been groping him, feeling his bum and pecks, (man boobs). And he had been this hero for a moment, twenty and youthful, with own teeth and hair. And now her lips had left his, he was this mere man in his forties and old enough to know better. - The camera said as much. Guilt riddled features spluttering away in the darkness, the lens shining on. - "I've just kissed a ghost," Brain stuttered stupidly. "I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

"You kiss all the girls you just accidently bump into?" Debbie asked, camera trembling through burbling rage. "Coz it didn't take you long."

"Listen to yourself" Dave asked. "This doesn't make any sense. It's a ghost."

"So that's not betrayal?" Debbie gasped, feeling the threat of ill-temper rising like a tsunami and threatening her equilibrium. "So that makes it all right?"

"Of course not, but that wasn't me. Something came over me. I'm not like that, Debbie. You should know me by now." Dave became aware of the woman standing in the darkness. "She's still here, Debbie. Can you see her?"

"Of course I can!" Debbie snapped, hand threatening to throttle the trollop's neck and was doing a good job on the camera.

"That's because I'm real." The Goth chick stepped out the shadows into the moonlight. "That confusion was a moment, wasn't it?" she asked Dave. She turned to Debbie, "I'm bad. I was looking for the other gentleman in the room."

"Who the fuck are you?" Dave asked, even more shocked to find she was human. "How did you get in here?"

The Goth pondered, biting her pure white teeth down onto her red lip. "Through the window."

"What? This window?" Debbie asked, studying the small closed window, two storeys up.

"No - a pretty window. I was locked out. It's taken me ages and ages to get here. I wouldn't miss this show for the world, you know. It's always such a blast."

"You broke in?" Debbie asked, astonished. "You're not on the Guest List?"

"Honey, I'm always on the Guest List. I always find my way in to a good party. People prefer a party with me in it. You get me?"

"No. Sorry. We had to pay good money for these tickets. It's a bloody nerve." Debbie flushed hard.

"You will all get your value here; worry not, little one. My how you fret. Chill your boots – I mean... running shoes. How insightful." She walked across to the chair next to the bed and sat down to stretch out her legs with feline dexterity. She placed a heeled black boot onto the bed and stretched her long slender back as she reached across to her toes. "It's such a dense place, this one. It makes me ache. I need time to adjust."

The Goth stretched out her other booted leg and reached out to its end, letting the pure air of this dimension fill her up. She let the breath out.

Debbie kept the camera on the Goth, dressed in garb best described as Steam Punk. Debbie was scared and fascinated.

"Are you for real?" Dave asked, more confused than ever.

Angel gathered her skirts up at the ankle and slowly began pulling them up over her boots all the way to their top. She moved the petticoats some more just enough for her to glimpse down to the flesh of her inner thighs. She marvelled at human beauty. Such a picture of pure skin. So feminine this place. Hinting everything to move higher; just a quick touch, just to see gentle folds of inner bliss and the skirts hiding this secret treasure; this Sacred Truth. Such sin as this. "Does this look real to you?"

Dave gulped down his dry throat. Debbie would kill him if he tried to answer now. He would whimper some more. The Goth had made him whimper in the dark earlier. He held his breath stave divorce.

Angel looked from her inner thighs to her naked cleavage, plumped high with the tightness of her corset. Human breasts. Physical and real. And her own. Mother Nature knew what she was doing handing these out to comfort, nurture and destroy. Wars had started because of these; souls lost because of these. She felt their firmness, nestling each one into her hands. She pushed them together. She could feel the attraction as her sexuality came to life, sparking a curious excitement of magic in her loaned mortal body. She might be reluctant to let this body go, once she tires of this party. This body felt good. Bane had proven her this from the inside out. He had been furious with her for leaving him behind. He had dealt his punishment good and proper; and she had loved every pleasure and pain, exploding outwards from deep within and now she was learning her body on the outside. She was enjoying her curves, hands spread, feeling down her corset and flat tummy and back up over the silk and lace to the rise of her breasts and the firm buds awakening.

Dave groaned out a long suffering sigh. That was an accident too. He forgot himself.

"You're being disgusting," Debbie said to the Goth as much as her husband. "What's wrong with you? You don't just come in here and start doing that in front of two strangers. Are you mad?"

Angel laughed. "Sorry, I'm just admiring my body. Isn't it wonderful?"

"Fucking fantastic." Debbie burst. "But do you have to parade around so outlandishly? Is it really necessary? Must you be so dramatic? Sometimes less is more."

"Not really, though is it?" Angel asked, prowling a catwalk to her victim. "I'm just the type to always want more, personally. It's in my nature to jump around the Multiverse causing big bad shit to happen. Is this your Universe?" Angel lent into Debbie and then dropped down to her haunches, animal-like. Angel felt around the airy shadows, blindly. "I can't see a thing." She held a hand to her ear. "Can't hear a voice, louder than your own?" She rose. She placed her hand on her own forehead. "Your windows are still not open. Who holds you back?" she hissed. She stood there savouring the moment, lapping up on every negative emotion coursing through Debbie's body. Anger, sadness, fear, guilt and hurt. The real nasty ones. Wars had started over these emotions. Souls had been lost.

"I opened my third eye earlier, thank you." Debbie huffed. "I do know what I'm doing."

"Did you? Really? Which one of those negative emotions is blocking you, then? Which emotion governs you?"

"What?"

"Which one stops you from jumping through a window and into the abyss to fly with us? Which one would you give to me now?"

Debbie was fuming, angered by this condescending trollop. She was sad because her husband didn't fancy her anymore. She was also fearful because she had never met anyone like this in all her born days and was unsure how to act. She was guilty because she had unconsciously pushed him away over time, and hurt because she had witnessed him lusting over another woman. Realising this, weakened her; overwhelmed her. She felt drained of energy as she travelled through them. She had been so mean to her husband, and she had loved him once. She still did. She knew this now. The Goth had proven this. She was staring each issue around each special emotion square on and felt all these emotions disappear away: all these negative feelings left her. She wanted to cry. The moment was cathartic. She sobbed, slumped, letting go of the defences as her walls came crashing down. Clarity.

Dave went to her and grabbed her, "I'm sorry, babe. I never meant to hurt you."

She sobbed up at him; he had trampled over all her debris to come to her. "I know." He kissed her on the forehead.

"Such a touching moment." Angel smiled. She was fully energised, having fed off so many negative emotions; she was ready for the battle. "I'm on my way to the Prison, on the floor above. I just thought I'd pop in here and say hello to an old friend, but he's hiding from me well. Debbie – open yourself completely. Don't be such a drag."

"How the hell do you know my name?" Debbie asked.

"You are on the Guest List. You signed up for this shit. You wanna enjoy the adventure some more? Let go."

Angel turned to Dave, and fuelled up on Fear. He smelled so strongly of it, it was causing her to salivate. "You'll stay closed because you have a world load of pride and a very fragile ego. For now, I prefer you to keep them. Keep feeding them." Angel went to the window and looked out at the mystical scene and drew on the enchantment of it all. She whispered, "You know to experience anything at first you must believe. Belief comes before experience. Your eyes will only see what your mind is willing to comprehend. What do you want to experience?" she asked over her shoulder. "If you believe in magic you can use the magic. You believe the forests are real outside this window, then they are."

She turned to the couple and walked towards them, dress catching moonbeams like frosted ice. She stood before Debbie, who leaned away slightly, and ran her thumb up one salty cheek, collecting tears full of deep emotion. She pressed it against her lips, and sucked down to taste these flavours.

The salt gave her away. The burning was so intense it superseded the flavour of Sadness. It burned through the multiply flavours of Guilt, Hurt and the rest. She spat them out and walked to the door, hips swaying. Salt is a precious mineral and glorious crystal; a blessing from the Elemental Realm to the Physical Realm. A cherished gift laced with multiple healing properties. And that is why all humans cry; water to cleanse and salt to heal. This was a quality she didn't wish to endure. She had been grateful Bane had done this for her; swallowed the salt to use the water of life; suffered his pain with an infernal mouth of flames he breathed. In all his rituals and beliefs, he had granted her access; allowing her through to fuel up on this level of the Game; the master illusion.

Debbie felt disgusted by this woman, who had broken in through a Widow and gate-crashed the Event, and come on to her husband, then had proceeded to fondle herself in front of their eyes, only to finish by spitting on the floor. Vile. Pure and simple, and when Debbie gets to see Amazeballs T, she was going to have a serious word with him. Debbie wasn't about to say anything now as the crazy Goth chick was making to leave and she wanted her gone.

Angel reached into her silk purse and pulled out lipstick. She coloured her lips with blood red, her favourite. Just for the hell of it, she looked the married couple deeply into their souls. "You believe the curse is real, then it will be. Ask the Guard. He's in here somewhere, cowering in the outer regions."

# 14

The Widow wanted the Guard to climb down from his lofty height and open the door to the Dining Hall. But he didn't even know he held the key. This had been her conclusion for the past 300 Earth years away from him. He would have released her that fateful Honey Moon night if it had been that easy: they could have ran across the dimensions together. Where was he now? Her love? Trapped somewhere a billion light years away in the wormholes threading through the Intergalactic Life Force of Forever. That's a faraway place, even the Widow was pushed to recall.

She knew he would still be in the Castle boundaries of the Physical Realm. Emotionally they were lost. So much pain had torn them apart and now they were lost totally from each other. Both prisoners of their destinies. Both had chosen which door to leave by. It hadn't been the same door. The Widow sank to her knees and buried her head, stave the pain burning through her solar plexus as her heart chakra grew ever heavier. "All this pain I feel. I can't take anymore."

She could see Jay in the Physical, replaying footage. She had tried so hard to grab his attention and nothing had worked. It was such hard work to convince the Sleeping Ones. She barely had the energy left to care anymore. What was the point? Nobody was listening. Nobody was helping. Across all the realms nothing cared, it seemed. She was left to get on with it, work it out all over again for herself and still she was stuck. How much more would this state of being suck her dry?

She was a healer; had given so much of herself and they had murdered her for it. Now she was here unable to move forward into the new Realm of Existence because the Dining Hall of the Physical Realm always drew her back. She was unable to heal herself. She couldn't leave her husband and go off on the next adventure without him. She loved him so much. Surely this should be enough to beckon him out of the Guards Room, down the stairs and across to her. All he had to do was believe in himself and do it. All he had to do was find a way to open the doorway and step across to her.

Many candidates had come to this Castle to play this Game, throughout time. She had seen many lose, so many fall, so many more lost souls had failed this level. They were trapped in the walls now. She didn't want to be trapped, using the walls to communicate; the quartz magic gifted by the Fairy Queen. She wanted total freedom to share her eternity with her soul mate, except he too was trapped by his own misery. He had to be trapped or he would be trying harder to reconnect with her.

How frustrating. As a healer, she still wasn't being heard. So much wisdom she had learnt across this Game of Enlightenment, and still it didn't matter because nobody else was on her level to acknowledge. If she could get one of the teams here to prick up their deaf ears and listen, she could ask for their help to find her husband and communicate through a messenger.

She bared down to the floor and let the pain out of her in a mournful cry. All this was unbearable. A personal hell. She cradled herself. Things were getting desperate. She could see enough from here in the Dining Hall to picture what was going on during this Event tonight. There seemed to be only one who was capable of seeing her. Wye; the girl named after a river, born with depth. Wye hadn't returned since. The Widow had sensed the Journal had been in Wye's back pack when she had leant against the wall earlier. The Widow knew she had been The One: chosen to play the game, consciously. Someone on the outside world had invited Wye to find the Journal and play the Game – play her role in activating the Castle tonight. Tonight was a special night for the Widow because it was a Honey Moon.

The Widow had tried to rouse Jay to acknowledge her and maybe help, but he was too absorbed with Bane, playing mind games on the monitors she had also watched. She wished she was capable of throwing a glass in the Physical Realm. She would bounce it off Jay's head and make him wake up but it was too much strength to move anything. If it was done by utilizing a certain emotion then the Widow had yet to discover it. She had tried in the past to swipe crucifixes and torches, and had passed right through them all. Perhaps it needed a certain strong emotion behind the swipe. Anger would be a good one. Sure she was angry. She could lash out in her most hostile of moments and not affect the Physical Realm, whereas all she would destroy was a part of herself, bit by tiny bit, time after astronomical time.

"Randolph! I love you! Come to me!" She screamed letting her war-cry ring out for all to hear, thinking nobody would. She jumped to her feet and ran to the door, stopping an inch off the membrane instead of jumping through it – after all, she didn't want to be repelled back and land awkwardly on the floor again.

She called through the membrane. "It's a Honey Moon. It's been a year since my last attempt. Now is the night. Hear me!" She pictured him locked in the Guards Room, shamed and humiliated, the stuffing of life knocked from him because his house of cards had come crashing down, and the only card turned picture side up had been the Death card. He had died in that moment. 300 years ago, he had taken this Tarot card literally and done as he thought was needed. He had blood let. He had died the mortal death by suicide. He was equally trapped. He had left her behind and moved forward without her, or so she had thought. He had broken her heart by leaving her in the Physical Realm. It had been their wedding night. It had been their Honeymoon.

She heard the giggle coming from the mirror. The Widow wiped her eyes. Dread flooded her. She heard it again. The distant giggle in the Astral through the mirror above the fireplace. She moved cautiously, this was a dangerous night. Anything could happen. So much had been activated in the Castle nobody in this Game had a clue what would happen next; and anything could. It all depended on the players; each and every one of them would play a hand.

The Widow too, was in the process of playing the Game. She too was stuck in her own personal Gauntlet. She too was in the process of running to Randolph when everything shifted in the Castle and went wrong. 300 years ago, she had consciously chosen to partake in the Game, and she too had picked a card. She had sat on her own in the Chaplains Room, and had chosen her card. The Hermit Card truly was a lonely card. She had found her way to the Sacred Journal Room in the catacombs and gazed into the Oval Magic Mirror and seen the Tarot image of the Hermit suspended in the ethereal over her shoulder. She had chosen to learn more about herself and the cosmos; explore her beliefs and stretch them as she read the Sacred Journal. She could hear the sounds through the tunnels of the fortress soldiers coming to find her, announcing the King is dead and cursing her sorcery. She had ran. She had sneaked about to find her way to the Dining Hall only to be greeted by hordes of local savages. This Castle would give your hearts deepest desire or worst nightmare. It all came down to focus, a load of True Intent and Faith in magic. The Widow had learnt this much. What could be so difficult? A 300 year old Gauntlet and still she was stuck at the beginning.

More players were obviously jumping in. This was worrying. The Widow had felt true despair all over again, when she saw what they had actually caught on camera through her own true spirit eyes. She had stood beside Jay and watched the truth unfold. She tuned herself down into a lower frequency, and listened on the energy wave lower than human hearing. She had realised then that Bane had been resurrected from his pit. She had seen him moving around the Chapel, calling upon the Mother of all Demons to smash through her portal window. She had heard the conversation which followed. Evil was loose in the Castle. Not just on one level, but across two. The demon bitch was in the Physical Realm and her Hooded Lover was on another. Both would be making a clear shot to take full domination of the Game. This would be carnage. Her Gauntlet could go on for another thousand Earth years before the sleeping manage to wake up.

The Widow made it to the mirror, and peered in while sensing everything across every dimension as potentially unstable. She knew this Castle well enough now to know that everything could shift again, and everything could change in a heartbeat.

She, more than most, had learnt not to dabble. All she could do was hope. Hope Randolph picks up his Gauntlet and comes marching on to rescue her. He had been a strong warrior, he had been a Mighty King. He had been a man at arms with brothers surrounding him in battles. He had thundered down enemies with his fortress soldiers at his back. He had been a noble and respected leader, then he met his downfall. He lost his heart to a witch he made Queen.

A hooded stranger had been there at the ceremony, mixing amongst the guests. He had bided his time and taken the opportunity later in the evening to present the royal couple his gifts; a Journal and letter, an oval mirror and a deck of cards wrapped in red cloth. This was to be King Randolph's ruination as the Game sucked him in and he stepped into the belly of it until it consumed him. The King lost his mind, spouting of other worlds beyond this existence, as he gazed into the mirrors. His people blamed his new wife for his madness, branding her a witch for teaching Divination. This new Queen was killing their King. She was bringing down the Kingdom from the inside out; so his people presumed. He had barely put the ring on her finger and the crown on her head, when he climbed into his bath and decided to slash his wrists with his blades and laid down his weight of vile flesh and loathsome body, in the waters amongst his red robe and royal blood. He had protected and served these fortress walls – and now he was stuck with them. Many of his finest men were stuck in them. His army was split, he was defeated, this final battle lost. Evil had won.

The Widow watched through the portal mirror above the fireplace at the land so magical. The forests and mountains stretching out as far as she could see, the waterfalls alive as the smell of summer days wafted to her. She saw the girl over by a brook talking to the Fool. She was giggling which was a joy to hear. The Widow took some comfort in that. Wye had chosen a good aspect of herself to explore conjoined with a good Tarot card, the Fool. Whichever witch, in the Room at the Top, had drawn a good card from the pack they were obviously playing.

The Widow prayed a whispered prayer it stays that way. She had liked Wye. She had seen herself in her. The way she tapped into the Earth Energy with Faith and conviction so abundant it had to work; the magical seal had been broken. Wye was a significant step closer to All-Knowing.

The Widow took a deeper look into the mirror to see beyond understanding. Others lurked there, some not so nice. In every dimension there is balance. Across every plane resides good and evil. The Fool was good. The card had manifested into a real person with whom Wye could engage and learn. The Widow had no intention of remembering back through other events held at this Castle where the cards had fallen badly, swords flying.

If only the Sleeping Ones could listen; she could have saved them in time. The Widow had been a Gift they sought if they had only listened to her warnings. She could have shown them ghosts are real, if they were only to truly believe. She could have utilized the energy of their beliefs and turned it into something tangible, like an audible voice they would all hear - and qualify herself back over to them. Then they would have gained Faith – one of the highest energies she could utilize to save them. She could have given them back their lives and sent them home running after they got a message to her husband stuck eternally in the Guards Room. She could have whispered clearly to the entire group: Don't open the Journal; that nest of worms. Keep locked the windows. This was too late now. - Batten down the hatches. Now there was no going home. And there was strictly no going backwards in this Game. That was an entirely different wormhole.

She knew the dangers in the Journal. It wasn't so much with what was seen to be written as what lay between the lines. The Widow hoped the Journal had not been studied closely. That the written words of ink had been taken literally. - For when you look in the mirror, you are holding up a reflection of yourself, and when you search inside the deeper aspects of yourself your world literally shifts.

Thankfully, Wye had taken these words literally, and had not been fazed. She was light enough to choose an aspect of herself also as light. The purple mountains in her world truly did sparkle of Amethyst. The Widow envied her this as she looked around the Dining Hall of her own Dimension. The Dining Hall still had her blood splattered up the walls. Most witches were hanged in her day, but she had been stoned to death; fear and hatred from her own people had delivered her deathly blows.

Beyond this room was her new Realm, free to roam, explore and adventure. She wouldn't go into it; not without her strong King by her side. Here in this Dining Hall was the closest she was ever likely to be with him, and if she failed to make contact with him tonight, another year would pass before she could try – and fail again.

# 15

Jay was busy reviewing footage when Debbie came gushing into the Dining Hall, followed by a lagging Dave. He was so engrossed in his investigating, he didn't hear her approach until she was upon him, pushing a camera screen into his face.

"You need to take a look at this." She pressed play. The small screen showed the Guards Room and her communicating with a KII. "I've had communication with a male spirit."

"That's nice." Jay smiled. He turned to her excited face and drew his ace. "I've been warned off by a demon." It sounded too good to be true but there it was hanging in the air for Dave to sneer at. Strangely, Dave seemed subdued. "You ok?" Jay asked.

"It's been quite a night. I'm drained. I need coffee."

"Beef sandwich?" Jay offered one across to each, while folding one into his own mouth. "It's all the red blood. It's good for battle."

Dave sneered. There it was. He had better things to report. "A girl has broken into the Castle and has decided to join us on this Event for free. It's a bloody nerve. Have you seen Amazeballs T?"

"I think I've had the same pleasure." Jay recalled Angel being a little devil. "As for Amazeballs T. - He's in the cupboard. He reckons he isn't coming out 'til morning. What a Light Weight."

Debbie stamped her foot at the men indignantly. "Are neither of you going to listen to me? Forget her. She's just a sex mad drama Queen. We will see Amazeballs -T in a bit and get her chucked out, but this is important."

Jay shrugged an apology. He really did love beef though. "You want it up on a bigger screen? Shall I share it to my lap top?"

"Would you?" Debbie pleaded. "Enhance the sound. I swear I've got an EVP. I've listened to it back through twice.

Jay asked, "Where's Wye? The last time I saw her, she was going to the kitchen with you guys."

Debbie said, "She had coffee. Got all fidgety, probably from the caffeine rush, and ran out the kitchen. Can't remember where she said she was going. I think she said she was bored. Not seen her since."

"I wish I'd given her a Walkie Talkie, now. Every time I took them off charge, the batteries died and it didn't seem much point." Jay refused to worry unduly, pushing the message on the Ouija Board to the back of his mind. He was a firm believer that nothing can get a hold over you unless you allow it. He wasn't about to let neurotic crazy shit in, and run around freaking everyone out. He wasn't his Great Grandmother, affectionately known as Nanny Cuckoo. He wasn't a screamer. He was a professional. He also knew Wye could take care of herself although he was disappointed. He was bound to bump into her sooner or later. - The Castle wasn't that enormous to keep missing each other completely – thought his logical side.

He loaded the video onto his laptop and began watching it through real time to get a gist of what was occurring. Evidence was better in context, first time round. It allowed for the questioning mind to kick in. "I've had a mad night too, so far. I knew this place was active. As soon as I got here, I could feel it as though it was awake and waiting. I had a sense it would all kick off. – I'm good."

"There it is. Right there. Do you hear it?" Debbie pleaded again, hearing the faint sound on the audio yet again, while ignoring her hair being tugged but it was getting on her nerves. She made to free her hair from the collar of her hoody and realised it was free already. "Has someone just pulled my hair?" She asked, tensing as icy fingers ran like liquid nitrate through the veins in her head. Hairs on her neck stood to attention. "Is there someone in here with us?" Distinctly, Debbie heard two taps. It was on wood. Possibly from the table in front of her, maybe further back. "Are you tapping?" Tap. Tap. She heard it again. "That's very clever of you. It must take a lot of energy to do that. Have you been trying to get my attention?"

The Widow banged on the table leg again with a heavy heeled foot. She had heard her husband's voice shout out for help. As the recording was played, she had heard him. She had heard his voice for the first time in 3oo years. She knew him. She would recognise his voice anywhere through time and space. She was destined to be with him, if they could only release their shackles. The Widow wept as she banged twice more. His voice had been so quiet and pitiful. Where was her King? What had they done to him to make him so weak?

Jay reached into his flight-case. "You wanna try using the Ghost Box?"

"What is it?" Debbie asked.

"It's a radio that constantly searches for a station without stopping. It runs through all the radio frequencies collecting DJ voices and their phonics. It's a theory that Spirit can harness these sounds and turn them into their own spoken words and upload them instantly back, hence no coincidence. Their time must be different to ours because it must take time to do this, right? The communication can be pretty instant so be prepared."

"Are you a believer?" Debbie asked Jay, interested in him for the first time that night. "I'm a believer. My husband won't believe but it doesn't matter."

Jay took a long swig of energy drink. He pondered. "I'm an open minded sceptic. I believe there is something but I'm not sure what it is or how it really works. I'm just scratching beneath the surface. I've had some weird stuff happen here tonight to make me question things a bit deeper. It's like a big jigsaw is laid out in front of me and I'm glued here trying to piece it all together."

"You think too much," Debbie said, feeling excited as Jay wired up the Ghost Box radio to its speaker and switched it on. "Perhaps we should all start thinking outside the box?"

The radio rambled; noises and voices gushing and hissing with regular blips.

Dave said, "It's bloody annoying." Although he lost interest, he tried to wait patiently for his wife. He did love her. Underneath it all, he did love her enthusiasm and Self-Help books and Spiritual magazines. These had helped her get a grip of her anger issues.

Debbie asked out, "If there are any Spirits here in the Dining Hall, speak clearly and use this box, use its random voice and harness the noises. Use it how you know how to communicate real time. We are listening..."

We are listening was such a powerful proclamation. It held true Faith. The energy of this Faith filled the room, one of the highest energies of the Multiverse. And it came from little Debbie. She felt her crown chakra spin, her forehead tingle. She rubbed them both. "If there are any Spirits in the Castle able to speak to us, then step forward now."

The Widow was at the Ghost Box, leaning down to it, sucking in all the nuisances, phonics, sounds and grabbing moods flooding the unseen waves with music. She fuelled up on EMF to convert her Intent into action. And then the floodgates opened. Scores of people ran at her from all corners of the room. Each lost soul was alive, feeding off Debbie's Faith, fuelling up, and stampeding towards her. Each desperate to get a message across to a loved one and set themselves free from their own personal hell.

The Widow made to speak quickly, although it would be garbled she had to be quick. Before she dared open her mouth she saw a formidable sight amongst the hoards. Bane. Her hope was lost.

The Hooded Demon was marching in, flanked by the tormented, the desperate and the scared. The Widow became more determined, she leaned her nimble frame to the box and hurriedly spoke, "Remind the Guard he is a King."

Debbie said, "Are we recording this?"

"We sure are," Jay said.

Amongst the radio noise came one word, spoken out into the room and into each living soul, sending everyone into a state of shock by its clarity. The guttural voice, drew out, "Leave."

"What was that?" Debbie asked. "That wasn't the radio. There is no way that sounded like a DJ."

"We're not going anywhere," Jay announced. "We are going to stay right here. It's going to take more than that to scare us."

Bane was towering over the Widow. She could see the emptiness of his hood as she sought mercy or understanding and was met with nothing short of evil. He leaned into her, grabbed her by the throat and pushed her flying backwards, while again he shouted, "Leave!"

The Widow hit the floor and stayed there. Bane swirled around at all the helpless pathetic creatures trying to find their mummies, and pushed them all back with one mighty angry swipe. He ran at them all as they cowered, falling over, scrambling away. He towered over them, drew in a deep eternal breath and spewed, "Get out!"

Jay heard this through the ghost box. He replied, "We won't get out. We are staying here. Tell us who you are? Why don't you want to communicate with us?"

The Hooded Demon turned to Jay. He loosened his neck. He stepped over the fallen. He trampled on their hopes and crushed their dreams. Their tormented faces hiding from him so not to be singled out. They had been caught trying to escape in a mass mutiny. There could be punishment. There would be consequences. Bane was a cruel ruler. He hissed down at the sorry sad lot and sent them crawling back to imprisonment; the confines of their walls. He glared at the Widow, who remained submissive, lying there gauging him. Some Queen she was. Queen for a night. Prisoner for an eternity. He went to a wall splattered in her blood and licked at it thirstily, fuelling up on the delicious emotions of Fear and Hate. He went to Jay and leaned into the Ghost Box.

Debbie was zoned into the radio noise completely. She heard all the distant voices as though they were talking amongst themselves, garbled and unintelligible. The spoken demands had been clearer than the background mayhem; and very real. She heard a whimper. "Who is that?"

The whimper came again. Followed by a child's voice, "Mummy?"

Debbie's face fell. "I'm not your mummy. Are you looking for your mummy?"

It whimpered again.

"Are you there on your own, Little One? Are you lost?"

"Sad," came the softest voice of a little girl, breaking Debbie's heart.

"Are you sad? Is that right?" She looked at Jay and said, "This Ghost Box is great. I can hear the words so clearly." She looked at her husband. "We need to buy one of these. Listen. Can you hear them?"

Dave leaned into the ghost box. "Is the man still here? The one who wants us to get out and leave?"

The child's voice cried out, "Mummy sad."

Dave was impressed by the timing of these words, for surely a DJ wouldn't be saying this and at this very instant? Debbie was beside herself. "We need to help. What can we do, Little One? How can we help you? Are you trapped? Do you even know you're dead?"

"Break it to her gently, why don't you," Jay said. "That was a bit harsh."

"No offence," Debbie offered. "I say this with respect. What can we do to help you?"

"Die!" Giggled the child. The radio swept over to a station enough to play five seconds of Slayer's Reign in Blood before sweeping on to crackling and blips.

Jay was staggered. Slayer was his favourite band; these almighty gods had saved him from insanity when he was a teenager. Slayer had been his savour from his demons. His music had been his outlet as he buried his demons forever deeper, unable to go there, as he built up walls of great defences and played music loud enough to drown out their screams. And knowing all this, it felt a bit weird that his all-time favourite song should be played on the Ghost Box enough for him to freak.

The child's voice had been a lie. What child would say Die? Jay felt uneasy. It was as though he was on show. Something in this room knew his deepest secrets and darkest fears, and was playing on them.

To top this, the look on Debbie's face said it all. He said to her, "Keep up your Protection. We are dealing with something nasty. There's a negative feeling about this room and that was no child talking to us." He told her what she was already thinking, as he addressed the room, "We aren't about to leave or get out. And there is nothing you can do to make us."

# 16

The Fool handed a net to Wye, and said, "Catch a fish."

Wye was staggered. How could she possibly catch one when they were so hectic; randomly jumping in and out of the brook that everything was unpredictable. She trusted the Fool. She knew there was a reason he was requesting of her this task. He was fun too. He had made her laugh so often in the time she was here and she was so utterly happy. This was her Utopia. This was how she had always pictured Heaven. Everywhere was breathtakingly stunning. Everything was alive. The mountains were magnificent, comprising of Amethyst and Clear Quartz; and exuberating Peace and Clarity. They filled her up in such qualities as the mountain energy reached out to her. She felt at home.

The fish were alive. They each had a personality. As they jumped out of the water to fly for a moment, they had each taken turns to acknowledge Wye. They whooped and hollered before dramatically diving down under the water. It would all be bizarre except it was real and the most natural thing in the world. How would she even go about catching one? Which would she chose? They were all having such a grand time in the ebb and flow of the water. The brook was fed from the waterfall spewing cleansing properties from afar away purple mountain. The sound of its force could be heard as a hush of calming tranquillity. The prettiest water-feature nature could carve.

Not wanting to disappoint the Fool, Wye leaned towards the brook, her feet secure on the bank. She held out the branch with the net attached and waved it clumsily above the surface. "Here fishy, fishy?" She didn't want to catch one. She was doing a good job.

The Fool flopped down on the bank, laughing. She really was a sight to see. She was a delight and a treasure all rolled into one. Her red locks cascading down her back and eyes of blue - as blue as any sky here in this dimension. "You've chosen a good place to find yourself," the Fool acknowledged dreamily. He lay back and relaxed, admiring innocence in another.

Wye turned to him. She loved his cheeky smile. He reminded her of her brother. He felt like kin. She looked around her world. Each time she truly took it in, there was something different to discover. Her heart was open; filling up on the wonders of creation. "This place is amazing."

"Yep. It's one of the better aspects of you. All this is in you. Do you remember better now?"

"I think I'm getting it. It's a lot to take in; all this multi-dimensional stuff. I'm trying not to be confused."

The Fool sprang to his feet. "Wake up and enjoy the moment." He threw out his arms. "It's all we have. It's everything we have. It's all happening now."

A fish jumped into Wye's net, startling her, she squealed. "I've caught one." The fish looked up at her; mouth opening, closing to gasp for life. "What do you want me to do with it?" she called to the Fool.

The silver fish shone teal outlined scales and looked at her in disgust. It said, "Are you actually considering eating me?"

"Ahh!" Wye gasped. The fish spoke. She grabbed the net and pulled hard to stretch it, setting the fish to escape. It stayed put. "Out you go. Go on. Swim free. Go find your friends."

The Fool was laughing again. Wye was struggling hard with the fish to release it. The fish was being obstinate, pulled hard on the net, and toppled Wye into the brook. She landed face down as the fish swam free. The Fool was laughing as much as the fish.

Wye lay there, face submerged in the world which lay beneath, and watched as little snails slithered diamond paths over crystal rocks, and every colour of coral waved tentacle hands at her, as they too acknowledge her big face invading their business. Angel fish danced by, blowing kisses with Jagger lips. One huge bubble broke from her lips as Wye blew a kiss back at the hidden world, and she meant it with all her heart.

The bubble of love bounced around the underworld as the magical creatures played ball with it. Wye was snatched from out of the depths by a firm hand. The Fool stood her upright, effortlessly. As Wye got her bearings, she realised they were both in the brook, knee-deep in mystical gold as the sun shone down. She was drenched; dripping wet.

"You can't stay under there all day. Even if you are named after a great river," the Fool said. "You can't breathe it in. Not even here. Unless you want to stay here, that is."

Wye rang out her hair, spluttering water she wasn't even aware she had consumed. "That was mad. I saw all sorts of weird under there." Careful not to cause injury to what lay beneath, she clambered out of the brook, followed by the Fool wearing a permanent smile. "How long can I stay here?" she asked.

The Fool shrugged. "It's your call. It's your Game. You can be the only one to decide all of that. What would you like to experience next?" He pushed out his yellow pointed shoe, dropped to his hands and stood, orange soles to the air in a perfect handstand. "You want to check out the world this way up?" he asked as his yellow hat fell off, landing on grass.

Four Dragon flies flew in like miniature helicopters in formation. They latched onto the hat and flew off with it. Wye made chase, jumping over carefully constructed ant hills in her wake to descend on the thieves. They were amazing in their armour, shimmering greens, purples and blues, and they were quick; buzzing this way and that, Wye was disorientated keeping up. They flew higher. "Put it down!" They did as told and dropped the hat. It landed in a tree. The first bow up of the Might Oak. The Oak seemed surprised, opened its eyes and looked annoyed at Wye. Wye jumped back. "Sorry. That wasn't me. That was them." She pointed at the mischievous dragons flying away. This sounded bizarre. Even to her ears, this sounded crazy. "I'm talking to a tree."

"It's not the first time, is it?" the Oak asked.

Wye pondered this. She had always walked through the forest back home talking to the trees. She had a sense they could hear her in that they were capable of listening. She had poured out her heart in the past. It had always made her feel better; unburdening herself to trees. "It must be the Druid Ancestry?" Wye tried to rationalise.

"Confide it to the trees." The Oak agreed. "We enjoy such coexistence with you. We are symbiotic: it's a mutual and fair exchange. Everything is connected. Simple." The Oak leaned in and shimmied like a belly-dancer doing isolations; its top most leaves quivered as the wave reverberated down through its trunk until all of its magnificence was glinting in the summer sun, sparkling in a magical light show that Wye was absorbed. "What about a hug?"

Wye giggled. "I do hug trees, don't I? Quite a lot. People think I'm mad."

"They don't know you. You're the sanest person I know. - Wrap yourself around me and hold on."

Wye did this. The trunk was huge; her span didn't cover any real section of the trunk. She held tight and looked up at the puffy clouds through the sparkling green spangled canopy. "I feel your strength. You have a sense of humour too. You are magnificent."

"I know," said the Oak. "So are you. We are on a rock, spinning in outer space. My roots are in the earth, my leaves rustle as we speed on through time together in this glorious moment, connected as one and as different as snowflakes in pink pyjamas. Feel the weight in your feet as your roots ground you with the gravity created at the speed at which we spin. Cling on tight as our rock spins faster. What an adventure. You and I, spinning in space, hoping not to fall off, for the world to stop, where we will fall into stars as they fall from the sky. Hold tight to this merry-go-round and scream if you want to go faster."

Wye screamed. She laughed, head back to see the clouds shooting by as this world span faster. What a trip. The clouds became a blur as they zoomed past and the power of the Oak filled her so much her hands were tingling to its energy. Her hair and clothes blow-dried as she went.

"This is why you hug trees," the Oak said, happily. "Feel the gravity; feel its density as you are sucked down; ever rooted. Your roots are as strong as mine. Strong roots bare strong fruits. What emotion do you gift me?"

Wye didn't hesitate. "Joy." She felt her heart swell against the trunk and allowed it to flow from her. As she gave so she received. So much Joy filled her, she thought she would explode in rapture.

The Oak stopped shimmering. The clouds slowed down to a lazy pace. Wye stepped back from the tree, feeling dizzy and euphoric. She checked herself. "That gravity felt so heavy, I feel totally grounded and so happy. That was a mad ride." She smiled up, the sun warming her face. "I could stay here forever.

"My gift; may this remind you to keep your feet firmly on the ground when your head is in the clouds."

"This place is incredible. I love it." Wye gasped, dreamily.

"The playground of your mind." The Fool said from behind. Wye turned and saw he was still hopping about on his hands without a care.

"Ha!" She dropped onto her hands and propelled her legs up to the air, as the Oak caught her feet and she leaned against its trunk for added support. Her red hair fell about the grass. She looked across at the Fool with wild hair standing up unnaturally, as small veins jutted from the exertion in his forehead. Wye giggled at the absurdity. "This state is different; swapping the earth with the air. It's far funnier upside down."

"Say hello to your Inner Child." The Fool hopped from hand to hand as he approached her. He reached out and picked a buttercup, like the one he had gifted her of Wonderment when she had chosen to walk the path with him and stepped across to the Unknown. He balanced on his hand as he reached out this flower to her face and held it upside-down, on top of her upside-down chin. And to him she was right-side up and looking even quirkier with slanting lower eyelids and long flapping upside-down eyelashes. "Smile," he offered. She did. She looked even funnier. They laughed, both looking stupid with funny faces. The Fool frowned. In astonishment, he said, "You don't like butter. How strange. You truly are a Quirky Quirk." They giggled again. Wye felt about five; six tops. The smell of fresh meadows and forest pines reminded her of Primary School; so too did the upside-down sensations of blood rushing to her head.

"Do you fancy a stroll over that rainbow?"

"What rainbow?" Wye asked. She checked the horizon. Sure enough there was an upside down smiling rainbow; gleaming purer that any natural light she had ever had the soul to truly see. "Wow!" she fell sideways, knocked away by its translucent and brilliant energy. She landed on soft grass and sat up to marvel at the rainbow the right way up.

The Fool announced, "The Bridge to Everywhere."

"Am I hallucinating?"

The Fool sprang from his hands onto his feet. His hair remained sticking up. The Oak released his hat and it fell onto his head. "Consciously awake? Choosing each moment on many levels? Holistic Being, are you experiencing you?"

"Maybe all of that. Yes. But the Journal didn't say anything about this."

"Are you sure about that? Isn't this what you saw in the mirror?" The Fool swept his hand out to take in the magical scenery.

"In the little mirror, I saw a sword. It then fanned into many swords. So what's that all about?"

"The Ace of Swords. It was used by another player to gain entry into the Game. It's all so unpredictable, you see. You chose not to use it at that time, remember? You chose to ignore the many swords. You chose to hide the Journal and dismiss the mirror and the Castle played another hand. It's all put there to be used. Depends which player picks up what and activates things for what purpose. There is a Room at the Top. In this room resides two wise women. They threw down the Fool in the Tarot game they are playing. We found each other. As for this wonderful place; it is a place within you and outside of you in the illusion. It is your Astral Plane. You remember this place. It is a reflection of your inner beauty and radiant soul. This territory is one aspect of the True You. The Journal is the map to guide you here."

Wye scoffed. "But I dismissed it, as you say."

"Did you?" The Fool laughed, flicking Wye on the nose with an index finger, making her blink.

Wye looked at the Amethyst and Quartz mountains; shimmering in the Energies of Peace and Clarity. "I suppose, on reflection, I haven't dismissed anything. I was even interacting with Spirits. I could hear them as clearly as the stinging nose on my face. I suppose you are telling me I took it all in."

"When the Journal is opened, it activates something deep within the very foundations of the Castle, and more to the point: the reader. It's hard to describe what the Journal is. But there is far more lying between those pages than the human mind can comprehend. It's like invisible words describing invisible worlds. Somewhere deep within your unconscious mind of your Holistic Self, you flicked through each and every page and read each and every one of them."

"Really?" Wye was shocked, trying hard to recall anything other than annoyance at the time.

"You are a worthy player. Whoever sent you here to find the Journal must have had a similar notion? I can tell you all this because you are The One. You are the only mortal playing the Game consciously. The rest are asleep. They stir every now and then when something jangles enough heavy chains. Then they roll over, fart, grumble and drift back to sleep."

"This is all so incredible. I almost can't believe any of this is real. How elaborate. You know I've really enjoyed my time with you here but could I get back to the Castle now? I've got some friends there I'm really sort of starting to miss."

The Fool roared with laughter. She was hilarious. "Fear not, but there is no going back to where you left things. That's an entirely different wormhole."

# 17

Crystal Powers, Rick and Lizzy had spent the majority of their evening walking the grounds within the perimeters of the Castle walls. Rick was determined to get the atmospheric moon in shot as Crystal Powers remained filming him. He was having a ball; exaggerating imaginings of horses and carts; little red hens squawking, feathering dust; arrows and swords being made by a Blacksmith hammering his metal to a sinister point. The Blacksmith had apparently told Rick a great battle was about to commence and was asking around for more silver to smelt because silver was the only property that could slay this evil enemy moving in through the forests outside these walls.

Crystal Powers had loved this show. She was sure her Production Company could make something of this. Living history through the dead. She wasn't so convinced of Rick's supposed Guide, whispering in his ear, but it made good theatrics and there were a lot of people who would buy into this concept, so it was good for business. Who could say he didn't have a Guide. In any case, Crystal had grown a tad bored towards the end. She would cut some to the editor's floor and pick out the best moments for the Pilot Episode.

Eventually, Crystal had persuaded Rick and Lizzy back inside. To top all this, she had a trick up her sleeve. She wanted to pep things up a bit. They needed some excitement because if she were bored the viewer would be bored. She took the lead, plumping up her fluffy head. She took in a deep breath, held down her jewels and clambered up the stairs of the West Tower towards the Prison on the third floor. She fought for breath on the second floor. Here was the Guards Room and toilets. "I'm going to spend a penny," she called over her shoulder, hurrying on her way. "Wait there. Won't be two ticks." Her bladder would be the death of her one of these nights. She pushed through the door, found a cubicle, pulled up her skirt and down her knickers and let the deluge flow.

Contently, she sighed and looked out into the bigger room, at the line of basins, one long mirror and a Victorian Lady sitting along the vanity shelving, staring back with black eyes.

Crystal's first impulse was to scream out in embarrassment. Instead, she leant forward to try and push her door shut so she could finish her task in private. Feebly, she pushed against the door with ancient peach nails, unable to quite reach without making a mess.

She thought she had failed miserably but the door took on a life of its own. In slammed shut and locked to 'Engaged'. Crystal tided herself, pulled up her pants, huffing and blowing as quickly as possible and made to open the door. The latch was stuck. It wouldn't open. She pulled on the bar again and still the door remained locked.

"Hello?" she called out frailly over the cubicle door to the woman sitting in front of the mirror. "Are you there? I'm locked in. Could you get me out? Can you hear me?"

This sounded mad. Crystal didn't want to think she was talking to a ghost but what other explanation was there? She heard the rustle of the woman's petticoats and saw a shadow under the door. She waited for the latch to open.

She waited a bit longer. Then the lights went out. Entombed in a cell, surrounded by cold walls as the black pushed into her. No escape.

Hands of desperation reached out from the walls and grabbed at her arms and legs. Moaning voices calling out in her fragile mind. Rustling lace informed she was still being guarded as she pictured the Queen of the Damned pacing her only exit.

Then she screamed.

Lizzy would recognise that throttled, blood-curdling scream anywhere. She had felt that emotion. As she stood teetering over the trap door in the Oubliette, she too had felt that level of terror.

She grabbed Rick's arm and pulled him with her towards the toilet door, like any true screamer wouldn't – because they would be running in the opposite direction. She needed backup. There was no way she was going to go anywhere on her own tonight. She had witnessed too many strange things. Goblins and Demons. She flung open the restroom door to the darkness and flicked on the lights, saying, "Crystal? Are you ok?"

"Thank goodness," Crystal's voice sounded distraught from a cubicle. Rick and Lizzy found the only closed door. "I'm locked in. Get me out!"

"It's ok. We're here." Lizzy tapped on the door to reassure.

Crystal called, "I've seen a ghost."

Rick rolled his eyes. "Haven't we all."

Crystal tried the latch once more and it opened. She stepped out of the cell. Shaken. Agitated. She searched the room. She went to each cubicle, in turn to check. "Did either of you see a Victorian woman in here? She was wearing a red and black dress. Eyes go right through you."

Rick and Lizzy hadn't seen any such thing and Crystal was amazed as she allowed her mind to process the experience. "Then I've actually seen a ghost. In the flesh, so to speak. Over there, sitting across the mirror. I saw the lace on her dress from under the door. I heard her rustling about." She shivered as cold fingers ran through her. She went back to her cell and felt along the walls in the comfort of human company. She couldn't say anything about the hands grabbing her. What if everything had been her stupid imagination, as usual? "Spooky," she said, collecting herself back together.

Rick rested his face in his fingers to go within. He came back out and said, "My Guide's not telling me anything. Are you on any medication? Sometimes things can get a bit fuzzy. If there was something here, my Guide would tell me."

"I'm on heart tablets. But I know what I saw and I'm not going mad," Crystal shot. She went to the basins and swilled her hands and dabbed her warm face. She looked at her tired eyes in the mirror. They were watery blue. Once they had been vibrant and youthful as Sapphires, with alluring expression which had won her rich husband's heart. Now they were older with only determination pushing her forward and all the lines and creases showed as much. She was staring at a lonely failure. How many more years would she escape its clutches with skin this old and organs so tired? Her gaze was in peripheral, lost in the sadness of staring at death. The face staring back at her wasn't her own. She became aware of this. Her face had changed before her own eyes. His eyes were dark and thunderous. His face was masculine, sporting a thick beard. These eyes were blinking, whereby her own were wide open. This face faded to black, disappearing altogether.

Only to return. The man's lips were moving as though he was pleading; his eyes now imploring as a sense of forlorn washed over her. Crystal blinked hard and fell away from the mirror, feeling strangely sick. "I've just seen a face. And it isn't mine," she said to Rick and Lizzy. "You must believe me?"

"That's called Transfiguration," Rick announced. "In this business, it's called scrying: when you gaze at yourself in the mirror and things start to change. It's quite normal. What did it look like?"

"It was male. He had a good beard and lonely eyes, which made me feel really sad. I think I was taken over by his emotion. It's strange to explain. It felt as though I had moved aside for a moment to let someone in." She shuddered. "I'm not doing that again." She looked accusingly at the glass attached to the wall which adjoined the Guards Room, next door. "This room feels weird. There is nothing normal in here. If the woman had been real, and she obviously left through the only exit, she would have past you in the corridor; you would have seen her. Anyway she seemed unearthly; the way she sat along the ledge, tapping the glass menacingly and rhythmically with her boot like she was mocking. The way she ripped out my soul with her eyes. Let's go."

Rick leaned into the mirror and smoothed his hair into immaculate place and checked his movie smile then followed Crystal to leave. Lizzy looked at the mirror briefly, holding down any sense of panic bravely. She had seen a shadow in the mirror of the Oubliette when she had been stuck in there all alone. She wasn't going to invite another episode. It felt as though the entire Castle was alive. That the mirrors were the eyes; somehow watching. And the very fabric of this magnificent building seemed to be reaching out, to snarl like a Venus Fly-Trap. She had no intention of being that trapped fly.

The three passed the Guards Room and clambered up the final lot of stairs to the top floor and read the sign on the door. Prison. "I present to you my luxurious bedchamber." Crystal pushed open the door and flicked on the light.

# 18

Crystal, Rick and Lizzy remained in the threshold of the Prison. Standing in front of the curse, etched into the wall, was the Victorian Lady from the toilet saga. She turned to her visitors, smiled falsely, and said, "What a fascinating read."

Crystal spilled into the room, "You're real?" She went to the Morbid Gothic girl and reached out to prod her but the girl stepped back.

"Did I invite you to touch me?" she asked with the soft voice of damnation.

Crystal stopped short. "I'm checking. Were you in the restroom just now? Did you lock me in the cubicle?"

Angel laughed. "I would like to take credit for that. It was funny. Alas, the Castle did it. The walls enjoy a good joke." She went to a wall and slapped her gloved hand against it. "They have nothing better to do. Trapped. Forever." She turned to the wall. "Sad, sorry cold and dead!" She turned to Crystal, and sized her up. "This is your bedchamber? Good luck with that." Angel kicked out at the wall with her long heal, jabbing a lost soul in the eye; spark of metal off stone. "Pesky lot. The damned. They're in these walls, you know. When you're tucked up in bed later. They know when to come out to play."

Rick stepped beside Crystal and took her arm. "Don't let it worry you, lovey. She's having you on. We all love a good ghost story, especially on an investigation. It sets a good atmosphere."

"Doesn't it just?" Angel asked. "I wouldn't lie to you. I'm honest to a fault; it's in my nature. It's not up to me if you care not to listen."

Lizzy squeaked, "Are you psychic?"

"Ah Pretty One." Angel glided across the room to the blonde. "What a pure and naive little sight you are for black eyes." Angel could smell the soft summer fruits in the shampoo of her sunny halo of hair. She breathed deep the aroma. "I do appreciate youth." She sucked in some more and looked across at Crystal's envy. "Isn't time a bitch?"

"I think I've just had the displeasure of meeting a worse one." Crystal died inside. "Did you have somewhere else to be? I need this room for a film. And you're not in it."

Angel smiled. "I think you will find I am." She carried on her way, walking slowly around Lizzy, studying her clothes, lapping her up. "You must be very adept walking in such long legs. Look how far they go up." Angel sighed. "I want to grow an inch."

Lizzy felt sure the Goth's breasts were fuller, busting cleavage pumped to break free. As uneasy as she was feeling by this proximity, strangely she was drawn.

Angel whispered into Lizzy's ear, lips softly brushing, "Feminine sexuality is so damn alluring. Tell me you feel it? Cry me a tear."

Lizzy flushed slightly. Angel moved suggestively from her, hips hypnotically swaying as her plush dress glided eloquently to her grace; moving ever closer towards Crystal. "And then you go wrinkly old fruit and decay back to the soil whence you came. Rotten. Smelly. Banquette to a maggot party. So sexy. Not." She swung around on her heels to attach her focus on Lizzy. "What was the question? Ah yes. I'm psychic. Do you want to be my friend?"

Lizzy was unsure what she was feeling and terrified by any prospect and still she was curious enough to shuffle forward from her comfort zone and out into stretch. "I'm Lizzy."

"Angel." She said, "An angel you are. Such a bright clean canvas. You could learn so much from me. You wanna tag along?"

Rick felt uneasy. His Guide wouldn't shut up. He wanted to help save Lizzy but he couldn't allow himself to move. Part of him wanted to be this stranger's friend too. "I could learn from you. Can I come along, please?" The voice of his Guide screamed a big No in his head. "Scratch that," he mumbled because underneath it all he longed to meet a different Diva: The Fairy Queen. Right from when he was young, when all the other boys were playing with guns and light-sabres, he was frolicking about in the strawberry patch catching fairy seeds floating on the breeze. This was who he was. He enjoyed being light. He knew how to disjoint his body and bring it all back in. It was the grace of movement which led him into the theatre. He came back round to the present to discover he was missing something Angel was relaying as she was now standing in front of the words on the wall.

In his sunlit reverie, he may have inadvertently created a paradox. He considered this for a second but then sounds of the adoring applause of the theatre drew him back to the blissful memories of being showered with flowers.

"... Hence the writing is on the wall. Well some of it," Angel continued. The words in front were plain enough and well-rehearsed by her; she knew it all by heart. These little lambs before her didn't have a clue. And they really needed a big clue. She could read each word, even the invisible ones laced behind the fabric of woven threads so intricate and deadly. So subtle to the most trained eye. She read them, whispered them over and over. An opportunity to recite. To renew. The sacred path and eternal truths. To master your own heart and know thyself and to thyself be true. And she was. True to her word and brutally honest and if people couldn't cope with that then more fool them. They too can go fish.

"It's a curse not to be read," Crystal warned nervously.

"You wanted me to read it," Rick shot indignantly. "Well, you discover who your friends are in this game, don't you?"

Crystal cringed. "It's good for business," sounded fickle now.

Angel smiled, "It's not a curse. It's not a blessing. It's not benign."

The three watched as Angel reached into her hidden pocket and drew out a long shard of sliver. She lifted the blade to her wrist, and before anyone had a chance to catch up, she held up her arm to the moonlight, sneaking itself in through the only window, a mere split in the wall. The moonlight shone her veins of blue royal blood, Queen of the Damned. She slashed her reigning blood to the walls, splattering the letters and words both seen and unseen.

"Now it's a curse." Angel laughed, fucking shit up.

Rick's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He swooned. He fainted, checking out, face first to the wooden floor.

Angel smirked at the Medium lying on the floor; he would meet his trials soon enough. She ignored the Guide, bending over him, urging him to wake up. She licked the blood up her arm to her wrist - waste not want not - and commanded the wound to heal to a scratch and full recovery to skin like silk. She took in Crystal Powers and her defiance to not be beaten, even in the midst of her deepest uncertainty. She winked at Lizzy and enjoyed her flush, so sweet her endorphins as they gushed. "Doesn't all this excitement just blow you away?" she smiled so kindly to each, as both remained rooted in horror.

Angel engaged with them just enough to glimpse many outcomes, and settled on the best then turned back to the wall and admired the blood splattered words. "Who here wants to read it backwards? Anyone? No? – Just me then."

Angel turned and winked at Crystal Powers, saying, "After all, it's good for business."

# 19

Lizzy and Crystal were kneeling beside Rick who was still passed out. They had rolled him over and were tapping his face to bring him around. Angel had left the room via the door; although nothing would surprise them. They didn't know how to describe their experience and help each other. What had they experienced? She was beautiful and eccentric obviously; dressed in the fashion of old, film star make-up. They hadn't taken their attention off Angel. Not for a heart-beat. She had been so dramatic about the curse too. Crystal almost wished she had recorded the lot. Perhaps it would have made better TV than the Medium past-out in the dust? Angel was definitely no angel, by any definition. Crystal was glad to see the back of her. Angel had walked out the door, informing them she had a date with a pair of very naughty boys.

Lizzy had an idea. She jumped up and went to Rick's feet, picking them up. "If I elevate his legs, the blood will rush to his head and wake him."

"Why did you chose not to go with her?" Crystal asked, shuddering.

"Are you kidding?" Lizzy nodded to the curse. "Read it backwards? Really? I wasn't even going to read it forwards." Rick wouldn't wake up. She pumped his legs drastically. "It's ok. You can come back in the room. She's gone now. Thank goodness." She looked at Crystal. "So what do we do?"

"If he doesn't wake in a minute, ring for an ambulance. He's dead to the world."

"You've got a phone with a signal? My phone is stuck down the Oubliette."

"It wouldn't make a difference. No phones work here and there's no landline or internet. It would mean driving out to the nearest part of civilization."

Lizzy looked around the prison, feeling the walls closing in. "We are like prisoners. There is no outside." She dropped Rick's legs unceremoniously and went to the window where she peered out as best she could at the limited view; a harrowing darkness of an ever-looming forest. She didn't fancy that drive. Amazeballs T had said that the forests are as haunted as the Castle. She glanced at the blood sprayed on the wall in the soft electric lighting. Angel had been fascinating, mesmerising and self-assured. Lizzy had admired her. But to do this? Lizzy had gone from stretching her boundaries to blind panic. Now she was gazing at the words. Readable neat little letters with pretty swirls of blood building cute little sentences. It wasn't that bad. The first sentence was fine and pretty, poetically written by the Castle itself, so it seemed, and so too was the next.

"Are you reading it?" Crystal asked, dropping Rick's head loudly to scramble to her feet.

"It's not bad," Lizzy offered. "If I just read bits in no particular order then I'm not strictly reading it. If by chance, it is some kind of spell then it won't work, will it?"

"Rather you than me. – Do you mind if I film it?" Crystal grabbed her camera.

"It says something about a Journal of Invisible Worlds in the catacombs of time. A magic hand held mirror and prism in moonlight red. Although it might be read." She pointed to the word, splodged in blood and tried to rub it away. "Gross. The Room at the Top and something about the craft of foretelling." Lizzy shrugged. "There's more but I'm not going there. Except there is a warning about running backwards and being stuck. Stuck being and backwards running about warning..."

"Oh wonderful. – Stop then. You just read that last bit backwards. You said you were going to stop reading."

"I know." Lizzy giggled. "It's like it's drawing me in. Aren't you curious?" She scanned quickly back up the wall to the middle bit. "If I read this bit next, then I've randomly read most of it."

"Are you possessed?" Crystal asked, worried by Lizzy's infatuation and her nerve which was way out of character.

Lizzy laughed. It wasn't a good laugh. Eerily, it didn't sound like her laugh. She dismissed it. "Yep it definitely refers to a shift in the Castle, and floodgates opening and angel wars in the sky of judgement, and something else about throwing bones."

"You've read it all, haven't you? Tell me you haven't"

Lizzy snorted her demonic donkey pig snort. "Of course I haven't." She studied the wall and wiped her hand over the sticky intoxicating blood. She turned her back on Crystal and wondered what it would taste like, flavoured in grit. This grit is the Castle walls... so she tasted it. Honey. The flavour of the moon. "That's divine. Straight from the gods." She giggled and hiccupped as though drunk. She fought to take her focus back to the task. "As I was saying; I haven't read it all because some of it is too faint. Can't make head nor tail of it. There's a lot of words going on between the lines. Relax."

Crystal frowned. "What is the purpose in writing words which can't be seen? It doesn't make sense."

"It's one big giant riddle." Lizzy squealed. "And it all started when you had a piddle." She wasn't sure where that had come from to sing cheerfully, but it made her laugh. "I think we need to find The Room at the Top. This wall makes that room sound so inviting."

"What about him," Crystal nudged Rick with her shoe. Unresponsive, he failed to stir.

"He'll be fine in here. They'll take care of him..." Lizzy referred to the walls.

# 20

Rick wanted to wake in the Fairy Realm. He wanted to be shown the crystal palace where he could flounce around and be his true self. He wanted to greet the Queen by taking her hand and kissing it. He wanted the privilege of touching her wings to discover their material. What does a fairy wing feel like? He longed to be shown to her throne where he could sit and look out at a magical kingdom, knowing all is well in his world. He woke instead to a burning eye and a mouth of dust.

A Greek Goddess towered over him, arms folded, looking down her strong nose with disdain. "I told you not to get sucked in by Angel. Now look where you are? Look where you've put us both." Rick shrunk away, panic-stricken. He recognised her voice, had sensed her presence often enough in his life. He had just never seen her before, not so real. She was solid mass with form as real as himself. She wasn't the Queen of the Fairy Realm; no huge glittery wings. By her authority, Rick looked about the prison as best he could. He was in darkness bar for the faint strip of moonlight through the window. "I'm still in the prison?" Rick offered, feebly. "They left me here. Bitches! Don't they know who I am?"

"Take a better look. Go on. Take your time. We have time now. Take it all. All the time you need." Rick's Guide was from the Realm of the Wise Ones. Rick had many lessons to learn. Now after this stunt, he had even more. "It's hard work being with you, and I've had a few. But this... This is a mess. An unholy catastrophe. Check your eye."

Rick was shocked by this. He did have a blurred bloodshot eye and it stung like hell. He rubbed it. Still his vision in this eye was the colour red. He checked his finger. Even in this light it didn't look right. He tasted it. Honey.

"Great work." The Wise One licked her own finger to emphasise the problem. "Consume it as well as wear it. You know whose Royal blood that is?"

Rick went to stand but he couldn't. He intended to put on the light and check in the mirror. He found the reason. This scared him. Chains gathered at his feet; shackled ankles. "I'm stuck." He panicked, grabbed the chains and rattled them hard to break free. "What's going on? Am I dead?" He wanted to cry. This wasn't on his agenda. He had just grown used to being more open and psychic. He had been enjoying his enhanced gift tonight. He had opened his third eye in the Chapel and had begun to experience things with more Clarity. He was at the peak of his career. He didn't have time to die. Things were only just getting better in his life. At long last people were starting to notice him – and better still, they were starting to believe in him. Death wasn't an option.

The Wise One sighed hopelessly. "Between Worlds. You are unconscious and growing cold, inviting the onslaught of hypothermia in the Physical World."

"And they left me? How stupid. So now what? Angel splattered my eye with her blood and now I'm in between worlds waiting to be rescued."

"If you're not found in time, you'll slip over to here permanently. They will bury or burn the physical you and this place will be all you will know. And you can rot here. As your world grows increasingly smaller, so too your brain; a mind so narrow that not an atom can pass through the gap. I will leave you without hope as your faith will dwindle so far away from you over the corrosive years which follow and you will dismiss me and turn your back on help and you will deny all knowledge of all things as you rattle around in the condition of Not Knowing. And I will have no choice but to return home without you so I can make better my time; guiding those with faith enough to listen. No dimension has time for those who travel backwards. Especially when the Multiverse are in their cycle of expanding. We need to grow. Not shrink away. You will lose yourself here. It is unhealthy to be here on any level. But you didn't listen to me whispering in your mind because your ego knew best. Happy now?"

Rick had cried through the majority of that. That was a whole lot of truth to accept. He wept the remaining traces of blood from his eye. The chains remained.

The Greek Goddess - Wise One was looking out of the window, distantly. Her long white and gold Toga flowing a train over the step she was standing on; her golden crown of leaves lifting her brown curls from her contemplative face. It seemed she was already dreaming of home, longing to find a better student. He had failed them both. All she had ever done was to encourage him, and still he had wound up here; stuck in no man's land.

A prisoner in a haunted prison.

Rick blinked away his misery. The shadows shifted. He peered into the surrounding darkness and saw a hundred faces, cowering but seemingly ready to attack. He was fodder for the undead. He knew it as they crawled their way a bit closer and closer; closing ranks to surround him like an army.

Rick screamed, knowing nobody would hear him. He rattled his chains as loud as he could and frantically tried to loosen them from his feet. Death was crawling into him. He could feel himself grow colder. Death was real. Death was coming. Death was here.

"Get away from me. I'm not ready!" Rick shouted at the tormenting shadows; faces taking form, calling out to him, then shrinking away to hide in the safety of the darkness. One face reached out nearest. This face was disgusting. Rick leaned away but stared as this man descended. He had a swollen eye socket, blood pouring from congealed jelly where once an eyeball had resided. The wound appeared as though a long sharp piece of metal had stabbed the eyeball clean out. It was obviously a recent attack. A timeless recent attack.

Rick hadn't imagined death to look so grotesque. He called to his Guide, desperately, "Can't you intervene? Is there nothing you can do? Can you talk to Lizzy's Guide and get her back in here now? Save me this?"

The Wise One whispered to herself, "And what would you have learnt? I am ascended. I conquered my battles eons ago and mastered myself. Of course I could talk to any of the Wise Ones I see here, but what use is that to you? How will you ever grow if you are spoon-fed forever? – You long to know what flavours suit you best, you need to be the one who goes out with Free-Will and experience for yourself. Choose your own fruit. I will not feed you. I guided you through what is harmful and what is not. Now you get to choose."

All of this was delivered to the horizon for as much as his Guide seemed to care. Rick whimpered some more as death snarled around him. He sat on his haunches, spinning to confront whichever face reached out to him as they moved in a bit closer. He warded them away with his hand, trying to be mean and manly with a floppy wrist. It did the trick. He went inside himself and pictured Lizzy. He imagined running up to her, grabbing her by her arms and shaking her for attention. He shouted for her to listen; he needed her help. She wanted to be psychic so hear this. But the army was closing in rapidly, they were gathering force, encircling him. He could see them clearly as the veil became thinner, minute by heart-stopping minute. They were an army. Each man was in armour. Rick could only imagine how this armour would hurt if you sat around in it for eternity. The chafing alone would kill. He saw them all; hundreds of faces looking in on him over the shoulders of countless more. Fortress soldiers.

One man bellowed, his voice suddenly heard as the veil thinned to a shimmer of translucent air. "Have you seen the King?"

Rick jumped back. This man was thickset and beastly; could eat him in one mouthful and still have room for more. "No King. I'm looking for the Queen of the... Never mind."

"What do you want with his Queen? Evil Sorcerous. It's her fault we are here. Have you seen her? Where is she, this witch of High Treason? So evil, she led our King to his death and cast his army to the hounds of hell. We were forced to battle the demons. Of which we lost. We should have been victorious, but our ruler was lost. She killed our King - your evil Queen."

"Surely not." Rick couldn't entertain the idea that the Fairy Queen would be nothing short of serene and magical. He would expect her not to have an evil bone in her royal ethereal body. "If she did, she might have had good reason?" That just sort of fell out of his mouth, in defence. He wished it hadn't. The army lurched in to him and the leader grabbed Rick by his dandy throat and throttled out the near remainder of his life as the veil grew gossamer thin.

"You see these men?" He shook Rick. "These are the King's men. There are more in the catacombs, trapped as we are. They try and find a way to escape, running around the tunnels; hoping upon hope that the Castle shifts to their objective and they can be released. 300 years. Nothing has changed. We are still stuck in these goddamn walls. Evil knew what it was doing when it separated the King from his men. Evil divided us. Evil worked its course from the inside out. Like rot. The King is nowhere to be found. We need our King. You tell him from me – the King needs his men. He needs to climb the tower and free us; unite us. He needs to wake up and fight!"

A fortress soldier, crawling alongside the leader of the pack, spoke up, his voice coming through in echoes though just as foreboding, "There is an entire armoury in the Blacksmith's shed. 300 years' worth of smelted silver, hammered for revenge. We are ready to attack."

The leader released his hold on Rick's throat, saying, "But we can't get to the shed because we are stuck here. We are prisoners. We cannot escape. We need to be released from these walls; these boundaries and limitations which bind us and blind."

Rick was alarmed. He would be stuck here too; alongside them. He hadn't done anything so bad. Why would he be trapped? This army was way too beefy for his fragile demeanour. He wouldn't last the night. And then where would he be? It would be a curse. He hadn't even read the thing. "Ah – have any of you seen the writing? It's on the wall over there. Perhaps your answers lie there?"

The leader scorned, "We are not educated men. We are fighters. Our King is a warrior. He is educated in many arts and reading is one of them. He got us in this mess; then he will know how to get us out. There is a battle brewing, I feel its thunder on the winds. There isn't much time; it's a fleeting open window; a glimpse of an opportunity. Everything is becoming unstable, we sense it. There is a level of Faith amongst some of you. Our King needs to reunite with his loyal men; his comrades in arms. We, together and alone, will defeat evil in its many guises."

# 21

Lizzy and Crystal Powers were back in the dreaded toilet. Crystal couldn't believe it. One minute they were heading towards the East Tower, in a quest to find the mysterious Room at the Top, and the next Lizzy had a funny turn. "Rick needs our help."

Now they were back in the restroom, both trying hard not to acknowledge the mirror. Lizzy held a cup under the cold water and filled it yet again. She poured the ice water into the bin, Crystal had propped against the side. Lizzy refilled the cup, while thinking. Multi-tasking for her was dangerous, but she was expanding and growing, she was impressing herself. The Medium she had gone to see had told her that his Guide had said her Guide had said she was to go on a great journey of self-discovery. So far he had been right. She really was exploring sides to her she didn't know. It was almost fun. She wasn't appreciating the one irritating voice in her head; but the majority of the other voices were cool.

If this was being psychic, then she was really opening herself up. Growth indeed. Strangely Rick's voice had come out clearest. His voice had shouted at her, face against face, with powerful desperation. She couldn't ignore it. She chucked in some more ice water, and checked the level in the bin. "That should be enough. We've got to carry it yet. It's not heavy as it is cumbersome. Are you going to be alright on those stairs?" – Lizzy turned her eyes to Crystal. "We wouldn't want you to fall and break your neck trying to save his sorry ass."

"Those stairs look dangerous at the best of times. I get a sense they want to trip me up. It's just a feeling I get. We should have found a better container. This is a ridiculous idea."

Lizzy turned her head on one side, as everyone looked out at Crystal. "It's the best idea." She dragged the bin off Crystal, and wrapped her arms securely. She shuffled along as best as her short skirt would allow as Crystal held open the door.

They made their way along the corridor, Lizzy carrying the bin, Crystal watching their footing. They came to the stairs; one flight of spiral cold steps to the top, and two flights descending down to certain death.

"First step up," Crystal announced, guiding Lizzy with a hand. "Second step. You're doing well in those heels. Third step. That's it. Keep going. Fourth step. Steady," Crystal saw the bin splosh as Lizzy did.

They waited for the internal forces to settle. Lizzy giggled. "We're a coven of witches carrying a spell."

"Speak for yourself. I'm not a witch."

"Hag," Lizzy shot. It wasn't her own voice, but it made sense. She was a little alarmed that it had slipped out to salute a middle finger in the air, especially when she saw her newfound friend smart to the pain of the word so close to her heart. It wasn't a way to treat friends. Especially friends who were in the process of guiding you blindly up uneven stone stairs, carrying a spell that would summon Rick back to this world. Fail and he dies. "Sorry, Crystal. I'm not sure what possessed me."

Crystal said, cruelly, "Five. Careful now, or one of us is going to get wet and Rick won't be one of them. Six – half-way there.

Lizzy's eyes lit up as she called out to her friend, "What if he's dead already? What if we've killed him?"

"Don't be so stupid." Crystal huffed, shining her torch on the next step. "This one is slightly higher. Seven."

"Sisters residing in me. Eight if you count myself." Lizzy took another step up, hardly shocked with what was now coming out of her mouth. "But what if we get all the way to Rick and he's lying there, grey and cold? We'll have to hide him or something. Bury him. Outside. In the forest with all the others."

Crystal stopped. She needed to catch her breath. She needed to check Lizzy was joking. She shone the torch in the blonde's face. And really wished she hadn't. Seven female faces turned scorched eyes away from the burning torchlight. Each of these faces shone out of Lizzy's own. Crystal had seen them all in the instant that they were gone. This shocked her so much, she stumbled backwards in the tower, suspended in slow motion to let the steps claim another victim; she teetered feeling gravity beginning to win as the balance tipped; she began to fall.

With super-strength, Lizzy pulled Crystal to her and back safely onto the step. Effortlessly, she held the bin in one arm. She smiled at Crystal, "We don't want you to break your neck to save his sorry ass. We meant it." She carried the bin up the remaining stairs swiftly. "I have found the more focus I give something the more power I give it. I acknowledge, I don't feel quite on my own. I hear them. The voices. Hurry up, Crystal. We've only got all of this moon to make any difference and then we'll have 'til forever."

Crystal didn't have as clue what Lizzy was referring to, while questioning if her mind was playing tricks. She had seen a face of a man in her own, while scrying apparently. Now she had seen seven more in her young friend. There was no conclusion she could draw; it came down to paranormal? Or insanity? Neither settled well with Crystal. She decided to make the most of every opportunity, keep her mind open; and flicked on record, training her lens on Lizzy who was carrying her sacred water to the lost soul; well that's what Lizzy was calling.

It seemed Lizzy was calling out to the Castle as she hurried on her way to the Prison. She stopped at the door. She turned to Crystal, and said, "I present to you, your bedchamber." She kicked open the door and dragged the bin of water into the room and looked around at the walls. "You've taken bad care of him. He's next to death. You're all too cold. Too cold to warm him and stir him back into the Physical Realm." Lizzy dropped to her knees and felt his pulse; so faint; music poetic and pure.

Crystal focused the lens in closer on Lizzy, her hand trembling. She was talking to the walls. She was making Crystal seem sane. Lizzy sprang to her feet and grabbed the bin, shrieking wildly as though caught on a tempest; she swirled around the room hissing at invisible lowly creatures.

Lizzy hissed at all the King's Men, and out flowed the echoes of seven female voices, in unison and clarity so harmonious. 'You will not find your King, so give up trying. You stoned our Queen; she was a great healer and Wise Woman... She could ascend to the Realm of the Wise Ones in this Game, but you held her back; her trauma too much a burden to bear. Well everything has its price. You will stay here and rot all forgotten. There is no way back for you. The King is cursed.' The witches' voices flew out of Lizzy, multi-layered, some breathing in words backwards. 'Our Queen is safe. You are defeated. Know it. Remember it. Recite it.' The possessed blonde scooped up the bin and threw the water around the walls, dousing them.

Crystal screamed. "This is my room. What are you thinking? You're supposed to wake up Rick with that not chuck it everywhere, are you insane?"

"Ha hahaha!" Lizzy laughed as the fortress soldiers fell away into the outer regions, weakened. 'He can't come around now. Not now. Now so he can run to the King and tell him everything. He mustn't know. We must keep our Queen safe. You murderers of Wisdom.' The witches leered at the army, as Lizzy seemed to rise up even taller, spitting, hissing at the walls of the Prison from the camera's perceptive.

Seven witches continued, 'She was leading your King to Victory, but you didn't stop to listen. Advice from a woman, what sorcery has this? – You cower there, mere men of mistake. You see us, and know. Our Queen will be back in residence. The Kingdom shall know victory, under Wise Rule. Your Guard will always keep you imprisoned.' Lizzy stood over Rick, and accepted their true motives: the coven inside her. "Which door do you chose to leave by?" She tipped the bin upside down over his face and laughed as tiny drops of ice water hit him. "Rebirth. Baptism. Renew. – You can't stay there and you can't be here. We invite you: go find your Fairy Queen."

Lizzy leaned her long frame down to Rick, wet and dying. She added a snort which wasn't her own, "Give her our regards."

# 22

In the Dining Hall, Bane stretched out his ever so old neck and loosened the knots. Like a great fighter in a ring. None of the others had the balls to come out to play. The bravest one of them all didn't even have balls; she had breasts. She had more about her in Spirit that to do battle against her could take all his strength.

He was searching for Wye. The One. Her Energy Field was so large it had almost consumed him in the Chapel. The qualities of compassion and humanity; these he had sensed of Wye. All he had to do was turn all her positives into negatives; feed off the energy of that transformation. Turn her hope into despair, and her dreams into nightmares. He could fuel up on such surge and do battle in the Angel Wars which would inevitably follow. Win this and reign for another 300 years. He enjoyed this Game. He liked to watch the prey scurry around. How naïve. They too were in the era in which he ruled, the now. Even if they were also stuck in the past time from now and back again in a loop of timeless wonder. Bane knew how to move between and understood the Laws to the Game; so simple through the one and only eye and yet so complex to reach, and all so utterly addictive.

He loosened his neck again and listened to the Castle. He heard the hum. The hum through the walls of quartz; such a full spectrum of potential. He heard the undertones and tuned down to listen to the Castle's beating rhythm. The curse had been read. He smiled in the depths of the blackness of himself. Backwards.

It had been read again by another, scrambled or not it makes little difference. There were consequences to all action; just an equal and opposite reaction. You can't put something out to the magnificence of this Castle and not expect it to whiz and gather muster through the cosmos; gliding, soaring, this Indestructible Arrow of Deed, and not have it pick a perfect moment to hit you in the heart and knock you off your silky throne. Just when you thought you had everything going your way in the need to dominate and control. Ask the Guard; oh mightily fallen King.

Bane became aware of his surroundings. He was in the Dining Hall. In the Physical Realm, Debbie and Dave was reviewing more footage with Jay, while fuelling up on food and energy drink. The Widow was still on the floor, fearful of him; her faith dwindling further by each sad long and infinite minute. He loathed the retched sight to see the faith she still had left. She was still residing between worlds; unable to cross completely over. Unable to come completely back. The Castle had not banished her much as she had banished herself. The Dining Hall was her only room in the Physical Dimension. Bane scoffed at her, and the limitations she put upon herself. He turned on his heels, cloak flapping and stared at the mirror above the fireplace.

The mirror and fireplace were alive in marble of lavish extravagance as ivy grew wildly in décor around it, and insects of gems crawled amongst the marble leaves. The shimmering surface of the mirror was giving nothing away. Bane moved towards it. He stood before it. He wasn't there. He had no reflection. The Dining Hall lay on the surface and misty nothingness lay beneath. Unlike the extraordinary Stained Glass window, this mirror was giving him nothing – a secret hidden well by the Castle. He reached out his hand. Dare he touch the surface? No. He listened to the reverberating sensations of this portal linked directly to the Room at the Top. He turned to the Widow, and demanded telepathically, 'What card is playing out?'

The Widow shook her head violently. He couldn't force her to tell. She had the power to see. She lived through her one and only true eye, to see more clearly than the Hooded Demon could ever fathom, but she had to guard this from him. He would use it against her somehow. That's how he worked. She had known him long enough to know her enemy. She lowered her eyes to protect her own secrets. She focussed with Intent and telepathically allowed herself to whisper, 'I'm sitting this Game out. I am tired. I have no interest in what card is being played.'

Bane tried harder to peer into the mirror. Still he could see no invisible world, except for everything behind him already in the past as he watched it go. 'The girl who is The One. She is playing the card. I feel it.'

The Widow blocked her thoughts. The demon sniffed the air. He could smell a subtle fear but it was barely enough. Fool. He snorted. She had given it away. He had exploited her weakness, he had forced her hand. Literally. In it lay the Fool card. Right way up. How very fortunate. It was written in her thoughts as she tried so hard to guard her heart. How she loved her Guard. Telepathically, Bane snarled, 'Anything else I should know?'

The Widow froze. She was leaning away from him as far as she could. Within the hood, the darkness and scale of its depths was intimidating. He had no visible features for her to gauge him; no eyes for her to plead. She knew his strength and capabilities. How free he was to come and go, to control and dominate the Game. It highlighted just how stuck she found herself.

Once upon a time in the Castle, she had been so sure of herself and her own capabilities. She had mastered the magic she found. She had put it to good use to master wisdom. And then everyone had damned her for it. Just like all the others who had mastered the highest virtues in the Physical Realm. She was put to death. Killed for wanting to save her world and live in harmony and abundance. Once, she had stood up to Bane. She didn't wish to have to learn that lesson twice.

Bane said, telepathically, "Together we can turn that One's world upside down."

The Widow looked down at her right hand and the card lay in it. This card was symbolic to the card being played in the Room at the Top. She watched as it began to twitch and lift, as Bane lifted it into the air using Will. He knew the blackness of the magic in this as much as she did. She felt his blackness coursing through her own being as she was somehow partaking in this ritual. By doing nothing she was partaking in the Game. He was riding roughshod through her complacency. Bane was clever, she gave him this. But she wasn't stupid. She had nothing to lose. He was pulling her in.

The Widow had no concept to the consequences should this card turn completely upside down. What would the world be like for Wye? How cruel a deed. How evil and unfair. She found the courage from her past deep within her essence and called it forth; felt it rise up through her and push his devilry back, as she sought out his black heart and commanded the card to stop.

It stopped quarter of the way and hovered trembling pensively.

The Hooded Demon was impressed. 'The Queen is rising. Hale the Queenie'. He laughed mocking her further, 'You are no Queen without your King. Turn the card with me. Join me. Do not oppose me. I will give you back the wonders of you. I can raise your pent-up energies and release them so you too can howl at the moon and beg me to frequent your chambers. Ask your ladies - so impatiently waiting.'

'In your dreams, only.' The Widow dared to pushed back at him and held her nerve. She blocked his energy as best she could. It took all of her strength, as the Widow held out her left hand for him to see. In it lay the Justice card, right way up.

This card had just been played in the Room at the Top by two wiser women. The Widow had felt the card fall from the deck as the energy of Justice flew towards her, and she scooped the card from the cosmos to manifest in her hand. A gift from the Wise Ones. She heard their triumphant cries as she caught it. Her magic was back and intact. She was awake.

Bane was leaning in gauging her now; sniffing the air. 'Remember the writing between the lines', he telepathically invited. She recalled the Journal. The invisible words written in red. She allowed herself to focus on this Lesson, but was she strong enough? She had to be to survive.

She stared her fears in his face; and saw he was empty. This is what she feared. Being empty. The colour of empty is black. To become nothing and go back to nothing. She telepathically sang to him, 'and the colour of Fullness is Full Spectrum.' He made her feel so complete in comparison, never had she needed to feed off negative energy. She had never sought to knowingly do harm to anyone.

This monster before her was loving it. He believed in some twisted way he still ruled over her. He was still playing mind-bending tricks and spinning her out. He was a shrewd and dangerous Player. Bane would storm the Castle searching for another way in. Justice really was hanging in the balance. Time was nigh. He knew it. And now she knew it.

The Widow sprung away from Bane and jumped to her feet. She ran the perimeter of the Dining Hall while focussing her thoughts onto the equipment in the flight case; switching on the Ghost Box with a blast of her True Will and Intent.

The Ghost Box erupted into sound; the radio began roaming through the white noise and phonics. This startled Jay, Debbie and Dave, who all rushed to the Ghost Box in the need to investigate. They collided with the Widow if they did but know it. They felt the temperature drop to ice and saw their own breath. Without time to react to this phenomenon, over the Ghost Box came the distinct female voice. "Find and Protect the Empress Card."

"What card?" Debbie shot.

"The Empress Card."

The Widow turned to the Hooded Demon storming her way. She closed her eyes to block him out. She focused her third eye and crown chakra and took in all of Debbie's Faith. She fuelled up on every word that Debbie had so clearly heard. Debbie had given her the gift of Faith and so would receive it tenfold in return; a Gift she sought in red. The Widow knew this. This was a Sacred Law of the Game.

The Widow/Healer opened her eyes and focused on the mirror above the fireplace. She clung tightly to her Fool card and Justice Card. She knew all the furniture in this room. Bane swung for her. She dodged his mighty swipe and ran. Dextrously, she skipped onto a carver chair, arms of dragons, and up onto the long banquet table. She ran faster towards the mirror, took her last step off the table and launched herself towards the membrane, knowing it would disappear if she threw enough Faith at it.

Old worlds and distant times melted away as she flew in a desperate need to save Wye. Triggering her own Gauntlet, the Widow leapt into the Game, and out further into her unknown.

# 23

Bane laughed cruelly as he watched her 'Leave'.

It gladdened him to know she was doing his bidding. He had wanted her gone. And now she was gone. She ran to the solid mirror and disappeared through it. He had to admit to where he found beauty. He found beauty in this with her long hair and black dress of mourning, her sad Widow veil pushed back all forgotten, along with her King, as she ran along the table to her destiny; a sorry lesson to be driven by Fear. He loved it; his twisted Game.

Bane guarded his strategies well. - All she ever had to do was use enough Faith and she could have used the Dining Hall door. If she had just gone with Love, she could have call into her existence the remaining Castle and permeated the boundaries: she could be on her merry-way to the Guards Room, right now. It was good to know he was still in control. The lost were still lost.

He stood there gazing at the mirror, the link to the Room at the Top. He turned away from a lost cause. The witches were hiding well from him. Layers of salt and crystals with sage, no doubt. They were protecting this mirror, of that he knew. There were other ways in.

He made his way along the Dining Hall and the long table; her flight path, smiling deeply all the while. He past Jay, Debbie and Dave. They could wait. They could hold on tight for what's to come. World painted blood. He gathered strength by their pathetic doubting weaknesses and fear of everything – of eternal life itself. He stormed to the threshold and naturally moved through it, casting his arms out to his sides, and pulling the heavy oak doors with him, he slammed them shut.

The Hooded Demon moved away as he fuelled up on Debbie's screaming; so hysterical. So much for Faith. Jay opened the doors to check for draughts; still in denial – Jay's favourite place. Jay had a song going round in his head; Slayer's – World Painted Blood.

Bane hummed it as he stormed passed the kitchen and saw the Cook with the crying boy on her knee. He moved onwards through the West Tower and past the steps leading up to the Guards Room and Prison. He made to pass the cupboard. He sensed a greater emptiness in there than was within himself. Other than that there was no resemblance. The little person in there was a pathetic excuse for a man. He had the smallest balls. He had the biggest mouth. Yapping of things he proclaims to know – that there is no such thing as anything outside his own box – oh Yea of little Faith. Truly dead and void of life and so shut down to nothing. His vibration so weak it was hardly worth his spit.

Bane spat on the door regardless, and it fizzled acidic and scorched the oak. The door was marked. He stood and listened again to the Castle. Everything was in the balance now. The scales of Justice Card was swinging gold in the sky. He heard clip clopping on the stone stairs above and his devilment deepened.

Descending the stairs towards him was Lizzy. Lizzy was talking to herself and flustered too much to take a good look around. Everything had gone a bit weird in her head. She had allowed the voices too much freedom and now they were taking over. She didn't want to go to the Dining Hall – she wanted to go find the Room at the Top. Her body was willing, but the seven residing voices in her crazy brain were screaming she did otherwise.

She hadn't wanted to kill Rick either. She thought it safe to say. She had left Crystal wrapping him in sheets, crying desperately; telling Lizzy she was insane. Lizzy was feeling her words now. She was entertaining insanity. She was just a watcher as it all went on inside her. –

'Perhaps we can sneak out and bury him later? Offer up his blood in return for youth?' one voice asked. 'Maybe, but we need to get to our Queen first,' said another. 'Oh sisters, look!' The seven witches peered down at the Hooded Demon, awaiting them at the foot of the stairs. Their hearts fluttered slightly, each with its own memory of his capabilities.

"Ladies," Bane acknowledged courteously.

Lizzy felt dizzy. The women inside were swooning, intoxicated.

She stood alone for a moment and she too felt the presence of someone familiar. She felt the darkness lean in and for the first true time, she recalled his kiss: felt his lips suck out the breath of her, felt the poetry - and knew she had given birth to him. Such is Water and Air. She sensed in him his quest for all he would need to complete his own ritual of power. The two more elements he required to take further dominance. Fire upon Earth.

'Hello, master.' One voice crawled out of her. The woman leaned into Bane, feeling her embers ignite. 'Remember me?' she moved like flames fanning towards him. Lizzy was horrified. A part of her was flirting with the devil. FFS what was she thinking? It was like he was pulling her closer. Not the whore inside. Her very soul. He had made her believe she was capable of resurrecting evil. She didn't want that power but his arm reached around her and as much as she leaned back he stooped over and kissed her again.

He did not take her breath, this time. He took nothing and gave her everything. A nest of vipers, snaking around him, these seven whores of rapture. In that moment, he adored each creature, simultaneously and in turn; and seven witches found their secret treasure as the barricades were stripped bare of their hidden pleasure.

Their master channelled their orgasmic flurry in fair exchange. This energy of Feminine sin. He sent the music of this to his sensual kiss and deepened his lips against Lizzy's until she lost herself completely to the crescendo; she was unsure what planet she was on. Bane blew this new fledgling sky-high... and sealed her fate.

He left them, gasping from the aftermath of him, and marched along towards the main concourse from their view. Such lovely serpents were always a delight to happen across. He threw out his arms and fuelled up on the tingling air charged by the Castle. He mingled his own negative charge with it. He needed these walls and all who dwelled in them. They gave him satisfaction – as he gave out satisfaction. Borne of sin. He didn't need to search the eight mirrors lining the extensive hall. He had a better trick up his sleeve.

Lizzy opened her eyes and felt sick. "OMG, did that just even happen?" She asked the other girls in residence. 'Exploding in rapturous joy as the serpent Kundalini rose through you of chi to awaken all your chakras in a flurry of truly being? Yes it happened to all of us. He is bad. Really bad.' They giggled. Lizzy wasn't giggling. "OMG, I'm in league with Lucifer! – All I want is my damn phone. I'm falling in love with a deep mysterious hooded mind-blowing..." Another voice sang, 'You love him more because he needs fire. You love him more because he gave to us his greatest need. He gifted us what spark he had. We ignited and into the flames we go. He took only our inferno and fed it to you. We are borne of him as he is of you. Water, Air, Fire upon Earth. The cycles we abide.'

Lizzy clutched her head as she stumbled along listening to the chanting of the witches inside. She protested, "He's not borne of me. Shut up. That thing back there didn't happen, ok? Just don't go there. It's just too weird. Leave me alone now. I've had enough."

'But it's only just begun for you, Lizzy. We are here with you now. You read the curse; from that way to this way to that. We saw our chance and all jumped in and read it with you. We can jump in and out of you now as we please. We've got a plan.'

Lizzy stood and leaned against a wall, head pressed back. "I thought you might say that. I don't like the sound of any of this." She pushed herself away and began pacing to try and run with her own thoughts as others gushed in on the peripheral. "All I did was read a few words on a silly wall. It wasn't even a joke. I didn't mean anything by it. I just did it. It wanted to be read."

'We wanted you to read it, Lizzy. We've been waiting to meet someone like you. It takes great courage to read the writing on the wall. Now take us to the Dining Hall door, we haven't got all night.' 'Well, actually, we have.'

Lizzy found herself moving along the wall holding it for support. Her mouth was dry as she fought the entities inside. It took all her energy to resist. She grabbed hold of a handle and yanked on it to anchor herself from being dragged, screaming and kicking to the Dining Hall. She didn't want to be part of some sick ritual with these crazy witches. She didn't want to know what was in the Dining Hall, what sort of Queen would be waiting for her to do what. It was one crazy sick night. She had murdered someone and now she was off to sacrifice a chicken, if all she knew. She didn't want any of it. Yet still her feet moved. She pulled harder on the handle. The cupboard door opened.

Amazeballs T climbed down from his perch, stretching his numb leg out first and grabbed his cupboard door back off the blonde. "The Game's not over yet," he barked. She was acting very strange. It did cross T's mind. "You look like shit," he couldn't help gloat. "Rough night? – Getting your money's worth?"

"Help me!" She called to him, feeling herself loosing grip on the handle, as the grip on her brain seemed long gone. "I've killed someone. I thought it funny to bury him in the woods."

"Yeah ok," T said. The Paranormal Community was full of fruitcakes. Wannabe witches and clairvoyants; robbing the gullible of good money. Just as he was. Lizzy was putting on a fine show. He could have applauded her. Even her blue eyes seemed possessed. She could get an Oscar.

He was so used to these Events it was normal for these idiots to run around this Castle screaming and heading for the gates to find them locked. So and so has died. So and so has fallen down the West Tower... blah blah blah. People go missing. It wasn't his problem. They had signed the disclaimer. They run around the Castle driving themselves to madness then that was their energy wasted. Just for the thrill of it. It was the same on every event. Nutters; the lot of them. He had warned them this. They had gone on to act it all out. How suggestible. And this blonde in heels and long glorious legs was the most suggestible of the lot. "Come back in the morning. I'm just into the second half. Now off you go and play."

He slammed shut his door and Lizzy fell away. Forced to continue, she put one foot in front the other and walked past the kitchen where Cook was feeding Little Boy, onwards to the Dining Hall door.

She stood beside the billboard and waited in surrender. 'We need you to be our key to unlock this door,' one voice whispered in her mind. 'We have stood here for 300 years knowing our Queen is the other side from us.' Another woman stepped forward, "We are her Ladies in Waiting. Endless Waiting. 300 long suffering years of bored of waiting. We long for our Queen. She has a way with her own brand of magic. Our Queen of Grace. We need her like the air we breathe, the songs we sing. She leads us. But here is as far as we can tread. We need you to be our conduit.'

Lizzy noticed how madly the billboard seemed to be glistening. Besides the racket of women's voices in her head, she noticed the bling as the billboard sparkled, so alluring.

On the billboard were written these words - _For a true Paranormal Experience, please enter. All welcome. Witches leave your broomsticks by the main gate._

One of the voices said, 'repeat after me... Please enter. All welcome witches. Please enter. All welcome witches...'

Much as Lizzy wasn't thinking, her lips began moving. Her voice huff from the screaming, she read the words in between the words as seven more voices chimed in, "Please enter. All welcome witches. Please enter. All welcome witches. Please enter..."

# 24

Jay was humming a morbid song when Lizzy entered the room in a contorted fashion. He had cause to wonder as she approached with lopsided miniskirt and hair in disarray. He stopped humming although the soundtrack to this scene was darkly apt. Her onslaught was peculiar. "You told me you were a top detective. Are you? Can you detect all this shit I've got going on in me? Can you see them all? Have you got a piece of equipment that will pick up all these crazies in my head? You wanna tune in? They are driving me insane."

Was she serious? "Nanny Cuckoo? Is that you?" he asked, shocked and sensing the darkness descending as things were getting steadily stranger.

Lizzy stamped her foot and wrinkled her face. "Of course it's me, dear boy. I'm certainly not old enough to be a Lady in Waiting."

Jay reached to touch Lizzy's face as it seemed to be burning up. He had to keep his rational mind. He couldn't afford to lose it now if this was anything to go by. This creature before him was incensed; pulling faces between words. Eyes rolling this way and that. He recognised the symptoms and went with the most sensible prognosis.

'Don't come near me with that drug. I don't want your poison. Stay away from me! I know what I see. I know what I hear. I listen well to them.' Lizzy fell to the floor and sat rocking, dribbling. Through her, Jay saw his Great Grandmother in her straightjacket in her rocking chair; scared of the prick of a needle should she fall down dead towards her own demons.

Lizzy peered up through haunted eyes. "The witches have left me. They are in this room free to search for their Queen long gone." Lizzy could see them searching and scurrying; all dressed in black. She could see their faces for the first time, and their anguish set in them; attractive in the saddest sort of way. She watched them search for their Queen in every nook and cranny as they felt along the walls, scanning the stone with sensitive fingers of the craft well-versed.

Lizzy sighed a long breath. She trained her glazed eyes into Jay's as she spoke, "She disappeared through the mirror. They should have climbed into me sooner. I could have helped save time. But then I wasn't really listening. Because you said I'm a Screamer and it was my overactive mind. You made me dismiss what I had experienced in the Oubliette. A kiss of life. The demon woke me up after you trod me down. I helped the witches and I read the curse and billboard spell and this is where we are."

Lizzy's face changed to wrinkles as the other one stepped forward. 'When you put up a beacon of White Light to the Universe - you are calling right out across the Game, dear boy of mine. You called me here much as I've forever been calling you. I have haunted your nightmares long enough. We are here now together or do you deny it? I am ready to be dissected.'

Jay was convinced by the ramblings and jumbled frothing words. - Debbie was too. Dave needed clean pants. Way too much energy drink and demonic possession. Lizzy was crawling around on all fours like a mad dog, growling, eyes of running mascara; a deranged face surrounded by yellow matted hair. She pulled at it some more, pulling more clumps. She spat up at Jay. 'Why don't you listen to the voices? It's in your blood. Why have you built up so many defences? Son? What don't you want to happen as you fall into it anyway with your eyes tightly shut? Asleep. Awaken and dream. Explore. Crash away your defences and become who you truly are! You need to listen more to the dark side of you. Follow your shadow in. Know the darkness, embrace your fears and transmute them. In your murkiest depths behold the Bringer of the Light.'

Dave said, "I need to pop to my room. Back in a bit."

Debbie couldn't move. "Demonic Possession." She turned to Jay and felt his fear. He was wearing it well while swiftly shutting down his emotions against the tidal wave of doom which had just washed over him. He checked his defences. Damaged.

"We need to do an Exorcism."

"Only the church can provide that, through the Vatican. We haven't got time for it."

"I understand that. That's why I've brought along this." Debbie lifted her bag and found her perfume. None of the cheap stuff. She had found it in Soul Magic magazine. Herbs mixed with Holy Water. "Lizzy? If you're in there, come out and smell this perfume. If you like it you can keep it. It's time to say goodbye to your friend." Debbie didn't have a clue what she was doing, and it was a scary place to be. She had read articles on this. She had read up on different forms of possession. She wasn't keen to make an enemy of anything unseen. "Lizzy. Tell your friend to go away." She shook the perfume and sprayed it in Lizzy's face. Lizzy screamed in agony of alcohol in eyeballs.

Jay was willing to try anything. He had read countless books on this subject and now he too was in the middle of experiencing it. He wasn't sure if it was his great grandmother. The voice had sounded familiar but that might not stop it from lying to him. Perhaps he wanted it to be her so he could put this shit to rest. Perhaps his own unconscious thoughts were calling forth his experience? He wondered if it was any of these. Perhaps it was the nasty energy in this room who liked to feed off his fears from earlier? Perhaps it jumped into Lizzy because she was the most sensitive? Either way, he saw Lizzy return to normal.

Lizzy rubbed her eyes with a wet-wipe retrieved from Debbie's bag of all sorts. It was so good to feel coherent. It had been a while since she had last felt this. It was good to be on her own again. She peered up at Jay and truly saw him, towering over her, demanding eyes. "I'm so sorry." She blurted. "I really don't know what came over me. But I didn't mean all these nasty things I said. They just came out."

"It's gone now." Jay tried to smile. Images of his suffering demons staring him in the face.

Lizzy got to her feet. Update status: I'm in a haunted Castle, been possessed by seven witches and taken over by another, and I've kissed a demon... twice. LOL not. "I need tea. And I need to get my phone back. And I need to stop my face from itching." Her face was growing blotchy through caked-on foundation, her skin was breaking into hives. She tried not to rub. If she scratched it as much as it begged for it, she wouldn't have any skin left. "What perfume is that?" she questioned Debbie.

"Holy Water with this and that. I'd leave it on for as long as possible."

"Are you kidding me? It burns like a bitch."

"Have you seen Wye, by any chance?" Jay asked.

The seven witches stopped their antics of chasing dreams. Their Queen was gone. They had no intention of staying in the Dining Hall. Their carriage was preparing to move out. They rose into the air: seven witches formed a circle, span together; a vortex becoming one and slithered back into their cosy yet unstable chariot.

Lizzy cocked her head onto an angle. She considered this. Wye? "She's walking around in a world of her own. As long as she's walking right-side up, she's not walking upside down." She shuffled away, mumbling to her coven inside, "She's in the mirrors, of course. Along with our Queen. That's how we shall track her. But first we'll get Cook to make us broth." 'And wash your face'. 'Holy water, my ass. Well that was diluted with spring water: you could taste the daisies.' "We're not unholy; speak for yourselves." Lizzy retorted angrily to her chest. 'Not Unholy? -So what do you call that kiss? What is a curse read?' Lizzy flushed; her skin burned hotter as she hurried them on their way safely back through the threshold.

Jay was too excited to listen to Lizzy or even notice Lizzy's disturbance as she left. He was checking his equipment. He gestured at it all, saying to Debbie, "We've had loads of communication. It's been really mad busy. I haven't stopped. I need to stop. You know that class A was incredible? We didn't record it but you remember it. The Ghost Box turned itself on. The woman needed our help. We've been asked to Leave and Get Out; and this voice in here sounds just like the same voice I caught in the Chapel: it grunted and then said 'Die'. I've captured a white mist kicking the glass off the Ouija Board - and Lizzy comes in possessed by something professing to be my dead relative, just to screw with my head some more. You know this place is active, when you think of it all. None of it feels good. It's like the entire place is alive and playing us. I said this at the start. It all feels really weird. And it's getting strangely weirder."

"So, Top Detective..." She heard Lizzy refer to him as such. She smiled, "So shall we go and investigate the rest of this Castle knowing there are actually ghosts? See what else we get? We can't hide in the Control Room forever."

Jay agreed. "But first you need to listen to this." He found the section of film from the Ghost Box session recorded earlier. He listened to the voice asking them to leave and rewound back further. He pressed play. He had captured a moment in time. A familiar female voice. Her voice was so pure, he wondered of the rest. "Remind the Guard he is a King."

Debbie gasped. "It's the same Spirit."

Jay nodded eagerly. "The same voice who asked us to find and protect the Empress Card?"

Tearfully, Debbie felt the realisation and magnitude. "I think she touched my hair. Her voice matches her touch. Lovely and sad. I hope she's ok. Are you here with us now, sad lady?" She picked up a KII. It had no life in it. It felt as drained as Debbie. "Tap on the table or touch my hair, please? You can do it now?"

Nothing. The room was still. It was the most deathly quiet it had been all night. Debbie felt slightly dejected. She wondered why everything would go quiet when they had only just established good communication. "Perhaps the Spirit World only have a limited amount of energy for short blasts? I read about this in an article. It's a theory."

"I've got more of a feeling that they've all left the room when those doors slammed shut. It would take more than just a draught to move those heavy doors with such force."

"More than a hurricane." Debbie shivered.

Jay shoved a beef sandwich in his mouth, full of optimism. "Now you've got to listen to this. This is your EVP, Debbie. I was reviewing all this when Lizzy lumbered in, possessed. She stole my focus. Listen to what you've captured in the Guards Room." Jay stuck a pair of headphones on Debbie's ears. He poised his index finger, pressed play, and instructed her to listen deeply.

Debbie heard a man's voice. One word, one desperate plea, 'Help.'

"That's incredible!" Debbie pulled off her earphones. She knew she had heard something at the time. It felt good to have it confirmed by Jay. He really seemed to know his stuff. "I wonder if this voice belongs to the Spirit I was communicating with on the KII? – He believes romance isn't dead."

"We've got some great evidence so far tonight. The night is still so young. We need to investigate the Guards Room further." He grabbed a flight case of kit.

Debbie said, "We've also got to find who is playing the Tarot. It seems infinitely important."

Jay flicked the wisps of dark hair from his eyes and took a gulp of energy drink. He recalled everything that had brought them to this moment, and announced, "It's all one big paranormal adventure."

# 25

After leaving Jay in the Dining Hall, the twins had made their way to the Chapel in the hope to catch up with Angel on her altar. They had been disappointed to find she had left already. They discovered the Ouija Board was still on the altar and could only imagine that she had done all her sexual contorting on top of their board on top of the altar. How cool was she? They endeavoured to stir things up in the Chapel but had got no results. It was as though everything had shifted.

"Odds - we stay in here and summon what else might be here," Gareth said, shaking his loose fist; stirring up the two dice within. "Evens we smoke skunk in the maze?"

And here they now found themselves lost. In the maze in the centre of the courtyard fit for Kings and Queens. The dice had landed; Snake Eyes. They now had red eyes.

"Fucking hell, bro. This shit is good," Gareth said, sucking in the three-skin joint. He held it. The moon seemed to shift. To the left. To the right and doe-see-doe your partners. He pranced about as best he could feeling nimble as an elephant on a balloon. "Waltzing with the moon, oh lady friend - la loon," He spoke the smoke.

Through the haze, Gareth saw the Victorian woman step from the tall hedgerow. She moved within the smoky wisps as translucent; her black and red dress shimmering with her raven hair. He tried to wave the smoke from his eyes to see more clearly but his arms had no idea where to locate his face. He tried to focus both eyes as one vision. He closed one eye and the other bounced so much he felt sick. He opened his eye and she seemed even nearer. Her words were drowning in an ocean. She threw back her head and laughed. Looked at him. At the moon and laughed. At him. Those eyes came in close and she was speaking. He wanted to dance with her under the waltzing moon. Feeling funky. Surrounded by green tall hedges. In a roofless cube. He looked again to the sky because it was the only thing that seemed real. He was in a hedge box without a lid. Up would be the only way out. He needed to be able to fly. He could zoom to the moon, tap dance on all the stars. Instead he was stuck in a box, along with his brother.

They had made it into the middle, straight enough. They had ingested their herb and now everything had joined them in funky town; down in the green square hole. Each corner was flanked with a looming black Tower against the moonlight; identical and perfect from the perspective of the centre. There was no definition between the South and North. There had to be a gap in the wall somewhere around here. Hadn't they come in that way? Then that would be how they could get back out. Where would out take them? What were they doing here in the first place? How did they even get here?

Gareth tried to fathom. He tried to recall his recent past. Forget it. His brain literally ached. It obviously wasn't worth knowing. He took in another puff and tried to lean down to pass it to Euan. He laughed, as he felt himself falling forward to his brother inch by inch and gathering momentum. "I'm battered."

Euan nodded in agreement, smiling inebriated in his own bubble. He was watching the Victorian woman weaving around a rose garden, picking dying petals, and throwing them before her, creating a path. She was chewing on the thorny stems 'til her tongue bled: torn around the diamond stud and turning it to red.

This vision sat down in front of Euan for him to train his eyes more clearly. Angel – morbid and mysterious. She knew their gift. She heard their thoughts and their conversations.

Telepathically, the dark angel spoke to them both, 'What's that you're smoking? A crazy mad little cigarette?' She took it from Euan and smelt along its entirety to the burning end, engaging his attention and then put this into her mouth. She loved fire. It beat salt on the temperature factor. The fire was soothing as her mood. Telepathically, she said, 'How about a double blow-back?' She winked teasingly, her onyx eyes daring Euan closer as she reeled him in. He didn't need asking twice. His lips were close to the other end as she blew the smoke to him. He held in this dynamite, to impress her, deep within his lungs. She lowered the joint, and moved into him with serpentine grace, poised to strike. She wasn't a dream. She exhaled completely to make room for his breath. She pressed her red lips onto his. Her lips were real. Soft and delicious of strawberries and honey blood. She kissed him in and sealed them together with the gentlest and steady suction. She drew in his breath and smoke to fill her. She had invited him. He had begged for this. Oh mere mortal. She broke the kiss. He licked his lips and savoured her taste and blood. She truly had chewed on thorny rose stems; her mouth really was caked in her blood. She really had traced her blood into him. She blew out the smoke. "You got that from the Valleys?"

The twins were blown away. It took them a moment to recover. Euan savouring the taste and Gareth growing jealous. They were also pleased to learn she was real and they weren't tripping balls. As for the rest of it everything was feeling strange and still funky. They were in good company. All three stuck in the green box, dead centre to the haunted Castle.

Below this earth and grass on which they sat, was the myriad of catacombs and tunnels overlaid and woven between modern-day corridors flowing on a different wormhole: and all of it built with such a deliberate design and confusing as the ever-shifting maze above it. Both were puzzles in themselves; ever-changing as the seasons to trip up the conscious mind in this Castle where all things are possible.

Angel lay back on the grass and fanned out her Victoriana dress. She pushed her arms out over her head and gazed at the full and spectacular moon. She drew down the moon through the one and only eye and its energy bathed her as she basked. "This night is wonderful. Isn't it a delight? I'm loonier charging." She giggled. "I'm loonier." She giggled again.

"Hey well just coz you dress for a funeral on a steam train doesn't make you crazy."

Angel giggled, "I happen to love a good funeral. Especially one of my own. Call me self-indulgent. I gather in a good crowd." The twins were relaxing into her company. She had gained their respect and made them laugh as they couldn't take her serious. Everyone was having such fun. Nobody was scared. But then this wasn't strictly true and she readjusted herself.

She studied the four Towers from her perspective. The East Tower: the Room at the Top had soft yellow candle light flickering and the Chaplain hiding in a shadow corner away from her. She could see him there. He was always there. She looked across at the West Tower and felt the prisoners forcing against their cell walls, incapable of strength and muster. Below them was the Guard; caught in a curse: a prisoner himself.

She ran her attention along the Main concourse mirrors and found everything to be hunky dory, and sighed, "I'm bored." She sat up, opened her black silk purse and pulled out a bottle. 'This is good stuff. This will take you higher. You want to go higher?' She held the black bottle to the moonlit sky. She felt the energy of this honey moon. She held down a growl. 'You need to fall lower to crawl up the Tower.'

"What is it?" Gareth asked, trying to focus on her bottle of smouldering murky brown liquid; the full moon trying hard to glint through it.

"It's complicated. When is a poison not a poison?" Angel offered this up but the boys didn't get it. Men seldom did. It was more of a woman's thing. To use poison. She answered herself, triumphantly, "When it's a potion. If it doesn't kill you – it will make you stronger." Angel rose to her knees, mesmerised by the liquid. The boys wouldn't stand a chance.

She handed it carefully to Gareth who removed the little glass dropper and tried to study the liquid drawn inside. It sparkled amongst a turbulent sea. Moonlight glinting on a magical surface. It seemed the liquid went deeper into forever. He felt the void and disconnection as he gazed transfixed at the pipette. "Did you get this from the Valleys?" He asked nervously.

"I collected this from the Forest." Angel winked. She took it from Gareth's tentative hand, threw back her head to the moon and dropped the entirety of the potion onto her diamond pierced tongue. She refilled the pipette and offered it out. "Bottom's up, boys." Throughout time immemorial boys hated girls winning. She took her mischievous eyes to the ground to hide her true nature then rose up demurely. "Why do you hesitate? – Drink with the devil. You like to stir things up. Take a sip." She rose to her feet. She looked up at the moon and held it between her hands. She focused on the energy in this; like holding a silver sphere of Chi; her hands pulsing and she drew down the moon for her own Intent.

Gareth was up for it. As she stood there swaying like a hypnotic pendulum in the wind, suspended from the moon. Tick tock. He took a drop and Euan was quick to follow. After all, what was the worst thing that could happen?

The Victorian pendulum stopped swaying. She turned to the West Tower and lined up her vision so it appeared she was holding it; the entire black tower was between her thumb and forefinger. As the potion took its effect and the twin's inner doors blew open, they watched the dark angel pluck the Tower from its corner. She tossed it to the ground before them. On the grass lay the Tarot card – Tower. Right-side up.

The twins would have been shocked normally, but somehow they knew it was the drug, playing tricks and not some kind of spell. They checked anyway, and found the West Tower instated. Thank goodness, for that. They had spent many a day, blazed with inner doors flying open and shut as they worked out everything about everything to only close back down to normal again. To see a tarot card materialise out of thin air, meant they were seriously on some mind-bending drug. Everything was cool, because none of this would be actually happening.

The dark angel announced this, "I need you to go to the West Tower and start me a fire. Just like the picture. See the fire coming out of the windows like dragons snaking up it? See the figure falling into flames. Talking of snakes..." She smiled beguilingly. "Who's holding their bones?"

Gareth was a Dice-man. So was his twin. This was their only religion. It ruled them. The dice governed them. It was on the throw of the dice that they wound up here at the Castle. It was snake eyes who drew them to the centre of its labyrinth. The dark angel did suddenly appear to have snake eyes; yellow enchanting suggestions as she slipped inside their minds. Now she was inside their core beliefs. What to do? Rattle their foundations. Gareth felt his hand open like a fine summer daisy in bloom.

In his palm lay his convictions. Angel swiped up the dice and shook them. "Snake eyes – you start the fire." She insisted, staring at the card, she threw their bones onto the Tower.

Euan stared for a long while at the two ones. Even in his inebriated state, he knew there was something wrong with this picture. What were the chances? He also knew that his twin had fallen headlong in but he couldn't speak. He didn't have a tongue at the best of times. He was mute. Their New Age mother had put it down to possible trauma from a previous life because he had been born with the condition of silence. He spoke his mind to his twin because they were one person and it was easy to do; 'even since before the womb', their mother had said. They grew up believing this and it worked for them. It was never snuffed out, their gift of telepathy. The necessity to communicate outshone any fear of reprisal. Their mother had taught them to experiment. She had been a great mother until she 'overdosed during a Shamanic Ritual,' read the Coroner's verdict. Contrary, they believed she had found her Nirvana and decided to stay there. So that was all ok then. He just wasn't sure about starting this fire.

Gareth picked up the card and dice. He stood up, smiling stupidly at Angel, while hoping for a kiss. She was so intoxicating, captured in the moonlight as she weaved her way away from him and began tiptoeing on the black petals along the pathway she had created. 'Follow me'. So he did.

Reluctantly followed by Euan who wouldn't leave his brother's side. Brothers Forever. They followed along the dead petal path and they came to a Wishing Well. In it was a ladder attached to the wall. Angel invited, 'Climb down and follow the petals out. Don't stray. Don't dally. Don't falter. You do this thing for me – and you can both take me on the altar.'

It sounded like a tidy plan but they weren't sure now what was real. The Wishing Well might have always been there, except they hadn't seen it. The logical conclusion. It had been tucked around one of these walls of hedgerows eight foot tall and they hadn't noticed because in their state, everything green looked the same. They were still slightly confused because who in their right mind would climb down into a well? A potential prison; like an Oubliette; to be all forgotten, where nobody would hear their cries? Who else would be stupid enough to climb down into a hole – a possible death-trap?

Angel said, "I hear your conflict. Let it go. I assure you at the bottom you will find many exits. Not none. Many." She circled around the round stone wall, peering in; enigmatically inside her own mind knowing the telepathic link to the twins would be felt as she channelled to them this, 'Follow the corridors of rose petals or not in this haunted place you seek to learn.' She handed Euan her potion. "You will know when to use this magic." She turned on her heels and was gone.

Angel marched towards the next hedge wall and it drew away from her. She marched towards the next and commanded the labyrinth to yield and it did; the high walls bowing her a straight path in the maze. She saw someone move out the corner of her eye. She stopped in her tracks. The East Tower: candlelight flickering in the Room at the Top; she saw two old witches spying on her from their comfortable black tower. Lois and Avis had Fortress walls of salt, keeping the dark angel out. There were many ways to win the battle than go directly in. Recruit an army. Seduce and entice and give them their macho ego and dumb-brain killing spree. Mortal man. Incredible the excuses they conjure on their way through their own personal hell. Always a pleasure doing business with those seeking to know. Not half a truth; the whole truth. Only then will it set them free.

Angel ignored the East Tower. She wouldn't allow herself to rise. She cast her eyes to the West Tower as she marched on through the illusion of barriers. The Guard was in the second storey; hiding in the shadows beyond the obscure window, watching her make a fine move in the Game. He could do nothing but watch. He knew nothing of her tactics and everything of her cruel Intent. He had done battle with her before and lost his crown and sanity, followed by his zest for life. All what remained was a glint in his failing heart that he still knew love. Angel knew this of him. She sensed it as she tested him, earlier. She had paid him a visit. He was still scared of her, fair enough. A sensible man. He had cowered back into the shadows in the Guards Room and wouldn't come out to confront her of her previous actions, all 300 years ago. She had sat along the mirrors in the restroom and peered through the glass at his lonesome place and tired, sad face. Again, he refused to stand up to her; face her and scream his concerns back through the mirror. She appreciated his caution. He had cause. She had felt his heart stir, nonetheless. She had felt his hope spark as he had found a way to communicate with a mortal called Debbie. He still had enough love left in him to retaliate, if he did but remember himself; and search for his long lost Queen. And she was lost. She had jumped through the mirror and had put herself even further away from her King.

Angel smiled, impressed. Her Hooded Lover was totally dominating this Game from his level by commanding that depressed Widow to Leave. He still had needs, so many needs and Angel endeavoured to fill him up and then suck him dry. She could feel him inside the Castle, storming, cape and hood and more tricks up his sleeve. She could feel him prowling, agitated. In his darkest mood, he yearned to tear her apart as she bought out the true devil in him. He had gifted his much needed spark to seven witches who in turn channelled their flame back through him and into Lizzy, Little Miss Sensitive. Angel felt his needs. He didn't just need fire – they all needed a raging inferno.

Angel waved at the Guard sarcastically. She pointed at the Honey moon to mock him and remind him of his loss on his wedding night. He wasn't to know his Widow had long gone. She was running her own Gauntlet in a desperate bid to find Wye – The One. The mortal who had any hope of finding her way through the Game consciously awake. The One calling who she truly is into existence; she was on the way to finding her true self: Wye. Angel scoffed down her growl as she waltzed around the hedgerows in her black and red dress, pretending to be happy so she could devastate the Guard, further.

Everything was swinging in the balance. Anything could shift again at any time. The rules were written in the invisible words describing visible worlds... and the possibilities were endless. 

# 26

Gareth and Euan were in the centre of the maze, sitting on the circular stone wall, legs dangling into the well. Both were peering into the abyss, trying to wonder if this was a secret way inside the Castle. Euan gazed down at the little black bottle, still getting a sense that everything was actually real. After all, he was physically holding the potion. Unless this too was a hallucination, in which case, they really shouldn't start a fire. Just in case they started a real fire.

Gareth said to Euan, "I know what you're thinking but I have an idea. We get a little spark and we start a 'little' fire. – And then we put it out. That way we keep our word and the promise to the dice. We will honour Snake Eyes. Then we get to do you know what to you know who and you know where. It's Friday night. It's happy hour."

Gareth dropped the end of their special little cigarette joint into the well and watched it fall endlessly out of sight. "That's a long way down to never." He turned himself around on the ladder and began a slow descent into the well of endless opportunities centre to the Castle.

He braced his hands around the metal ladder and focused on his next foot down, feeling for the rung in his sneakers. He checked up to find his twin was following suit and saw his skinny jeans and too much boxer shorts. Gareth realised for the first time how potentially dangerous this scenario was. They could both end up in a heap at the bottom. The next step down was even scarier thinking this image out; crumpled bones long forgotten. Who the hell would come looking for them? They had no family bar each other. Misfits and Weirdos. The twins were used to their titles. Right now such labels seemed so apt; climbing down the wafer thin ladder into an ink-well of black.

Each step Gareth took down, he was hoping the next would be solid ground. This vertical tunnel seemed endless. His vision was still wonky from the marijuana and potion. He wondered what would greet them at the bottom; nothing but a practical joke and a long climb back out? He took another step down. A strong hand grasped his ankle and yanked hard. Down he tumbled.

Gareth heard his brother's distress in his head but was otherwise preoccupied to respond because he had landed on his arse on solid ground and was staring up at his aggressor responsible for his ungainly entrance to this underworld.

The room was lit by sconce torches protruding from the stone walls. It was circular; with arched entrances to tunnels and rectangular corridors surrounding him. Some entrances were framed in gold. One entrance was framed in crystals and precious stones which shimmered in a magical light illuminating from within. There were some entrances less pleasant; some murky and some muddy and dank.

Gareth took all this in while staring into a peculiar face of nothing short of a Pixie. Now he knew he was off his head; especially as he sat there asking himself since when did Pixies have this much strength?

Pixie had green spikey hair and pointed ears, a pink hat to match her pink dress and boots. "Can I help you?" she asked, hands on hips and not very happy; little magical foot tapping up fairy dust and causing Gareth to cough.

"I think you already have. A big slip to the bottom." Gareth stood up and brushed himself down, clocking the bruises. Pixie was no more than four and a half feet tall. He was more than a foot taller so peered down at her fuming face from his mighty height thinking this would outrank her.

"Come in, why don't you?" Pixie said to his twin as Euan climbed down his last step.

'You see her?' Gareth asked Euan, telepathically.

Pixie wrinkled up her face, crystal-like eyes glinting as she pulled both the twins in. "You looking for magic?" she asked.

"A path of dead rose petals actually," Gareth said, trying to move past her to explore the circular room deep within the earth and central to it all.

Pixie stepped into his way and blocked him to stay put. "Have you asked your Gatekeeper if being here is a wise idea?"

"Gatekeeper? Nope. Can't say that I have." He rolled his eyes at his twin, as if Gatekeepers exist. "Just going to go for it and see what happens."

Pixie nodded, pondering this. "Is this the strategy of your life? You just go storming in without asking? You don't question the consequences? You're mindless?" Gareth stepped past her. She jumped in front of him. "Don't you search for a bit of magic?"

"Love, I'm still trying to figure out if I'm even really here. Shit can't get much more magic than that." Her multi-coloured eyes sparkled. Behind her, translucent wings rose gently to flutter.

"Want to bet?" Pixie looked cute. The twins wanted to prod her to check their reality but at the same time they were enjoying their trip. Pixie took the stage. She walked to an entrance, shimmering in crystals, as darkness lay beyond so they couldn't see in to the wonders awaiting. "You want to disappear through this doorway?"

She pressed her hand against the gems and smiled as she seemed to fill up on the energy this gifted her. "This is a good door as it will lead you to a good Tower. You still hold the Tower, I feel." She referred to the Tarot Card Gareth had in his jeans pocket. "You could have so many enlightened moments in this Tower."

She marvelled at the arch some more and then let go, moving on to the next entrance framed in embossed gold; matching one of the mirror frames in the main concourse. "You want to use this doorway?" She moved onto the next. "Or this?" This tunnel was unceremonious: dull, muddy and smelt dank; the echoes of water dripping from a distant meandering ceiling. "You can join the fortress soldiers, if you like exercise. I take it you don't." Pixie shrugged. "Lazy minds grow podgy behinds."

"I'm not lazy." Gareth offered, "I'm stoned. There is a difference." He couldn't believe he was having this conversation. The room seemed real. He wanted to touch the gems inlaid in the arched frame. Pixie had moved onto the next in her little tour guide to all the wonders.

Pixie held out her hand to the square door frame with an illuminated electric Fire Exit sign above a proper square corridor. She was indicating to the dead black rose petals at the entrance floor and seemingly disappearing into the darkness. "This is where you seek to be. So what are your intentions?"

Gareth moved closer to Pixie and contemplated the dead petals, once beautiful now so dry and ragged. What was the significance? He tried to fathom.

Pixie spoke for him, "You want to follow the dead path to the West Tower, go deep into the earth on the way to get higher. You want to use the card in your pocket with your lighter to start a fire?"

Gareth's turn to shrug. "It seemed like a good idea at the time."

Gallantly, Pixie crossed her legs and sat down in front of this entrance. She crossed her arms in a strop. "You haven't called upon your Gatekeeper at all? Like never? Storming in you go and everything else follows. Now the mother of all demons has you following her dead petals to death and destruction. Collector of souls. Don't you think there are enough lost souls running around here without you adding to them?"

Pixie was really uncomfortable sitting on as many petals as she could nest away from the twin's attraction. Each petal held so many promises. Pixie knew the black magic as it was literally biting her. She adjusted herself. "You are so weak that all you crave is to return to that altar, regardless of the carnage you aid to invoke?"

Gareth could see one solitary petal which had escaped her barrier. Angel had touched that petal as she gently let it fall through her fingertips of red. An invitation to a party. He bent and scooped up the velvety petal and felt its power stir deep within; the ultimate in feminine bewitchment took its hold as he saw the Dark Angel, lips turned to a smile of entrapment as she kissed his brother. He had longed for the same. Her blood lips blowing smoke with messages of potions and throwing him the snake eyes. Another invitation. Much as Pixie had been a distraction; that's all she was. He had a party to attend.

Euan was miffed as his twin pushed past Pixie and disappeared instantly into the nothingness. He knew Gareth was expecting him to follow yet his brother's thoughts were growing distant. This unnerved Euan. He had always been able to hear his twin. Half of himself had gone and left him to it.

Pixie got to her feet, outraged. She stood, cute and defiant. Her pale skin flushing in her cheeks of pink which seemed more magical and less boiling blood.

"He is setting out to destroy the Castle in the Physical Realm of Existence. Do you understand the weight of this across the Game? I know all these things because I spied on you. It's my job."

Euan could only shrug; he couldn't speak. He did know his brother had disappeared into thin air almost. He also knew he was tripping as Pixie flicked her magical wings impatiently.

"You leave me no choice but to take you to my Queen. She is going to empty a heap load of whoop ass on you. You are so bad you make Pan look good." Pixie screwed up her face in annoyance, pointed ears tweaking. "It means I must leave my post. You could get me in deep trouble. It's not a free-for-all down here, you know."

Pixie moved delicately towards the first doorway she had introduced. Euan marvelled at how the gems of the archway emphasised the colours of her captivating eyes. Her green hair suited his orange. These colours were meant to be together. Pixie sighed. She became aware Euan was glazing over dreamily. She was almost charmed by his adoration she could sense. She tried to forget his lips had brushed against evil and was marked with its blood. She tried hard not to become equally as captivated with this bad mortal god as he was of her.

Pixie broke any magic which was trying to enchant them by saying, "Keep your lips off the Fairies, Mr Mysterious," and made a big excuse, "They don't need your level of silence breaking their focus." 

# 27

Pixie allowed the mortal his gasps of amazement as Euan followed her into a crystal metropolis. He stood in awe, incredulous at the world he had entered. Behind him was the arched doorway, flanked with crystal columns for protection. Pixie had shut this door. This door led back out to a depressing world, as he knew it, though in his inebriated state it was long forgotten.

In front, was a vast space made of Precious Stone and more Crystal: stalactites and stalagmites of every colour glinting in the multifaceted that would take an infinity to absorb. He was on a path and could see it meandering up and down, over bridges and around the sculptures of creatures he wasn't sure even existed. All of these things in a garden of every flower and every tree, sustained by their environment and nurtured by the properties of the dome. If he could speak, he would swear.

"Welcome to one of many layers." Pixie grabbed his hand. She couldn't help it. It was impulsive. He was warm. She held it firmly and smiled up into his questioning brown eyes with flecks of orange and yellow like Tiger's Eye. This gem was a firm protector. She liked him. She just wished he would speak. He had so much to say. She could tell as she squeezed his big hand that it was all waiting to come out. "Don't you speak at all?"

He shook his head and shrugged. She seemed saddened and tried to hide it but he read her expression. He had heard people jeer, he had felt people's pity but he saw something new in Pixie. She was intrigued, and better, she wanted to know him and was disappointed.

Pixie remembered herself and her mission. She had to deliver him to her Queen. Her Queen would know what to do. Mr Mysterious Tiger Eyes was her prisoner. Sadly, he was also imprisoned inside himself. She kept a firm hold and sprang to life to lead him along the path. "It's spectacular, but we must be on our way. Your brother didn't have protective eyes. What a snake. Mesmerised by the insatiable whore of the Underworld. What's wrong with people? You drank of evil and yet you still have a heart."

Pixie stopped. Euan was aware of her wings. Over his shoulder, he could make out her shimmering translucent and delicate extension of her cuteness, flicking to her moods. He hadn't heard a word she said. He was still gathering information about the fact that this trip was so real. He could feel her hand; soft and yet so strong. He could feel the buzzing of all the energies under the vast dome crystal roof. He could feel the undercurrents of tranquillity balancing everything out until it became subtle as he moved through it and into it and harnessed it and accepted it 'til it became normal.

Pixie turned her pretty eyes to him and smiled. "Your heart gets it. There is something for everything here. All the magic across all the levels stem from here. All the Quartz in the stone walls of your dimension are plugged into here. Our Realm loves to leak its magic. There are infinite ways, you know. Our Queen is very generous. She loves lavishing her gifts. Some of you are better at finding her magic than others. Some are so closed down; it's all gloom. – Onwards then, Tiger."

Pixie picked up the pace. She knew his twin would take a while to fathom the underground labyrinth of corridors. She had been really naughty in fixing that conundrum for his addled brain. She stifled a giggle that would be music to Pan's big pointy ears. She had so much to report to her Queen while delivering her prisoner.

Pixie led Mr Mysterious over a bridge and round a ruby statue of two Praying Mantis creatures, entwined in passion and battle. She led him towards a waterfall. She didn't want him to see all the water imps in their skimpy attire; skimpy imps celebrating their goddess and frolicking because they had nothing better to do but splash about. She was more important than them because she had a mission. She was a Gatekeeper of the Game. What a title to hold. A thankless job, really. Pixie went back to jaded. As it turned out nobody really wanted the role. Sit in the lobby and keep a watchful eye on the entrances, keep everything in order, ask for passes, not that anyone ever came by. Then three turn up in the space of no time. All hell broke loose, which wasn't fair because the water imps got to play all day without a care, and the waters were blessed from a gracious Deity of the Seventh Dimension. Fairies flitted merrily about tending to the flowers for remedies to gift the Physical Realm while she got to sit around in dust.

Pixie twitched her wings. She had Euan's full attention. The fairies had noticed him though. They began whispering to each other, gathering together to wonder of her mission and at last she felt important. Pixie lifted her upturned nose a little higher for them all to wonder of her captive. She was holding his hand and leading him to her Queen. How valiant and noble and very busy. Unlike the imps and fairies, she was saving all the worlds.

Euan became fascinated by the waterfall. It was so high up and dramatic yet produced little sound. He followed beside Pixie and all he wanted was to touch everything his eyes could take in. The best of all radiant colours were kept to here. The hallucinogen was incredible. He would have to remember to mix the grass from the Valleys with the potion from the Forest, every time. He couldn't even begin to believe he could conceive all this and he was scared to wake up. There was so much more to experience inside his mind. In reality, he was probably just sitting with his brother at the bottom of a lying Wishing Well. Except, it didn't feel like it. His feet were really moving. Pixie was squeezing his hand while trying to take his eye out with her wing.

They came to a halt alongside the waterfall curtain as the path disappeared into it. Pixie stood in front of him and said, "You can enter this doorway because I am here just the same as the door before. You get me?" Her pointed ears twitched with curiosity. She held up their hands, joined naturally. She was enjoying the sensations of human mortal flesh.

She considered him closely. "Won't you try to connect with your own Gatekeeper and ask his advice?" She shook her head as if the vast question was a lost cause. His Gatekeeper was on strike. He had failed his job lousily and wanted out. Pixie could only try to connect them both but neither was listening. "Your Gatekeeper gave up on you a long time ago. He turns a blind eye and in slips everything unguarded. You know how open you are to psychic attack?" She hoped to see a spark of realisation in him. But nothing. "Never mind. I will lend you a way in that is safe for all, and most importantly, my Queen: I can double as your Gatekeeper by proxy. Breathe."

Pixie leaned back and pulled him towards her. It could have been a romantic occasion; falling with her into the unknown but she disappeared through the curtain of torrential water, dragging him in with her. He felt the warm wisps flow through him as he moved through it and emerged the other side; dry as bones.

The found themselves in a huge round sparkling room fit for a Queen. A Crystal Palace filled with nature's comforts. The biggest throne in the centre of rich and vibrant sanctuary. The room was a hive of activity as elementals of every nation busied themselves with Royal duties.

Pixie let go of Euan and went to the throne. She leaned her slender frame towards a fairy boy and whispered in his ear. The fairy boy shook his head and replied. Euan was left to his own wanderings and so made his way to a window. The view was a shock. It was the metropolis they had ventured through to get here, yet somehow they were looking down on it all from so high up. They were in the top of a tower. He didn't recall using a lift but here he was, nonetheless. Looking down upon unicorns and fairies: trippy as...

Pixie held her nerve. Apparently her Queen was taking a nap. Nobody was prepared to wake her. This left Pixie little choice. They were in the West Tower of the Elemental and Fairy Realm. The evil seed was on its way to destroy this very Tower in the Physical Realm. This would have horrendous and catastrophic consequences to the entire Game. How would mortal human consciousness evolve without the West Tower's powers? The slut whore bitch of the underworld had really done a number on them all this time.

Pixie went to Euan. She felt his adoration for her grow. She saw he longed to touch her wings. She delighted at his silly glazed grin. She snapped out of it and urged, "You need to wake our Queen."

# 28

Rick was completely lost as he made his way round the Crystal Palace. He had got over the awesomeness of it all because he couldn't find the Queen. He had always imagined she would be just the other side of the veil, waiting to greet her loyal subject with open wings so glorious. He couldn't believe he was here on his own but, as yet, he hadn't come across anyone to ask directions. He had searched the Palace and realised he was as alone now as ever. Even his Guide had abandoned him. He had left her in the Prison, staring out of the window in hope of a better future. Fortunately, he had left behind all the King's Men too. Brutal and way too savage for his delicate position. He wanted to earn wings not take up the sword. Battle wasn't everyone's cup of tea – Rick pondered as he traipsed along back to where he started his search. It was disconcerting that everything was so deathly quiet.

He made his way up haematite stairs which seemed a struggle as the heavy precious stone of the staircase grounded him and he wanted to feel lighter. He felt his negativity leave as he ascended each step to the top. The flooring changed to pink quartz and filled him with happier thoughts as he made his way along the vast corridor. Here he found more of the same mirrors he had seen around the Palace. They were mirrors of membrane. They didn't reflect, but each one had its own energy attached and even when he tried to touch these mirrors he had been repelled enough to give up. Who was he to question the Fairy Realm and all its mysteries?

Nothing really mattered now. He had lost the TV show because the cameras hadn't followed him in. Crystal Powers was trying her best to keep him from permanently leaving and now he was here there was little to report. How disappointing. Worse still, the more he tried to find his way back, the worse he became disorientated. It was as though he was in a big giant crystal labyrinth, furnished in the most outlandish of fashions that everything seemed to be alive to its own vibration.

Rick was about to abandon all hope when he heard a faint hiccup followed by a soft purr. He went to the open door and poked his head into a bedchamber of sorts. He became aware of something shuffling in the giant Tulip petal hammock, centre to the Opalite room.

The blue petal moved some more.

He clung tight to his every illusion and tried to summon his beliefs into existence. He wished for his Fairy Queen. The petal stirred again. He was waking something. He commanded himself to explore, so crept cautiously across the room, careful not to disturb any of the furnishings; mushroom tables with acorn chairs. Just a little touch. He couldn't help it. Everything was so adorable; inspired by nature. He went before the Tulip petal, suspended by spider silk from the ornate quartz crystal ceiling. He peered in to find a Fairy tucked up tight and sleeping, palms clasped together under a pale pink cheek. Sublime expression in gentle slumber. She kissed her lips together as she dreamed and let out another soft purr.

She looked so fragile and sweet. Her skin mesmerised Rick as it seemed to be multi-coloured; it was subtle but beneath the white was shimmering every colour of the spectrum. He moved his attention across to her wings. These seemed woven of the thinnest silk, little webbed branches of multicolour sparkling. Rick reached out and touched the wing.

Big mistake.

There are many ways to wake a Queen. This was at the bottom of a very long list. Everything happened so fast, Rick had no chance to react. The Queen had her hand around his throat. She pushed him upwards. She tightened her grip, potentially throttling what was left of him. She flapped out her thin wings; not so delicate. She rose into the air with the suspended Rick. She threw him to the floor and then Ninja kicked his arse around the room until he was exhausted and bruised. Now he was lying on his back with the Queen of the Fairy Realm's foot on his throat. She stood over victoriously, her long white hair matching her short white dress – and Rick noticed even in this moment that these whites were full of every colour in the spectrum and she shimmered them all.

The Queen pulled out her wand from her little golden tool belt and pointed it down to his face. He was going to pay for waking her. Nobody wakes the Fairy Queen. She liked to drift back into this dimension. She hated being yanked back. What could be so important? Nothing. She pointed her wand to Rick's balls – and tasered him. Of all the pain on earth, this was the worst as shockwaves recoiled and shot throughout his body.

"Wait! No!" Pixie was in the doorway. Euan was beside her, holding her hand. He was a little alarmed to see Rick, having met him at the beginning of the night. He was more alarmed at the zap he was receiving and felt his own tackle shrink up inside to hide. No amount of crime deserved this punishment as the Queen paid no attention and zapped Rick some more and he writhed; twisting with arched back like an eel on hot sand.

Euan was being dragged closer to it by a very determined Pixie, and it dawned on Euan that this might not be a good scenario. His balls shrank further back. More alarming was the notion that he had been expected to wake this Queen. He remembered his brother and wondered if it was time to head back? He heard his twin's voice but it was so very distant. He tried to tune in to his twin but the connection was poor and he could make no sense of any feelings. It was as though their signals were being jammed; a frequency blipping and roaming lost. Euan missed his twin now. He missed normality. Still he remained in this crazy trip as the power of the drugs continued their own kind of magic. Still the doors of his perception remained swinging open.

Pixie pulled Euan into the room and stood before the Queen of the Fairy Realm. "I have a prisoner for you," wasn't what Euan wanted to hear come out of Pixie's mouth. But there it was - his balls disappearing completely.

The Queen skipped away from Rick and holstered her wand. "Pixie, you've mastered the art of being in two places at once, I see."

"No, my Queen. What makes you say that?"

"Then just who have you left guarding the catacomb Gateways to the Multiverse?"

Pixie knew there was something she forgot. That was it. Protocol. Don't leave these Gateways unattended. Her cheeks flushed pink as her hat perched on green hair. "I have a prisoner." She tried to deflect her failings. "He was plotting to start a fire in the West Tower of the Physical Realm."

"Is that so?" The Queen sized up Euan. She flew through his mind full of memories and junk and saw the Tower Card and Snake Eyes and came eye to eye with onyx eyes. The Mother of all Demons. "I've only taken a nap. Now everything is topsy turvy. You have much to answer to, Euan. I know your name. You think because you don't speak that I will not know. You took a sip from the devil's cup."

Euan was aware Rick was on the floor disabled and in agony, comforting his wedding tackle. He didn't want the same fate. Rick was trying to speak but his voice was strangled. Euan couldn't attend to him because he was in his own world of shit. The Queen was circling him, sizing him up and Pixie was flashing mad eyes of accomplishment, squeezing his hand because underneath it all she didn't want to let go - ever. His twin was on his way to start a little fire because it seemed like a good idea at the time.

"It seemed like a good idea?" The Queen repeated, hearing Euan clearly in her mind. Pixie was in awe of her Queen. She was so multidimensional and out there. She was fearless and wise. She could read this human's mind. Everyone here knows human's minds are the thickest to access; so heavy and dense a place; the human mind; so cloudy and mixed up. That's why they only use ten percent. Thankfully the other ninety percent knew who was really in charge. The Queen tapped into this region of Euan's mind to get to the source of him. She could see all the possible outcomes as everything came to her of the shifts in the Game taking place in the Realms all around her. She turned to Pixie. "The twin is still making his way to the Tower?"

Rick squeaked. He was lying in the Fairy Realm with frazzled bits and in reality was about to be cremated while ironically freezing to death slowly. Comical. It would have been funny if it wasn't happening to him. Stuck to the floor of two Castles. A predicament indeed.

Pixie let go of Euan and puffed out her chest. "I will tell you a story, my Queen. I was guarding the catacomb Gateways but I heard Angel approach along the corridors of the Physical Realm and I hid, as instructed in the Rules. I let her pass. I watched her crawl up the walls of the Wishing Well and slither out in the maze. I followed slowly. I had to climb. I haven't got big enough wings to fly," she informed Euan. "I did my task quietly. I watched her beguile these two defenceless boys who knew no better. She gave them a potion, and they took the spell. That is true. I climbed down the Wishing Well and closed all the doors I could manage in time. And then I was naughty." Pixie felt her confidence slip a tad. She had gone against protocol. She was about to confess. Her Queen would never punish her but she just couldn't cope with the sadness of disappointing her Queen.

Pixie struggled to find the words, searching her story telling abilities. Her Queen was smiling like she already knew and was waiting patiently to let her fledgling grow. Pixie sighed out the truth, "I sneaked into the Physical Dimension. There – I said it."

Her Queen remained smiling. A good sign. "I picked up the trail of dead rose petals and tiptoed along the corridor of the green fire escape, picking up all the black dry petals and then I scattered them along a different corridor in the opposite direction. It will take Gareth more wisdom than he has to find his way out from there in his confusion. His mind sends him round and round." Pixie giggled. She couldn't help herself.

Knowing she had her Queen's respect for her cloak and dagger mission, Pixie continued. She loved telling the little fairies pixie tales. They loved her. She would send them all off to happy dreams. She became her true self, animated as her audience watched her glide around the room, gesticulating out her memory of her own risky adventure. "I knew time was of the essence. Evil was snaking its way and I couldn't allow it. No. You see, I gathered all my strength and kept up my Invisibility Cloak and I re-routed the path of evil intent. I snuck back following my own trail." She omitted to say she had used the very finest Fairy Dust for this trail. "The devil's own is making his way round in one giant circle in the labyrinth catacombs. We are safe, I say. I just hope Angel never finds us here. She is horrid."

The Fairy Queen was pleased. "You make a good Gatekeeper, Pixie. Be proud. The Gateways are sacred. You master them well. You lock them tight when needs must. Do not wonder if the Queen of all Demons could ever slip through. She is unable to find this level of vibration and cannot even see the door. She can't detect the door to here, the vibration of this sound is too high. Worry not. We are safe. Angel needs this realm. Even on her low level, she needs us in the Game for her magic however much she utilizes it and bends it round to manipulate her own. She needs our magic and wouldn't want to destroy an entire realm. She might eat the odd stray goblin though – one trapped between worlds." The Queen of the Fairy Realm walked over to Rick and nudged him with her bare foot. "So what's your story?"

Rick drew in his breath, thinking it his last and said, "Seven witches send their regards."

The Queen faltered for a second and then caught up. She knew these. They hadn't left company on the best terms. "Their regards? What no gifts? After all the magic I enchant into their realm, all I get is their regards? Not even kind or best – just regards?"

The Queen of the Fairy and Elemental Realm gave up with some witches. She demanded Rick to stand and he did his best to rise to his knees, fearing the zapper wand. He was shaky. He began perspiring with the effort. She turned to Euan and made up her mind. To Pixie she said, "Detain them at my pleasure until the dust settles. These two are causing nothing but chaos. Lock the prison door and keep the key safe then return to your station. This night isn't over yet."

The Fairy Queen knew Pixie would do none of this in her romantic quest for love's true dream and bigger wings.

# 29

The Widow was doing her own personal journey ruled by her unconscious mind. She was in a distant land so strange without a map and compass to show the way. She was clinging tightly to the Justice card, too afraid to look at the picture depicting the scales suspended in time. She hoped they were balanced, but if they were anything like how she was feeling inside, the scales were tipping... tipping to the darker side.

The landscape was bleak here. Gnarly trees of an ancient forest in winter, tangled roots threatening to trip her. She held up her skirts and pushed her dark hair from her face, tucking it securely under her black veil. Lost. She was lost. She had lost her husband and her Castle and had jumped into the outer-boundaries of her true self. When she looked into the mirror, this is who she saw. Barren of life, of love, of hope. A desolate forest of doubt, fuelled by the hate of others who deemed her as nothing but a threat. They had killed her. They stripped away her spark, brought her tumbling to her knees and beat her to death with their naivety.

Through the darkness, she could see her demons hiding amongst the trees. They were all around her, following her; waiting for the best moment to move in for the attack. These demons were real. They wanted to consume her as much as Bane reigning over the Castle in the Physical Dimension. He had sent her here to play. She understood this now. He had enticed, tricked, mocked and scared her and she had ran from him. She had leapt to a new dimension and was surrounded by creatures of a similar energy. They wanted to latch on to her. She could sense their Intent as she took another tentative step forward, slipping slightly on a damp root, snaking across her path.

Death had been here. He was creeping around with the demons, camouflaging himself like the chameleon in this vicious environment. Death was always close by. It had been the Tarot Card which was in play at the time of the King's suicide. The King had followed Death in. Literally.

The Widow clung tightly to the fact that the Death Card had passed by. Although it was out there somewhere, she was now holding a new card. Justice. Justice was a joke. In her opinion, Karma had been against her from the start when all she had endeavoured to be was virtuous; tend to the sick and love thy neighbour. They had flogged her for her Grace and Wisdom. Took her soul and cast it out. And now it seemed there was no way back. The demons gathered in strength and moved to behind trees closer to her. She saw them all. They remained hiding; hideously biding their time as though they were only just getting started.

The scales were tipping...

Justice was a big deal. Dealt from a witch's hand in the Room at the Top. Even more of a big deal. With the Justice Card you get to reap what you sow; little wonder everything appeared bleak. Every now and then the Multiverse redressed the balance. In the Order and the Chaos. In tranquil waters and erupting volcanoes, you stand between them and see which one sways you next and off you go. Following your focus you go blindly in. The Castle knows this as the scales swung in the Astral with the Universal Law of Karma bearing down.

The Widow was moving ever further away from the Castle. Step by step, she was leaving the Castle behind as she made her way into denser forest, hoping for an end to it all. She needed to escape, back there. Now she wasn't so sure. At least in the Dining Hall she knew her enemies. Here, she was in unchartered territory. She was alone. She was vulnerable and she felt weak.

The Widow allowed herself a glance back over her shoulder and could just make out the four black Towers of the Castle on the mount through the bare branches. No flags flying. Candlelight flickering in the windows of the Room at the Top. The full moon shining gloriously down, casting everything to silhouette. She stopped in her tracks. She had been so busy running, crawling, jumping, screaming, trying to escape she had forgotten herself.

The Widow turned to the moon. She focused in on the moon and felt her energy reciprocated. The solstice was soon approaching. A time of alignment: and Mother Earth is suspended in the middle: opens her hands where the moon nestles in one hand and the sun in the other; perfect balance of order. She knew this. This Widow, this Queen had walked the earth enough to embrace this. She was infused with the moon that everything around her melted away, even the Castle disappeared back to the illusion, until it was just her and the moon. The Honeymoon.

It was her time of reckoning. She realised it now. How strong a card this Justice Card. She heard a distant chime from a clock. She looked again at the Castle she knew was real and it came into focus, dispersing black cloud. She took her attention to the flickering candlelight, and felt reassurance.

She had help. The two old witches in the Tower were beyond old. They seemed to dither and bumble but what a façade. They knew what they were doing. It was a comfort. She had never been able to communicate with them because she was unable to see them through the veil. Their Protection was too heavy for her to fathom. Nonetheless, she sensed they were there, playing their part in the Game. Everything would be so much easier for the Widow Queen if she were able to communicate with the two witches but the Game could be cruel. Instead, she was trusting them. They had dealt Justice and the Castle had given this opportunity to the Queen.

The Queen pulled off her black veil and tossed it aside as she stared at the candlelight beacon; the Tower a lighthouse guiding her home. Why was she running? She questioned. Where was she running to?

For nothing to nowhere was her only answer. She had been through the chaos and now she was at peace, standing in the ageless forest.

The demons melted away, for now, to cause havoc elsewhere in the Game as they fuelled up for the great battle in the sky as depicted in the Stained Glass Window of Time itself. They hadn't been able to latch on to this victim, saved by the moon her very self; but there were other ways into the Game, the demons knew all the tricks. A good siege was all in the timing. Their master, Bane, was in the Castle, reinforcing his reigning power, and the mother of them all was in a maze of thorns, frolicking about like she owned the place, just for old times.

The Queen closed her eyes. "If I believe there is a forest out here then there is a forest out here." Words to this effect were written in the Journal with invisible ink. She recalled the words clearly now, saw the tilt of each beautifully crafted letter. She jolted back to the now.

"Now there is no forest," she whispered to the air around her and recalled the mirror she had jumped through. She had spent much time watching through that same mirror; the girl who is The One and the Fool over by the brook with the Oak tree and purple mountains and giggling fish. The Queen opened her eyes to this very scene.

The Queen waved her hands and called out to the girl, "Hello, Wye!" The girl couldn't hear her. She was making her way to the Rainbow Bridge and might never be seen again. The Fool had heard her, however. He turned her way and smiled faintly, then remained enticing Wye to take the full spectrum, psychedelic path to who-knows-where.

The Queen called louder, "Wye, hear me this time, I beseech you!" Wye was oblivious. "You are moving further away from all who you hold dear. The Castle is behind us." The Queen became more desperate, she felt the grass at her feet, could see the scene unfolding before her as she was now in it, and yet she still couldn't be heard by The One.

The Queen walked a step closer into the pretty scene and felt more grass underfoot. She felt the summer breeze on her face and the warmth of the sun, sensed the humming harmonies of the mountains and earth and felt alive as ever she had been. She breathed the fresh air and gave thanks for her healing. Through this mirror, she had cast herself out and faced her demons and found the light shining a beacon in the distance a way home back to the heart and true self. Here she was free. Free of burden. Healed from the shackles binding her to a past; a script she repeated in her head enough every moment was a living hell of that first moment. Stone tape stuck on a loop; a constant enactment of trials 300 years old; and everyone is busy going nowhere. The moon had returned her female energies, and she had so many. It was like a rebirth, full of new beginnings, where she saw all her blessings in an eternal glance and gave thanks for every one of them.

The Queen walked faster, feeling safe in her environment. She called out to Wye and waved her hands. The Fool was still ignoring her. "Hey Fool! You hear me. I need to talk with Wye. Will you give her a message?" The Fool laughed exaggeratedly and continued to play, skipping and dancing happily along, making Wye feel good about herself. "You are leading her away. She isn't yours. She belongs to another. If she goes over the rainbow she will never know him enough to help him. They belong together; side by side in time. So many life-times searching for each other to meet now only to not know it. Can you not feel it, too? Fool, are you listening to me?"

The Fool shook his head.

"Damn you, Fool!" The Queen glared. "There are too many lost souls trapped from each other across this Game, without you adding to them. I'm not chasing her all the way across the proverbial board. I have my own gauntlet to navigate through to save myself and all I hold dear! Damn you, Fool, stop blocking her. Stop blocking me. You know I talk sense when I talk of love."

Still, the Fool ignored her. She was a Queen and a healer/witch. He had just ignored her for the last time. She reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out the other card she had been running with. She held this card to the air and breathed contentedly. "Hey, Fool," she called for his full attention and received it.

She held up an image of himself and presented to him: The Fool. Methodically, she turned a corner of the card over and tore along the dented line. She folded it down the middle and then sliced the Fool in half. She dropped these three pieces to the ground and the Fool before her melted away. The Queen moved ever closer to The One, who was baffled as to where the Fool had disappeared.

The Queen called out, hopefully, "Wye, can you hear me now?"

# 30

"Yes, I hear you," Wye replied. She was looking around, trying to see who the voice belonged to for it seemed almost touching. The landscape was still the same but the picture had changed for now the Fool had disappeared from her very eyes, and Wye remembered herself. Where she was. In a mirror. In a garden. Simultaneously, inside her mind and out on the Astral Plane as she called her reality forth through Conscious Existence governed by Freewill. She was witnessing herself through the mirror, activated by the super-mystic Journal. Yet, she wasn't alone. She had heard the female voice, distinctly.

The voice spoke again, "Can you not see me, before you?"

Wye shook her head and tentatively reached her hand to the soft warm summer air and gazed through everything in between to the purple mountains. "Who are you? Are you a ghost?" She reasoned.

"Can you open your mind so I can step inside?"

Wye was shocked. "No. My mind is sacred. I'm a little cautious as to who I let in."

"I'm not here to mess with your head." The voice was moving around her. "I'm here to save your heart."

"Is that a fact?" Wye was bemused. She heard the chime, again. It was out of context for such a place as there should be a Grandfather clock standing beside her for the tone travelled through her solar plexus, it was that close and reverberated outwards so far it ricochet off the mountains. Was she even outside? If she closed her eyes tight, she could imagine standing in a vast hall, next to a majestic all-knowing clock of time itself. She was talking to a lovely soft female with a dreamy floating voice. Interfering with this notion was the sun shining warmth against her skin so she had to be outdoors. Such a conflict. "Where are you?" She sighed. "I mean, are you in the outside with me? Or are you in the Castle talking to me, telepathically?"

"Both and neither. It can't be explained. It is here to be experienced. We both exist. You are here and so am I, and yet neither of us are really here; after all... where is here, to you? If you could just let me in a bit more we can get on with sorting out this horrendous hell I've been trapped in. You have a cause to listen to me."

"Earlier, in the Castle, I was open enough to see and hear Spirits. I had a conversation with the Chaplain, and there was no way it wasn't real. I can always tune into energies; see with my eyes clearly of scenes playing out in Stone Tape replay. I'm more visual than auditory. So why can't I see you?"

"You're blocking me. Not just the Fool, but you are blocking too. Unblock your mind and let me in, please? Open more doors."

Wye screwed up her nose as she contemplated things. "Everything's been quite questionable tonight, since I opened my third eye. I don't know you."

"Yes you do," came the voice softly against her cheek. "I was the breath in your face in the Dining Hall." Wye closed her eyes and recalled that soft breeze in a still room. "I was the lady in mourning, standing by the fireplace, crying tears of blood to a river at my feet. You remember me." Wye could feel gentle hands take a hold of her own and they were being lifted slightly and held more firmly as the beguiling voice whispered, "You harboured the Journal on your back because you wanted to play the Game because you are The One." Wye gasped. Total recall. Holding hands, she opened her eyes to the Widow standing before her.

"I do know you," Wye gasped, taking in her intense eyes and long dark hair, and black dress draped to her feet. "You were wearing a veil."

"We all wear veils. That's what this is all about. The veils we weave between. Are you enjoying your Game?" The Queen asked.

"I'm not sure," Wye confessed. "I think so. I've had fun here. I met a funny guy and did handstands and got in touch with my inner child again. It's been a while since I've laughed like that."

"Well, I'm glad you've connected to such gaiety. Some of us have serious business to deal with and not much time."

The Grandfather clock chimed. The Queen dropped The One's hands.

Wye said, "I will have you know laughter is a tonic. You should try it."

"I'm not sure laughter will help find my King." The Queen became more downcast. "I jumped through a mirror with an ambition to save you. Are you worth saving? Do you not realise the dangers you dice with as you dance on so merrily?"

"You are really raining on my parade." Wye could feel her shoulders tighten. "Are you the Fun Police? I mean, really?"

"I had hope for you. There are other wise ones with high hopes for you. Witches have pinned faith to you, I sense. Are you going to truly wake up now?"

Wye studied the young woman hard. She really was panicked by something, deeply sad and annoyingly desperate. "Who is this King?"

"He is my husband. King Randolph. He is trapped in time in the Castle. I need to find a way to him and rescue him."

"That's a lot of saving and rescuing for a Queen," Wye smiled. "Why is he trapped?"

The Queen held tight to her quivering lower lip as familiar anguish washed through her. "Only he knows the answers to that. And those answers will be buried very deeply within him." The Queen held Wye's attention and a growing fascination. "I was hoping if he could hear my voice, he would remember me; our love so eternal. If he could just glimpse me enough to grow strength and throw away the chains and shackles once and for all and meet me in time to again be as one."

Wye sat down on a tree stump and peered up at Royalty. "That was beautiful." And it was haunting words drifting in from a beautiful soul who Wye just sat and marvelled at. The Queen bore her grief with much dignity as frantic lay beneath. "I will help you find your King." Wye shrugged, not wanting to make a big deal of it. "I've got nothing better to do except take a trip over the rainbow. I think that might be the best place to start." Wye jumped to her feet and began walking along the meadow. There was no way she was going to miss out on this adventure. No regrets on her Deathbed.

"No!" The Queen shrieked. "We need to return to the Castle."

"Do you see a Castle?" Wye asked. She held her hand out to the lush scenery, "Take in all you survey. There is no Castle here."

Chime.

"I rest my case. " The Queen caught up with Wye, and added. "You never left the Castle. You can't leave the Game once you're in it. You're still in it. You are inside the Castle and the Castle is inside you. We are both in the Realm of Conscious Existence. You read the map. You know it. You took in the plan on the Dining Hall wall. It showed all there is to know about nothing. And yet the invisible words, hidden there, spoke of so much. Unlock that part of your mind, that part which read it - and quit slumbering. Are you alive or just breathing?"

"Why didn't you read it? You obviously had long enough."

"I could use what I know but I'm safer in your world than you would be in mine. Besides, I need you with me because this is your Game, this time. You are The One.

"What room do you need?"

"The Guards Room."

"Then it's this way; over the rainbow. Don't ask me how I know, but intuitively, I've needed to climb over the rainbow since it first appeared. As for invisible words, I will just have to have a bit of Faith that something sunk in somewhere. This feels right. Remember, just because we don't know where we are, it doesn't make us lost." Wye smiled as sweetly as she could to the Queen still in conflict. "Are you coming with me? Or are you going to mope around here forever?"

# 31

Lizzy had enjoyed sipping her broth, and she had consumed enough to feed eight. "I'm gonna be over-weight, if I keep going like this." She was sitting at the kitchen table, feeling out of sorts. Update status; I'm being served broth by a Ghost Cook and I'm still possessed by witches. I think I'm in love with a demon called Bane who happens to reign over this domain. Happy days. Smiley Devil-Man face.

Nobody would believe her. Perhaps she was losing touch with reality? "I need my phone. I need my car. I need my life back." She heard another chime from the huge clock somewhere in the Castle. These chimes were seeming to go on after a long pause and now there were more chimes so she had obviously lost count. "I swear it has just struck thirteen? The thirteenth hour? Not possible."

'It is the thirteenth day,' one of her internal personas chirped up and giggled.

"I'm going to get my phone. I can't live without technology. This is ridiculous. It's like being stuck in her era." Lizzy pointed at Cook, flicking slop from her spoon. "This has been a really shit night. I had enough the moment I arrived. I should have got out while the going was good. Now I'm stuck with you lot. All because I read some words on a wall. Licked a little blood. Lynch me for that sin." She pushed her chair back and tried to adjust her contoured frame and flatten her hair.

Little Boy took a look at her and hid behind Cook's legs, his bottom lip curving to cry big tears in bewildered eyes. What was wrong with everyone? She wasn't that bad. Lizzy poked out her tongue at him and made her way out of the kitchen and along to the cupboard under the stairs. So far so good. Everyone was going in her direction. None of the residing witches were putting up a complaint. Until she got to the cupboard door. She held up her hand to knock and tease Amazeballs T from his safe place but her body swivelled and began walking towards the main concourse. It was a bizarre state to have your body move to the Will of others. Lizzy fought back hard, flinging her hands out to catch the door handle like earlier but this time she missed; yanked further away by the frenzy inside.

The seven witches looked out of their host at the row of mirrors in their wake. They pushed her forwards, ignoring her pathetic squeaking protests and choked gulps of cries for help. They needed to look through mortal eyes inside the first mirror and nor hell's fire or high water were about to stop them.

In the cupboard, Amazeballs T was flicking through the TV channels searching for a movie to watch when he heard the commotion outside his door. He dismissed it. He rubbed his trembling leg to ease his suffering which he presumed was now a trapped nerve for sitting perched on a stool for too long. He pulled himself away from the alluring screen, trying to plug him back into the matrix to brainwash numb him some more. He looked up into the blackness of his tomb and saw a small glint of light. He heard a shrill cry from the crazy guest still loitering around the vicinity.

The Event was going well then.

T heard a curious hushed whimper. He clambered onto his knees to take a look out of the hole in the door. He couldn't reach it so he climbed the stool and perched on his haunches, slamming an eye to the peep hole to see what was happening in the dark corridors outside. He couldn't make out a thing. He pressed his grey face against the door and abandoned breathing to listen to the sound of a woman groaning in a haunting voice. It didn't help that he was propped so precariously, leaning to gloat and hoping to perv, when the door was suddenly yanked open and Amazeballs T toppled out.

"They want me to look in the mirrors," Lizzy pleaded desperately through caked mascara eyes. "You have to help me. I need my phone. And I want it now." The peculiar little man tried to adjust himself as he scrambled indignantly to his little feet and brushed himself down, not easy with the Spirit Dog still amorously attached to his leg and his Goblin Guide hopping around panicking. He was so not a happy man. "What were you doing in there?" Lizzy asked suspiciously. She spied the hole in the swinging door and caught it still. The seven witches recognised the mark of Bane; such damning scorching hot sweet saliva.

"I told you, I don't get drawn into drama. What I do in my cupboard is my business. If you want your phone, climb down the pit to hell and retrieve it yourself. You're insured. Here. Take the key. Take this rope ladder and sort it out yourself." Amazeballs T took both items from his cupboard and dropped them into Lizzy's hands.

"That's it? – You're not coming with me?" She pushed her screwed up face to him, seething. "Why didn't you give me this option ages ago? I could have asked Jay to retrieve it. Now there is a real man. You know, if you spent more time searching in the mirror instead of holding a magnifying glass to everyone else, you might just learn something about yourself."

"And when was the last time you looked in a mirror?" T jeered, because he loved to condemn. "Not so immaculate now. Having a bad night? Getting what you paid for? – You want the adventure of retrieving your phone coz you were the silly one to drop it in the first place. I don't need your phone. So scoot along."

Lizzy wished to continue her onslaught but the seven witches became distracted and moved her right leg in front of her left and forced her towards the main concourse as their host began kicking and hollering.

The seven witches stood before the first mirror. They had heard their Widow Queen in the Realm beyond. This Realm was murky to their vision and they focused harder to see past the illusion of the surface glass. They heard their Widow Queen move on to the next mirror in the row and they followed suit. They stood before the second mirror, hoping this one would give more away as to her whereabouts. They sensed her in this mirror world briefly as she moved on to the third mirror.

Amazeballs T was amazed: Lizzy was making her way down the main concourse, searching every mirror as a chime resounded around the Castle and, even with her rope ladder and high heels and lopsided waddle, she broke into a run and threw herself headlong against the third mirror. It was her turn to crash to the ground, dazed and confused.

That had to hurt. T had to gloat. He snorted at Karma. He had seen some pretty weird stuff at these Events but even this was a new one on him. She seemed to rise up without damage and threw her hands to the glass to peer in, hot breath misting the surface.

She was on the move again, to the fourth mirror and on to the fifth, drawing ever steadily away from him in some kind of obsession. It didn't matter what bad hair day you were having, changing mirrors wasn't a magical trip to the salon. She was moving steadily away to the sixth mirror and it seemed he was long forgotten. T sneaked quietly to his cupboard and barricaded himself in, gulping down a hint of fear. He was perfectly safe inside his tomb.

# 32

The Rainbow Bridge to Everywhere really was just that. Wye and the Queen were on this bridge now. Stepping onto the psychedelic path had activated a hidden phenomenon: along the one side were mirrors of every description; a promise to other Realms as well as portal access to the Castle. These mirrors were suspended in mid-air on a summer's day. The Queen was still very determined not to walk to the end of the rainbow for fear they would miss this opportunity to connect back to home. She believed such a rainbow would lead to Ultimate Enlightenment but, once there, all that had past would be forgotten: and the Queen had no intention to forget. As it was, the rainbow seemed to stretch so far out to the horizon, she couldn't tell what lay at the other side.

Wye was a little way ahead, peering into a drab mirror, surrounded in wood and full of worm. She spoke up, "As far as I can tell, I think this is the mirror to the Oubliette."

The Queen approached and glazed her eyes to see through the charade. She could see with more clarity than Wye who was still struggling; but then, this Queen had spent three hundred years practicing the art of staring through veils. She could see clearly as the room came into her focus and inside the room the door flew open and in stomped Lizzy. The Queen saw Lizzy for the Sensitive she is. She also saw her seven attachments. She whispered, "My Ladies in Waiting," and fell away quickly, dragging Wye with her. Panicked, she looked deep into Wye's blue eyes, gasping, "Please don't let them find me. I have so many enemies wishing me harm. My only mission is to find my husband. There are so many mirrors here, I'm scared to search in case someone sees me."

"But if we don't search how will we find him?"

"That's it!" The Queen brightened. "Will." She took Wye's hands. "You need to Will us to find him. You are The One."

"This is your quest," Wye realised. "We are together. I feel your hands. I see you. I hear you. Somehow we've crossed over. Or overlapped. I don't know, but it's true." Wye smiled. "We must Will it into existence together. The Guards room."

Both the young women looked around hard hoping to have a change of scenery like they would now be standing in the Guards Room. Unfortunately, they remained holding hands on the endless Bridge to Everywhere.

"I used to know magic, before I was brutally murdered and had all the Light kicked out of me." The Queen dropped Wye's hands, her woeful expression clouding her beautiful face. "I believed in life and love, once upon a time."

Wye chirped, "You still do. That is why you are here – to go back to love."

"Then why do I yearn for him so much and never connect to him? What force holds us apart, greater than our own?" The Queen swished in her long black dress away from Wye, to gaze out at the line of mirrors; full of hope or dead-ends. "We have our enemies in there. The King's men loathe me. Bane torments me further. My own Ladies in Waiting would drag me from love and lock me in an Ivory Tower to rot."

Wye pondered this. "There is no force greater than love," came from her and through her higher self. "There is every room stretched out before us." She held out a gentle hand to highlight all the mirrors. "I believe this is the Gauntlet. We can truly pick a room. In each room, there is probably a lesson. Or a blessing. Or both usually. We have to believe." Wye saw the dilemma. "You're holding yourself back."

The Queen shook her head in dismay, forcing herself not to cry. "I struggle with inner conflict. I know that of myself. I live in a tempest inside my head. What if I choose one of the mirrors and it is all tricks. I end up in the same room as my Ladies or the demon, or worse the King's men – my killers, my destroyers, my ruination and damnation. I'm scared to go forward. I don't know what forward is."

"That's why it took you three hundred years to start your Gauntlet," Wye realised. She went to the Queen. She pushed her arm through the Queen's arm and said, "To go forward, you put one foot in front of the other. The Fool taught me this. You can lightly skip it, hop it or trudge on. It's your call." Wye managed to get the Queen moving, and added, "Trust me, I am The One." She giggled. She didn't really believe this, but she fed the Queen her own language. The Queen had Faith in Wye even if she lacked it in herself. "We've got this far together. Somewhere around here hides a Guard." She stopped the Queen in her tracks, at a new batch of mirrors. Some were surrounded in crystals, some in marble ivy, some in embossed gold, and many in drab wood seemingly inlaid in furniture. "Which mirror are you avoiding?"

The Queen's eyes fell to a mirror further along. It was lay horizontal and pointing a bit laid back. "I don't know," she lied.

"Well, that's the one you need to confront. It's this one." Wye made her way to where the Queen had briefly looked. She stood before this mirror. "Ask your heart."

The Queen stifled her trepidation. She clung tightly to the Justice card, closed her eyes, and allowed herself to wander deeply within herself; searching out each room and aspect of herself while letting go of fear. She was learning to trust. Trust the two witches. Trust the Castle. She wandered around and around the Castle of her mind; searching, seeking; and whispered so gently, "Somewhere around here resides a King."

# 33

Randolph had heard and seen enough for one night. He was cursed to guard this place and was doing a poor job, and he didn't care. He had called out for help and now he had these two idiots before him. More lights to flash. They wanted his attention but he was bored with the crassness of it all.

They wanted to know his age, what year was he born so they could cross-reference their evidence with history and see how clever they were because obviously they were talking to the dead. Hurray, for that.

Randolph knew himself to be a miserable sod, and he had good reason. There was something fundamentally wrong with his mind. He lacked memory as every bit of vital information was clouded in a haze. He was tormented with nightmares; the glimpses of things he would be wise to remember. He had listened to the bells toll. And now he had two mortals from the Physical Realm talking inconsequential trivia. Who cares? The Guard didn't. He had gone from the emotions of desperation and hope to inconsequential. Nobody had anything interesting to say.

Debbie held the KII up for Jay to see better, and said, "We had great communication when I was here with Dave. Please let us know you are with us? Make the lights flash, please. Prove your existence to Jay. He has come to meet you."

A loud chime rang out in the Castle from a clock some way off.

Jay cleared his throat. Standing in the dark, he felt unsettled. He wasn't sure if his imagination was running but he sensed the tension in the densely blackening room. "I think there is someone here, waiting to come in. I sense the room is growing heavier. Is the Guard here?"

What an obvious question. Randolph wasn't impressed. He crouched down into the dirt and blood of the place. These skinny little urchins had no idea what they were playing at. Imbeciles. He wasn't to be mocked and ridiculed. He wasn't the court jester, fooling around. He was the Guard. In the Guards Room. He yawned. They would have to do a lot better than that.

Debbie said, "Guard, we need to speak to you. We have a message from a woman in the Dining Hall. She says to remind the Guard he is a King. Does that ring any bells?"

Randolph laughed. He was the only Guard here and he couldn't see a king. Something was lurking in the back of his mind but he was unable to call it forth. A sensation that something these mere mortals were saying, made sense. He knew chunks of his mind were blocked; lost; stolen by a curse. He had read invisible words on a wall, once. Bane and Angel had played a cruel trick and for his penance he was to sit out eternity in the Guards Room, guarding what? He couldn't recall. He was guarding secrets, this he felt. He was guarding his own secrets in a closed mind. There had to be a key to unlock these doors, but he wouldn't know where because this key was lost too. And then he heard the distant call of his name. As he sat in the dirt and blood of his past, he heard his name being called through the cosmos. This voice floated to him. It bathed him in a familiar warmth. He recognised her voice.

"Randolph, I'm here. Come to me."

His heart stirred. He leaned out on his knees to search the darkness. He ignored the mortals and their equipment as he focused into the expanse of nothingness. He knew her voice. He had heard her many words of wisdom and had loved her for them, once. Her voice was like the key he sought. Her voice overrode the curse for a moment and he remembered love. And then the fog descended and he was thrown back into black. He fell down, feeling drained. More hope falling away to despair as the doors to his memories closed.

Debbie became frustrated and shook the KII as if it would help to gain the Spirit's attention. "You made these LEDs light up, earlier. You told me romance isn't dead, and flirted with me. Why have you gone quiet? Are you shy, now? You called for help. I heard you. We recorded you, and listened to you, over and over. How can we help you? Are you trapped?"

Randolph listened to Debbie now, while trying to remain coherent. He would have fleeting lucid moments. He had to cling on to this moment, he tried quickly to rationalise. He had to be trapped. The alternative was to be free. He sure as hell wasn't free. So he had to be trapped. He didn't want to be a Guard, guarding nothing all alone forever in a godforsaken hellhole of a place.

Therefore, he was trapped against his Will. He recalled the invisible words and remembered the curse all over again. He was trapped because he believed in a curse. He recalled distant memories in a mind of a calm endless ocean.

The mortal, Debbie, threw him another lifeline when she said, "I believe you are here. Use my energy. Take my Faith and put it where it needs to go. Let me help you." His mind remained open. It didn't close this time as Randolph felt Faith flood the Guards Room. Quickly, he cast his hand over Debbie's KII lights and blasted them with a full belt using Intent while manipulating the Electro Magnetic Field so prevalent in her Dimension.

"Thank you," Debbie announced. She squealed in delight at Jay. "I told you. Just admit, you believe in ghosts."

Jay chuckled. Debbie could be quite persuasive. "As I've said: I've experience way too much tonight for there not to be." He looked around, addressing the room. "My name is Jay. This is Debbie. We come with respect. We have introduced ourselves. Now perhaps you could introduce yourself. Could you tell us your name, please?"

Randolph fought with this. Who was he? There it was again; that subject in the back of his past where he didn't want to venture. He heard that beautiful female voice again, through the cosmos, and it whispered so gently, "Somewhere around here resides a King." He sprung to his feet using the Faith in the room as he now, at last, knew where to put it. In him. He became Faith and this Faith became King. He marched to the dressing table mirror, pivoted in the middle, and leaning backwards on an uneven floor.

He reached a ghostly hand to the mirror and tilted it some more.

Jay saw the mirror move slightly. He would have gone on to dismiss and debunk it and put it down to a draught or uneven flooring except he saw someone in the shadows reflecting through the mirror. This face was hard like thunder. His eyes were desperate in a savage kind of way.

Jay uttered, "I can see you." He was astounded. He was amazed. For him this was such a profound experience. At last, he had made a personal connection. The image shifted aside and Jay saw Wye in the mirror. He remembered glimpsing her in a mirror downstairs in the main concourse and he had dismissed this then. Now he could see her in this one, shouting at him to be heard. Then this image disappeared. He checked the shadows and found the thunderous face questioning him as another chime rang out from the Castle clock.

Debbie announced, "Twenty two chimes so far with a long break in the middle."

Jay snapped out of his trance and checked his digital watch. 11:11.

Randolph let go of staring at Jay and focused his intention back to the membrane. The membrane was alive, moving with the energies like a constant shifting kaleidoscope. Just the other side of this was the face of his Queen. He pressed his hand against the mirror glass and tried to slow the forces enough to see clearly.

She came into focus for him. He recognised her. He saw her face, dark mesmerising eyes, soft lips curled to an enigmatic smile - and remembered her for everything she was to him. "Catherine. My beautiful Catherine."

Her voice floated across and reignited his burning, bleeding heart, as she whispered at last, "My handsome King."

# 34

Jay stared dumbfounded at the mirror, and whispered to Debbie, "I've just seen a ghost. In the mirror. He's got a beard and sad, thunderous eyes." Jay looked at Debbie for confirmation he wasn't going mad. "I saw Wye, too. Briefly. In the mirror. I haven't caught up with her all night. What's that all about?"

"Obviously your unconscious mind is presenting you with something. Perhaps Wye needs your help and you're picking up on it telepathically, coz I haven't seen her for ages either, come to that." Debbie tried to peer into the mirror but she was searching too avidly and logically to see. "Do you think the guy with the beard is the King?"

Jay nodded, absently. "I know he is. Something's not right." Jay wanted to eat something, anything but he felt strangely sick. His stomach was whirling round as a sense of dread washed through him. A song began to play out in his mind; the usual Slayer; a track called; South of Heaven. This could only mean one thing, the day of reckoning was upon him.

Jay stared down at his watch again. Still 11:11. He checked the seconds to find them stuck at zero. His watch had stopped. He tapped the screen. Shook his wrist. Checked his watch was still stuck on 11:11. "My watch has broken or the battery has died." He dropped his wrist. "But that isn't what's bothering me. Something really bad is about to happen."

Debbie shuddered. "Stop it Jay; you're scaring me. This isn't funny."

"I'm scaring me," Jay admitted. "Something wants Wye to die. I'm in here talking to the dead, forgetting what it's all about coz I'm too busy running. Now I've stopped for a minute I can feel it. It's all around us. This place is holding its breath and the silence of this is deafening me. Can you hear the high-pitched tone of the stillness? It's alive and wants to tear us apart."

Debbie felt tears in time to her trembling lip. She felt the temperature drop to ice. She felt the blackness come alive now he had come to mention it. "Has something else just entered the room?" her quivering voice called out.

Debbie and Jay both stared at the KII: the dormant grey box in Debbie's hand.

Jay already knew the answer. He wasn't surprised when there came three swift belts along the LEDs confirming a 'Yes'. "We've been followed from the Dining Hall." Jay recognised the energy he was picking up. He heard the mocking songs on the demon's lips as his own. "The entity who wanted us to 'Leave' and 'Get out'. It has followed us here. Is that correct?" Jay felt the foreboding; the atmosphere strip him bare, and he sensed his vulnerabilities were on display as he forced himself not to run. Brave it out. He felt the presence surround him until it crushed the very breath from his pathetic frame as it intimidated and showed him he really wasn't worth shit. And the LEDs confirmed 'Yes.' It had followed them. It had found them.

Debbie saw the movement of the mirror first. She caught hold of Jay's arm too frightened to speak, and he too watched the mirror as it moved. On its own. The tilt began to increase, slowly, bit by bit, and steadily so carefully; a work of art to savour every moment like an orchestra of music. Within each second, were a billion more bits of information than any mind could conceive. A malevolent force was turning the mirror to upside down. It was all Debbie and Jay could do to watch, frozen to the floor. Transfixed.

"We should be filming this," Jay whispered, still holding his nerve like a true Top Detective. He raised his camera hand and cautiously pressed record, hoping the sudden bleep wouldn't distract. "There is something very powerful about that mirror. Can you see it move?" he asked any future viewer. "We aren't doing that. We are the only ones in here. It's moving on its own accord."

Jay panned around the room to prove no hidden cables or fish-lines. "My watch has stopped too." He pushed his other wrist under the lens to film his broken watch then focused again on the mirror, still moving and now lay out like a glass table before them. He became aware that the back of the mirror was also made of glass and was not a thick piece of board found on most furniture. "If the King is still here with us, can you make the lights spike for a 'yes', please?"

The camera shut down. Something in the room was blocking the evidence.

Randolph was by the open door making to leave. Bane was toying with the mirror, paying him no attention. This would be deliberate. It was as though Bane was allowing his escape. The King marched to the door with every intention of leaving. He heard Catherine cry out from the mirror as her world became increasingly unstable.

There was nothing the King could do to save her from here. He had to forget being a guard and start acting like a King, a ruler of men. Besides, he wasn't strong and powerful enough to take on Bane. He had only just found the strength to forgo the curse from the last time, without inviting a new one.

Randolph felt his heart break as he slipped further away from his beautiful Queen, but with Bane governing this mirror there was no way the two of them could be reunited through this portal. This demon was proving his dominance.

The King sidled around the circular wall, through the threshold and out into the corridor. He gauged the cold stone flight of stairs down and the uneven flight of stairs up the tower. He allowed himself to acknowledge the door he had just used with the sign reading 'Guards Room', and knew it had been so long since he had last tasted freedom. He needed to rescue his Queen but not from here. He needed help. He needed to recruit an army. He hoped for an opportunity to use a portal somewhere else in this Castle and find his way to her. She needed him. She was pinning all her faith and Trust on him; he heard it in her voice. He had let her down once. Regardless of anything Bane was scheming, Randolph had no intentions of letting her down again.

# 35

Crystal Powers was sitting on the floor in the darkness of her bedchamber; the Prison. She was cradling Rick's head in her lap as the walls remained closing in. She had spent all of her time not allowing herself to acknowledge the blood-splattered curse engraved in the wall by the only window, and the full moon shining its magic.

It seemed nothing was real anymore. Was she delirious? Crystal was beginning to question. Her feet had gone numb a long time ago and it took all her strength to rub Rick's arms and keep his blood flowing. For all her best intentions, she felt death crawling its way around the room, moving ever closer. Lizzy had abandoned her to this lone task a while ago.

In a way, Crystal had been glad to see the back of the nightmare airhead, acting possessed. Crystal had even seen these faces briefly. In the stairwell, she had witnessed seven ghosts emulating from Lizzy. Was she losing her mind? She should be making a video diary for her TV Show, but there would be no way she could keep the camera from shaking. Her every fibre was being rattled. She was a prisoner with numb shackled feet, it seemed, for she was too petrified to move.

At least the Castle clock had stopped chiming. She checked her watch. It was stuck on the time, 11:11. She shuddered. Coldness drifted in; a chilled breath as she caught her own and swallowed down the scream she could feel bubbling inside from the depths of her own realisation. She had been part of the 'Curse Reading Ritual'.

If things weren't bad enough, she caught a glimpse of Death in the mirror of her wardrobe. The caped figure moved from left to right, a chameleon; as it passed by and yet in the mirror itself.

In her crazy imagination, she allowed herself to freak out with the silly notion that Death was searching all the rooms through all the mirrors of this magnificent Castle prison in search of victims; weak, tragic souls. She didn't have time to scream. Crystal's focus fell on the door as it began to creak open.

She held her nerve, expecting to see Death standing in the threshold but all she could make out was the dimly lit landing and the door to the Hanging Room. She whimpered. "Oh my God, I'm going to die".

Her heart jumped into her mouth as a new terror rose through her.

The King was standing in the doorway, surveying the room. He could see the mortal, Crystal Powers, kneeling on the floor of the Physical Realm. He had shown his face to her in the long mirror of the Ladies Restroom and she had run away scared. To here, obviously. Such a pathetic lot, these contestants in this Game.

The King had total recall now he was out of the Guards Room. He had discovered the magic in this Castle once. He had been given the gifts of the Journal, letter, mirror and cards on his wedding night and he had explored them all. He had followed after the Tarot card Death and between that Gauntlet and the next, the bitch and her demon had bled on the curse and condemned him to guard his own mind to such limits and boundaries he had forgotten himself; his true purpose for being here in the first place.

The curse was on the wall before him, new fresh blood splattered now; its fragrance so strong. He had no intentions of going near to the words. He didn't want to know the yarns they spin to suck you in. He needed to stay clear-headed. Invite nothing into him. This was empowering in itself. Even more empowering was the astonishment on his men's faces: He, their King, standing in the threshold of an open door, ready to free them.

Crystal felt a rush of air. As she knelt in the dark, she was convinced the walls had come alive enough to physically move as the shadows grew in a life of their own and she felt the energy this conjured; all-consuming as the darkness closed in to take her very soul.

She whimpered, dropping Rick's head to the floorboards with a crunch, and scrambling to her numb feet in a bid to escape this onslaught; the unseen hounding her. The familiar damned crying out, reaching to touch her as she imagined countless soldiers storming to overtake her and strip her of her final Life-Force: her jewels holding little weight as what they yearned was far more precious.

She couldn't feel her feet. The pins and needles were gruelling, the aching in her hips torturous, camera hanging around her neck, handbag dangling from her elbow, she hobbled to the door and onto the landing as the soldiers rushed her again in a bid to make chase. She willed her legs to move to the stairs, daggers in her back pushing her to teeter over the edge of the winding, perilous Tower stairs which lay unwelcoming below.

Death was calling her by name. She had seen a face in the Ladies Restroom mirror. She remembered the emotions attached to this man, and recognised them as though he was here, present, and close; scorning her; damning her too – haunting - willing her to fall.

She clung to the handrail and made her way down a stair. Wobbling dead feet of no use. Death liked to mock the dying. She was frail. She was beaten. The daggers pushing into her back, she clambered down the next step.

These stairs had wanted to claim her from the first moment she had clapped eyes on them. Now it was a self-serving prophecy as men really were chasing her down to meet her demise. Was it her imagination? She stopped; hesitated from fleeing.

She clung so tightly to the handrail but her palms were greasy from her terror. She _was_ being prodded in her back. It could be her blood returning to her body having sat in the room for so long. But in the darkness now, it seemed more like daggers and swords pushing into her flesh; bullying her over the stone precipice.

Her legs were on fire. An inferno raging through her arteries as more life flushed through her. She stared down at her skinny frame in over-sized clothes, practically a skeleton with no meat or real muscle; just wasting away bit by sorry bit. Time was a bitch because time had just run out.

The heart which had been jumping around in her mouth was now very much in her chest; another raging inferno. Her heart jumped haphazardly, missed a few beats then went into spasm.

Crystal tried to reach for her prescription bottle but her heart shut down and her lungs gave forth their final gasp and Death turned her way and blew her a kiss that would send her over the edge. She tumbled headlong down the Tower, a well of stairs, head over handbag over heel over camera; everything broken by the time she hit the side wall and came to a stop on the stairs above the second storey landing. Thankfully out of sight.

Crystal stood up, indignantly; hoping nobody had seen her at her worse. She brushed herself down but saw she had to move aside quickly as thunderous soldiers were running down the stairs towards her. She hobbled the last few steps, bolted into the nearest room and hid around the wall from their sight. The soldiers were in a hurry. They obviously weren't interested in her after all, as they made their way to descend the next section of stairs to ground level.

She recognised the face of their Leader. She had met him in the mirror along the way, then abandoned him. She ducked into the shadows, abandoning him again and turned into the room; the Guards Room. There, she saw Jay and Debbie using KII equipment to ask out. She went to them, saying, "What a relief. Friendly faces. You won't believe the night I've had."

Strangely, neither friend acknowledged her. This would have scared her but something more unnerving was drawing her attention. Over by the dressing table, she saw the Hooded Demon, messing with the mirror; tilting the mirror forward and backward 'til it was dizzy. Worse still, he had seen her. Not that there were any eyes in that hood of his, but he was looking at her, nonetheless. Really searching her out as she stood there totally exposed, laid bare to all her fears. Crystal couldn't make sense of anything. None of this seemed real. Nothing of this Paranormal Event was making sense to her.

Bane scoffed some more. He let go of the mirror Realm. He didn't need to see into it to know by its energy he had caught the woman who calls herself a Queen. He could feel just how trapped she was stuck outside. He sensed her frustrations and fears as he had taken control of the Game, yet again. This sad Queenie would never know victory over herself, let alone him. Her husband had set himself free: The Guard was let loose. The Guard had released his prisoners: the King had found his men in the hope they would help him rescue his Queen.

Bane knew this was a joke. The King wasn't to know his men had killed his Queen because, back then, he was already a Guard, stuck in the Guards Room. The King wasn't aware his wife's blood was splattered up the walls of the Dining Hall. The King had a lot to learn in whom he held company, in whom he gave so much freedom.

Bane had let them all run passed the room and down more stairs; no doubt on their way to arm themselves with weapons of war. This suited Bane. He could feel other demons making their way across the land towards him, summoned. He could feel them weaving in and out the forest trees in a bid to storm the walls. There were other demons in this very room. They were attached to Jay. They would have to be set free sooner or later, although Bane was enjoying feeding off the energies of Jay's tormented soul.

The Castle was unstable now as ever under his rule: The Realm of The One's unconscious mind was beginning to unravel – and the sad mourning Widow Queen Catherine was stuck in the nightmare with her, clinging tight to the Justice Card as the scales tilted in time to the mirror Bane controlled. Seven witches were setting up a date with him deep in his lair; he could hear them calling; though they would wait. Two older witches were playing the Tarots in the Room at the Top, as though they were comfortable with what they were creating.

These two very clever witches were heavily protected because Bane was unable to see them or hear them. He sensed their presence through the invisible gaps which lay between.

Everyone was busy creating mayhem. Their very ignorance was enough to keep their tasks eternal. Bane was keeping with the rules of the Game so there really wouldn't be much that could go wrong. It would take nothing short of a miracle for him to lose now; and he really wasn't a believer of miracles.

# 36

On the Astral, along one side of the Rainbow Bridge to Everywhere, hung all the mirrors into the Castle in a wonderful, shimmering array of light. Surrounding this bridge and miles below were the Every Season Forests, Secret Gardens and all the mysteries in between.

On this bridge, Queen Catherine was staring down at the card in her hand. The scales on the Justice Card had tipped so that the golden pans were delicately swinging off-balance. She glanced up to see the figure the other side of the mirror of foreboding mists. His hood held no features, yet he was mocking her on every level. He had won. Again. He had forced her to escape the Dining Hall and now he had forced her King to escape the Guards Room. Randolph would be running even further from her because Bane would take care of that; this she knew of him. She tried hard not to think of her husband now because she needed to hide her True Self from Bane. She drew down an invisible veil across her eyes to protect herself as best she could and visualised a real veil of Protection masking her.

*

From the Guards Room, Bane leaned a little closer, trying harder to peer in to her realm. She stood there unseen, her nerves unsettled as he tried to sniff her out. He was coming in close. She visualised cloaking herself in Protection: from head to foot a mighty shield; focused on the ancient ways then cleared her mind. Stay calm. Bane broke her silence as he spoke, telepathically and clearly, 'I know you are in there, Queenie. I can smell you. I can practically taste you. Come across to me. You have watched your pathetic husband run from you. Some hero. I am here. I run to nowhere. You can step across to me and taste the flavours of my delights. Give up your Quest, forego your Gauntlet; crawl into this hole I made and transform your feelings you fear.'

*

Wye was standing beside Catherine, growing angry and she couldn't help it. She had heard enough; every poetic and tempting word. Their world had changed. Another shift in the kaleidoscope of the mind. Black mountains lay on their horizons, forests surrounded, along with decaying stagnant lakes of dead rotting fish. No happy world dancing around in the pools beneath. Wye was losing her mind as her world turned to black. She could hardly breathe for the fear she felt. She had killed the amazing fish who had spent time letting her understand. She had killed everything good in herself. She found enough breath to gasp to the Hooded Demon, "Go to hell!"

*

Telepathically, Bane announced, 'The One.' He sighed contentedly, then threw out his arm in a grand gesture. 'Hell awaits. - Take a look around."

The One had stepped forward, at last. Queenie had tracked her down and together they had found a more revealing mirror than the one in the Dining Hall, heavily protected. He was enjoying the Game this night. This was his domain. He had no intention of leaving the Castle through these mirrors. There were better ways to play them, he had long ago discovered.

Bane continued to Wye, "I feel you. Your world tips. Enjoy the ride. You wanted it. You got it. Reap your rewards. Look at your True Nature and acknowledge your Shadow Side. Welcome to the dark side of your world.' The Hooded Demon tilted the mirror some more.

*

Frustrated, the Queen grabbed Wye's wrist to somehow reign her in because this wasn't the way to fight a demon. Go to hell, was hardly a threat. She needed to protect Wye; shield her too. She drew upon White Light and tried to channel it through Wye's wrist but was met with greater resistance. The White Light resisted because The One was considering her Shadow Side. This wasn't good. Bane had managed to draw Wye in. The Queen glanced around her stormy environment as the decaying forests swirled up in winds and black clouds began smothering the Honey Moon; the Castle, in the distance, was no longer a hopeful beacon but an open target.

*

Bane spoke out, telepathically, 'Queenie. You see a dying moon. There is no time. The scales have tipped. Justice is served fairly and in equal measures,' he spoke from the depths of his nature and could taste her despair. 'You sense the demons in the forests out there. You see them amongst their hiding places. Well, they also see you to be reacquainted. I don't need you with me. I am off to the hole I made.' He gloated, 'Your Ladies are waiting.' With that, he turned the double-sided mirror upside down and left it there for a different perspective. He spun on his heels, cape flapping and stormed out of the Guard's Room.

*

On the Astral, the Widow Queen scanned the forests, dread filling her. These were the surroundings she knew. She searched the clouds, looming, rolling, and forming a mightier storm. On a mound, the Castle and its four Towers were in silhouette against a blacker sky. Yet still, the candlelight flickered in the Room at the Top. She let her eyes rest on Wye. And wondered. She focused into the mirror she had chosen because she had dreaded it the most. She could see Jay and Debbie in the Physical Realm. On another level, she could see Crystal Powers hiding against the wall, trying to make sense of it all; and failing.

Catherine took her attention back to Jay. She had whispered to his psyche in the Dining Hall and had been sure he had heard her back then. Would he hear her now? She had to try. Her King had recognised her voice. He had stood before this mirror and sought out her heart, and found it forever beating for him. He had gazed into her eyes and consoled her torture, briefly. He had recognised her. He had placed his hand to the membrane and she had done likewise but they hadn't touched; the vortex was too much. Too many open wounds. Too many unanswered questions were keeping them apart. Their own worst enemies. Perhaps they could have resolved their issues enough to heal and join together but they had run out of time.

All because Bane had entered the Game to steal the show and destroy her yet again as her soulmate was torn from her. Frantically, she watched her husband move away from the mirror. It would have been to protect her. She knew this of him. He had done the only thing he could to shield her from evil, cause a distraction and march to the door in a valiant bid to escape these binds once and forever. Bane was far from stupid. He had seen through this distraction. He was the true master of distractions. He was the Magician in this Game: watch his right hand and you will never see the left one coming: she knew this of him. He had found entertainment in tilting her world until everything was unstable and here they now were. In hell. In purgatory. Stuck because nobody had enough Faith to make a real difference. Three hundred years later, and everyone still seemed lost in this Game.

Catherine focused on Jay. When all else fails, there had to be hope. She called to him, "You need to protect Wye." He didn't seem to hear. "She belongs to you!" She cried out as loud as she dare without drawing attention from the unseen enemies lurking in the forests.

Wye studied Catherine beside her, and corrected, "I belong to nobody. I'm a free spirit."

"Call this free?" The Queen shot her hand out to the stormy surroundings. "You didn't call into reality, this apocalypse?"

"You're over-reacting," Wye insisted, nervously. "The mirror has tilted along with the scales. This isn't my doing. I don't want sinister forests." Just then a shard of lightning blasted a far off mountain. She watched the mountain crumble. Felt the lakes tremor. Knew there was nothing she could tame. She screamed. She felt the ground move as the Rainbow Bridge to Everywhere seemed more like a suspension bridge as it too began to tremble to the quake. Nothing felt safe. The house of cards in her mind was teetering ready to collapse. Desperately, Wye turned to the mirror, the portal to the Guards Room, and called out, "Turn the mirror back!"

Through the mirror to the Physical Realm, Queen Catherine focused on Debbie: She of the most Faith. "Remember!" The Queen called urgently as another shard of lightning hit a lake and electrocuted more fish, crackling thunder booming towards the swinging Bridge to Nowhere. "Find and protect the Empress Card!"

Still the mortals couldn't hear the commotion in the mirror of the dressing table. Jay and Debbie remained asking out with a KII and getting nowhere. Everything was getting desperate. Nobody was prepared to help. Everyone was still deaf as ever. Words falling on deaf ears and blind eyes.

Wye scanned the landscape, turning increasingly to doom. "Is this who I see in the mirror? She asked, cautiously, "Is this part of me?" This time a shard of lightning hit the earth near the Rainbow Bridge. Both ladies were knocked off their feet. Battered, they sat bewildered.

Queen Catherine hissed, "Be still your mind. Take control. Take some responsibility. This is your Conscious Existence. Have some awareness and wake up to yourself, please. I need to find my King. You are killing us all."

The more the Queen spoke, the more fearful Wye became. Did she really have control over this? How far would this nightmare lead her in? Where were her boundaries on the Fear Level? One hundred demons, stalking their way through the surrounding dead forest to close in around her to claim her soul? Was this enough fear? And then she saw them. They were coming like she was calling out to them an invitation. She was standing on the Psychedelic Bridge, and she was 'The One' glowing with Conscious Existence enough that she was the only beacon for miles around. All forms of her Shadow Side were taking shape out there, feeding off her fears as she reeled them in towards her.

"Do something other than that," the Widow Queen insisted. "Whatever it is you are doing. Stop it. Whatever you are thinking. Stop. They can see us. They are coming for us."

"I don't know what I'm doing. I don't want this. Honestly."

"Yes you do or it wouldn't be happening!" The Queen grabbed at The One's arms and shook her, pleading, "You are tempting them to us as you are being tempted." Queen Catherine rose to her knees and sought out the depths of Wye in her deep blue sad eyes. "You are named after a river. The one of many depths. I can't afford to swim these turbulent times. I haven't got the strength left in me."

"Then it is in you. Somewhere. What can I do?" Wye asked. "You are wise. I've learned this along the way. I can't stop my thoughts. They're all grim. What's the point, when evil is in control?"

The Queen realised then that they were on the Bridge to Everywhere. She had always believed this spelt real death, if crossed; and not the angels with harps type – where all the former things will pass away. The scales were still in the balance, even if they were a little off-set. She understood, Bane liked to play Games; escort them through their own personal hells and lap up their failings: he had placed her back in hell now: separated as ever she was.

Wye was trying really hard not to picture a demon, clawing its way up on to the bridge, but as she resisted so it persisted, and sure enough the heinous creature spewed its venom and crawled ever steadily across the red panel towards yellow as it crossed the bridge towards them. Wye's eyes must have given much away as Queen Catherine looked passed her to the demon approaching. The horror of this showed on the Queen's face. Wye tried frantically not to think of hell's fire reigning down to destroy her and the Queen and desecrate the Bridge forever to nowhere.

# 37

Jay was feeling really off-keel. Besides his equipment malfunction, he sensed the negative entity had gone and, whatever had stalked, had left. Had left its mark. This foreboding remained with Jay. This Top Detective was feeling sketchy. The background theme in his mind was Slayer's - Hell Awaits. He couldn't budge it. He loved the band; they had saved him many times in his teens from certain insanity. He had let his chi out in the Circle Pits, gone tribal at festivals.

This night of Friday 13th, he was doing a Paranormal Event, standing in a room, steeped in history of stories to tell and something was really rattling him. He used to frighten himself with where his mind could go and, to be fair, he thought he had got over that. Now, he felt the familiar adrenaline return. He needed to control his thoughts before they took control of him; throw him in the lake and watch him drown.

When he was a teenager, he had opened his mind in an inebriated state by using LSD, and had convinced himself he was an actor on the stage and everything was a big illusion. So now that would make this very Castle a metaphor; a place of himself. He had shut those doors quickly, with therapy. He had gone on to live a happy life of sanity. Until now. His thoughts were turning dark because something truly menacing had left its mark. On a deep level, Jay knew this.

"Are you ok?" Debbie asked, cutting the deafening stillness. "You look like you've seen a ghost," she mocked, using humour to call him back from a nightmarish place. "Where did you go?"

Jay tried to snap out of it, but everything seemed real. He stammered, "Something is toying with us. There is no natural explanation as to how that mirror could swivel right the way around – without help. There's loads of activity here tonight; I feel like I'm missing something yet deep down, I know it's here. I can feel this shit going on around me and yet I can't experience any of it."

"Perhaps we're not meant to. Perhaps the whole point of being human is not to experience it all. It would take the fun out of it for us. That's why I like Paranormal Investigations. We are all a little scared of the unknown."

"This thing is known to me." Jay muttered, not wanting to admit insanity. "I could feel its presence and I know it is a demon." He tried to shrug it off, "I messed around with dark stuff when I was a teenager. It's what teenagers do."

Debbie shook her head. "I didn't." Jay seemed glazed, his expression nervous. "I've read a lot of Spiritual Magazines. Let it go and step across to the Light."

Jay was subdued. "I can't." He searched deeper inside himself to find the problem, and found it in the pit of his stomach. "I don't belong to the light."

"Don't be so daft. Of course you do and when we pass over we go back to the Source which is what we are."

Jay felt sure Debbie was beginning to glow, her eyes shone healthily. He envied her such ignorance; it might be the one thing that could save her. For him, there was a dormant hell lay deep within; a well of darkness unexplored since the dawn of man, when the most beautiful angel had fallen.

As a teenager, he had loved that story. Caste out. He had admired that fallen one for his tenacity and grace. Probably a bit romantic, but back then he had hormones all over the place. He had pictured Lucifer's mighty wings, and preferred that image against unicorns and bluebells. The reality for him was far different than any of those images which first drew him in. He had gone in too deep, too soon for his tender years. He read everything he could get his hands on, borrowing from the local library to gain knowledge. He read everything of darkness before he considered the Light. His taste in films where that of horror as he read up on Serial Killers. Moving more towards the Light than full-on dark, he began reading up on other Cultures and their ancient beliefs. Thought it would be great to go to the Amazon Forest and do the Shamanic ritual using Ayahuasca, broaden his mind but the closest he got was to dropping Acid in a tent. In that tent, he realised he was the Universe. This lead him on to the metaphysical, and eventually his fixations moved on to Paranormal Investigations. And here he now was, searching his memories for something.

Jay found it as ice ran down his spine. "I used to hear voices," he whispered. It had been spoken. "When I was younger. Very young; a child. I used to hear lots of voices. Outside my window, I used to hear a man calling my name and women screaming. I thought I was going crazy, hoping it was the cry of foxes and cackling crows and a furtive imagination. I didn't want to end up in a straightjacket in a padded cell in my very own hell. That would have been the worse place to put me with this crazy brain. I need to be able to move about, and often."

Jay drew out his breath in the dark. He drew dark back in to full capacity. "I heard their voices calling out to me. Just like my Great Grandmother had." He turned to Debbie and whispered, "The worse of it is; I hear a voice calling out to me now."

Debbie stepped back a notch. This was the last thing she expected to hear. "Really?" She studied Jay as best she could. "Where?"

Jay slowly looked around the room, not focusing on the bed or the stones in the wall but at the unseen in between. He rested on the mirror for a brief glimpse as the voice called out to him again. He turned around sharply to the open door, at the wall alongside it. "By the door, hiding in the shadows. There's a woman."

Debbie whispered, "Shame the camera is faulty. You should be filming this."

Jay was too engrossed to care about proving any of this to anyone out there. Fuck um, was his attitude now as he tried to control his fear and face it down so the Spirit could be free to communicate. He had always known Fear kept the doors shut, would keep the spirit of a man from striding forward.

The old woman spoke again, her voice so frail and helpless, "Why can't you see me? I'm right here," Jay thought he heard, but her voice was fading. His logical mind stepped in and blew his inner doors shut. He sighed. He shrugged. "It's Crystal Powers. One of the guests. I can hear her. It's the acoustics of this place; sound travels around bends here, I swear. She must be asking out." He picked up on Debbie's disappointment.

Debbie struggled with this. "I can't believe that. I didn't hear anything. I would have heard her too, if it had been audible. Perhaps the woman Spirit sounds like her. They are capable of stealing our phonics for their own purpose. Have you thought of that?" Debbie nudged his arm. "Have a Beef sandwich, Top Detective. You're lagging."

Jay opened his mouth to utter a retort and then realised beef going in might be best. Except he still felt sick. The thought of eating dried him out as though something was taking his energy. He had a dawning realisation as all the jigsaw pieces fell: and several fell into place. He really was capable of hearing the voices of the dead. "Could you speak out again, please? I can hear you, Spirit. This time, I am listening."

# 38

Queen Catherine and Wye were trapped. From above, reigned down shards of lightning, terrifying enough, but the demons in the surrounding dead forests were being drawn in for Wye's attention. The more Wye tried hard not to think about them, the more turned towards her.

"You're calling all this forward now. Do you hear me?" The Queen asked, squealing as a lightning bolt hit the earth, and shook the bridge they were sitting on and clinging to with slippery hands on a pure surface.

"I don't know how to stop any of this," Wye called back, her voice caught in the tempest as winds lashed her red hair of flames. "The mirror is tilted. I can't help that!"

Catherine was frightened and frustrated. Her friend was dragging her through a nightmare which neither could escape so easily. One of the perils of the mind. Catherine knew this. How fragile a Game, where everything seemed off-balance at the best of times. In a place where everything could shift again. Forlorn, she looked out at the forests and saw beauty in the macabre. The forests were ancient. The root systems were vine arms, interlinked as one.

Beneath this web, were scores of tunnel systems, hidden by fallen rock, and dangerous to walk across as any of the ground could give way. The earth would literally trap you. That was the Forest she knew. She watched the demons through these trees as they wrestled with everything in their wake to make their way towards her. One was already on the full-spectrum, Rainbow Bridge, clawing his way through pink and green, snaking like a silk dragon. He rose up, his black cloak falling, his harrowed eyes containing an eternity of shock. He wasn't looking at her. He was more infatuated with the line of mirrors hanging in the universe of the Bridge to Everywhere.

The Queen realised this would be their way into everywhere. The demons could potentially flood into every room across the Game. If this legion stopped heading for the Castle on the mound in the distance, under the full moon - and turned their attention to this Bridge, they would storm the Castle from the inside out – instead of from the outside in. "Do you really want this, Wye?" She called, frantic to be heard above the tornado. "They will storm the Castle using the mirrors. Is this what you call forth? I begged you not to open the Journal. You want to put your friends in danger?"

Wye was scared now. Not for herself, but for everyone. Still. Her mind wouldn't be still. There was too much responsibility, yet she couldn't back out. Now she was in it.

The Queen fought the forces and made her way closer to Wye, the gale taking her breath as the invisible forces plotted to take her down. "You are The One! You are The One on the Bridge to Everywhere calling forth demons. You are prepared to show them a trick way into the Castle. Not just to effect the Physical but all life across all the layers. Think of poor Chaplain and how it could destroy him, and then there's my Cook and Little Boy. You silly girl, they might even find their way to the Fairy Realm if they search deep enough. You must change something you are doing! You are guiding them in. Are you going to just open the doors and let them loose in the Castle? Let the floodgates open?"

Catherine felt new tears as she continued, "You don't know the mayhem one demon can cause. I have been terrorised long enough by a demon far greater than those you see out there. Trust me." Catherine shuddered as tears fell. "Just one could condemn a kingdom. If they get to you, they will gain full access. You are The One playing this Game; this is your Realm of Conscious Existence you're calling in to effect. If they gain your powers, they will use you as a conduit and enter the portals, they will terrorise every player across this Game. They will be in because you - The Very One - invited them."

The Queen knew despair. It was her constant companion. She looked at her other companion; the sorry one. Catherine realised with this state of play it could take a million light years to find her King again. Both would be running two separate Gauntlets and the demons would keep them forever apart.

Wye tried to grasp all of this. "I'm not inviting them. Quit saying that. It's not true. It's the opposite of what I want." She gathered strength. It was in the Queen's tears. She had to act now or it would be too late. She really would be stuck here forever and the Castle would be damned. Through the raging storm, she managed to get to her feet and struggled to stay there; the energies flying around seemed tangible. The atmosphere had personality and wanted to torment. Her red hair whipped up in her face as she fought to grab the mirror frame. "I need to reverse the mirror!" she called over her shoulder to the Queen as the wind stole it. "Help me." Wye knew this was hopeless from this side. The membrane was a vortex of everything and anything and she couldn't actually touch it. She was projecting despair. It was all she could feel as she literally clung on to everything she had left.

*

In the Physical Realm, Jay was the other side and the other side of the room from the mirror, and he could feel it, he could feel the mirror. He turned to give it his full attention, believing what he now knew of himself. He was looking beyond vision, seeing through the one and only eye. The gift with which he'd been born. The gift he had locked in an iron box and shelved until now. If his Great Grandmother was crazy then condemn them both, but he was in the flow like a recurrence of his Acid trip – the first and better half of his Acid trip. He had his third eye more open now and could see clearly. He could feel the despair inside the powerful mirror. As he moved through the darkness of the Guards Room, he was drawn in by the dressing table mirror and the swirling vortex he could see beyond. "I am listening..." He waited patiently.

Distantly, he heard the voice again as it cried, "Help me." Wye. He would recognise her voice anywhere, through time and space because when she talked in her animated, bubbly fashion, she brightened his mood and when she swung by with hips swaying, she set his world on fire: something else he had shelved until now. "Where are you?"

*

In her Conscious Realm of Existence out on the Astral, Wye was on the Bridge to Everywhere, desperate to stay standing as she watched the swirling murk of the vortex and realised it would reveal nothing to her in this state, but she couldn't change state. Her head was going to explode with the realisation that all this was happening. That she wasn't in control. She wasn't in the bloody cockpit at all. Demons were climbing their way, making ground, towards the Bridge. She had no control over this. Queen Catherine was doing little to help, no matter how much Wye called out to her for help.

The Queen rose to her feet, with all her might fighting against the energies pushing against her Will. She too managed to root herself in front of the Mirror, the portal to the Guards Room of the Physical Realm. She had clearly heard Jay. He had Faith suddenly. He was using his one and only eye. He was open enough now. Hope filled her, she came alive. She could get a message to him and he could save them from this hell, given chance. She was about to pin all her hope on Jay hearing her, a ghost. She was preparing to break down the barriers between worlds but she heard a growl in her ear as hot saliva fell to her shoulder.

Despair returned. Slowly, The Queen turned to find the demon towering over her. His harrowing eyes blazing, he fell back, breathed in and sprang at her roaring his venom. Threatening to be knocked off her feet, she pushed herself from his way.

Desperately, the Queen had only one message; one message to save all. She clambered to the vortex, separating their worlds, and called out for life, for all she held dear: "Find and protect the Empress Card." A strong arm wrapped around her throat. It took the rest of her and pulled her backwards then threw her into the storm.

The Queen flew the width of the bridge to land furthest away in red. The shining pure surface slid her further towards the edge of her existence, as the winds pushed her sailing and there was no bridge beneath her as she went.

The Widow Queen fell off the bridge and realised this enough to reach out and grab at the pathway above. She clung tightly, dangling off the Bridge to Everywhere as the storm whipped the conspiring energies around her legs and black mourning dress. The Justice Card, she had been holding so desperately, was out of her grasp. It was making its own way in the storm. She watched it fall, flipping and twisting, to a place below; and there was no place - for below her was black; a void of nothing. No earth. No end. She had lost her Justice Card. She was dangling over a void and clutching tightly to the Bridge as if she had all the time in the world, as though time itself had stopped and she was on the edge of her reality as everything escaped her until she recalled there was no such thing as time. Just one eternal Now. She was watching the Justice Card fall through space, to be lost forever, as the surrounding energy had a life force of its own and wanted this Widow to fall. These energies wrapped around her like a blanket. There was no comfort in this. They swirled down her body, grabbed at her ankles - and yanked.

Wye was paralysed. She could see the Widow Queen clinging on, but it would take a lifetime to reach her because Wye couldn't move. She couldn't help. Her mind had frozen. She was watching the demon as evil began to seep into the Game. She was truly lost. Nothing could jolt her to move. She stood there beside him. He was acting as though he hadn't seen her. Could he see her? If she moved would it draw his attention? If she breathed would he hear her? He was a monster in every sense, vile. Was this who she saw in the mirror?

Wye couldn't believe this creature could be an aspect of herself. It was outside of her. She had to disassociate from him to gain power over him, but realised part of her was a fucked up sick bitch who obviously liked to push her limitations. She gathered this about herself as she stared the demon down. Except he wasn't looking at her.

He turned to the mirror. He began sniffing around its frame. He reached his muscular arms out, just missing her face, and grabbed the framework. He tried to rip the mirror from its place, completely. He tried even harder to rip it from the cosmos. He was set to destroy the portal not use it.

Wye shot her attention around the remaining mirrors. What lay in store for these mirrors? Would the demons use some? Block others? Or destroy them all? She acknowledge the Queen seemed defeated. She remembered her tears through her veil as they splattered in a deep red pool of blood around her mourning dress of black. Wye had failed her. It seemed everyone had failed her, by all accounts.

Wye tried to turn her brain down a notch but still she was screaming for the demons to do their damnedest. She tried to recall the Oak and handstands but the demons were howling away. This terrified her.

Another part of herself was taking the lead. One she hadn't met before. She didn't like it. Not one bit. Who was she seeing in the mirror? She had to believe in the importance of this mirror; the magnitude of her mistake. She had no right to play this scared Game. She was in too deep. If she was The One, she was leading everyone down a terrible path. If she was to believe the Queen; all hell was about to break loose.

The demon yanked the mirror ferociously, growling with agitation. He pulled, giving his all to the very foundations. The Bridge shook. From far away, the Queen screamed. She failed to fall so the demon turned his attention to The One.

Wye gasped in breath and fell back from him, saw his drawn, callous eyes as he wanted to slaughter her, sacrifice her; hold her to the heavens and laugh at her god. She saw this in him; could almost feel the blood dripping from her sliced throat and red hair before he threw her into the fire.

How evil to steal her Life Force and what a show. There were many ways to steal a Life Force. The demon, known as Morlok, understood this in his own formidable way. She had his undivided attention now. She had asked for it. Squaring up to him to seek the questions from her unconscious mind. Seek and Yee shall find. It all is lurking in the back of your mind.

Morlok stepped closer to The One. He waited for her next step back and pounced. He landed before her as she fought the storm. He circled around her, sizing her up, became fixated with the bag on her back. He reached gently to her. She froze; saw his skeletal fingers and black pointed claws, razor sharp and knew she was dead. This was it. It had all come down to this moment. The end. Except she was still breathing. She was surviving. His fingers reached to her skin on her shoulders and felt her human flesh; so alluring in the shadow of death. Her pulse was racing in her throat, strong enough to feed a storm.

Lightning hit another mountain and the earth cried as it crumbled, and Morlok hooked his claws beneath her straps and sliced. He moved around her again; could smell the remanence of the Journal. It was filling his flaring nostrils. The book of secrets. He sniffed her soft head. Fuelled up on her fear. Delicately, he slid the bag from off her back, felt her fingers stiffen slightly as she let it go; fall to him.

He peered inside, deep into the bottomless pit and found the object which meant everything to her, if she were to know it. And this mirror she was guarding meant everything to her as though it could be her salvation. Morlok tuned into the energies of this mirror portal and who lay beyond. Jay. He took the object into his hand and felt its power as it turned its magic. He aimed it precisely at the vortex centre and fired it through to the Physical Dimension.

Wye screamed, realising the magnitude of this. Jay would find the Journal. Jay would be forced into the Gauntlet. Things would get really bad for him. She knew this. This was why she had locked the Journal away. Keep people safe. She could end up like the Queen, spend three hundred years searching for her brave warrior to free her. Did she see Jay as brave? She hardly knew him. He seemed brave. Her mind rambled trying to find solid ground, the demon sneering at her. She was as defeated as the Queen slowly slipping from the bridge.

Morlok wanted to unlock Jay's mind; open his doors, round up an army, storm the portals, take the Castle siege, and reign down terror on all the sad sorry souls dwindling away there - except Jay. Morlok had a different fate in store for Jay. He wanted to meet up with Jay again. It had been a while. He turned away from The One. And leapt through the storm onto an invisible wall, he knew was there. He began to climb towards the mirror above, his silk cloak catching the moon. He could feel others in the forests watching him gain entry; so easily done.

The demon crawled to the magnificent mirror. It was the smallest yet most powerful of them all. The highest to reach its summit. It was oval and made of brass and pivoted in the middle. It had been cleansed and had once been the purist of all mirrors. The One had held this mirror from the other side. Bane had visited this mirror after her and left his Calling Card, too. Morlok plucked this Tarot Card from the cosmos surrounding him and marvelled down at the Magician Card in his hands. A very old friend. Bane, the Magician, was inviting Morlok back into the Game.

Morlok was enjoying his victory and such a prized opportunity. He had fought for this moment; had run his own race to be here. He deserved re-entry. He could see the promise of the Physical Dimension stretched out before him, and he wanted in, again. This Game was so addictive. He could feel the power held in the mirror and he wanted this too. He had a score to settle and a promise to keep. He ripped apart muscle and sinew then pushed the invitation card deeply into his chest to keep it safe. He climbed through the mirror, and over to the other side and crossed between worlds, entering quietly and undetected into Wye's room: the dingy room within the catacombs: the Sacred Journal Room.

*

In the Physical Dimension of the Guards Room, Jay had clearly heard a woman's voice through the mirror, which he now believed to be an obvious conduit for Spirit. She had called out to him the same message as before in the Dining Hall, and better than this; it was the same voice, "Find and protect the Empress Card." He had informed Debbie but now something sounding like metal hit the wall above his head.

It ricocheted and hit the floor at his feet. "Switch the lights on?" he called to Debbie who did as asked. The light showered him and the brass object on the floor. He was amazed. It took a moment to register.

"This is incredible," he told Debbie, holding it up, victoriously. He turned it around, this way and that, and it felt like a gift. He had experienced stones thrown at him in his past, had seen 'trigger objects' move on their own once or twice, he had experienced the glass on the Ouija Board fly across the room, he had witnessed this mirror turn upside down on its own; but this was different. This object had appeared from nowhere; from thin air to materialise in his world. He gulped down excitement, marvelled at the Paranormal Jewel, and gasped, "Do you know what this is?"

"A key," Debbie offered.

"An apport," Jay declared. 

# 39

Lizzy was in the Oubliette. Literally. She had unlocked the trap door, pulled away the grid and had clambered over the edge of the big round hole and was now clinging to the rope ladder as it swayed. It was a crazy stunt in these heels, even she knew this, chewing on her fresh bubble-gum. Update Status: I'm back in the Oubliette. I'm alone. A proper Lone Vigil. Wish me luck, Peeps – Followed by a Selfie of horns up coz it was the latest craze in her circle.

Some princess she was having to climb down the hole on her own; no gallant prince to see her safe, and accomplish this tedious mission on her behalf; to win fair maiden and wake to peacocks calling her from love's embraced slumber. Instead, she was climbing, rung by rung, down into a dirt pit because nobody noticed her. She was a loser. A hopeless dreamer. Sent on a stupid Event coz some whacko had told her it would be good for her. Probably none of this night was real. She was beginning to wonder. Perhaps someone had spiked her Ice Tea? Now it felt like just a bad dream.

The seven witches had left her and she was back in the room. She tutted, knees tightly bent, folding her endlessly long legs on the stupidly small ladder. It was a goblin sized ladder. Fit for nasty little grey goblins who just hang around, hoping for attention from the Mortal Ones. She hooked her foot over the rung and let the rope slip through her fingers slightly. Without a doubt, she hated people. What a bunch of assholes.

She had a banging headache from the mirror she had thrown herself against. Nobody had asked if she was ok. Did she even exist to other people so caught up and self-absorbed? Screw them. She shouldn't have to do this with these manicured nails. What a waste of time. Her hair was such a matted mess, she had given up on it a long time ago. Was she a screamer? No. She wasn't. She wasn't screaming now, so the people got that wrong too. Closed minds. All thinking they know everything. Well, it was the emptiest can that rattled the most. She could be an unsung hero. There was poetry in this and she loved poetry. She appeared so empty and yet was overflowing with ideas of life. Did this make her an air-head? However romantic a notion.

It was so hard being a princess in this world: so dense a place to dream. Lizzy squatted to the next stupid rung and moved like a gangly stick-insect down to it, tiny skirt/belt disappearing further up her legs, as she tried keeping her lithe body close to the wall. Update status: I don't even know why I'm risking my neck to connect with all you 'so called' friends. Here's my ass. She did a shimmy on the ladder to a world that couldn't see. As she moved, she felt with her feet that there wasn't a wall below. She reached her hand down and felt the wall's edge. She realised the trap was bigger than it seemed.

She peered up at the room above, flooded in electric light. It flickered. It seemed something moved past it: the hole in the roof above her. She looked down, trying more desperately to see how big this venture would get as still she couldn't make out her phone in the dark, or the depth and scale of her new surroundings. Oh for a torch. Oh for a light to bare the way.

Bane was standing away from the hole in the floor. He stood centre to the moonlight streaming in from a crack in the ceiling. He was aware seven Ladies were waiting deep within his lair. He was very aware of the girl dangling from a thread over his lair, deep in the hole he made. He fuelled up on the female energies of this Honey Moon as he had earlier fuelled up on those fears within Queenie. He had every right to bask in his victories, wherever he found them. He had sent many people on their way, one way and another. He was the Master Magician for a reason. This was his Castle on more than one layer now – and this Castle was the biggest of all illusions.

Bane, the Magician, understood this. He absorbed enough moon energy to see more clearly. He moved to the wall and ran his hand across the magic of it all like reading braille. He felt along the invisible words, smearing particles of moonlight into the spell. Visible words appeared on the wall above him as the Castle activated his commands. Telepathically, he read, 'Welcome to the Circus of your Soul. Hope you enjoy your _eternal_ stay.'

The Magician did enjoy the Castel's macabre sense of humour especially since the word 'eternal' remained invisible. He had the power to add to the macabre, feed his environment. He knew the true nature of himself and he celebrated it. 'Now scream for me from your abyss... You want poetry. Have this.' Bane threw his hands out, shot his Intent at the lightbulb and blew it out in shards of reigning glass, glinting in the moonlight.

Bane threw back his head, held out his arms for more female energy and fuelled up on Lizzy's shrill high-pitched scream that dragged on and on forever.

He pulled her scream into his dead, silent heart. He channelled it in, absorbed it all on every level so no sound was made for human ear. He could take her final breath, and this Magician knew she would let him. She could potentially become a very good bad witch if she carried on her ways. He could foresee this. As it was, he had silenced her, gagged her, so she may as well be mute; hinder the mortals and deepen their confusion.

The Hooded Demon felt the distain at the rudimentary voice recorder on the chair. Only he would so chose when to be heard. Silly tricks from such a primitive level. He had bigger tricks than this up his sleeves. He had far grander schemes. They were all being played and they didn't even know it. He had the power. He was still reigning. This was his illusion because from his perspective, this was his Castle.

Lizzy felt the madness descend. Glass had showered her into pitch black. She wanted to scream again, but there was nothing left after the last one. Her throat was rung out, dry and damaged. She tightened her grip on the rope as her hands moistened. "Hello?" She croaked through the virtual pitch black, "Is there someone up there? Could you find a torch or something? I need light." Lizzy called out to the dark, and tried not to whimper, "I can't see."

She could hardly believe this was happening again. She thought she had come out of a bad trip, and now she was sensing she was back in it. Something familiar was intoxicating her. She could feel the familiar friend wash through her and take her back to remembering and she could feel the presence in her heart as though a hand was touching her, and it was feeling the thunder in her chest - as they exchanged awareness across the void of timeless wonder and fascination for each other. He would fuel up on her breath and romantic nature and she would gladly offer it, because in this moment she was alive. This handsome mysterious hooded hero had seen her. He had stolen her tear. He alone had been aware of her existence, as she had become aware of his. It seemed he was the only one to truly care. She whispered, "I know you're here. Could you show yourself to me? I want to see your face. I feel your touch. I know you are with me. I know who you are, now. You aren't just the darkness surrounding." She felt the darkness stir as a forbidden temptation softly stirred in Lizzy.

She gulped down her arousal, flushed endorphins as a whimpering desire escaped her moist lips. A hot gloved hand adding to the heat in the dark. She could feel him. His hand pressing against her so firmly. It was even more intense if she closed her eyes and moved slightly. OMG she was going to hell for this one. Was this the way to hell? Down here? Hadn't someone mentioned this to her? It was too much for her to cope. Die a romantic. Considering she was descending into the earth it was growing really hot. Lizzy wiped her throat with her hand, felt his lips upon her. She had to snap back to reality and fast.

Update Status was her favourite distraction: What's happening? Since you ask, I am descending a bottomless pit for the sake of insanity and I'm actually feeling quite aroused, which is worrying. And I've lost a nail. The guests here are assholes sent to scare me. – She convinced herself she needed to retrieve her phone, get in her car and drive. Get out of dodge and keep going. That's what she thought she wanted. She gathered herself together, and for the first time ever, she dismissed the dark. She clambered down two more rungs, then two more after that. One way or another she was getting out of here. She was going home. She wasn't going to be trapped here.

She felt her heel hit solid ground. She stepped back from the ladder and felt herself teetering. The ground was moving. It was unstable. She was standing on a mound of rotting corpses. She wasn't going to become trapped like them. She was a survivor not a screamer. The earth below blew open. The skulls and skeletons disappeared from her. She struggled to break the illusion in this; felt she was falling with the dead. Down and down into the black; into an ageless abyss. The ladder was dangling before her, as long as endless, and she couldn't reach it. She was falling down a Tower – down through unconsciousness, and through the depths of the earth.

Seven witches were standing in their circle at the bottom of the abyss, chanting and swaying. They each looked up to the tunnel above and saw Lizzy falling towards them, they saw their Hooded Lover as he stormed the tunnel wall overhead. He flipped himself upright for them and flew across to land to his feet. He turned around engaging the outer circle; these serpents; his sirens in black. These fine, enchanting Ladies were waiting...

'I have a mission for you all; a test of your loyalties to me, your master.' He had their attention as each witch sought out his features but couldn't find them: all part of his masquerade. He reached his gloved hand to one witch's face and traced her lips with his fingers, saw fresh desire spark within her, and said to them all, "Guide yourselves to the King. He is released of his curse by my authority. He no longer guards his men from escape. I have given him back to himself just so I can enjoy his heart break all over again. Tear Royalty even further apart." The witch shuddered to his touch and his spoken words. Bane let her go and engaged them all. "I've upped the Game a level. It is only fair. "

"What of our beautiful Queen?" A witch, known as Rose, asked.

"She is doing what she needs to, rest assured." He mocked. The witches failed to notice. He continued his manipulation. "You are to seduce the King. He has been lonely. For three hundred years, he has known no female touch. Seduce the King and test his loyalty to your Queen. You know him as weak. He led your Queen to Death; he may as well have sanctioned her murder by his very own people. Your Queen is clinging on to all she believes by her fingertips. Apart they are weak. Together they are dangerous. You all know this to be true. Think back." He allowed them this, then added, "We hold our own counsel here. You will do this thing for me; for our own ends, for our own kind of magic. Be true to who you are. And know this; their paths shall not cross again. Not in my Game.'

Bane moved effortlessly before another witch, he lifted her chin to see into her eyes her true depths of passion and understanding. She knew this Game well enough as did her sisters. He glanced back around them. Each of them and together would do this thing for him, this he knew. All to please him, as he in turn gave them pleasure; would open up a wilderness for them, give them all some great adventure. As simple and as close as that.

Bane stepped past Rose into the outer circle and marvelled at the stone wall surrounding them all. A perfect circle, this hole he made. He became aware of the audience he had gathered as the Ladies became huddled together and moved to be near him. He allowed them to touch him, as his cloak seemed to glisten to them, intrigue them; what sorcery of moonbeams. He enjoyed the feel of their hands as he transferred some magic. 'Chose a door,' he told them, calling true surroundings into their awareness.

There were many doors in this circular room, deep within the core of the Castle's foundations. Some were made of wood and painted, some had labels; titles for rooms, a few were surrounded in salt, which was a crying shame. The witches gasped with delight. He was an amazing Magician and they truly loved this Castle; so full of surprises. He reached out to a witch near the back, and pulled her through the crowd to be closest. He held her waist, felt her stir as her true vision took in his form enough to see features, glimpsed then gone. He whispered into her, 'Uphold the blood writing on the wall. Escort your new friend along the way. She visited here the first time, wanting to know herself. She returned wanting more. It is her deepest desire, if she did but know it.' He enticed another witch to nestle to him. He spoke down to caress her, 'And as you know - I give you all your deepest desires. I give every one of you back to yourself. It is my very nature. I know your deepest darkest desires. I am your deepest darkest desire.'

A witch, known as Lily, stepped forward, longingly, 'Yes, master. We give ourselves over to you as in turn we are nothing without our Queen. We long to find her. It has been our mission to keep her away from the King. After all, we too remember the dangers of them ever being together, so we take up your challenge, gladly. Show us the way, Master. Which door do we take?'

'Where would be the fun in that,' Bane pushed the Ladies from him. They remained swooning and swaying in a mesmerised state, drinking up his every word. He left them to figure things out. Flew upwards effortlessly through the timeless tunnel and grabbed Lizzy from her freefall because he truly was some hero.

Bane held her to him, plucked from the cosmos. She had given him life. She had woken him from his lair; the calmness of it all as chaos reigns. She had invited him to come out and play as he was now doing for her; as above so below. He longed to show her the interlinking, over woven worlds of her existence, and for her to understand the simplicity of it all. He wanted her to see his world because she was so innocent and equally guilty. So fresh a flower caught on a breeze. A bud just bursting to open. He wanted to wake her up on every level, blow this one to kingdom come.

Bane sealed this with a gentle kiss on her lips; tasted again the Castle walls and curse with blood and honey as he brought her back to life. Reluctantly, he placed her on the ground as he heard a sound in the room above. He heard the door latch, and smelled the vile stench of all things decayed.

Something rank and dead had just entered the arena.

# 40

Amazeballs T crouched down by the door he had softly closed, thinking himself a great commando.

He shut his eyes. He was in the Oubliette. He knew this room by memory and pictured it; bed, wardrobe and mirror, chair and a hole in the floor. This prank was potentially hazardous. Amazeballs T did a Risk Assessment, made mental notes and opened his eyes. Due to the moonlight from the crack in the celling, he could see a bit of the room, make out the shapes and the black hole in the floor.

He shuffled on all fours a bit towards the hole. He couldn't fathom why the silly Lizzy wouldn't have the light on for all her whining about her phone. He could hear her down in the hole; he could hear something moving down there. If he wasn't about to play a mean trick he would have used his special torch for the task; the one sitting in the middle of his head. He was wearing a miner's hat with a torch in the centre of his forehead. Practical and hands-free. He couldn't understand why the idea wasn't taking off across the paranormal world. He could be a trend-setter. As it was, his special little torch was redundant.

T crawled a bit closer, stifling the gloat he could feel brewing amongst his ribs. He didn't want to give the game away. He was going to sniper his way up to the edge of the trap, feel around for the ladder and pull it back up so the dozy mare would be stuck down there. Well, that was the plan. Then he could return to his cupboard for a bit of peace.

He longed for peace. He didn't know peace, his brain was too contorted. And more to the point, he had incredible twitching in his leg that wouldn't abate. He snuck closer, sliding down to lie on his front as he pulled his delicate frame across the floor, thinking he was a ninja.

They should be filming this. This was going to be a stunt and a half, make no mistake. He could feel it in his bones. This would make YouTube millions and he wouldn't be the troll to keep hitting the Refresh button.

He checked the CCTV camera in the top corner of the room to see if it was recording. It wasn't. There was no infrared glowing in the dark. Amateurs - Amazeballs T snorted. Jay had forgotten to put the lead in the damn thing when setting up, obviously. It wasn't like a demon would have yanked the cable out, because this wasn't anywhere near Amazeballs T's festering mind. He had blocked out all such nonsense a long time ago. It was best. So he slithered along over in the dust to find himself navigating what seemed a minefield of broken glass. He cussed at Jay because this was bound to be his fault too.

T carried on, bypassing the hole. He peered in briefly, saw only black, and slithered onwards some more to get to the bed. He clambered to his aching haunches and crouched again in the dark, checking his surroundings.

All clear. He had played a similar game on his console, beaten loads of young boys to whom he made a connection. He laughed at their stupid voices in his earphones as he practised and practised to take each one down. He schemed another plan now: He could climb on this bed – in the dark – balance there with a twitching leg, reach up and push the cable into the camera to automatically record his biggest joke to date. Everyone loves a screamer. This would get the news out that his Events are Elite because they are the best. He also had the option to steal the footage, edit and chop it and pretend to be a ghost. She would shit it. Lizzy had thrown herself at the mirror and nearly knocked herself out: he had laughed at this too. She really was losing the plot. So gullible.

Amazeballs T clambered onto the bed. He began to reach for the camera as he looked down through the hole in the floor. From his unusually lofty perspective, he could see Lizzy at the bottom, retrieving her phone. She was checking it worked. Amazeballs T tried to feel for the cable while still watching the scene below. He had to be quiet now. Really quiet. Any sound would alert his victim. She would hear him from here.

He found the end of the cable, felt it for sure with his thumb - now to reach for the camera. He should have watched what he was doing but he seldom did. He was always too busy watching everyone else and making judgements. He was now busy spying on Lizzy who disappeared through a side door.

This shocked him. He knew this Castle. There were no doors in the bottom of the hole.

Tentatively, T reached his other free hand to his torch on his head. He had definitely seen Lizzy leave the Oubliette through a door. There had been a level of light behind this door. He had seen this too and then it was shut returning to wall, so it seemed from on high.

He switched on his torch, thinking he had nothing to lose now. He was more intrigued by the door. She was gone anyway. He moved his head around exaggeratedly to beam the light into the hole. Lizzy really wasn't in there.

The stone wall seemed seamless. Very strange, T knew as he adjusted his vision from feeling dizzy. He wasn't used to heights and his eyes were still dancing. He lifted his juddering leg and found no comfort. And none of this helped his cause as he teetered, craning his scrawny neck as curiosity caused him to lean out a bit further to get a better look.

In true non-ninja style, he tumbled from his perch, hit the floor, rolled, broke a few bones and fell over and into the most unholiest of all holes: the awaiting pit of doom. He broke a few more bones as he landed, ten medallions getting tangled together around his throat, and pulling through his skin to garrotte him: each medallion his pretence to the world, a symbol of ancient protection for which he held no belief. He grabbed the chains to stop his throat from being sliced in half.

T spluttered into the dust as agony came in from all areas and seized his body. He rolled onto his back, clutching his knee, unsure if the pain in his shoulder hurt more. Thank his lucky stars he could still move. That was a hell of a stunt. If only he had recorded it. Many people would pay to watch this but this was the least of T's worries now as he lay there groaning and whimpering, so broken. Right now, he couldn't give a rat's ass about the door. He was in too much pain. The miner's hat had come in handy. Practical and hands-free; cocked to a jaunty angel. "Bloody hell," he groaned.

All he had ever wanted was to be famous. He didn't want to be famous for this. Somebody would have to save him, call an ambulance, an air ambulance. It would be all over Sky News; paranormal event organiser rescued after falling down the Oubliette. What a huge dent to his already tormented ego.

T was having none of this. He would claw his way to the bottom of the ladder if he had to, he would pull his broken bones up the ladder to the top and slither his way back to his cupboard than face showing weakness. If he wasn't going to be remembered for his knowledge in the paranormal world he wanted to be remembered for his sense of humour – but not like this. There was no way this joke was going to be on him.

From down here, it seemed a long way up to there: Amazeballs T did a mental Risk Assessment. It seemed a bit futile. A bit like his last one. Nothing ever went the way he expected. This was why he gave up bothering. At least the light on his head was intact.

He lifted his dead foot with his hand and saw it was dangling. This didn't look good. He took a closer inspection as this pain began to over-ride all others. He pulled up his trouser leg to see jutting bone, sinew and blood. Not good at all. He noticed his dust-covered shoe and saw the irony. Now he was covered in dust, head to foot. He couldn't worry about this, he had more pressing things to consider. A tourniquet to stop the bleeding. Be like Rambo. Except every movement really hurt. He could feel a fart brewing and knew this rumble of fun would really hurt him too. Plus which there was enough dust blown up. He held it in. He usually found farts funny. He had farted into digital voice recorders many times; contaminating other teams' evidence with guff. Every part of him ached, and now he'd get piles, sitting on a cold floor.

He tried to shift his position but the pain was too intense. It grated him to stop. "Fucking hell," he cursed. He pushed both hands into the dirt and tried to grasp something enough to drag himself across the floor to the ladder. Thankfully, he was so slight he found enough purchase. He clawed his way, hand over hand, dragging his legs as he went. The pain in his shoulder was more than the weight of the world he wouldn't let go of. He felt sure there were more broken bones and two broken ribs. It was at this point, he was grateful he had done pole dancing in the past. He liked to help the ladies in the class. He knew his legs wouldn't win medals but he had good upper body strength in a nimble flexible way. The rope ladder would be just about possible, given his strengths. If he could get himself out of this hole, nobody would be any the wiser.

He pulled himself to the ladder, feeling exhausted, sat in front to catch his breath. A cigarette would have been nice right now. Take a break. He had taken many. He hadn't been one for playing sports, just judging them. He had tried hockey during his school years, many moons ago, but this had resulted in a slight scar on his lip, having been wacked in the face by the stick of an angry tackle. He had never seen so much of his own blood. This had put him off sport. He now wished he was a tad fitter. He looked up at the hole in the roof and the ladder. It wasn't that far. He panted and wheezed.

The ladder was snatched up before him. In one swoop, just out of his reach. T couldn't believe it. Even though it happened before his eyes. He drove on through the grinding agony to reach for the bottom rung. He splayed his disjointed hand so the tips of his fingers touched it.

Ah, the triumph.

The ladder was snatched up further: moved halfway up the wall enough for Amazeballs T to watch it go. It paused for effect. It allowed for T to open his mind, just a fraction enough to realise his loss. It was snatched up completely in the next movement.

Ah, the dismay.

Amazeballs T assumed someone was playing a joke in the room above, pretty much the joke he had planned; give or take the odd broken bone. Very funny – not. T growled. "Give me back my ladder."

Nobody responded. No sound could be heard.

"Stop being a dick, and throw the ladder back down. I've got an Event to run."

The room was silent. All around was silent, which was slightly unsettling given the situation. T tried to make light, "Come on. I get it. You're very funny." "Twat," he whispered. He could feel his stomach churning the fart he was holding and this didn't feel good. He hated silence. He needed radio and TV and sport and games, keep his beady small mind distracted from all the other stuff. All that Bigger Question stuff out there that would surely blow his box. He was better in the hole. Except he wanted to get out.

Somebody was creeping around in the room above trying to rattle his cage. Well this bird won't sing. There was nothing to sing about. Crumpled, T looked up at the circle and faint glint of light. His salvation, oh for a ladder or pole. His torch flickered. It would seem as if something unseen was playing up close and personal, but T couldn't believe this so it never entered his impermeable mind-set. He was a man of old science - and only old science. Not the New Age, Quantum Science. The old Science made sense. Everything rigid or liquid or gas. Everything in order in little labelled boxes.

He liked to plot, scheme and make plans, usually at some nice person's expense because he saw nice as weak. And now he didn't have a plan. He had fallen in the dirt. He had fallen on the mercy of the person in the room above. His torch flickered brighter. Ah - hope. Then out. Ah the dark. Amazeballs T was always amazed how the mind could play tricks in the dark. He had used this against many a guest in the past, sending them running to locked gates, screaming. Another weakness. He wanted to scream but his ego knew best.

In the quiet of the night, in his own torment, the little broken man crouched looking up at the only thing shining now.

Written with moonlight were words on the wall; words he had never seen before in this Castle. These words seemed magical: lit up like a fairground attraction: 'Welcome to the Circus of your Soul. Hope you enjoy your... stay.' 

# 41

The grey and gnarly Goblin was stuck in the hole and wasn't impressed. There was no way he would catch a glimpse of the Mortal Ones now. Seven hundred years, he had hidden amongst the darkness of the cupboard before latching on to Amazeballs T. Here he now was, stuck in the hole. Well that was just great. Perfect. A desolate place to be stuck with this man.

Goblin wasn't the happiest of Elementals, he knew this of himself, but even he was growing bored of T's constant griping, until this little stunt. Goblin stood here now trying to gain insight. He had been raised to believe the Castle had all-seeing eyes. This was why he had hidden himself away. The Castle witnessed your every move.

Goblin gulped. He was in the pit; the underlying belly of its very foundations. The Castle would know his heart did beat. The Castle would feel it; know where he was and what he was playing at. Here he was exposed in the earth underpinning the very safety of this ageless fortress. No thanks to the Amazeballs T. He was wondering now why he had ever latched on to the man. He remembered the only reason. The only way he could truly see the light of the Mortal Ones was through the eyes of the truly dead.

There were so many of the Mortal Ones here tonight, if they did but know it. The Mediums, The Sensitives, The Fortune Tellers and the Top Detective and even the very One herself had turned up for the show. From Goblin's perspective, these mortal creatures were magnificent gods. They had everything within them. They exuberated a light around them which drew him from the shadows. Their light scorched his eyes; it scared him and fascinated him too. Now there was no chance of meeting more of these gods and goddesses from this bottom rung. He gazed across at the ladder that was no longer there.

Goblin glared at Amazeballs T: the weasely little shit, snivelling snot and tears into the dirt and summed up T's true injuries. A broken index finger. That was it. For all of T's whimpering. This finger was broken in seven places; the finger he liked to point with: his prominent one: that and a scratch on his ankle, a bruised knee – and whiplash.

This was why T was down in the hole. The Castle put him there because he put himself there. Everyone knew the stories regarding the Scary Bed. Goblin grew up with alarming stories. It was the worse place in all the worlds to be. Everyone knew that to find yourself in the Scary Bed would be terrifying. He had heard the old tales of poor souls dragged from the Scary Bed by the deafening darkness and pushed into the hole in the floor which, at the very bottom, resides your worst nightmare: a place to get to know yourself. The true place of self. Terrifying if you've been a vile, nasty, creepy little shit in the grass for most of all your life.

Goblin couldn't believe Amazeballs T would actually climb onto this bed, to be daft as stupid. He had watched T reach to the device on the wall, stand on one leg and salute to the world. He had seen the Scary Bed jettison its next victim into the jaws of the earth to gobble him whole, and all would have been well, if Goblin wasn't attached by a silver cord at his wrist which yanked and pulled him along the floor and over the edge to land in the Circus of the Soul. Alright for those who had clear consciences. His was far from clear. Now he wanted his cupboard.

This behaviour was exactly what always led him into trouble. Boredom had a lot to answer for. He didn't mean to be so grumpy but in all his days alive he never thought he would end up here. He had caused so much havoc across too many worlds, in his past, to be discovered now. He hadn't meant to and this was his trouble. He wasn't so made of mischief as made of misfortune. He didn't need to search for it because trouble always found him. Hence the cupboard.

Well, categorically, hand on Goblin heart; he could safely say he was in trouble now. So much for being a willing Guide to a Lowlife. Amazeballs T was a lowlife who was getting everything he wished on others. He was getting a taste of his own medicine. See how he likes it. He had wished Lizzy to spend time in the Oubliette, had given her this room as her bedchamber when indeed the Castle had chosen her the State Apartments. He had pulled this out of a Top Hat and disregarded the rules; he hadn't read the visible words aloud. T had made his own choices for the guests. He had undermined the Castle. Big mistake. In this Castle where no deed goes unnoticed. This Goblin was no longer a willing Guide. He would be better off on his own, away from such ignorance.

Goblin unshackled the silver cord at his wrist. It fell to the dirt and disappeared. He was one for superstition. He knew there would be a cost for clambering all over the Scary Bed while trying to play a joke on a goddess. Goblin had enough of his own prices to pay. – He thought all this as he leant back against the wall.

He let his aching eyes rest on the brightness of the words from the room above, written in moonbeams enough to blind him. He had heard many warnings about not reading the writing on the wall – on any of these walls.

'Welcome to the Circus of your Soul'. And there he had just gone and read it. He wasn't sure what this deed would activate but knew it wouldn't be good as he heard a distant rumble and felt the earth shake beneath his chewed up grey feet. He held tightly to the wall behind him. The very foundations of this Castle were being undermined.

Goblin felt sure the Castle was stirring. Shifting. Coming alive and it was all his fault. He shouldn't have read the words. He glared at the words and accidently read the next line, 'Hope you enjoy your... stay'. Duped again by the Castle and so easily drawn in, he had read the writing on the wall. He didn't want a part in this, not in any of it. He felt the rumble again. It wasn't folklore. The Castle was seeking its revenge. It was preparing to readdress the balance.

The Castle was waking up.

# 42

There was no way Amazeballs T could hold on to this fart much longer. The darkness was spinning its tricks. His lighter was in bits in his pocket and nothing was going well, as usual. Logically, his eyes were pixelated as he tried to adjust his vision enough to see around and everywhere he looked he saw faces of those he despised.

Everyone was down in the hole with him and he had no escape.

Nobody was prepared to help him because he had no friends. He had no friends because nobody liked him because he was an abomination to mankind, make no excuses: and he was doubly an abomination to women, especially strong women. He despised them the most. Intimidating creatures who would see straight through him. The witchy type who could strip away his layers of façade and speak their own truth clearly and concisely. He hated these the most. These and Mediums. But he couldn't dwell on any of this now, convinced his body was shattered as he suffered more pain, and belly danced enough to shimmy the fart back up inside his hollow self. His broken ribs tore him more grief. His neck hurt so much he would have considered all vertebrae snapped except he could still move. Well just about, considering his level of broken.

T clawed himself through the dirt, dragging his legs and dangling foot and dropped onto his back in the centre of the hole. He struggled to pull off his trousers to check for further damage and lay looking up at his only escape to freedom.

He clenched his buttocks and his piles hurt too. His juddering leg came to a climax. The juddering stopped. T knew this routine by now. He gave it a second. Ah the bliss. The juddering began again. He would need to consult a doctor about all this if he ever got out of here. He raised his dangling foot and propped it on his other raised knee.

It was a wonder he hadn't bled out with the size of the gash in his ankle; there was enough room in there for a small boy, in his opinion, not to mention the bone, sinew and tendons jutting through it. T winced. He would have to breathe through the pain, stay conscious, stay alert; somebody was in the room above, playing games. He thought he saw movement; a shadow move across the hole. Obviously he was mistaken because he had his paranormal ears pricked up and hadn't heard a thing. Still he craned his good ear to the dark.

Bane had raised the ladder, as he circled his pit. He had summed up this vermin a long time ago; this feeble excuse for a man wallowing in self-pitying - and deemed him not worth the steam off his piss. This meal wouldn't even be a morsel. There was no meat on the man; there was no essence to the pathetic. Bane had no interest in this. He had no interest to move this player along. Let the fucker be stuck. Nothing stirred him to want to move this sad, sorry cretin from the hell he was already in: down in the Oubliette - all forgotten.

Instead, Bane climbed inside and walked the tunnel. He whistled as he went, the softest high-pitched whistle beyond all range that would destroy a powerful Love Spell from the cleverest of witches. Nothing in all these worlds could break true union between a wolf and his rightful master.

The Spirit Dog stopped humping T's leg. He heard his master's whistle again. He would know his master's whistle through all time and space. And this calling called into him, his true nature, as the dog morphed into a wolf; eyes yellow, fangs snarling a deadly jaw as he towered over Amazeballs T; baring into the face of the worst of all smelling corpses. This wolf would make a meal of him. This wolf would enjoy savaging this toy to death. Toss the sneaky pesky weasel corpse around and see what else falls off. On the third whistle, his master came into his view. The last magic of the spell dissolving away. His master was beckoning him. His master came to him, calmed him with a hand on his head. Reconnected. His master gave good hugs. Time now for them to roam together. As good as it was to roam in the wilderness. It was good to be home by his master's side. He followed beside the familiar black cloak, trotting to keep up as Bane marched on with more thunder towards the circular room at the very bottom of his lair, a new tune whistling from his lips, deep within his mysterious hood – 'Pop Goes The Weasel', menacing not nice. Those lips were smiling between the gaps.

Meanwhile, firmly and by square-root, in the Physical Dimension, Amazeballs T was amazed that his leg had stopped juddering. He was too afraid to move in case it should start again. He had been lying in the same position so cramp was setting into his numb tingling back and his shoulder was frozen. He tried to adjust himself but he couldn't move through this level of pain.

Carefully, T felt down to his ankle again. How much blood had he lost? It had to be pints to be this light-headed. He tried to be brave. Be a commando. He lifted his poor hand and tried to feel around the strap of his watch. His ankles were as skinny as his wrists so his watch would make a great tourniquet. Inadvertently, he saw the time: Big hand on the 11th hour, little hand pointing at the 11th minute. Not exactly his grandfather's pocket watch. Five pounds from the market, this one; no wonder it broke. Nonetheless, he removed the watch from his wrist and placed it just higher from the scratch that was killing him slowly. Careful not to hurt: notch by gentle notch, he tightened the symbol of 11:11 to his ankle: but he was too dead to truly notice. In any case, it was all lost on him; went straight over his head because it was all way too big this coincidence. He couldn't fathom any of this right now because, from deep inside the hollow essence of himself, he felt the mighty rumble of all things unholy. He tried to clench, pursing his piles for a love puff but his ass exploded. It blasted hot air so unearthly.

The despairing Goblin knew the direction of this abomination. The Castle rumbled. The foundations shook. More hot air blew Goblin off his feet. An incredible stench blasted him on his way - through an invisible door and through to another dimension - where only a Pixie, an Astral Being, and a Mortal One could save him.

T knew this fart would be legendary. It lasted forever. Ah the relief. He could literally feel his stomach emptying from all his hot air gushing out. Even the vibration of his piles felt strangely pleasant.

It was then that he followed through. Ah the horror. As in this, every essence of his flatulent bowels rained forth his putrefying shit. He pebble-dashed the surrounding Castle walls in his brown dripping excrement. True showman style. A true shit storm. He lay in his own shit, literally and in every sense of the word.

Amazeballs T couldn't find the time to fathom it all out because he was too busy worrying that his horrendously loud and echoing fart would be picked up on the digit voice recorder on the chair above – and then there was all the splattering and spluttering. He thought it worthy of maximum velocity on his Fart Scale. And then he farted again; a crescendo in the aftermath: a mushroom cloud of dust plumed up between his legs and even to his standards the smell was the worst he had ever delivered yet. It took his breath away. His eyes began to stream as it singed his eyeballs. And by God, he didn't want to breathe it in. He didn't want to take ownership.

He coughed and spluttered and still tried not to consume again; in a perpetuating cycle, the contents of that journeying guff from his vile mouth to stinging ass and through the rotting chambers in between. He flared a nostril; took a little sniff to smell if the coast was clear. Not yet. He waited. The shame of it. If he lit a cigarette with this level of methane, he really would blow himself sky high. He, being a man of science, estimated this level of gas, given ignition, would take out half the Castle. The end: curtains for him: the last dance and the final show.

Or would it be? He could have asked himself this question, while he was stuck but he was too busy worrying what people would think. This was killing him more. How could he turn this around? How could he tell his version of events, first? There was no social media he could use down here to spin a tall yarn and makeshift web. He was the one caught in a trap. He was literally alone. Without a voice. Because nobody was listening to him. In his own shit. Stinking to high heaven, down in the hole. In the Oubliette all forgotten. If the person above was still there then he was doing good not to laugh. Someone had removed the ladder, so logically, there had to be somebody around. Someone who could help him – hopefully somebody nice... He asked, "Hello? Is there anybody there?" – Not that he was expecting a response.

Meanwhile, below in his lair, Bane had a door to choose. He had his wolf by his side. He had Queenie hanging off the edge of all her existence. This was behind one of these sealed doors here. If he paid a steep price, he could open this door; he would be able to find her, go to her and kick her off the edge, but this wasn't his bidding. Sooner or later, she would let go. She would let go by her own bidding. This was the nature of his Game. He didn't have to learn any lessons and he didn't have to pay any real price. He just reaped the rewards. He had invited The One to entertain her Shadow Side. He had introduced Wye to her Shadow Side and the mayhem which had ensued was because of this. Bane was also impressed how well he had shrouded Queenie's judgement of herself. She had forgotten herself obviously, and so easily. She had forgotten her strengths – just as he was pushing her and testing them. She was letting fear in because the scales were tilting, and she believed in all this so fiercely. Queenie had put all her Faith into The One and forgotten to have Faith in herself. He could laugh. Three hundred years ago, Queenie had played the Game and had been The One: a Conscious Candidate. She had seen the writing on the walls. She had scanned the Journal. She hadn't got very far, stuck at the beginning of her Gauntlet while in the Dining Hall, shackled in fear, grief and despair. She was still The One; she just wasn't the only One. And she had forgotten all this by the very act of putting all her belief in someone else; surrendering her power. Hopeless and pathetic. He could rely upon this of human nature.

Bane knew he was ahead of her next move. He was covering all angles. Everyone was playing his Game, doing their bidding. It was all the same these sacred laws as written in invisible words laced throughout the Journal. He was the master because he had mastered these words and, equally, the players - and he was more the watcher in the ring, he was the trickster and their puppeteer.

With his wolf at heel, Bane moved along to the next door. He had no need to engage with Queenie: he felt this level of her Game was taking care of itself. He would leave the forgotten Ones as trapped and desperate as ever they are. He had a better door to choose. One he had bided his time to reach because if anything was worth doing it was worth doing well. He also had a hand to shake with a very old friend and a score to settle. He drew open the door and it gladdened his dead heart. He whistled the intro to Slayer's Blood Line...

and knew a true servant would recognise his master's whistle through all time and space.

# 43

Goblin felt a tad indignant. He had been blasted through to another dimension with such force he was unsure where he was. This could be a good thing. New Beginnings. But knowing how things usually went for him, Goblin knew it was more likely to be bad. To make things more unsettling was the incredible stench which had followed him in. A truly unearthly smell he didn't want to claim as his own.

Thankfully, he was alone. He had skidded back into this dimension on his bum to find himself sitting in another round room similar to the last. Nothing to see here but a table in the middle. On it was a Top Hat.

He got to his feet and brushed the dust off his dowdy shirt and shorts. Rubbing his dry knobbly knees, Goblin took another look around. The door he had arrived by had disappeared, sealing the stench in with him. He tried to reach up to his massive pointed ears but his arms wouldn't reach their tips enough to clean the grime from the blast. He shook his head to dislodge the loose. He was no oil painting, at best.

Perhaps, the Top Hat was put there as a gift for him from the Castle? He doubted this. It would be a trick. Still curiosity called. Gingerly, he shuffled towards it, taking a sneaky look around to check nothing had changed. He shuffled closer. He remembered the moonbeam words written on the wall. Was this the Circus? If he touched the hat would he be lit up in a spotlight, dazzled as an invisible audience watched on?

What choice did he have? There was nothing else to do. Ah, that cursed boredom: there it was for him, as always. Leading him in, as he took another step closer. He would look good in this hat because his ears would stick out either side and help hold it in place, firmly on his sandy quiff. The hat looked so rich; a velvety texture with a silk ribbon at its base. The milliner had taken their time to create such finery for a gentleman.

Goblin's excitement grew. He hadn't touched such materials in a long time. Could he dare touch it? Too late for wondering, he ran a finger around the rim and dulled the colour, as if by magic, then brushed it back to black. He checked nothing had changed in the room. As he did, he shuddered, recalling the stories of old. Were the eyes of the Castle upon him? He felt the eyes within his superstitions. Of course the Castle would be watching. This could be a good thing or a bad thing depending on what you were up to.

Goblin removed his finger, feeling guilty. Sheepishly, he turned away his head to signal to the Castle that he had second thoughts: he was being good. Surreptitiously, he looked closer at the stone walls surrounding. He couldn't see any eyes. Perhaps he could try on the hat, briefly, then put it back; no harm done: quench his curiosity and boredom? He took a peep at the hat; still harmless as nothing had changed for his touch. Still, he reminded himself: Amazeballs T had owned a Top Hat, and look where that had got him. This Top Hat on the table before him, was glowing, was far more superior in appearance. Goblin had never touched Amazeball's hat. He had never wanted to. This hat, right here and now, was different. It was the only thing besides himself in his existence.

He knew this Castle to be a funny sort of place. Perhaps, he had somehow earned this hat of state and nobility? He convinced himself to pick it up. He held it to the air and held his breath waiting for the spotlight. Nothing. Good. He pulled it onto his mop of sandy quiff hair and wriggled it down into the folds between his head and ears. The hat was a bit big so he forced it over his protruding forehead and wedged it some more.

Something fell over his face, slid off his bulbous nose and landed in the dirt at his feet. He bent to retrieve a piece of tissue thin paper. Now he was starting to think this wasn't all that good. Perhaps, he should replace the hat to the table but the ground beneath him fell away.

Clinging to the paper, Goblin fell through the trap door and shot along through a wormhole at breakneck speed. Some fairground attraction - downwards through the earth, onwards around bends in a cosmic tunnel on the Path of Least Resistance. There was no time for friction or fighting back as he flew through one paradox, two other dimensions and a black hole with such force he was unsure where he was. Goblin shot out the other end so fast, it was over before it began.

He landed in another pile of dirt. In another round room. And if he didn't know where he was before, he certainly did now. He peered down at the piece of paper in his shaking hands, his eyeballs still rolling in his head. The words danced before him, making him feel sick: Wishing Well.

The Castle wasn't wishing him well. He saw the irony. He didn't need to be here. Here at the bottom of the Wishing Well, centre to the maze above; in the centre of the Castle; centre to the Game. No good would come of this either, this he knew. He was too close to home for his liking. He was a wanted Goblin, after all. He would have got to his gnarly grey feet to brush himself down – yet again, but he heard a voice call out from the shadows.

"Who enters this place so unceremoniously?" A female voice.

Goblin tried to make out the image of the person hiding in the shadows beside the metal ladder: his escape upwards. He wouldn't make it in time. He stayed put and hoped the intruder would forget him and go away. He looked at all the dirt around him, hoping his nightmare would disappear. Was she a Bounty Hunter? He tried to gulp quietly. It echoed.

"There are no Gatekeepers here. Have you noticed?" Came the voice again, thick with accusation.

Goblin had noticed this. It just hadn't seemed important. Until now. Now he was wondering. He knew exactly where he was. He wasn't just at the bottom of a Wishing Well; he was more precisely in the room holding the gateways to every dimension across the Game. Being an Elemental he knew the horrors of unmanned Gateways. This was the reason everyone had their own Gatekeeper besides the extra ones at the main gates. Everything was too risky to go unguarded. So where was the Gatekeeper? Goblin wondered.

"You're an Elemental. Well, of a sort..." Angel stepped out from the shadows.

Goblin could have died but it wasn't possible. He wanted to wish himself anywhere else rather than here. Sit in the shit with T. Go back to the cupboard and stay for eternity. The Mother of all Demons stepped into the centre of the room, moonlight flooding her raven hair and turning her black eyes to glistening mysterious onyx. Her eyes drew him in until her red lips smiled and captivated him completely.

Angel moved her graciousness to be nearer the creature cowering, eyes wide with enchantment. She held down how revolted she felt. She needed him but the body and the flesh of her could take no more. She let out her breath and breathed back in. "What is that vile smell, about you? I have travelled across galaxies and dimensions since the dawn of time and never have I smelled anything so repulsive." She crushed his every emotion. This wouldn't win her favours. She hushed her spiteful tongue. She smiled demurely, reached out her hand, and said, "Nice hat," as she touched it. She really admired it. "Where did you get this?"

Goblin felt usual guilt return. He knew he shouldn't have touched it. Now look where he was: The Damned coming on to him. Awkwardly he shuffled, shrugged and mumbled. "It was a gift from the Castle."

"You mean, you stole it." Angel crouched down to look the Goblin creature in the eye. "Do you know what big trouble that may cause? Did your elders not teach you anything?"

"It was a gift left on the table for me," Goblin tried harder to fight his case. "It would have been rude not to."

"Indeed; because otherwise you wouldn't have wound around the wormholes to be here with me. How polite of you." Angel held a red lace handkerchief to her nose to block out some of the stench which had blown into this room with him. She moved in closer to him for her own curiosity. "What sort of Elemental are you? - I don't get to meet many. Not yet, anyway..."

I'm just a Goblin. There's nothing to see here. Honest."

"Is that so?" Angel smiled beneath the red veil. "You should get a promotion to go along with your fine hat. You wear it so well. It suits you." She held down her abhorrence and glided her hand down the Goblin's face, like she cared so much. "You would make a mighty fine Gatekeeper. You failed as a Guide but you have potential for a Gatekeeper. You're elemental, which helps a bit, you're obviously so wise; and you look dapper in a Top Hat." Angel looked around herself for effect. "I don't see anyone else doing the job."

Goblin shook his head. This was way too much like commitment and responsibility.

"Think of the accolade? You might get a Royal pardon for all your misdemeanours. You want to go home, don't you? Isn't this why you are truly here?"

Goblin shrugged. Maybe. Maybe he did miss the fairies and sprites a little bit. He shuffled uncomfortably. Something about all of this wasn't seeming right. He just couldn't figure what.

Angel walked around the room, holding out her hand to feel the tangible energies swirling around the intense space. "I see many doors here. As I know you do. Look at them all."

Goblin did as told. He looked at the gold framed doorways and old wooden doors and a doorway flooded in green light from a Fire Exit sign – leading squarely back to the Physical Realm. He tried to hide what was dazzling him the most, but the more he resisted the more he wanted to look. So he looked at the doorway alluring him. Crystals of every property surrounded this doorway: the doorway to the Fairy Realm.

"Ah. So this is where home is." Angel moved to the wall and ran her hands along the stones. "You see a door here. Tell me."

"Nope," Goblin shook his head, guiltily. "Nothing to see here, either."

"But that's not true. When you went to this wall your heart quickened to all the hope and despair in your eyes." Angel felt around the render; admired the beauty in the craftsmanship and knew on some level it didn't exist. She alone would never find this level. She needed help. She needed a Willing Gatekeeper to unlock this doorway and an Elemental conduit to help her enter. This would save being zapped by all the protective properties within the surrounding crystals. She didn't want Love from the pink quartz and Peace from the Amethyst, let alone the pain inflicted by the all-important Tigers Eye and Salt; let alone all the other crystals providing their mysterious. Angel stopped short. She said to the Goblin, "I need to pay visitation to your Queen of the Fairy Realm. I have one simple question for her."

Curiosity knew no bounds with Goblin as he rose to his feet. "What's the question?"

"If I tell you, you must promise to let me in."

Goblin shook his head. "No deal."

"And you get to keep your hat. I wanted it for myself but you can have it for keeps. Stuck to your head forever, if you like."

Goblin had to think about this. It was a very nice hat. "There's a lot of trust issues here. I'm not the luckiest of Elementals. I'm not sure any of this is a good idea."

"Fair enough. You can't blame a demon for trying." Angel stepped away from the cold wall and took several more towards the disturbed Goblin. "Now give me the hat."

"No," Goblin shuffled from her way but she was before him.

"I'm having the hat." Angel lunged for the Goblin's head.

"Ok. Alright. Stop." Goblin panted too unfit to outwit anything so supernaturally fast. "What question do you have for the Fairy Queen?"

"Perhaps it would be better if I write it down for you? It might help you to remember, should you ever scratch your head wondering." Angel plucked the tissue thin paper from his hand and drew out a black pen from her lace purse. She placed the paper against her purse and began writing. She stopped. Checked the lighting from above as the moonlight shone down through the Wishing Well and adjusted her positon in the circle to coincide with the full honeymoon. She drew down the moon to replenish her ink. She wrote some more then folded the paper three times and handed it back to Goblin.

Goblin felt a bit sick. Something was going on here but he wasn't sure what. He opened the paper and stared down at the words intended for his Queen. It read: 'Pretty please, could you stop the protection you have built around the Castle.' Goblin could read this simple enough. It didn't seem so bad. The Fairy Queen could only say no. Of course his Queen of the Fairy Realm would object. No harm done. His Queen was a kick-ass Queen; everyone who ever met her knew this. Angel would be sent packing.

What Goblin failed to read was the end of this sentence; the invisible words written in moonbeams by the Queen of all Demons for the Queen of a very magical and powerful realm: the invisible words: 'before I reign over all your fanciful, sickly pink parade?'

# 44

The real Gatekeeper to the Main Gateways to the Multiverse was hiding behind a tree in the Fairy Realm, cursing to herself. Pixie was ambitious and very determined at the best of times, but even this mission seemed out of reach for her. It had taken all her skills and dexterity to navigate her two prisoners down through the hills without being seen, as a back way in to get to the front.

The metropolis beneath the crystal dome ceiling was smaller than other worlds but far more intense with the concentration of energies. Pixie felt unnerved that she was making to leave, but alas, she had a personal mission to accomplish. She had to redress order like she was a constable of Universal Law. Gareth was on his way to start a little fire in the West Tower of the Physical Realm. She had tampered with his pathway and sent him off in circles in the labyrinth beneath the Castle. She knew of these circles because stories had been described to her. She had remembered them all, each word; such beautifully woven stories so discreet and so powerful. Sending Gareth off in a wrong direction wasn't enough for Pixie. She wanted to put a stop to the fire happening ever. After all, it was only a matter of time before Gareth found his way to do his misguided deed which could bring chaos to the Game forever.

Pixie had his twin as a bargaining chip. She was holding Euan's hand. Not because he was going anywhere without her, but because she wanted to. Holding his hand felt so good, it gladdened her heart almost as much as the surrounding rose quartz buzzed her heart chakra alive. "It's so magical here. It's so dreamy. It's a shame we have to leave it for such a dense place." Pixie looked up at Euan accusingly.

Unable to speak, Euan shrugged. He could see Pixie's dilemma. He too was reluctant to leave but Pixie had a plan, apparently. Not that she was giving much away.

Pixie's plan seemed simple. She was hoping to reunite the twins and they would see sense and not light the fire. In this, she would save the Castle, protect the Game and earn bigger wings. She also knew this would mean her entering the Physical Realm; a very risky affair. She hadn't informed the Fairy Queen her plans because there was no way her Queen would sanction such a reckless act. The Physical Realm was a scary place. A very dense place where the energy of pain can consume such a light and delicate soul as Pixie. She had to keep up her Protection, keep herself in a bubble and not let negativity in.

She knew this. This was why she was paused behind the tree, cussing. It wasn't just herself she had to consider. Somehow she had to guide her two prisoners through the labyrinth of the Game without causing more mayhem. Pixie had heard tales regarding a Sacred Journal. Although she had never seen it, it was supposed to be real. It was more than just a book. It was the key to everything apparently. Its magic ran deep with the Castle, so it seemed they were two of the same and the Journal, itself, was a doorway. Apparently, it is watched over by the Wise Ones from afar and from different dimensions. Protected and respected, this Journal was the doorway to the Self. Elementals were warned never to breathe a word out loud about it, let alone touch it. Everyone in the Fairy Realm had grown up with such tales: this was how the Wise Ones handed down the information to the next generation in the context of Fairy Tales laced with Truth.

Within these principles, Pixie knew not to lie. Wherever you sit, speak your truth clearly and concisely. So she had needed a clever tongue. She prided herself. The Queen of the Fairy Realm had insisted Pixie locks the prisoners in the prison. She just hadn't stipulated which prison. Pixie had another master plan to win bigger wings. If she could accomplish this part of her mission then she truly would be able to fly; soar high. She had a plan to navigate Euan and the Astral Being, Rick, back along the Physical Realm of corridors back to the West Tower, find Gareth, be nice and make friends– then – take Rick up the Tower to the prison and keep her promise to her Queen. No lies. She could throw Rick in so he could reunite with his body. He could jump back in to his body lying on the floor. He could save his own life and resurrect himself from his near death, reclaim his physical body. Then Rick, back firmly in the Physical Realm could reunite properly with two happy twins and all be well.

Except, there was a problem.

Pixie was fighting not to admit it. She saw a chink in her armour. As she asked the magic of her home to stay with her and guide her, she saw the problem present itself. As she fuelled up on all the energies of Protection swirling round her and filling in any dents in her protective bubble, she could see her downfall. This really would be a mission of courage. She was preparing herself mentally to go in and do battle and it would be her heart that would let her down.

Pixie was forcing herself to be strong. She was about to leave home. She had never ventured further than she had today into the Physical Realm and that was only a bit enough to scatter the dead rose petals into an opposite direction enough to throw Gareth off track. Secretly, she had scattered Fairy Dust to find her way back because she didn't really know the way.

Now she was preparing to enter into the Physical Realm and adventure all the way to the far side of the cold stone Castle. And an adventure it would be. It was the nature of the Game, apparently, except Pixie was supposed to be a Gatekeeper not a contestant. Besides, she didn't want to be a Gatekeeper really. She no longer wanted to sit in the dust, in the bottom of the Wishing Well waiting for nobody to come along. She couldn't picture this in her future anymore because she couldn't let go of Euan's hand - and there it was: the chink in her armour.

She squeezed his big, soft warm hand and whispered, "We need to make a move to the next tree. Once there, we can scoot along on our tummies in the sea of bluebells to get to the Crystal Doorway. We can hide behind one of those pillars, flanking the pathway, check the coast is clear and sneak out the door. You've got to stay with me on this. Trust me. I have a plan."

"It's hard to trust your capturers," Rick huffed, indignantly. "Don't expect me to scoot around anywhere fast. I'm more fragile than usual thanks to your Queen and her Taser wand. I don't know how he got off so lightly." Rick tutted at Euan. "Golden balls. Wonder Boy." Rick gave up wanting to cry a long time ago. He turned to Pixie. "If you tell us your great plan then we might be able to help? Saves us walking around blindly following you."

Pixie shook her head, tinkles of pixie dust falling from her green spikey hair. "I can only say I am keeping to my word. We are off to the prison, not to the ones we have here for all the naughty little Sprites. One in the Physical Realm. – You want to go home, don't you?" Pixie asked Rick but she wasn't truly looking at him.

She was focusing on Euan. On his reaction. She couldn't gauge him as he wore a constant silly grin that everything was alright no matter what she said. Strange mysterious man, this Mortal One. He spoke nothing to her yet the power in his hand was so mightily felt by her. She was tapping into this unseen well of his and felt the connection. Was Mr Mysterious feeling it too? Pixie still didn't know. How do you tell? – Surely not by the silly grin on his face, that would be way too easy.

Rick protested, weakly, "It seems a bit extravagant to find our way through corridors when I got here so differently. I mean, I didn't come in this way. I just found myself here. So why do I have to march out the long way on your mighty crusade?" Rick screwed up his eyes like he could smell a rat. "Is there an easier way for me to go back to my body?"

Pixie's turn to huff, "There are many ways. Apparently everything of this is endless, so give up wondering if it's a conclusion you want or it will drive you insane. Regardless of all that, you can't go back the way you came in. Don't you get it?"

Rick felt bereft beyond description. "No. Enlighten me."

"How did you truly get here?" Pixie prompted.

"I seemed to just arrive. One minute I was on the floor dying, with the King's men haunting me, and then seven witches entered and sent me on my way to here. I found myself walking around, lost. I was already here. So can't I be already there?"

Pixie nodded. "Of course. As I said, everything is endless and all things are possible. The problem is, Rick, seven witches invited you here. They would have closed their chosen door after you. They would have sealed you out. They would have banished you. You don't know how to return. You need me more than you think. There is no quick elevator waterfall to your level. The only way made available to us with the wisdom we have, is to make our way back through the Physical Realm using the Main Gateway. Be thankful you have found yourselves a Gate Keeper. Now, both of you; hold my hands and stick close beside me."

Euan could think of nothing better.

#

#  45

In the Fairy Realm, beneath the huge crystal dome was a magical Utopia; trees and flowers of every description, insects buzzing with business, elementals carrying out their tasks. This world was a hive of activity; fuelled by the high vibrational energies swirling around.

Euan, Pixie and Rick were scrabbling about in the bluebell meadow on an incline down to the main entrance. Every now and then, Pixie lifted her face above the bells to see if anyone had spotted them, making their escape. It seemed everyone was busy. Fairies flitting around magic mushrooms, Water imps giggling in skimpy bikinis; everything so happy.

Euan felt especially happy. Bluebells surrounding him as he lay on his front, crawling his way, with Pixie's wing twitching at his ear. He wasn't keen to leave in such a hurry as everything was so sweet. He took a deep clean breath, wanting to stay in this utopia forever.

Sadly, as Euan looked enough, he noticed his vision was fading; the incredible colours of his surroundings were growing slightly less vivid. This was really bad. He didn't want to come down off the drug and return to normal. He was having too much fun. Questionably, though, was the state of Rick. Euan wasn't one to complain or make a fuss or point fingers at the other freaks but it was unnerving that Rick too was fading; proving he really was the Spirit of the man. Sadder than anything Euan had ever felt in his life, except for the death of his mother, was the realisation that Pixie seemed to be fading.

He couldn't lose Pixie. Euan realised that now was a good time to use it: this magic. He reached to his jeans back pocket and pulled out a small bottle. He used his teeth to unscrew the cap, then dextrously, with his only free hand, he removed the pipette and took a sip straight from the bottle of the potion inside. Instantly, the colours around him sharpened and intensified. Rick was solid form. Pixie became more vivid to his eyes. Carefully, he replaced the cap and pushed the bottle deep into the seat of his pocket. His movements caused Pixie to check him out.

She smiled brightly at him and whispered, "Are you ok?"

He nodded he was feeling better now. He was still in this beautiful world with Pixie. He didn't have to be psychic to tell Pixie's concern was heartfelt. She had trepidation in her eyes. Euan could see her vulnerability, she was making to leave home. She was so small in the grander scheme of things because outside these walls was a massive world full of scary potential. She would no longer be in the safe range of home. Who knows what monsters lay before her if she entered the unknown. Euan could sense she was trying to be brave. She was leaving home and she wasn't telling anyone where she was going. Very brave - or very stupid. Either way, Euan was feeling a strange new feeling. It wasn't the bluebell pollen which had just blown up his nose. It was a real emotion.

Euan noticed something else new and strange; the more intensely he felt this new emotion the stronger Pixie's skin glowed of multi-coloured fascination. Leaving him wondering still, hence the silly grin on his face. He felt a sneeze developing. He didn't want to be heard but it was too late.

As he sneezed, Pixie stuck her finger under his nose and saved the day. She giggled. The pollen had a funny way of distracting. "Follow me to the column nearest us. And keep your heads low," Pixie whispered. She made a dash for it, pulling her two prisoners with her and the three hid behind the huge column of Tigers Eye Crystal. A parrot flew over squawking, causing the three to sink together further, Pixie doing her best to tuck in her wings.

Rick was sticking his head around to take one last look at the Fairy Realm. He had loved the notion of this place so much, he too was sad to leave it. He hadn't time to explore or meet and greet. There was no time for frolicking with real fairies. He clung to the Tiger's Eye column and felt safe in its Protection. He felt he need Protection. It was a cruel and dangerous world out there.

Pixie needed all her strength for the next part. Having safely navigated themselves through the Fairy Realm, without being seen, she now had to activate the door and take her two prisoners with her. She had to remind herself she wasn't so much breaking rules as off to save many lives and countless souls. She wanted bigger wings and loves true dream. At whatever cost, she had to strive forward. She felt Euan squeeze her hand, sending rapture through her to look up into Euan's dreamy flecked eyes, where she melted some more.

Euan could see her fears written all over her. He felt for her. He saw her fragility and her courage to stay strong all in one mighty swoop as he reached to her, impulsively, and pulled her round her waist to move closer. She fell into his cradling arms as he let her fall back and then saved her. He lowered his lips onto hers and gave her heart all the strength she would ever need. He kissed her deeply and tenderly. Her lips tasting of wild flowers and fresh summer days. Pixie dust flickered around her in every direction and her wings trembled. And at last Pixie knew what Euan was feeling. She felt everything of him in this kiss. She let her lips kiss his and savoured his taste; a strange and exotic honey flavour.

# 46

Goblin had no choice left but to open the doomed doorway to the Fairy Realm.

Angel was breathing over his shoulder, growing impatient, and Goblin feared for his hat. There was no time left for hesitation, Angel grabbed the piece of thin tissue paper out of his hand and slid it deep into his breast pocket of his shirt. She tapped it, saying, "Keep it safe. You might need to refer back to it in case you ever wonder." She turned her black eyes to the stone wall she was facing. "Now, show me this illusive door. Open it for me. Bid me safe passage. Do it now and I promise you will be on your way."

Goblin felt tremulous. It had been countless years since he had left home. Along the way, he had committed many crimes. He was hoping this wouldn't be his worse one yet, but he really couldn't tell. He pressed his palm to a clear quartz crystal in the wall, hoping it had been deactivated. Perhaps he was banned?

The door breezed open. In front of him was the metropolises he remembered. The fresh air and bluebells of home. He inhaled deeply the clear air. The first lot he had smelt in a long time. He cleared the cupboard and the putrefied fart smells from his bulbous nose. He was about to take in another deep breath, savour his homecoming, but she kicked him hard up the butt and launched him tumbling down the path and on his way to cause a distraction.

Angel slid undetected behind the column of Black Tourmaline. She tried to merge her blackness with it but it repelled her so she darted to a nearby tree. She could feel the Bluebell pollen in her eyes and they began to sting. She wasn't used to nature. Still it would take more than dust to bring down the Mother of all Demons. She waited behind the tree for the lovebirds to finish their kiss.

The Gatekeeper to the Multiverse had been distracted by a kiss. Angel had been saved by this kiss, flavoured in her very own sweet nectar; causing safe passage indeed. Her potion was having its effect.

Goblin landed unceremoniously next to the Tigers Eye column. A tall gangly man was now peering out at him. He remembered him from the main concourse from earlier. This man, Rick, had seen him in the cupboard under the stool. Goblin smiled sheepishly. He had no excuses. Rumbled. He began to sidle sideways off the path so he too could escape into the undergrowth but then a Pixie stuck her head out from round the column.

"I know you," Pixie whispered hoarsely as loud as she could. "I've seen your posters. You're a wanted Goblin."

"Nope. You must be mistaken. There's nothing to see here. I was just about to do a spot of gardening, actually."

"No you weren't." Pixie pulled her two prisoners with her onto the path, forgetting to be discreet. "You are up to no good. I can see it all over your face. You look guilty as sin. What have you been up to?"

"Nothing." Goblin mumbled and shuffled himself away but to not very far before Pixie collared hold of him. As she eyed him curiously she reeved up her nose.

"What's that horrendous smell about your clothes?"

"Death itself," Goblin gulped. "Sorry. It had little to do with me. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. As usual. Got blasted through at least three dimensions to find myself wound up back here."

"Sounds like you've had an adventure," Pixie insisted, fluttering her wings. She smiled at Euan and winked her long lashes. "We've been on an adventure, too." She snapped herself out of her love-struck state. She looked at the quivering Goblin. "I know what price is on your head. I know what reward I could win if I hand you over. You're my prisoner. You'll have to come with us. I will drop you to our Queen's feet last – because frankly we're not going that way."

Goblin was thankful to hear this. He had time to escape. "Where are we going?" He felt the silver cord tie around his foot as Pixie took him more securely as her prisoner. She was growing quite a collection. Goblin didn't seem to protest. Until she answered.

"We are off to the Physical Realm of Existence to save Rick's life and the Castle from mindless destruction."

Goblin had much to protest about. He didn't want to go back to the Physical Realm. He had only just got from there. He was about to resist.

Pixie pulled Goblin along so he knew he didn't have a choice in the matter; he either walked or got gravel burn on his bum. With her free hand she held on to Euan with all her heart. Rick followed, limping. They made their way to the doorway. Quickly, Pixie ran her hand over clear quartz crystal in the wall this side and the door breezed open. She dragged her prisoners through it, taking one last look over her shoulder to the home she was leaving. The door closed behind them. They were in the round room at the bottom of the Wishing Well. Pixie trod lightly to the square corridor entrance with the Fire Exit Sign overhead, illuminating the corridor in green. She checked her fairy dust still lay on the ground that would guide them in. She squeezed Euan's hand; excitement stirring for the adventure to come.

Goblin looked over his shoulder back across the Wishing Well Room. And still it didn't seem it was wishing him well. He suppressed his fear, shuffled his feet a bit. There was no way he could confess to the Gatekeeper what he had done. He had granted access to the Queen of all Demons. She was in the Fairy Realm the other side of the door. And then more woe fell onto his heavy shoulders. He saw what he thought to be render drawing its mark around the stones which were sealing up the doorway from his vision and setting the doorway to wall.

It took Goblin a moment to realise Angel was sealing the doorway to the Fairy Realm from the other side. There would be no way back in. Perhaps he should have told the Gatekeeper this information now, but the words wouldn't escape his lips. Pixie's eyes were suddenly burning his.

"What are you up to?" she sang again. She fluffed her wings. "You have a guilty face." She pushed her cute nose a little closer to his bulbous nose. "Perhaps this is your permanent face." She gathered the attention of her three prisoners: her band of merry men. Dramatically, she offered, "Now, if you know how to, put on your Protection. Cover yourselves in a bubble and don your Cloaks of Invisibility because we, together and alone, are about to stride forth into the forbidden and unknown..."

# 47

Along the corridors of the Physical Realm, shrouded in green light from all the fire exit signs; in the catacombs beneath the Castle - stood one man. One big giant of a man determined to prove himself right. Dave. He had changed his wet pants for clean and had gone off on his own investigation into the paranormal. So far he had caught nothing; not so much as a cold.

It was fair to say, he wasn't missing his wife as he skulked around in the catacombs, because his ears needed a rest. He also needed to reach out to reality having bared witness to Lizzy's supposed possession. Dave had found cause to escape: and in some quirk of events; here he now found himself - lost.

He aimed his stills-camera at the drab corridor in front and took three shots in close succession with flash. He brought up these three photos on his small screen and checked for differences. There weren't any.

He scuffed his size twelve feet as he walked along a bit. Stopped, aimed and took three more pictures. He studied these photos. He checked closer because the dust he had unsettled had formed into the shape of a wolf.

It was uncanny.

Dave felt a tad impressed by this. It was as though a wolf was slinking its way along the corridor in front and the dust had settled over it enough to show form. He knew it was only dust particles reflecting from the flash of the camera - a neat trick of the light: that there wouldn't be a wolf on some level prowling its way through the catacombs; loyal to his master's side.

Dave moved on further, rounding a corner, aimed his lens and shot. Click, click, click. And caught one of the twins heading towards him. Dave held his nerve and reasoned, then said sarcastically, "You had me there for a second. I thought you were a ghost." He put on his torch as the twin stopped before him. "So which one are you, then?"

The twin shrugged. Either it was Gareth playing mute or it was Euan being mute. Dave said, "Do you know the way out of here? There are so many junctions, I think I took a wrong turn. I don't want to spend the entire night down here when there's so many other rooms to debunk. I feel I've been down here for hours. – Oh, and do you have the correct time? - my watch has stopped."

The twin shrugged, walked past Dave and carried on his own way. Dave was a tad annoyed. Just because people have disabilities it was no excuse for being an asshole. He made to move deeper into the corridor and came to another junction. He could go left or he could go right. Had he been here before? He was beginning to wonder. This looked familiar but then all the green walls were starting to look the same. He decided to turn right. Up ahead, he heard voices whispering – echoing gently. Up ahead was life. Dave moved along as quickly as he could without appearing desperate. Never had he been so glad to hear his wife's voice.

Ahead of him was Debbie and Jay, talking hurriedly. He acted cool as he approached. "Good to finally catch up with you, darling." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "So, what's all the commotion?"

Debbie said, "We've had an apport. Show him, Jay."

Jay pulled the key out of his pocket and held it to the air, admiring this gift again. "I was asking out and then this key appeared from nowhere, bounced off the wall high above my head and landed at my feet. We were the only ones in the room. Incredible."

Dave held the key. He checked for remnants of chewing gum. "Are you sure it wasn't stuck on the ceiling and, due to humidity, it dislodged at that precise moment to land at your feet?" He turned the key around and found nothing.

Debbie sighed. "Think what you will. We were there. We experienced it."

Jay recovered his key. Dave had no right to disrespect this gift. Jay was a Top Detective and everything meant something. None of this was random, everything was coexisting. He could feel it. He wiped the negativity of Dave off the key, and knew this was now symbolic. Everything was watching him show respect for this gift. He adjusted his resolve to deal with the passive aggressive sceptic. Jay announced his Intent for all who was listening, "I'm off to find the lock to which this key fits. I'm off to Wye's room." He squared up to the cynical, mocking Dave. "I saw Wye in the mirror in the Guard's Room. I heard her call out for help. Somehow, she got this key to me. I know it. I don't know where she is, but I do know she wants me to use this key."

Dave scoffed, "Well, you are Top Detective."

"Yes, I am." Jay felt he was, given the level of competition.

Debbie said, "I have a plan. You investigate the key and I can take Dave and go in search of the Empress Card."

"What card?" Dave asked.

"Several times, throughout the night, we've had it come out on bits of equipment. Jay heard her through the same mirror. Someone wants us to find and protect the Empress Card. It's a Tarot Card. Everyone should know that. I think we should head for the Chaplains Room. Those two older ladies mentioned this was their room at the start of the night. They look like they might know a thing or two. They certainly knew how to open us all up. I'm buzzing. My third eye is like a raging bull."

Raging bullshit was more like it – Dave thought. He kept this to himself as he could tell Jay was growing prickly. Besides which, he hadn't joined the circle and opened up so he didn't have an argument to win there. It occurred to him, in a brief moment of clarity, that perhaps only the ones who were brave enough to open up were actually experiencing something beyond normal, right now.

Perhaps there really was something in this? Perhaps the rituals really work? Or perhaps everyone around him was going insane; and the Castle an asylum? Dave eyed his wife. She had always soared high; he had put it down to all the Yoga; although he deeply appreciated her 'downward dog'; she was still sexy, petite and ever-so flexible. If they were alone, he might have dared gone in for an ass swipe; take his chances in the dark tunnel of love. He could tell by her tone, he risked a slap back. He eyed Jay. Say no more: but he did, "Am I the only sane one around here?"

Jay shoved a beef sandwich in his mouth, "It would seem so." He meant it: For in the gloom of green lighting, Jay thought he saw a beast prowling on all fours, snarling; baring his teeth at all the lost souls trapped in the walls. This wolf was leading Jay in. It wanted Jay to follow.

Jay could feel it; almost tangibly see the wolf with his naked eye. There was no imagination. He was seeing beyond the norm. The wolf was actually there, and with it, an invitation. Jay could only follow. As he did, he heard the familiar whistle from an old master's lips; a ritual left open. One he would have to answer to. The Slayer song, being whistled through the cosmos to greet him, was Slayer's Altar of Sacrifice.

Jay understood the relevance. Goosebumps began to prickle. More unnerving was the ghostly voice calling him in the very distance; his ancient wrinkly old, scared and haunted Nanny Cuckoo, "Be as me, dearest boy, I have something to share with you; follow the demons in."

# 48

Euan was more than happy, holding Pixie's hand and walking gallantly into the unknown, because for him it was known territory; the Physical Dimension. He could see how scary it was for Pixie by the way she as acting. The further the posse moved into the belly of the Castle, the sketchier Pixie became. She also displayed an open level of distrust to the Goblin which wasn't helping her mood but, as she had explained, it wasn't an easy venture to save an entire world. This was why Euan was in love with her. He loved her dramatics. She made him laugh. She made him giddy. Euan took another sip from his potion to keep his dream alive and continued on.

Pixie had gone from dragging her prisoners along to practically being dragged along by her prisoners. She had now given up on wings and fancy ceremonies. The further she moved away from home, the more negative the energy surrounding her. She tried to stay grounded. She tried to balance herself out and make adjustments in her being, but knew, deep down through all her excuses; a Pixie had no place to be amongst humans. Never had a Pixie Tale gone awfully well where humans find fairies. Humans trap fairies in glass jars. Her elders had told her this when she was young. The Physical Realm is full of horrendous creatures capable of brutality; of torture and terror and murder, they had told her; they even kill children.

Goblin was pulling Pixie along because of his own motives. He had changed his mind about being home. He had seen a glimpse and that was enough. It was still beautiful. He wanted to get far away from his last crime, as far away as possible. If he could find his way back to the cupboard under the stairs, he'd climb right back in and stay there. He wanted to be nowhere near the epicentre to the blast in the Fairy Realm when those two Queens cross paths. Still proud to be sporting his fine Top Hat, he yanked on his silver cord to move Pixie on.

Rick was having a hard time walking with all the chafing from his tender groin area. He wanted to sit with a cool hairdryer up his warm bath towel and calm his wounds. First, he would have to climb back into his body. How was he supposed to do this was beyond him; but the thought of a hot bath caused him to shove Pixie forth.

The motley crew moved onwards through the tunnels. They rounded a junction and came face to face with a camera lens pointing straight at them.

Pixie panicked.

The camera flashed. Pixie did a star jump to the right as she bolted then hesitated. Goblin fell backwards, dazzled by the light. Rick froze, saw an opportunity for a TV show and struck the pose.

The camera flashed again.

Pixie did a star jump to the left, felt sure this wouldn't be the means to escape and froze again; caught in the headlights. Goblin hopped sideways in fear of being caught. Rick clicked his ankles, recalling back to his distant past of his mobile theatre company. He broke into a very elaborate tap dance – his own.

On the third flash of the camera, Pixie hid behind Euan; fearing monsters with glass jars. Goblin, temporarily blinded, tripped over his own grey gnarly feet for a suplex, tuck into pike. Rick stopped dancing, fell to a knee and flung out his limp jazz hands.

Euan was amazed how the chaos had gone on around him, and just how bad a reaction each displayed. For those who dreaded being caught, Pixie and Goblin had gone to elaborate lengths to get noticed. It was like a scene from an acrobatic musical. Even he was curious as to what had been captured.

Terror pulled Pixie away from Euan's hand. She clutched her green spikey hair and ran around, saying, "We're doomed." She ran to the one wall. "We are doomed, I say." She ran back to the other wall. How do you get out of here? "It's a trap."

Pixie was still strapped to Goblin and he wasn't having a good time of it. He had been strapped by a silver cord to Amazeballs T and look where that got him for clambering all over the Scary Bed. Everything had gone wrong for Goblin after being pulled into the pit of hell. He, being one for superstition, was getting ever jittery now Pixie was freaking out. After all, she was supposed to be their leader. He pulled the cord for some slack.

Dave approached the twin, "You again? Are you going around in circles?"

Euan frowned. What did he mean by that? Pixie was distracting Euan as she pleaded he save her life. He tried not to watch her face of despair but in this he found her ever beautiful. He remained frozen, hoping his eyes wouldn't give anything away, as mayhem still danced around him. All he could display to Dave was a shrug to encourage him to go away.

Dave stayed put. This was mainly to annoy his wife who was insisting they go to the Chaplains Room. He would go but in his own time. He looked at his camera and reviewed what he had caught. One of the twins.

Debbie was beside him. She grew suddenly excitable. "Oh wow, look at all those orbs, Dave." On the little screen was the twin, and around him were balls of light; made up of oranges, silver, green, pinks and grey. "Wow. You have a real light show going on around you," she informed Euan.

Euan nodded. If only they knew. Pixie went into overload, running in zigzags like she had completely lost her mind which was triggering Goblin to hop about as demented.

Dave grumbled, "It's moisture in front of the lens. It's lens flare." He informed Euan, "You get it a lot in dank buildings. We are subterranean down here. It's to be expected."

Debbie protested, "Some orbs are real, Dave. You can't dismiss everything." She grabbed the camera for better focus on the screen. "Look at this pink and green sphere. This is like the balls of energy I see when I'm at my Reiki Class. It's quite common to see when healing. I wonder if I can see them with my own eyes, now?" Debbie focused into the green haze.

Pixie froze mid star jump. Goblin froze mid hop. Rick did a pirouette.

Debbie pointed the camera at the corridor, and said, "If there are any Spirits, Elementals or Astral Beings here, please show yourselves to me. I wish you no harm. I just want some answers." Finger poised on the trigger.

Pixie came out of temporary hibernation, her mind coming back from frozen and she wasn't sure if keeping still would help. She wasn't sure if running around superfast would help, either. How do you hide when you feel so exposed? She could see a bead of sweat dripping off Goblin's squidgy nose as fear suspended him too in mid-air. She saw the trigger finger twitch. They were going to be captured. She had to act now and save the day. Superfast, she lunged for Goblin and pulled him to her. Rick was still spinning like a ballerina in a musical box to the chiming music of 'Somewhere over the Rainbow' from his lips. Using all her Pixie strength, she pulled him to her and pushed him to crouch low. She reached out to the cosmos and drew down a curtain of Protection, and then caste it over them; shielding the elementals and astral beings under a vaster Cloak of Invisibility.

Flash.

Debbie reviewed the footage. Euan was feeling a bit panicky. He wondered that this could make his fame and fortune and didn't care. These were his friends: these misfits and weirdos knew him and accepted him without judgement- and Pixie loved him with all her might.

From under the blanket, Goblin mumbled up to Euan, "You're a mortal god. Do something."

Euan couldn't speak. Worse case, if Debbie managed to catch a photo of the invisible worlds going on around her, he would smash up the camera; risk a bop in the face from the lumbering oaf, Dave.

Debbie lifted her head with the verdict; and everyone, except Dave, held their breath. She said, "No orbs on this photo, guys."

Everyone sighed. Including Dave.

"But I have caught this." She aimed the camera screen for Euan as he approached. He tried to focus on the screen. She pointed to his legs. "You've got an upper body. It's your legs that are missing."

Euan shrugged. There was no way he could explain that a Pixie had drawn down a protective blanket to shield everyone crouched down in front of him – including his legs.

Dave huffed at his wife, "You've got your finger across the lens. It's rudimentary. Surely, it's the first thing they should have taught you at camera club; how to hold a camera properly."

Pixie, Goblin and Rick climbed out from under the blanket. Pixie latched on to Euan's hand and hoped she would never have cause to let go ever again. Goblin checked his Top Hat was still firmly in place and realised it wouldn't pull off his head no matter how hard he yanked. Rick flicked his hair back into place, feeling deflated for not having won an encore, darling.

Pixie whispered to Goblin, "Bet you were grateful for my Protective Blanket."

Goblin cringed. A touchy subject. He knew how much they all needed Protection. Guilt held him back from thanking Pixie. This didn't go unnoticed because manners were a big thing in the Fairy Realm.

Quizzically, Pixie whispered, "I'm going to find out your secret, soon."

And that was what Goblin dreaded most.

# 49

"We are off to find and protect the Empress Card," Debbie said to Dave as they made their way up the narrow stairs and out into the Main Concourse. She paused for breath and to catch her bearings. The maze of green corridors below seemed as confusing as the maze in the courtyard above it. Two green mazes. She looked out through a window onto the courtyard now. Moonlight casting the maze into shifting shadows, which she found a bit odd as there wasn't a cloud in the sky, just an infinite amount of stars. One winked at her. And that was odd too. She had read about aliens and other worlds watching over us and living amongst us, literally. It was all down to vibration and one beautiful and infinite hum; she had read articles.

"It's a fascinating night." She pondered more to herself than to Dave who was gulping energy drink from the vending machine like it was going out of fashion. "There hasn't been a dull moment. What's your take it all?"

"It's got character." Dave burped. "This Castle. I'd come here again."

"We've got to get out first," Debbie giggled. She ate some chocolate. "Not seen many of the others. Bet they're having a great time."

Dave reloaded his rucksack with crisps. Debbie focused out the window; through the inner castle wall at the maze again. "This entire place is a maze – a labyrinth. It all seems quite symmetrical, you tend to forget which Tower you're in. It's almost like a puzzle."

"You read too many magazines," Dave crunched on his snack.

Debbie lifted her vision from the maze to stare at the black looming East Tower opposite and saw the candlelight flickering there. A beacon. Although this Tower had three storeys, matching the others, it often seemed strangely higher. And from varying perspectives.

"We need to keep going." Debbie sensed this. It was a nagging feeling that wouldn't abate. "We need to be over there. We need to be in that Tower."

Dave glanced out the window then devoured another crisp. "I bet there's a lovely view from the room at the top." He followed after Debbie who was picking up a speed like she was on a mission. They made their way along the Main Concourse to the end of mirrors, then turned into the South Tower.

It smelled vile in this Tower: like death itself was seeping from under the closed door of the Oubliette.

They held their noses and headed on along the South to East Concourse. They hadn't seen this vast hallway before now. They had clambered around in the rooms above, including the Chapel on the top floor. Dave wanted to go slow because there were things to see here. It seemed some of the Castle's artefacts were housed in glass cases amongst pieces of old furniture. This hall was flanked with figures on pedestals, displaying armour and swords.

Dave became fascinated by the huge and only window. It was on the outer wall. The window was plain, arched in stone with a plinth below. On it was a crystal prism. He found himself wandering towards it, as he bit into a cupcake, dropping crumbs. Debbie yanked him away and pulled him by his jumper sleeve to the oak door of the East Tower.

"We haven't got time for mooching," Debbie said. Then stopped dead. She retraced her brain. "I can't believe I nearly missed that." She turned and headed back into the vast hall. She went to the inner castle wall, walked all the way to the middle and turned to the magnificent Grandfather Clock. "I nearly dismissed this."

Dave stood alongside her, staring up at the sad face of gold; hands flailing to the air. "What's up with it?"

"Eleven. Eleven." Debbie's eyes filled with water like something had crawled over her. Her automatic response to beyond truth. "11:11" She gasped. She wiped away the emotion.

"It feels more like midnight." He bit into a fresh cream cake with sprinkles on top.

"Exactly." Debbie couldn't take her eyes away. Her mind scrambled about as she checked her brain. "All our clocks have stopped. Including this one with its cogs and its pendulum. It's as though time has stopped at 11:11. You know what this means?"

"I am the only sane one here." Dave didn't want to admit it, but even his watch had stopped on this precise time. "So, what's the significance? Perhaps there was a magnetic power surge and it knocked us all out?"

Debbie paced about. "11:11 is a significant number. Google it if you don't believe me. I read it in loads of Spirit Magazines. It means New Beginnings. If you see this number then it means you are being called. It's the universal awakening code. Many people are waking up on our planet and are living in conscious awareness. It's the dawning of a new age; of communication; and not just global communication with the internet and phones but across dimensions too." She grabbed Dave's arms and sought out some level of understanding. "We are entering the Age of Aquarius."

She had Dave up until the last statement. He was almost convinced by her notions. He switched off his hearing as he detected Debbie babbling on and on in the background. He took in the clock face which signalled nothing of any importance to him.

"And isn't it curious how the only light in the room floods in from the window opposite to bathe the clock in moon and star light. It's quite gothic in a romantic sort of way," Debbie finally stopped. "Are you even listening?" She gave up; saved breath for the journey ahead because it would be better spent.

They headed on their way back towards the oak door and East Tower in silence, giving each time to think. Debbie led the way up the cold stone spiral stairs. Dave offered, "I do love you, you know. Even if you do babble on."

Debbie felt herself rise. Then stopped. She composed herself. She remembered her love for Dave even if he was such a constant distraction. She was starting to like herself more; so now was new beginnings. She felt the shift, felt it burning deep in the essence of her soul. This was who she had become. She didn't need to fight him. She had nothing to prove. Somehow she had been led into bigger things. She turned to him, several steps below, and said, "You know: many are called but few are chosen. I have been chosen to protect the Empress Card. You can believe this or not. I believe it. At the end of the day, that's all that will matter."

# 50

The Room at the Top was the most magical room of them all. Reach here, through the wormholes of consciousness, and you will be wise. Avis and Lois knew this. They prided themselves to be here, top of their Game. The Spirit Chaplain had cause to wonder.

He was lying on one of the plush beds, nursing a broken neck. He was trying to stay calm and couldn't bring himself to look out between the fingers covering his face. For a Spirit who was usually cold, he was feeling uncomfortably clammy. If he could think of anywhere safer, he would have gone there directly after seeing Wye start her Gauntlet. In retrospect, he could see Wye was well on her way into the Game, regardless of any attempt to dissuade her. She was keen, spiritually, even if she didn't know it. The Chaplain wasn't impressed by what he was now witnessing in this room. This room was heavily Protected, he should feel safe but, as he figured, if there was no Castle there would be no Room at the Top.

Avis and Lois were sitting on the bed on the opposite side of the room. They had managed to drag this bed as far away as possible from the miserable Chaplain Spirit. They were focusing hard to drown out his moaning and stay positive. It was imperative that each witch stay positive; as between them, on the purple satin covers, lay a mirror.

On this mirror, lay the Tarot Cards already caste throughout the Game, this night. The Magician. The Tower. The Ace and Eight of swords had fallen practically together and now lay apart. The Fool card had slid off the mirror and so was back in the pack, being shuffled by Lois. The Justice Card was teetering on the edge of this special mirror.

Lois was too afraid to breathe out in case this card fell off the mirror completely. At the moment, this powerful card was potentially still in play: not yet lost so long as it remained on the Cosmic Mirror.

Avis was breathing as shallow as possible, given the amount of White Sage smoke rattling in her chest. She didn't think it was necessary to have this amount of candles and joss sticks burning, but Lois was insisting. The entire room was filled with fog enough they didn't have to look at the Chaplain sending daggers from his nest of woe.

The Chaplain sat up in the smoke. He used his cravat to fan his face and peered across the room, trying to see what could be happening now: any change for the better? "One of you should be brave and shut this Game down. Wipe the mirror clean. Cleanse every mirror in this place, and hope for the best. You can't keep playing the game of chance with people's lives. It's unethical." He lay back down, propping his head with his hands and feather bolsters to make his neck more comfortable. "Meddling witches. No good will ever come. We are all off to hell, one way or another. Don't have to choose a door. We can just sit here and wait. Hell will find us soon enough. Hell is coming."

There came a knock at their door.

Lois jumped nearly up in the air higher than Avis. As they landed on the bouncy mattress the Justice card fell off the mirror.

"Hell is here," announced the Chaplain; crossing himself and anchoring his own brand of Protection.

Lois looked desperately at Avis, saying, "Justice is lost." She looked across the room at the door. "Who could that be?" They didn't have time for interruptions. Everything was so delicate and out of balance. They had to finish their hand and there were so many more moves to make.

Avis put her blue, fluffy monster slippers to the floor and dismounted the bed, cautiously. The other cards remained in play. She picked up the Justice Card from the purple satin, and mourned it. It was out of play. She pushed it deep into the pack for Lois to shuffle again. She had to abide by the rules: Once a card was placed on the Cosmic Mirror, it was out in the Game to be played by whoever Fate dealt: Both witches knew the rules. They had come here regularly for over three centuries to play this Game from the Physical Level, them and others like them. They had seen many Ones come and stay – literally within the walls. It took a lot to become Ascended. To search for answers, unlock sacred secrets and wake up truly knowing yourself and then to thyself be true. Avis said, "I'll get rid of those who come knocking. You check what's happening."

Lois slid off the bed and made her way to the fireplace. It was identical to the one in the Dining Hall. So too, was the mirror above. Lois placed her hand on the fire surround. She couldn't reach the mantelpiece because the fireplace was enormous. She ran her hand along the spiders and insects of crystals, crawling around marble ivy. She connected with the energies guarding the mirror above, and they let her in. Like she hit the 'on' button, the screen above the fireplace lit up to a stationary and silent scene. On it was a rainbow. Dangling off the side was the Widow Queen – Catherine. Lois could despair. She called over her shoulder to the witch making her way across the centre of the room to the door. "Nothing has changed. She is still clinging on in the turbulent storm for life – for love."

Avis called, "What about Wye?"

Lois thought about this what about why. "Because she followed her heart in and trusted those not wise enough to understand. That's why."

"No. The other Wye, silly. The latest One."

Lois returned to the mirror. On it and through it, she could see the Rainbow Bridge to Everywhere. This bridge held all the possibilities to enter the Castle, as all the mirrors were hanging there; at least one for each and every room. The mirror in the Room at the Top, this mirror, was at the farthest end of the rainbow. At the other end; the beginning, was the Dining Hall mirror. Every other mirror hung in between. Duplicate mirrors, doors and gateways were scattered across the Game. Lois checked to find Wye was still rooted in a swirling storm and staring at the Guards Room mirror. "Nothing has changed with Wye. She seems comatose."

Chaplain exclaimed, "Well, I wish she'd snap out of it. Are the demons still coming? Can you see?"

"They are moving closer." Lois gulped. "Hell is coming."

There came another knock at the door. Lois removed her hand from a dragonfly and shut off the mirror scene. She fumbled in her knitting bag, hiding the deck of Tarot Cards safely in its inner pocket. She pulled out her wool and needles and sat down in a rocking chair, shoving the bag beneath herself like a hen on an egg. The Cosmic Mirror and the cards in play were still on the bed. It was too precarious to move the entire lot. Covering them too could do more damage. All they had to do was not let anyone else into the room. Simple.

Avis checked everything seemed normal. She placed on her sweetest and endearing face and opened the door. "Not tonight, dears." She shut the door. She turned to the Chaplain Spirit and shoved him with her finger; hoping it connected. "You're sweating. The air here is full of dismay. You really are taking it badly."

"My beautiful Queen is hanging off the Edge of her Existence. The Justice Card has fallen from play: no justice for her. How am I supposed to feel?"

"Fair point." Avis retracted her hand. She wiped it in her pinafore. She reached into the pocket and pulled out a hanky. She dabbed her own face. "She let go of Justice a while ago. She let it fall from her grasp through time itself and she could have saved it and scoop it back, given enough belief and bending enough time. She could have tipped the scales to her advantage but she didn't. Deep down, she gave up a long time ago. She could have served Justice on others. She could have reaped her rewards. She let the card fall. It had little to do with us jumping about on the bed."

"She is innocent. The most innocent of all crimes. My Queen Catherine deserves respect. Her heart is good. She has seen away her demons more than once only to have your latest One call them all back. She shouldn't be hanging off the edge of her own reality."

"When you put it like that. It is rather unfortunate."

Chaplain would have had Avis hanged. He would have signed the warrant gladly, back in the day. Just for her brazen attitude, alone. "Rather unfortunate - doesn't even come close. Wye wasn't ready to dabble in things she knows nothing about. My Queen had the sense to stay put. Not enter this charade. Try and find another way back to my mighty and thunderous King. But then evil started seeping into the Game because someone summoned Bane." Chaplain stuck his hand over his own mouth too hush his own words already fallen out. He crossed himself ten times in the Trinity for his own Protection for having called a demon by name. Forgiven. He prayed. He added, "There are more to follow; yet what is Wye doing to stop this? She has learned nothing. She is acting on nothing. Waiting for everything to come from hell because she doesn't believe she has the power to stop it. She has no Wisdom. And sadder still, she has no Faith."

Avis felt his words like blades. She had put so much faith on Wye and now she was questioning herself. Perhaps she had been wrong about this One. Perhaps Wye really didn't have enough Faith to find herself. "Then we must deal another card into the Game. Fate could deal a good one. We can then Will Wye or Queen Catherine to catch it from the Cosmos. We could send them a Lifeline; help your Queen onto the bridge. She can't cling on forever."

Fate chooses the cards: and the Castle deals it. A good witch knows this. They know to work with the Castle. Not to oppose it. Lois would shuffle the cards, picture-side down. When it felt right, she would stop and fan them out. Avis would then run her hand across the deck and chose one. She would turn the card to see the picture side and place it on the mirror next to the others in play. There was no taking a card back. By the very nature of this Castle, the Game knew all things. It would see this misdemeanour and deal a heavy price. The two witches knew this. They had seen enough Karmic Law in three hundred years. They had learnt their own lessons - abide by the rules and stick within Karmic Law. They were now here to help others like them. They had earned the privilege to be here, in the Room at the Top.

Avis marched back across the room, saying, "Let's hope the pack presents some lucky Cups."

There came another more threatening knock at the door. A female voice calling through the barricade. "Let us in. I need to find and protect the Empress Card."

"What card?" Avis called, stopping mid-stride. She slipped around in her slippery slippers, adjusted herself and made her way to the door; slamming ear to oak to listen.

"The Empress Card."

Those were the magical three words that would open this door. Avis drew it open. A true candidate was at her threshold. At last and finally; real hope.

# 51

Debbie felt the buzz as soon as she entered the room. It was lit with twenty two candles. Four windows looked out into each direction. From these windows, moonlight shone in to smooch with the smouldering fog of drifting incense. It leant an eerie atmosphere which unnerved her as she moved further into the fold. She spied the fireplace and mirror above and recognised they were identical to those she had admired in the Dining Hall, earlier that night. Unsettling her more was the little old lady rocking in her chair, knitting manically and watching every move with eagle eyes over half-moon glasses.

Dave felt an allergic reaction as soon as he entered the room. The smog of perfume was stronger than a whore's handbag and was catching in his throat. He coughed and spluttered his way to the nearest window. He tugged at the latch. "How can you breathe this in?"

Avis moved with him: guard him well. "It dispels negative energy. You seem to be suffering an adverse effect. Displaying a contraindication. Perhaps you should wait outside for your good wife?"

Dave scoffed. Silly bint; full of dramatics. He tugged on the latch and freed it. He leant on the frame and pushed for oxygen; his eyes watering in time with his streaming nose. "What the hell is in this stuff; cyanide?" He pushed harder, forcing the Castle to relent. Air fanned his face as he breathed, eyes shut to the sting of tears. He wiped them with his sleeves and then focused out of the window at the magnificent forest that went on forever. Trees everywhere. Millions upon millions of them, glistening in silver in the dead and still twinkling night. "What a view. Incredible." He stuck his head out further and craned to see round the corners. "It's like being on top of the world." He called out to the forest and enjoyed the freshness of his own victorious voice ricochet off every tree, "I'm the king of the Castle."

The Spirit Chaplain would beg to differ: There was only one true King of this Castle; and Dave was a far cry away from being close. Randolph was the true and rightful king, not that anyone had seen him in three hundred years.

Avis reached into her middle pocket and pulled out her hanky. "Blow your nose in this." She brought Dave down a notch as she pushed the damp hanky into his shovel hands. "And get back in from out there. It's dangerous. You wouldn't be the first to fly out of this window." She snuck a look at the Spirit Chaplain and raised her all-knowing eyebrow. "You run around inside the Castle chasing ghosts and if the stairs don't get you, the windows will."

Dave blew his double-barrelled snot gun, folded the squidgy material and walked across the room to the window opposite; Avis shadowing him. He cupped his hands, shielding the pane, and looked down at the Courtyard. From this perspective, Dave noticed something for the first time. The maze had four entrances. Each one guarded by a winged statue. The entire garden seemed gothic, alive and moving; shrouded in the blanket of night. Beneath this maze and into the earth was the maze in which he had been lost. It had seemed as though he had walked for miles. As he gazed, he saw the maze walls shift to create a new puzzle. He dismissed this because of his watery eyes: must have been an optical illusion. He did wonder briefly if the tunnel walls, beneath the earth, were capable of shifting as it would explain his disorientation and aching legs. He peered across at the other three Towers; black against silver horizons. Directly opposite was the Dining Hall on ground level where all the fun of the night had begun. He blew his nose again. His ears popped. He opened this window to let in more air. "You can see everything from up here." He leaned forward, fingers curled over the frame. He knew he was fretting the elderly lady folk. They were obviously agitated by his lumbering presence. Most people were. That was the main reason he did it. He took satisfaction from annoying others. He liked his presence felt.

Avis made to guillotine his fingers as she shut the window. "We don't want any draughts, thank you." She hobbled over to the first window to shut this, saying, "That's all the air you get. You can stay, if you must, but let us know when your throat starts to tighten."

Dave grumbled. He really wasn't getting their sense of humour. He was thankful to still have all digits. He went to the plush bed near the door, resigning himself, and flopped onto it.

The Chaplain bounced about on a turbulent purple tide, not impressed by the invasion. They bounced about like two men in a boat as this man adjusted his bulky frame. It was paramount to mutiny. The Chaplain felt himself on a vast ocean with only the moonlight and the hand of God to guide him through the fog to shore. He took a dislike to this man, the invader, because this man lacked the manners and good grace to realise he was sitting next to a ghost. The Chaplain waved his hand in front of the Giant's face. Blind and dim.

Dave saw the smoke swirl in front of him. He had had both windows open, however briefly; so it was obviously the through-draught. He grabbed all the bolsters and cushions, plumped them, and made himself at home. He figured it could be a long night. May as well be comfortable.

Debbie wasn't wondering how long her husband would manage to stay put. She was too busy staring down at the cards on the mirror. "I knew you would be into the Tarots," she addressed both ladies. "I had come for advice yet, it would seem, I am at my destination." She turned to the loitering Avis and then Lois; needles click clacking. "I need your Empress Card from the pack. I need to keep it with me and protect it from harm. I know it sounds mad..." she drifted off, feeling she was missing something.

"Not at all." Lois put her knitting under her chair, protecting the deck further.

"But are you a worthy contestant?" Avis asked, rounding Debbie. Running shoes. Sensible. "Do you know what you're asking?"

Lois fidgeted. "There has to be an alternative choice. We can't remove a card from the pack. It's against the rules." She saw the Chaplain tutting behind praying hands. "I don't think we should meddle this far."

Everyone ignored this. Debbie moved away. She went to the fireplace so beautifully crafted, and stared into the dusty grate; feeling a sadness descend. Introspectively, she retraced her journey: more of a crusade in the candlelight here. "I heard a female call out to me through the Ghost Box in the Dining Hall. I am here because of this. She sounded so desperate. I have to help. She haunts me." Debbie turned to the two ladies. "I can't dismiss her. Her voice haunts me." Debbie let her arms rise out to show she was unarmed and had come in peace. "I know what I ask. I ask for your help."

Lois sat up straight. "I'm afraid we can't give it. There is too much Karma involved. You can't bend and stretch rules without running a cost."

Avis appealed to Lois, "You know whose voice that was. You know who has been stuck in the Dining Hall; dwelling in a tormented place, her blood on the walls, so much so, she could never see us. You know who does the asking. Catherine has done all she could to get this message to us. By Faith alone, she knows we are here. She recognised the Faithful messenger clever enough to figure it out. We must act upon it." She glanced at the huge ornate mirror and knew the scene hidden beneath it. "Catherine needs our help. She is relying on us. We are her last hope."

Lois was flustered. Even the smoke was getting to her eyes as she tried to dispel her own negative thoughts. "Why the Empress Card? Of all cards?"

Avis went to the window nearest Lois - and the bag under her chair. She gazed out of the window like she had all the time in the world. She dove her attention deep into the dense black forests; saw all the demons crawling their way ever closer to climb the walls. Evil was present. She saw this through her one and only eye. She came back to the room, and sighed. "I have searched the demons. I have no idea why she would want to protect the Empress Card. She puts all her faith into the other One. We can't sit by, watch and do nothing."

Lois knew her friend well. Avis would be making to steal the bag from under her chair. Lois wouldn't allow it. She shuffled her feet to secure the bag. "It stays in the pack."

"Then everything was for nothing. You can't dismiss, so lightly, the energy she spent getting this message to us, whatever her reason. Perhaps Catherine sees further than all of us? She has stuck within the rules." Avis placed her hands on the back of the other witch's rocking chair. And breathed. "We must trust Catherine. We must show her the Faith she has shown us. This is Karmic Law in Effect." Avis pulled down on the chair and rocked it full tilt backwards. Lois fell into it with the force of the other witch's Intent. This could end badly. Avis was going for the pack; making her move. It was happening. Lois slid further back in the seat unable to get balance.

Debbie broke the moment, saying, "Jay heard the same message from her, too. He told me. Catherine shouted it through the Guards Room mirror. I know it sounds daft..." again she felt she was missing something.

"Not at all," Avis said. "Mirrors are portals. Every wise one knows this."

"Jay believes he saw Wye's face."

Avis felt a stirring. It came from deep within. There was more hope: another candidate was proving his salt. "Jay," Avis announced. "There is another." She jumped on the back of the chair and forced it down to come face to face with Lois. The chair picked up the momentum. As the two witches see-sawed, Avis said, "We've managed to wake up quite a few tonight, dearest. The night is still young. There is much to be done."

It was at this point, Dave realised the world really had gone mad. He got off the bed and walked over to the three ladies. "If my wife wants to borrow a Tarot Card, let her. It's no real biggy, is it? It's only superstition. I make up my own rules. I love my wife and if she wants to protect this card, then let her."

Was probably the most supportive and therefore loving thing Dave had ever professed; Debbie was shocked. She loved him more in this, her hero. "I promise I'll look after it," she qualified.

Lois protested. She glared up at Avis, saying, "I told you to not bring the Love Dust but you did. That spell went awry. I have a bad feeling about dabbling with this. Rules aren't made to be broken."

Avis called out, "Let's put it to the vote. Hands up who believes Debbie should protect the Empress Card?" She counted, including herself. "Three. Against two." She counted the Spirit Chaplain in the mists, waving both hands like fury.

Dave scratched his confused head. He dismissed the Maths: she must be an Abenhall Girl. "So where are the cards?"

Avis giggled. "In the bag. Under this chair." She squatted and pulled back on the chair to force it down at the back. Up at the front.

Dave held it. Debbie scooted under it, fighting with Lois' legs to untangle them, not so willing to yield the treasure.

Debbie struggled some more. For a little old lady this lady was strong. She called out. "I don't want to hurt you. I just want your bag." There was something wrong in this. If she were out on the streets. "I don't want to bruise you. Let it go." She fumbled with the tapestry type bag and spied the knitting needles sticking out the top. - Catherine needed her. It was 11:11. She hadn't come all this way to fail now. - She slapped at the bony ankles, kicking out at her face.

Debbie reached her fingertips to the knitting needles. There was something wrong with this. She moved past the fleeting urge to rise from the depths to stab out eyeballs. She had sorted through her anger issues. She had read so many Self-Help books, and now everything was integrating into place. All those words of wisdom were starting to make sense. She wasn't grinding her teeth but she was growing desperate. Somehow, by the events of tonight, they were all connected to the Empress.

"We all want what's best. Relent," Debbie called to Lois from under her chair. Bloomers peeking through wicker. Debbie wished she hadn't looked. "Stop thrashing about. Restrain her, Dave. I don't want to have to use these needles to make my point." She held the sharp ends under Lois' seat, literally. She poised herself.

Dave held the little old lady as best he could by pinning her kneecaps. His wife made one last lunge and came out with the bag.

Avis shrieked. She leapt off the chair, letting it rock to detain its prisoner, and made her way to the prize. She took the bag and gently pulled it open. She said to the group, "We must take care now. No sudden moves. Everybody stay calm. Don't panic."

"Umm? Ok," said Dave. He wouldn't.

Avis pulled out the Tarot Cards. She held them cautiously. She mustn't drop one onto the mirror or it would fall into play. This was fine because she was a good distance away from the bed and that sort of consequence. She checked Lois had the good sense to stay seated.

Lois was frozen with a look of horror, hands gripping the chair arms preparing for a white knuckle ride because she knew this Game well enough too: she could be jettisoned from this seat out of the window and over to the far side and into the back of beyond. And she wouldn't be the first. She glanced across at the panicking Chaplain.

Avis rolled her eyes at such a display of terror between these two. She could feel the tension growing in the room. Nothing was ever as bad as it seemed. She was in full control. Or so she thought.

#

#  52

Avis shuffled through the Tarot cards, checking each picture, one by careful one. She was aware there are many forces. More than even she could know. She and Lois had protected this room so no demon could enter. The most negative force in this room was the Chaplain Spirit moaning on about Armageddon. She shuffled to the end of the deck; feeling the magic this was stirring, feeling the tingling in her hands, her raised heartrate. She tried to contain these energies. She held the pack tightly together and nestled them to her bosom to wonder. She looked at all the expectant faces. "It's not in here."

"What?" Debbie shot. "Is this a joke? Are you lying; hoping we will go away?"

Avis looked down at the cards in mutual disbelief. "The Empress is gone."

Lois sat up, fretting afresh. "What do you mean? Gone? Have you checked properly? You haven't just done a 'man look'? You have delved beneath the surface?"

"Of course I have. It's not in there." She looked inside herself. "What does this mean?"

"It's missing," Dave stated the obvious.

"The Empress stands for fertility, for feminine grace, for nurturing like that of our Mother Earth. It is a powerful card of the Major Arcana. How is not having this effecting us? I haven't felt the deck lacking."

Dave said, "Problem solved. You fought amongst yourselves for this and the card isn't even in there."

Debbie held out her hand, saying, "Let me check?"

Avis shied away, "Not a chance. It's too risky. Not that I have anything to hide."

"Then you won't mind handing them over." Dave lunged and tore the deck from the witch's grasp. She cried out in anguish. He shuffled through them. Avis made to grab them. He dodged her; moved sideways and shuffled some more; reading the titles at the bottom of the pictures. He moved closer to the bed. Big, podgy sausage fingers rifling through the pack. The Castle was waiting if he did but know it. He finished his search and came out with the conclusion, "The Empress card is missing. Tragic." He handed the deck to Avis. He saw the mirror and fireplace behind her and went to it. "This is a nice piece of craftsmanship. Where have I seen this before?"

"In the Dining Hall," Debbie lamented. "It's got a similar sad energy to it."

Avis agreed. How insightful this messenger. She made a point of rechecking the cards and putting them up the right way after Dave had touched them, relieved to have them back in safety.

The giant of a man ran his hand over the dragonfly crystal. Both witches gasped. They watched the mirror. Not that Dave had anything in him to activate the 'on button'. Still, they were relieved once he disconnected. He ran his hand along the marble ivy. He announced, "This floor must be heavily reinforced to hold the weight of this."

"This Castle is a fine creation. You have no idea. I think it's time you were leaving," Lois called from her chair, reluctant to move.

Avis gently pressed the deck back neatly together. She channelled her respect to the deck: all of her deeds had been done with the best intentions, after all.

Dave was admiring the fireplace. He was agitating Lois although Avis seemed in a daze. He shuffled his big feet along the hearth and felt along the marble mantelpiece, while staring up at the magnificent mirror because somehow this was taking Lois to the edge; she was like a coiled panther ready to pounce. There was something extremely eccentric about these two old biddies. He ran his hand along some more and felt something lying in the heavy dust at the back of the marble shelf.

The giant of a man picked it up, looked at it, tossed it through the air to the centre of the three ladies and announced, "I've just found the Empress Card."

The Empress, in her red cloaks, tossed and turned through the misty air, in a turbulent storm.

Lois sprang from her seat, leaping through the air to catch it. Debbie sprang into the air with springs in Sports shoes. The card hit her fingertips, bounced off, and flew on course to land on the Cosmic Mirror. Anywhere but this mirror.

In this moment, Avis made to save the Empress Card from play. She flew sideways to block its path as Lois and Debbie came in to do likewise. The three ladies bounced off each other. Two landed safely. Avis slipped and slid in her slippery slippers and the entire deck of cards fell out of her hand, tumbling to the floor – and bed. All the swords, all the cups, all the wands, kings, Queens and aces. A true calamity in the Room at the Top.

Both witches went down on their knees, knowing it. They were too afraid to look. They didn't want to inspect this mess, let alone check the Cosmic Mirror. Well hadn't they all done a mighty fine job of protecting the Empress.

Hurriedly, Avis picked up the cards strewn the floor, trying to ignore the inevitable.

Lois hissed up at Debbie and Dave, "Don't either of you move." She meant it. She peeped up over the purple bedspread at the mirror lay on it. It was worse than she thought. She whispered to Avis, "I could cry." The Empress had landed squarely on the mirror, picture side up. She had fallen through the cosmos for a player to pick up. It was already done. Equally as worrying, Lois whispered, "The Empress has fallen into play. Two cards have landed on the mirror, face down. I don't know what they are."

Avis' reaction didn't invoke much joy. The Chaplain was swearing them all to hell.

Avis shoved the deck under the bed, got to her feet and grabbed Debbie's arm. She grabbed Dave's slack jumper sleeve and began frogmarching the true meddlers to the door, saying, "I should never have let either of you in. We have no idea what mess you have caused. Get out."

Debbie was appalled. She allowed herself to go, but wanted to protest. "Can I take the card with me, anyway?"

"It's too late for that, my dear. You failed your mission. That card was probably safest kept where it was. Already protected. By whom and why, who knows. You two can be on your way now. We bid you a fair night."

"Wait!" Debbie pulled herself free, ignoring Dave softly chuckling in his own messed-up victory. Debbie begged Avis, "I have more information. For all our investigating: I did complete one mission successfully. Catherine got another message to Jay and myself. We acted upon it. We reminded the Guard he is King."

Chaplain sat up straighter as the procession drew closer, his head even more on one side as he thought about this. The King had been found? - Nobody had seen the King in three hundred long suffering years of no hope. Not that there had been much time to find him. After the King disappeared everything had turned to blood. Blood up the walls, blood for a moat. Carnage. None of the King's men had enough time to react as all their demons came into play and Bane rose ever stronger to reclaim his throne, banishing Randolph with a curse. - The Chaplain got off the bed. He tidied his waistcoat and white ruffled cravat. His King had been found. Now all he had to do was find his King. If it wasn't too late. Because some idiot had found the Empress card. A card in need of protection. The big giant buffoon of an excuse of a human being was finding everything funny. Even as this man threw the card at the Cosmic Mirror, he was sniggering knowing the ladies would collide to save it. The Chaplain knew Dave had no manners from the moment he met him, but his deed was catastrophic. They had all failed the beautiful Queen Catherine - and Dave was the cause.

Dave couldn't breathe. As he was being escorted to the door, holding back his laughter, he could feel the pressure around his neck; his windpipe gorging, his throat closing. Eyes bulging. More disturbing was Avis protesting for some unseen thing to let go from strangling him.

The Chaplain Spirit unwillingly let go of his vice-like grip.

Avis ushered Debbie and Dave out of the door and slammed it shut. The Chaplain was beside her. He placed his hand on the key in the lock, saying to Avis, "This is my room. I am the Chaplain. I will lock them out."

Avis placed her hand over his, saying, "This is our Room at the Top. Let me help." They turned the key. "Together, we banish them - the old fashioned way."

Across the room, Lois hit the 'on switch'. The mirror above turned into a picture. A still moment caught in time. Always without volume. Always so out of reach. The scene was the same: Queen Catherine was still hanging off the edge of the Rainbow Bridge. Wye was lost in her own internal storm. In a way, this was a comfort. It meant the new cards in play weren't having a detrimental effect on these two players. Yet. "Everything seems the same. At least Catherine's still clinging on. Losing the Empress Card hasn't sent her over the edge."

The Chaplain crossed the room, saying, "She probably doesn't even know it is lost, yet. Give it time. You know the nature of this Game. It is more insidious than to be so blatant. It will creep in like rot." The Chaplain allowed himself a closer look at the face of his Queen. He found her to be crying. Her woeful, forlorn face would prove motive enough for him to venture out in search of his King.

Avis picked up all the remaining fallen cards from off the bed and reassembled the pack. She stared down at the Empress Card, centre of the Cosmic Mirror. Two other cards lay with it: Three new cards had now entered the Game. How would this effect the other players, she couldn't know. She could only see how this was effecting the 'Ones' playing in the Mirror of Conscious Awareness.

Avis took her attention to the other two cards lay picture side down. In all her three hundred years here, she had never felt such trepidation. As she reached to the cards, she felt the dread. Lois over her one shoulder. The Chaplain over her other. Avis said to Lois, "We opened up nearly everyone. We, who are open, are in it. There is no going back. We must take personal responsibility for our actions. Keep your Faith and your personal Protection. Use the full-spectrum of White Light surrounding us and remember everything for a reason and a reason for everything. We are the overseers. We are the custodians. The observers. We shall not interfere. We dare never to intervene. Regardless of what may come. We abide by the rules of the Castle; this Game. For those who wish to make it to this Room at the Top to be most wise must first find Truth. So mote it be."

She turned the first card over.

Strength. A good card in the right hands. She felt relief. Perhaps strength was winging its way to Queen Catherine right now? She turned over the other card.

The Devil.

# 53

The Chaplain found courage to leave his room, full pelt. Instead of descending the stairs of the East Tower, he used the top floors. He left the sanctuary of his room, melted through the wall and entered the Chapel. He kept his bent head low and sped on, crossing himself with Protection as he declined to acknowledge the altar and the Ouija Board. Whoever had the notion to open the board and leave it open was probably well on the way to hell, by now.

The Chaplain came to the far wall where in his day, and this, there was still a door. He walked through this door and into the South Tower. He caught a waft of decaying, pungent rank air seeping up the stairwell enough he had to hold down his stomach.

Evil was ever present. He knew the devil to smell of sulphur. This smell was worse. He crossed himself, three fold with the Trinity – and damned the retched vermin to cause such an abomination to his nostrils.

He continued passed the Constable's Room, long ago abandoned, and entered the extensive landing of State Apartments. Amongst the rooms leading off from here, were the King's Bedchamber leading into the Queen's Bedchamber. A good a place as any to search; and he was in a hurry. He didn't want to stand still as he could hear the demons howling. He wasn't here to question, he was here to advise. He managed a glance out of one of the many windows lining the landing.

From his perspective on his world, he saw a courtyard different to the interwoven modern maze of a misty world overlapping. To the Chaplain, the courtyard was a cobbled yard of straw and dust, and roosting hens. The Blacksmiths shop and lodgings were peaceful. Everything seemed normal. A quiet calm of night.

The Chaplain stopped to the one side of the stone arched window. He hid in the shadows to take a closer inspection of the scene below. Everything seemed a bit too quiet. The scenery too still. The Castle was holding its breath. The Chaplain could feel the energy of this place now he had ventured back out and into it. The calm before the storm.

Somewhere across the dimensions, in the true moment of the eternal Now, someone was destined to find the Devil Card. This rattled the Chaplain. Trust no one was his philosophy, right now. Trust nobody but the King.

Under a silver blanket of a mystical sky was the courtyard. A shadowy figure made his way from a stable block to the henhouse. A hen scrawled then settled. The figure moved on under the mask of a hooded cloak towards the Blacksmith's lodgings.

The Chaplain was distracted from this shrouded assault as a maid came out of the King's bedchamber, carrying a bundle of sheets. She was surprised to see the Chaplain.

She smiled brightly. "The King has found his way home from exile. I know it has only been months, but it feels more like years. He is here. Isn't it marvellous?"

"I've been in my room, praying." The Chaplain took one last glance out at the quiet night. He turned to Isabelle. "Where is he now?"

Isabelle pulled the door to and lowered her voice, "Now, he is in his bedchamber. He still has that crazy affliction. He still insists to stare at mirrors." Her face dropped as she sensed Chaplain's scorn. "I hope we don't lose him again. Nobody has had the heart to tell him how his Queen was hounded, beaten and banished." She leaned towards the King's trusted advisor, and whispered, "We thought you could do it. He listens to you."

This still wasn't enough to be warned, so Isabelle made her way along the landing respectfully coaxing the Chaplain to follow. Her grey dress and white pinafore did nothing for her pale complexion but her eyes sparkled enough to call her attractive. She leant in to the Chaplain as they walked together, "Worse than the King still losing his mind, have you seen the Ladies in Waiting?"

"They've kept their heads down. Stayed out of my way."

"They've been acting very strange. They are displaying certain eccentricities, should I dare say." Isabelle needed to elaborate. "They have been seen throwing themselves at the mirrors downstairs. They have been scaring Little Boy and forcing Cook to make broth of frogs. Frogs! Seems like the devil's work to me." Isabelle crossed herself for her God's Protection. "If it's the mirrors driving everybody mad, should we gather servants and cover each mirror in sheets? Anything? They say the devil can see through mirrors. You can almost feel them watching you." Isabelle was always scaring herself as it was a weird place at night. "To top it all. I can hardly form words. I think I saw a ghost."

Chaplain could only listen. Take only the needed information. Isabelle had a closed mind functioning in her time from her level. Perhaps her mind was opening a bit with her last statement?

She confided, "I saw a ghost of a man staring at the Grandfather Clock in the Knights Hall. That was frightening enough. He was a giant; a hungry giant, eating fancy cake, wearing stranger clothes and ill-fitting woven wool. Clear as day. He turned and - you won't believe this - he walked through the Knight's table as bold as you like. As certain as I am standing here. – And then, beggar's belief, he disappeared. There are questionable things going on around here. Tell me it's not sorcery?"

"It's not sorcery." The Chaplain placed his hand on this young one's forehead and blessed her. She accepted this and kissed his hands. He allowed this. Her hair was soft. Her gratitude comforting. He longed to save her and her innocence. "You are obviously harbouring sensitivities. You need to lie down with a wet cloth over your eyes. Go to your room, Isabelle. Cover only your mirror and stay there 'til sunup. There are many things possible between this world and the next that isn't for you to wonder. No matter what you hear outside your walls, keep locked your doors. Open them to no-one. May Fear keep you safe, child."

The Chaplain moved away from the maid. He had not the heart to explain to her that on some level she was dead and happy in spirit playing her role. It would be too much for her to conceive. Everyone had died in the bloodbath that fateful Honeymoon night, many had blocked the trauma to not notice the energy shift. On this new plane of existence life went on.

The Chaplain strode the path to his mighty King. He had no real idea what to expect. Who would only know the torture the King had endured for his punishment of purgatory. Three hundred years of solitary confinement, confined to the walls. Such was the curse. It really could send the immortal mind mad.

# 54

The Chaplain knocked unceremoniously at the King's door. He waited anxiously for an invitation then entered. He found the King across the room, distantly staring out of the elegant picture window. He didn't need to turn to know who had entered.

The King spoke, "I see the illusion. In case you are wondering how to play this conversation. I am awake."

The King turned his deeply pondering face. The Chaplain fell to his knees: overwhelmed at the sight of his King and equally relieved. "Thank goodness for that." It was difficult to tiptoe through the obstacle course of this Game without incurring Karma no matter of good intentions. "Welcome back, sire."

"Stand, my good fellow." Randolph went to the Chaplain. The Chaplain took the King's hand and kissed his signature ring, then rose to his feet for the King to rest his eyes on an old friend. "What happened to your neck?"

"Long story. I know we have all the time in the world, sire, but now is not the time. I wouldn't want to bore you." He hid his embarrassment. "You're a sight to behold. You look well."

"I've been trapped in the Guards Room for 300 mortal years. It's been long enough to think; if I could have only recalled what I had to consider. I exercised to stay sane. No easy feat to stay sane when you reside between worlds that are stretched so far apart, you are in a place where nobody can hear you. From either side. Nobody knows you exist. At times, I forgot to exist. And then a girl came to me to ask her questions. A girl with Faith enough I could use it. I could channel her Faith and show her a light fantastic as I set off her little grey box. She acknowledged me. She introduced herself as Debbie."

"I know the one you speak of. She has much Faith; she exudes it but she has yet to harness it. She is partnered to a lumbering clown who I could quite frankly strangle some more for his buffoonery. Still, I digress."

The King pondered further, "It was Faith that got me to here. I have learnt Faith is a real energy. You see, I could make the lights spike moderately by channelling the Electro Magnetic Field – and this alone took some figuring – but it was the energy of Faith which moved mountains and eventually removed the curse. Debbie held enough Faith she even felt me touch her hair."

The Chaplain was still anxious even before a wise King. "You have learnt much, granted, sire. It is so very good to see you again. I admire your enthusiasm. Are you aware of the enemy?"

"You have been my Spiritual Advisor for so long, Chaplain. I have set my men free and sent the leader to the Blacksmith's to rouse him. My men will arm themselves with swords enough to become medieval. Gunpowder is not the weapon of choice over the magical properties of silver. A silver blade would strike a demon down followed through with the right Intent. Ask Archangel Michael."

The King made his way to a round table and poured himself a stiff drink into a golden goblet. He drank. He wiped his beard in his velvet robe sleeve and offered the wine to the Chaplain, who graciously declined. The King sat down in a smaller throne to his others throughout the Castle. He studied his advisor. "I know you have your limitations. Let me assure you. I do not rely on silver alone. I know the pen is mightier than the sword. I read the Journal. Lest we forget: I followed Death to here. I have died a thousand deaths: each time nobody heard my cries; I died again."

"The entities who caste you there are bountiful here." Chaplain went to the far window. He peered down at the vast moat, glinting water in the moonlight. "This moat was filled with blood so thick and cold. It overflowed. A real massacre kept out of the history books." He looked out at the vast forests. "There are countless more entities heading this way. Literally. Present as ever we are."

Randolph knew this to be true. He could feel the density. He could practically feel the walls bowing with pressure. "I encountered Bane." The King risked so much to say it. He knew this name would ricochet around the Castle for this demon to hear. "I won't say it again," he assured. "I abide by the rules. I have had time to see them clearly. By not thinking, I learnt so much. I have mastered myself. Have Faith, you see. I am a new kind of warrior. I can jump through time and I know it."

That was one way of putting it. The Chaplain had to agree. If time were to even exist.

"Jay introduced himself and he saw me in the Guards Room mirror. And I saw him. We made a connection as though the veil had finally slipped for a moment. I can elaborate. Let me call Isabelle. Ask her what year it is."

"I'm ahead of you," the Chaplain was growing impatient. "We don't want to upset Isabelle. She worries for your sanity. You were always too enthusiastic with your discoveries, sire. It's not everybody who can keep up with your haphazard mind."

"I'm not mad. Put that in the history books."

Too late for that, but the Chaplain changed tact. "I have some uncomfortable news for you, sire." The Chaplain hesitated. He was feeling very limited. He could feel the Castle listening to his every word. Judging. "It's regarding Queen Catherine. After the curse was placed on you, the demons did their worse. They became worm ear. They whispered to your men of arms through their whiskey and ale: they whispered your Queen is a witch. The womenfolk had much a hand in chasing her down. She died of unnatural causes, Sire. And worse followed. The demons took over the Castle by using the people here, turning each one against the other using fear and hate. The Kingdom was lost. Your men were confined to the walls as they remembered as too they suffered. Many more have spent three hundred years running, as they seek to escape; caught in the tunnels in the endless earth warrens. – And those who chose to forget continued on."

Randolph couldn't speak. The Chaplain may as well have stabbed him, a hundredfold. The pain was real. All of this truth was too much. So much loss and betrayal. His men had tripped over themselves in the rush to be with him. They hid their guilt well; that precious blood on their hands. Nobody had confessed to killing his wife: his Beautiful Queen. Obviously, his Queen had passed over somewhere along the line. He had hoped of old age. He didn't know his own people had murdered her. Until now. "She is still in Spirit. She hasn't moved on to be reborn." The King brightened a tad. "I heard her voice call to me from the mirror in the Guards Room. She is out on the astral trying to find me as I am seeking her."

The Chaplain was nodding frantically. There was much the King was understanding. This was reassuring. "Evil has reigned ever since. It is gaining muster to overthrow, again. Tonight could end in another massacre."

"I won't let it. I am different for my exile. I am. I told you I read the Journal. I saw more than just those very special magical seven words. What I haven't read, I've experienced as I followed the Death Card in. You know the riddles. You were once called to be a 'One'."

"It got me a broken neck and aching back. A true Gauntlet and a half. Enough to guide those away. Is it worth it? I wonder. They are coming through the trees out there. Your men might feel powerful wielding their weapons but you know demons fight dirty. They are aiming to take siege of the windows – these portal mirrors. It's not enough to understand the riddles. A wise One would know how to implement the deeper wisdoms. Have you strength, truly? Have you the Faith and endurance? Do you know what you do?"

Randolph relented. Perhaps he had been misguided? He had been happy believing Faith had freed him and guided him home. Perhaps Bane had released him from the curse? Perhaps Bane had freed him for a purpose more guarded than the King could imagine? – All these doubts came crashing in. Randolph let them move past. He acknowledged them as he watched them go. He had to stay above the illusions. It was the only way he would win. His thoughts turned to Catherine as always they do, given liberty to remember.

The King made his way across the room to the magnificent double wardrobe and stood in front of the long length mirror, inlaid in the door. He saw himself true enough. For all his calm he still had thunderous eyes. He being a Scorpio. Nobody would know his true depths. He had fire in his belly that nobody would guess. It added to a sense of the mystery. It leant him a charm; this unpredictable King. He shook his head to see more clearly passed himself. He searched the mirror and could see Chaplain approaching. He couldn't see what lay beyond its reflection. Randolph said, "For all my Faith and Wisdom, I can't find her."

"You must find her. I can say no more or no good will come. I warn though, Sire: For if you don't have enough Faith and enough Wisdom, this Game will take all you have."

The King broke into a chuckle. "And I thought I was the miserable one." There came a gentle tap at the door. "Enter."

It was Isabelle. She curtsied sheepishly, "Begging your pardon, Your Gracious Majesty. I've drawn you a bath."

"Really?" Randolph hadn't requested a bath but it did have a strange appeal.

"It's been a while since your last bath. I wish no offence, Sire."

"Are you suggesting there is an odour to me?" Randolph made light with the girl who spent much of her time fussing round and looking at him sideways. She always seemed so curious of him. Like she knew he was different. "I have a question for you. Tell me, Isabelle..."

Here goes – Isabelle thought.

"What year are we in?"

"1714, Your Royal Highness." The same as half an hour ago. The last time he asked.

Randolph nodded 'I told you so' at the Chaplain. He slapped his own knee and declared, "I am an Astral Warrior."

"As you like, sire." Isabelle backed out of the room, bowing as much as to not want to turn her back. "Your bath awaits." She turned to the Chaplain and rolled her eyes for him to do something to help this madness. "I will be retiring to my room now."

After Isabelle had shut the door, Randolph said, "And yet I have communicated tonight with Debbie in the year of Our Lord, 2014. I rest my case."

The Chaplain sighed. He really was a Harbinger of Doom. They called him this for good reason. "I realise this, Sire, and I understand it's been a long journey; but you need to save our Queen before it's too late. The time is nigh. I can say no more. Everything has a reason. Stay inside the rules. Remember the layers."

Randolph caught his breath. "I have searched all the mirrors on route to here, including this one. I don't know her whereabouts. The truth be known. I don't know how to reach her. We are lost to each other now as ever we are. I am not being cavalier, flippant or lazy, mark my words. I was fed Faith from the one who is known as Debbie. She helped me to find myself and resurrected me from the void. I have to journey inwards."

The King rested a kind hand on the Chaplain's arm. "I will search my soul and I will go deep within until I hear Catherine. I will know her voice. She will call and lead me to her. I will follow her through all time and space. I will find her and bring her home."

Randolph made his way to the window and gazed across a kingdom. "For as much as she is out there – she is in here." He touched his own heart.

The Chaplain followed his King, as any a true confidante would. "And when you do finally hold her in your arms, give her a message from me." The Chaplain cupped his hand to the King's ear and confided so faintly...

# 55

Isabelle was making her way across the landing, head down in worry. The King was acting very strange. Nothing had changed. He was deadly handsome in a rugged manner, even if his beard had grown too long. Isabelle had put his blades by his bath, hoping he would take the hint. She had put fresh clothes and warm flannels. She was so happy he had returned for some resemblance of normality. With the King missing, the kingdom had been in a foggy limbo. Now she had true purpose except that purpose was to get to bed and stay there; under the advice of the well-respected Chaplain.

Isabelle was on her way to making it safely to her room at the far end of the landing. She passed the Royal Bathroom and Queen's Bedchamber and continued along trying not to think of the ghost in the Knight's Hall. The one who had walked through the Knight's table like it wasn't even there.

A ridiculous notion. A scary idea.

Isabelle widened her strides, feeling the pressure. She glanced out of the stone ached window onto the silvery courtyard. She saw a shadowy figure move behind the stables, saw the glint of his sword. She stopped: herself in shadows; saw more men hiding there under the mask of night. Friend or foe? She squinted as she focused on his face. She recognised him. Thank goodness. She let her breath go as excitement stirred. The King's men had returned. So too had his Knights, by all accounts. They were quietly gathering weapons under the mask of night. Creeping around while everyone sleeps. To defend not attack, Isabelle pondered as she watched more men take up their swords.

Isabelle became aware of her own reflection; ghostly and opaque – a scary concept. She became aware of the seven other female faces surrounding this image. She spun around to catch ghosts but was met with the seven Ladies in Waiting as solid as she was standing here. They were scarier than seven ghosts in Isabelle's estimation. They were demure and captivating and dressed in silks from far off places. They had change from black dresses mourning a fallen Queen into exquisite and exotic colours to warm ever palette. They held fans to their noses to hide true words while they danced with the devil; a sway in their hips. Isabelle felt cornered as they moved in to devour.

"On your way now," they all sang in unison. "Sweet dreams."

Isabelle managed to squeeze through the crowd. She got safely away and ran the remaining landing to her door. She opened it and fell through it. She slammed it shut and leaned against it to contain herself.

Those ladies were dangerous. She could feel it. Things had changed around here. Nothing seemed certain anymore. To top it all, the Ladies in Waiting were behaving peculiarly. Like they were possessed. Isabelle crossed herself with the Trinity. She reached behind and felt for the key in the lock. She turned it; heard it bolt tight. The devil wouldn't get her. She stared at the mirror on her tiny dresser, managed to pull herself together and went to it. She opened the top drawer, threw clothes round and found a black shawl. She took no time to drape it over this mirror. Safe from crazy. She wouldn't be possessed enough to throw herself at mirrors or spend hours staring into them.

Feeling calmer, Isabelle took a candle and sat on her bed to remove her shoes. Her feet had walked miles around this Castle, mostly in a dream: she would imagine herself to be a Lady in Waiting; loyal to her Queen, respected and revered by the Knights who would bow as she walked passed. Instead, nobody noticed her. She was the unseen and underestimated. Now, as she considered the true Ladies in Waiting, she was rather glad not to be one.

She went to a jug of cool water and poured some onto her cloth to wipe her tired face. Outside, on the landing, she heard some commotion. She tried to ignore it. She couldn't. She focused in on it to add pictures. It wasn't the Ladies in Waiting. It was one set of footsteps. They stopped outside. She saw feet under her door. She waited for more sound and dreaded the knock. Would she open the door, after the Chaplain had advised her against it?

A sword hit the door outside. Isabelle jumped; was sure it was a sword. She closed her eyes. The sword hit the door frame. Tap. As though it was being dragged, the sound ran across her wall, echoing as it scraped and gouged and Isabelle could scream if the Castle was under siege now. The scratching continued away from her room. Menacingly, it carried along the landing, hitting more doorframes and doors; en-route to the King.

Isabelle felt the panic. Then came to her senses. She ran to her door, turned the sacred key, and stepped onto the landing. It was as she realised. The Little Boy was playing games. He was running with his stick. Relieved, Isabelle glanced at the West Tower staircase, close to her room, from where he had come. The kitchen was on ground level in this Tower and yet Cook was nowhere to be seen.

Isabelle called out to the boy, "Stop that racket. His Majesty has returned. No more playing here. I've told you before. The King will have your guts for garters!"

Barefoot, she ran to the boy as he stopped toddling just beyond the King's door. She scooped him into her arms to his protests and giggles. "Keep quiet. You're not meant to be up here. You'll get us both in trouble." She peered down at the cute face of a cherub with warm rosy cheeks - and melted. "Never a dull moment. Let's go find Cook." She would have cooed some more but something was lumbering its way up the South Tower stairs.

She froze. She clung to Little Boy more tightly. The grotesque and monstrous shadow circled around the inner South Tower wall, waving a ball of dazzling light, casting sorcery. Attached to this devilment, the Giant ghost followed; behind him came that smell. The smell of death itself.

Isabelle would be possessed to come in contact with the Giant ghost again, she felt sure. She was being haunted. He was coming for her. He was coming to steal her soul. Moving heavily. Moving slowly, dragging his feet with his woes and his burden as he hunted her down.

The Giant ghost was carrying his soul collector: a beam of pure white light, shining from his wand. Isabelle turned, cradling Little Boy. She considered darting into the King's Room but she was nearly as scared of the King's madness as she was her own. He wouldn't thank her for barging in. She didn't fancy guts for garters.

Instead, she ran with all her worth the length of the landing to her own room. She knew how to run fast. She knew how to run lightly. In a wisp, she slammed her door and locked it.

She stood back, in flickering candlelight, cuddling Little Boy while watching the handle. Time seemed to take forever.

She waited.

She clung ever tighter to Little Boy. She heard a noise outside. Panicked, she tried not to squeal. Instead, she blew out the candle, and caressed Little Boy's head to pacify him from the sudden darkness and she whispered to his sweet smelling cherub hair, "You will have to stay here until Cook finds you. I'm not going back out there. You'll be fine."

She saw the beam of white light under the door and the soul collector's giant feet casting their shadow across her threshold.

She cuddled Little Boy better to protect him. "I'll keep you safe from the monsters." Isabelle shuddered.

The door handle shuddered.

# 56

Randolph was sitting in his tin tub, centre to the bathroom, fresh robes and clothes lay over a gilt moulded chair. A grooming kit lay on an ornate table. Razor sharp blades rested in his hands.

He had a mind to trim his beard but his wrists were drawing him to his past. He had read the letter which accompanied the Journal, and done likewise in his pursuits. He had blood let from the slashes on his wrists and followed the Death Card in. And this is where he now was. After all the searching and adventure, this was where he found himself. Dead - and more alive than most. He saw the paradox.

He swished his wounds under the water. He rose them to the air. A constant reminder. His wounds weren't healing. They weren't decaying. They were just being. Another couple of red congealed scars with a thousand stories.

He rose a blade to his throat. Across the room was a long freestanding mirror. It was oval, supported in the middle by hands of gold and fingers with rings. A prized mirror supported on silver feet. He watched through the steam, as he tugged the blade through his beard all the time wondering of the Game.

If it were as simple as that, he would run and enter this very mirror and save his Queen but nothing was ever that simple. It seemed he was as baffled now as ever he had been – in the past and way out in the future and back to now.

Still, he didn't have all the answers. He had read the curse in the Prison. He had seen the Journal and, in the moonlight, red. He was wiser than most. He realised. Yet somehow he felt he was still at the beginning. - A new beginning maybe. - A fanciful notion.

This King needed to experience. If he were to overthrow evil, he would need to understand his worlds. He would need to be on par with the knowledge of an angel or demon; for they knew how to play; jump about the cosmos. He had to remember this. It would take a mighty King indeed to win in this Game.

Randolph hacked at his beard and dropped it to the floor. He saw the serpents enter; they came in through the side door, rounding his mirror like mysterious curtains of silk to manifest through the mist. He could have predicted such an occasion in the grander scheme of things.

The Ladies in Waiting circled his tub. They surrounded him, fell to their knees and began bathing him. He let them. Without embarrassment, he let them try to caste their spell. Lily, the one behind him, reached over and picked up his spare blade. Her perfume was captivating, as her light brown hair fell around his shoulders, her gentle cheek, touching against his. Her jaw massaged his as she softly spoke. Her lips to his cheek. Her blade coming into his throat. "If you die again would you make it out onto the Astral? Will you know the energy shift? Find our Queen?"

Randolph sat very still now. He hadn't considered this. He had no time to consider this as the troop began to swoon in to him. To his right, Rose came in for a kiss. She kissed him quick and smiled her pink smile. He was captured so easily with a blade at his throat and the glint in her eye. She delved her hand under the water, and whispered, "How much do you love our Queen? How much would you like to stay here forever with the seven of us?" She massaged his strong thigh, felt the muscle and caught her own naughty breath with the thoughts of things to come. "You could take us all to your bed, Sire. We are here to serve. You can have your will with us."

Lily moved the blade and traced the tip down his throat to draw a fresh scar. She drew the blade to his heart. She turned the blade, head to one side to watch her art. "Bane would prefer you to be nowhere near our Queen." Lily twisted the blade so it dug in some more to tease his soul to open. Randolph remained very still, unsure of the consequences.

Contrary to this blade, the hand beneath was enticing as Rose slowly felt his inner thigh. She added, "Your people killed our Queen. We should not forgive you for abandoning her. You left her defenceless and scared. Regardless, we must relent if you are to stay with us. Our Queen is better without you: she always was. Your people branded her a witch once they were done with her healing. She is better on the astral, far, far away from you. This is decided."

Randolph would take his chances. He still held one blade, hidden discreetly beneath the surface. He would sense an energy shift; he was confident. He was King. They were forgetting. These women had been so loyal to his household. Did Bane really have power over them, so much? His hand was out of the water, his blade under Rose's chin.

Seven witches gasped. Nobody moved. It was a precarious predicament they all found themselves in. The King spoke to Rose and pushed the pointed blade further against her skin, "Release your wandering hand from my leg. Or be forever lost on the Astral, yourself."

Rose gently pulled her hand from the water. She was in no position to protest.

King Randolph continued. "You are extraordinary ladies. I grant you this. Many men would succumb to your wares. Be gone your enchantment, it won't have an effect on me. I am the rightful King. Remove your blade of high treason," he said to Lily. He noticed her waver. Her blade stayed put. "My heart is needed in this Game. You love the same woman I love. You cut out my heart, you cut out hers."

He felt the blade waver some more. Lily was showing signs of surrender. The King kept Faith in himself. Curiously, he dropped his blade from Rose's chin and dropped it all together to the floor. He didn't take his eyes off any of the women. He had them all in his sights, one way or another.

It was still a tenuous moment. The King was surrounded and out-numbered. He acknowledged these thoughts then let them pass and stared deeper into the eyes of each surrounding woman, in turn. He needed to bring them back. They needed some home truths. "The Chaplain suggests our beautiful Queen is in danger. Am I not gallant enough a hero to be the one to save her? Have I not been punished enough for my previous ignorance and crimes? We all have. How much longer do you suggest we stay slumbering, fixating on the drama – of all those words on the wall, dripping in blood?" He rested his eyes on Lily last.

Lily saw the thunder in them. The flash of a Scorpio's tale, he wasn't hiding so well. She knew his nature. He came back to her memories, so easily swept away. But alas, she also remembered Bane's touch, how he ignite her and fuelled her passion. "We haven't seen our Queen for so long." Lily held her blade to the King's heart more steadily. "Without your rule, we are ruled by another."

"I don't wish to rule over you. That is the difference. I want Peace in my Kingdom with Abundance enough to share." Randolph took a chance. He grabbed Lily's wrist and steadied her blade. He stared at her more deeply. "I will forgo my crown to walk these worlds freely with Catherine."

Lily let her arm flop in submission and Randolph removed the blade and dropped it to clatter across the other. Not the best omen.

Randolph rose to his feet. A god. Water fell from his muscles as he stood, bathing in the moonlight, to prove no hidden yearning. He climbed out of the tub and walked without shame or worry to his fresh robes. He began to dry his skin. His back turned to the Ladies in Waiting as they stared at him in astonishment.

Each one was considering his suggestion. He could sense their cogs turning, collectively. They gathered together to conjure a plan, no doubt; they were witches after all. He could tell. The King bided his time then played a bigger hand of chance, "It is high time you all choose a side. Catherine is worthy of my crown. Your Queen can have my throne. Follow us. We are good people. "

The seven witches broke their circle, staggered further. They were torn by the entrapments of a devious hooded demon and justice for their Lady. Lily spoke for them all, "If this is your word, we will show you a way. It's for royalty only. You'd better keep your crown locked safely in its box - for now."

Randolph smiled. His thunderous eyes grew darker that he turned away. Now dressed, he walked around the room to the ornate table. Beside it was his sword. On it was a small square mirror. He held it in his palm. He studied his reflection and checked his beard was presentable. He refrained from looking into his own eyes, cautious of who he might find. Through this mirror, he addressed the Ladies waiting behind, a hive of growing excitement. "Show me a doorway to her. You know this Castle in all its layers, better than I. I know the walls in the Guards Room. You know what lies beneath."

# 57

The free-standing mirror was priceless. The portal through it was dangerous. The mirror surface was held by two hands of gold, wearing rings of jewels; diamonds, deepest rubies and sapphires. The entire mirror was stood on two silver feet. Above was the face of an angel, peering down.

The King had often studied this face. It was what fascinated him the most about this mirror. Depending on the light, depended on the type of angel he saw. He had touched this face a thousand times. Each time, it had felt the same. Yet as the moon and sun travelled across the large picture windows, the angel changed with them: Shapeshifting. Shadow-side transforming to the serene then back into shadow. For all its beauty and the grotesque it was mesmerising; had cost him many hours of wondering in the past.

Randolph stood before it, now. He studied the angel's face and searched for a sign. The angel was giving nothing away as though caught in a place in between.

The seven Ladies were waiting. They had formed a circle around himself and this mirror. They were proceeding to show him the way. Lily was to his right, standing before him. The King's sword resting across her outstretched arms as a gift in a ceremony. And it was.

Lily spoke to the King, she acknowledged for being. After all, a very good witch would know she had to give him back his power before he gave it away. "We give you your sword now, Sire. You place your crown upon our Queen, later. That is the deal; no going back. The Castle is listening."

Randolph now knew who he was dealing with. They were intent to overthrow him by his own tongue; riddle him into knots. He had played these word games long enough. He didn't need writing on the walls to chain him or set him free. He no longer needed invisible words to show him the way.

He had Freewill. He was already free. He didn't need to run a Gauntlet. This he believed. Three hundred years of solitary confinement had gifted him the time to wonder of all the wonders.

Not even the love in his heart had been enough distraction, as even this love had been taken away. And now, it didn't seem like a curse but a blessing. He was stronger for it. He had felt the shift. He had come into his own. He was free to roam, and this he believed because he had experienced it. He knew how to do it. As like walking – one foot in front of the other.

The angel above didn't have to give anything away. The seven witches were doing a good job of that on their own; they were setting their trap, spinning their own webs.

Rose stepped into the circle. She moved gracefully to the sword, skirts swishing in the fine mist. She ran her elegant finger along the blade, captivated by its power. She breathed deeply. "This is a mighty sword." She stood and marvelled the handle. It was made of gold: two strong hands over woven in a wielding clench with rings of diamonds and jewels, identical to all on his mirror. "Fit to save our Queen. You want to avenge yourself of your failings, take your sword and go to the Look-In Glass. Watch how the moonbeams reflect off the surface. You are royalty. This is your mirror. This is your sword. The words for Royalty will be inscribed in moonbeams along your sword. Reflect these words onto your mirror and open this portal, oh mighty King."

Rose prompted the King to step closer to do her bidding. He dutifully obeyed. She offered him the sword. He refused to take it. She stayed calm. It would take more than silk to catch this fly.

The King spoke, "And what colours in red have you read? The curse on the Prison wall, dripping in demon's blood to bring you all to this. I am out the other side from those words. You are all still possessed. Why should I trust you?"

"Because we all love the same woman. We still love our Queen. Go find your way to her. You are a gallant enough hero."

As much as the King didn't want to look at the long and sleek blade, he did. He clouded his eyes and shielded them from focusing on the words dancing and tempting him to activate his mirror. If he went through this portal, the witches would trap him. He knew this. He read it all in their eyes. They were fixed to their master. They would seal this mirror. It could take another three hundred years to get back from this mistake. He wasn't seeking a Gauntlet, he was searching for his Queen. With all his heart, he felt the emptiness of these walls. He wanted her home. He wanted to see her face again. He ached to hold her close. He grieved her still. He wanted to reach out and touch her; to be together again like the old times. This place held no laughter for him. This Castle was empty without her. This King felt empty without her. He longed for Catherine to come home, to be reunited, to roam the Multiverse together, as one; hand in hand, side by side, within these worlds. And these witches would still endeavour to keep them separated. Such is the nature of demons.

Lily tilted the sword some more. They were unworthy of reading these words for themselves. In any case, they didn't want to. They needed the King to read them. She jiggled the sword, hoping the glittery words would entice him to read. He wasn't paying attention. "Reflect the Invisible Words. Read the words. Activate your own personal portal: one made especially with you in mind."

Randolph smiled. "Oh, have no fear." His eyes were flashing thunder. He had been down to the depths of despair many times to know he was a fighter. Now, he was awake. He was above the illusions. He had fought off demons to be here. He could fight off witches too. He grabbed the sword from Lily's arms. She stepped back startled. He made to wield it round that all the witches fell back. Perhaps he needed space to run at the mirror. They gave it to him. Perhaps he needed to blast the mirror apart with its tip. With bated breath, the Ladies waited...

The King saluted his sword to the air to merge with the faith of victory, gleaming in moonlight, and spoke, "'I am a ghost. You may see me as a ghost. I did blood-let, purge, purify and return whence I came, back to the Now. Back to conscious existence; awakened from the nightmare; across the dimensions with its ties and burdens and I shrugged off that weight of vile flesh and tiresome body." The King shook his sword to the moon and declared, "I am renewed, reborn and resurrected afresh. I am not only a King - I am an Astral Warrior."

The moonlight lit up the handle on his sword. His hands woven around golden hands, jewels interwoven. The moonlight beamed through the window like it had shifted from behind a cloud. The earth still spinning in timeless synchronicity: the harmony of life and the moon energy of the female caste her loving self forth; shone upon the diamond in the King's hand upon hands. In it, he saw the rainbow. Through his one and only eye, he saw his Queen dangling over the edge of a bottomless, endless void.

He knew where to find her. He knew her whereabouts. He felt her in his heart, as the honeymoon shone her gentle glow. A prism of colour drew a line between the diamond and the window. The King loved his Queen and fell in love with her all over again. He would save her. He would keep her from all harm. He knew where to go.

He retrieved his old robe. He delved inside its pocket and pulled out a card. The Moon. The card was from the Tarot deck being played in the Room at the Top. Remember the layers; the Chaplain had reminded the King. The Chaplain had whispered a message. At this very time, he had also slipped a card into the King's robe to 'help him on his way'. Randolph could only wonder where and how the Chaplain had 'borrowed' it.

He walked majestically past the witches as they fell away to huddle together. He made his way to the picture window, and leapt onto the sill. He balanced effortlessly; a ghostly weightlessness. He took a stance of the balance of Justice; holding his sword in one hand and the moon in the other.

The King was empowering himself as he addressed the Game, and knew it was listening. "Grant, the grace of this honeymoon see me safely to the arms of my greatest love. This I declare with an honest heart. Let the moon be my shield. Let Catherine be my guiding star."

The King pushed open the window of the third floor. Beneath was the mote. Or was it? "If I believe there is a forest outside this window, then there is. If I believe there is a rainbow outside this window, then there is." The King lay back against the cushion of nothing. As he surrendered so he let go.

The seven witches held their mortified breath as the King fell out of the window. Had he just committed suicide, again?

Either way, this show was the last thing they had been expecting. They had been expecting to trap him in his own mirror; barricade and seal it from this side, using his very own sword, slotted in the mirror hands.

They ran to the window and each poked their heads out to peer down to a potential mess and drowning King. They couldn't see him in the moat; the blood was too thick. They peered out at the black forests. They shut the window. And locked it - how witches would.

# 58

Catherine couldn't cling on anymore. Everything was lost. The bridge was too slippery for her to gain purchase. Every time she found courage to haul herself up, the storm tangled around her ankles and yanked her down.

Below was the void. A nothingness. Not even black. Nothing. An uncomforting still. Where nothing exists outside of itself. The true horror of the eternal mind.

She couldn't afford to go there: this was too big, beyond comprehension. She clung more desperately. She was needed; needed on this level. She couldn't afford to go anywhere else. She didn't want to drop down through. She wanted to get back to the Castle. To find her greatest love and keep him safe. Keep the monsters from his door.

She had lost Faith when she had realised she couldn't trust all the other Ones playing this Game. She had called out for help so many times it seemed nobody had listened. Everything was dead. Inside, she was dying; her body had died a long time ago but everything of what she ever believed was dying of despair.

Nobody cared enough to prick up their ears, obviously. Wye was standing in front of the mirrors, trying to make sense of her own mind, probably. The Queen couldn't reach out to Wye because Wye had given up listening and had found her way to her own personal hell. Wye couldn't help herself let alone the Queen. Her fingers slipped a bit more.

Miles below and surrounding the bridge was a dense black forest, and in it was every type of demon, released to attack again. Catherine had demons, attachments to the past. She had been the one to find her King dead in his own pools of blood from slit wrists.

She had mourned him then. She mourned him still. She had tried to mop his blood and try to save him but it was too late. He slipped over to the other side. The Castle turned to chaos. The King's people turned on her; their new Queen. They branded her a witch and attacked her. She fled to the Dining Hall, in search of her Cook, but she was hounded down and beaten, kicked and stoned to death. She hadn't been given the time to put right these matters. Everyone had judged her and condemned her, yet they had been so wrong.

She was a good person with a good heart. She had guarded her true heart well. Not even the demons knew her true heart. She had kept safe her secrets. Even staring into the eyes of Bane, she had revealed nothing of what was guarded so close to her heart. Did this make her a witch? Catherine had wept so many tears, enough to fill an ocean. For all the midwives and healers, for all the nurturers and wise women. She had cried an ocean for all the single mothers raising bastard children borne of the brutality of man and their lustful sin. Women, who had been put to death throughout time. Empresses, them all.

There were many Hanging trees in this haunted forest. Catherine could still hear these women's tortured screams, demons feeding off the evil of mankind.

This Widow Queen knew such pain; she had endured plenty. The winds whipped around her ankles and grabbed her booted feet, she could feel grief winning. Perhaps, in the void below, there would be no more suffering? If she were to fall, would the screaming stop? Would she find silence? Bear no memory and become nothing? Where all the former things will pass away. Acceptance. It wasn't that her arms were weak that she let go. She let go in this moment because nothing would be better than this.

A state of nothing would be better than the hell inside and surrounding torment. Everyone was better off without her. The Queen closed her eyes and lay back against the cushion of nothing.

As she surrendered so she let go.

Out into the blue, she fell. One single tear falling from her eye. This tear - for her Little Boy.

#

#  59

The King flew like the immortal astral traveller he believed himself to be. Sword outstretched, red cloak flapping, he flew with such speed through the changing scenery: of Amethyst mountains and brooks with singing fish, the Castle on a mound in the distance with its candlelight flickering; through to black dense forests with demons. He saw them all for what they were and they saw him.

These demons checked the flight path and sensed a strange disturbance.

Into the eye of the storm he flew and out the other side, letting go of everything he observed as he tore through the illusion. His only Intent was to find his Queen.

This is why women cry: In this moment of perfect wonder, the Queen's tear fell, this droplet held a billion tears; an ocean of emotion: each, multi-coloured with every full-spectrum emotion known to womankind. The female energy of the Honeymoon shone upon this single tear and the ocean within.

The King saw the tear in the distance, sparkling through the black. This beacon blasted the colours of a rainbow, splaying them in every direction. He let this star be his supernova and followed her path, shielded by the romantic of all moons.

He sheathed his sword, speeding faster as the star grew brighter, so bright it was dazzling; so intense he could go nowhere else: into the multifaceted he flew, absorbing all the colours as he passed through the epicentre of the grandest star explosion. As he flew through this, he needed to slow down quick. Beneath him was a rainbow.

The Rainbow Bridge to Everywhere. The King had no time to wonder if this was how the Chaplain had broken his neck but he did have time to realise it would all be in the landing. And then he saw his Queen falling through the blue. He diverted course. He was an astral warrior.

Catherine felt the energies consume her; such feelings of love and security as the universe provided a safety net; a blanket of protection, cushioning her being. She smiled behind closed eyes, at the absurdity as she fell; cossetted in a warm glow as though god's arms were nestling her to his breast; and everything would be alright after all. Be still child, and come unto me. And she did.

"Open your eyes."

"My god!" The Queen gasped, shocked to the core to find the face of her King smiling upon her.

"I wouldn't go quite that far." Randolph looked upon the woman he loved as he held her tight, suspended in time. Her skin was so soft to his touch. He ran his hand down her cheek and held her chin and waited with such yearning to kiss her lips again. He had waited three hundred years for this moment. "My beautiful Queen, how my heart has died without you."

Catherine gazed up at Randolph, and saw the King she had always loved; and felt their mutual remorse. "To be in your arms, again, my love. It took three hundred years to get a message to you." The Queen lamented. "I'm sorry."

"I was too pig-headed to listen to you. I thought I knew best. I have learnt so much, in this. I too, am so very sorry. I won't fail you again. I won't abandon you. I promise."

The King flew down towards fresh pastures of grass with the occasional sapling, here and there. The Rainbow Bridge was in the far distance; suspended way above in the sky. The Castle was on the mound on a faraway horizon.

It would all be in the landing as Randolph's feet touched the earth and he stood safe, smiling into the eyes of the most incredible goddess. He had waited forever for this. To feel her touch; to be in her aura.

In the female energy and extra magic of this Honeymoon, they kissed for all of eternity. Lips entwined, their souls coupled, their hearts became one. The Yin and Yang. The Alpha and the Omega; beginning and the end: two souls existing as one. Such was this kiss.

The couple was surrounded by all of nature's wonderful colours. It felt good to breathe. They stood entwined; the Queen nestling her head next to her King's thundering heart. She let her own fill gladly. The King whispered against her soft hair, "I knew I was a gallant enough hero. Happy Anniversary, my love." He felt his Queen tremble. He removed his red robe and placed it around her shoulders. She no longer needed to wear black. She was no longer in mourning. Red suited her. She wore this royal colour well.

He bent down and kissed her lips, felt his heart fuel up. For, at last, this King was home. And this home had such pretty colours but, such is the nature of the Game, things were never likely to stay that way for long.

The Castle was always shifting. Unseen forces. Invisible worlds, interwoven multi-layered facets of the one, collectively changing. If such royalty could stay on an island surely they'd know peace, but then, such is the rules of this Game; the past will surely find you.

Catherine knew such bliss for a moment. Such an eternal and tender moment of timeless love between a woman and her man. In surroundings picturesque like they had found Utopia, she thought she was dreaming. Everything was well, and then she felt it. She was in the shift. Something was stirring. Something not so pleasant was out there in the trees. She could feel what it was enough to know it was there. Biding its time. And then her wonderful and heroic husband spoke, "I have a message for you from the Chaplain."

There was the monster behind the tree.

Catherine moved away from Randolph. She turned her back to hide her sudden vulnerability. She dreaded this. She had put all her trust in the Chaplain and her Cook to keep safe her secret, to keep safe the fact that Little Boy was her little boy. Not even her husband knew this dark secret of hers. She could feel the monster baying. The Little Boy wasn't the Cook's grandson, he was the Queen's son, a secret kept safely locked inside the Queen's heart. "What is the message?" She asked over her shoulder and held tight her tummy that was wringing in knots.

What news of her child?

"It's regarding the Empress Card."

"Go on," whispered the Queen. She had needed this card protected so she could save motherhood and the link to her son; that eternal bond never to be broken. Such a powerful card. It could do so much good in the right hands. But if it was to fall into the wrong hands... "Tell me of the Empress Card."

"The Chaplain wants you to know he risked his neck and took it from the pack three hundred years ago and hid it where nobody could reach."

The Queen gasped, "Bless him for that. Such a personal sacrifice. He is a good man." She held tight her heart. "And now?"

Randolph shifted his feet, feeling slightly awkward. "It was discovered tonight. It was thrown into play."

Catherine's eyes fell to the Castle on the mound. Somewhere in there was her Little Boy. He might be scared. He might be vulnerable. He might be crying. "Who has the card? Do you know?"

Randolph shook his head. His Queen collapsed to her knees as though exhausted, her red velvet cloak pluming and falling with her. He went and knelt beside her. "What can I do to help? Tell me what is so important."

Catherine shook her head. The demons would hear her. They would see the chink in her armour. They would search out her Little Boy and cause him harm. She couldn't announce her truth without condemning everyone, including her son. They would climb onto the Rainbow Bridge and search the mirrors: all the rooms within the Castle until they found him. Nobody was able to help him. There could be nobody brave and loving, compassionate and loyal who could protect her son better than herself: his rightful mother.

"To utter it would be to condemn it." Catherine wanted to tell her husband everything. How her son had been born from the cruelty of rape and yet was ever so loved. And none of this mattered because the Queen had just had her heart torn out. She had failed him: her innocent and adorable little cherub.

The Castle shifted. The tunnels beneath the Castle shifted again. The earth rumbled beneath the Queen's knees. She clung to the grass as her husband shielded her from outside forces. The trees and meadows boomed out and shifted into the densest of all forests and her world turned yet again to black. The demons were still here. They had never been far away. They had bided their time. They came crawling closer from out the trees; these gnarly thorny branches and nettles in the undergrowth, the roots twisting, and growing, extending back into the interwoven bottomless floor. Unstable as ever.

Randolph managed to find his feet as the earth quaked. He saw the demons circling. He saw their hunger and their hatred. It didn't matter what Catherine was keeping secret. He trusted her heart. She would have only good intentions. He would forgive her anything, if she did but know it. The demons snarled closer. There were demons even the King didn't recognise. They bayed for blood; royal blood. The King guarded his Queen to protect her – and drew his sword...

# 60

Meanwhile through time, back at the Castle and deep under the belly of it, in the corridors: one of the twins was making his way to the West Tower, where he would surely find trouble.

He rounded another corner, pushed his ginger fringe from his speckled eyes and considered he might have been along this very path not all that long ago. He was about to carry on his journey but someone stepped out of the shadows, rounding the corner before him.

Lizzy stopped, gaining orientation; eyes of running mascara and yellow matted hair. She saw the twin. A familiar face. Happy days. "I've had the strangest night. I fell down the Oubliette. I was supposed to follow seven witches but we got separated, and I ended up here. They said something about heading for the King's bedchamber. I fancy a lie down. I'm feeling a bit groggy. Do you know the way out of this crazy maze?"

The twin shrugged.

"Ah, never mind. It can't be that difficult. Surely. I've just always wanted to wake in a four poster fit for a King and wake to doves gently cooing. I only want my white peacocks sporting tail feathers with dewdrops of bling." She couldn't gauge the twin's reaction. "Well, I'll be going on my way then." She waited for an invitation that didn't follow. "I'll go this way. Leave you to it." She tried for a bigger hint. "See you later, then." Still no use came as the twin shrugged and made to walk away.

Lizzy saw something lying in the dust of their pathway.

It was a card, lying face down.

She made to retrieve it but the twin got to the card first. He swiped it into his grasp, turned it over for a quick peep. He shielded the picture. It took him a moment to register just what exactly he had found – and all the power and endless possibilities conjuring away within it...

# 61

Jay made his way through these same tunnels; following the wolf. The gift of the apport was safely in his hand; the key to Wye's wardrobe. He had a feeling all his answers lay here.

Where was she? Why had she used a mirror to connect, telepathically? He buried the key deeper into his clutches. He followed the wolf and a darker force manifesting into a long hooded cloak of black. From this hood came the whistle of Slayer's War Ensemble.

There was nowhere left for Jay to go. No more running. No more hiding from his past – of rituals he should not have dabbled in, so fecklessly. It felt he was being led through the belly of the Castle to the gallows. His judge and executor was marching on, showing him the way. It was all Jay could do to dutifully follow.

He reached a door and stopped. The hooded demon and the wolf had disappeared through it. This was the room he had visited very early in the night. He had met up with Wye here. He had discovered her admiring herself in the little oval mirror. She had announced she was off to save her universe. After all the paranormal activity of the night, her statement didn't seem so extreme. He was Top Detective. He needed answers.

Taking a deep breath for composure, Jay opened the door to this grimy, dingy room and stuffed his last beef sandwich into his mouth.

He couldn't make out what lay beyond in the darkness but sensed a thousand fallen corpses at his feet; their failure evident: he was not so oblivious, now, to the dead on the floor.

He reached for the light. Something fell before his face and landed on the ground. Jay swooped down and picked it up. He recognised it as a Tarot Card. He turned it over to see the picture. He paid it a crooked smile. He could relate to this card.

Sometimes, he even felt he was this card...

# 62

Below these corridors; on down through the tunnels of time - and on down through the magical layer - exists that which is the Fairy Realm.

Angel moved on through the meandering hills, undetected towards her destination: the waterfall entrance to the Crystal Palace – and more – to the Fairy Queen in residence.

The Protection of the surrounding Tigers Eye was starting to have a negative effect on her wellbeing. She took her hand to under her long black and red laced skirts and checked her weapon was safely tucked from sight.

She stood behind a tree and looked down at the metropolis, so sickly, it made her want to vomit. She spat scorn at the earth and watched it sizzle. She noticed a tiny munchkin frazzle like a fly. She trod its gunk into the earth. She wiped her boot clean in the mound of grass at the root of the Elm tree. She had no wonder to touch this tree, she could already feel its disdain.

She checked her boot was clean. On the grass, she saw a tarot card. Picture side up. How her heart delighted as she held down her squeal of victory. What a bonus day it was at the funfair:

The Empress Card.

Such is the Circus of the Soul, Angel scooped down and claimed her prize. Her onyx eyes darkening as she cast them over the winning ticket. She whispered, already triumphant, "A card for all mothers. For motherhood itself. What a fascination to find you here, waiting just for little oh me."

She slid the card deep into the bosom of her corset. "Well, technically, I am a mother..." She leered at the sickly-nice Fairy Realm, stretched-out for the taking, and added, "After all, I am the mother of all demons."

To be Continued....

# INFORMATION

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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# FURTHER READING

I hope you have really enjoyed Invisible Worlds – Awakening. Thank you for taking your precious time to read my work. It means so much to me. I hope you loved the adventure and the many characters you have met along the way. If this is the case, then please consider leaving a review for Invisible Worlds on Amazon. Reader reviews are the lifeblood of any author's career and your words are as important as mine.

Thank you

Paula Heath

OTHER BOOKS BY THE SAME AUTHOR:

Quest: The British Vampire Series (Orphans of a Loveless God Book 1)")

Request: The British Vampire Series (Orphans of a Loveless God Book 2)")

Requiem: The British Vampire Series (Orphans of a Loveless God Book 3)")

Happily "Never" After – A Supernatural Mystical Romance

# ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Paula Heath lives in the Wye Valley: the English/Welsh boarder-lands between the Welsh Mountains and her beloved Forest of Dean. It was in this forest, she was born. She grew up with these forests as her playground where her imagination roamed free.

The Forest of Dean is a magical place. The mystical elements are in her very roots; blessed from first breath. She has watched the full moon over its misty ponds and imagined vampires who dwell there. She has sat on the Blood Stone wondering of the witches that trod this forest in yesteryear. She has felt their whispers on the breeze and heard them calling. All of this she pours into her writing, with gentle weaves of truth for those who swim the depths of natural law. She describes herself as a true romantic with a passionate heart.

She is happiest when she is walking with her witch's cat, Mr Binx and poodle wolf, Zen, through the meadows with the mountains stretching out on the horizon; and characters playing out some crazy scene all around her. She is blessed with a loving husband, Adam: her rock, her Gypsy King; who understands her needs to wander barefoot and dance in the rain.

Adam Heath is Team Founder and Leader of FPI, Forest Paranormal Investigations. Over the years, he and Paula have built up a reputable Paranormal Team, appearing on Great British Ghosts and radio interviews with the BBC. Paula loves exploring the paranormal; so natural it's normal. And she is honoured to have met some interesting entities who have been inspirational in her art, along her journey through her forest. As she unleashes the vampires and witches, demons and lost souls onto the world, she hopes that her words will hit home. It is her grandest dream to guide others to unlock the secrets and come find Sanctuary...

'It's safe here... honest.' PAULA HEATH
