Episode Twenty-Seven: Just South of Safety

*****Warning! Offensive language, explicit content, and trigger warnings ahead. Mentions of suicide and self harm.****
Castor, Ivetta, and Tobias crash to the dirt ground in the same positions they left the cathedral. Castor’s arm is still outstretched, brushing Ivetta's heel. Tobias' full weight comes down on her back, shunting all the air out of her lungs. She gasps for breath like a fish out of water for several long moments. Finally she's able to suck in a breath. Regaining herself she looks about her. She pauses, staring at her hand that is resting on Ivetta's foot. Although it is dim, she can tell her skin is far from the pale olive she's used to. Her skin is now darkened, a rich chocolate brown. Goosebumps appear and she realizes how cold it is here. Bottles surround them, she’s sure the smell of wine tinges the air. Leading up, a set of stairs, the glow of sunlight shining in. Another staircase with wine racks blocking it leads to some unknown location. 
Ivetta is dressed lavishly in a style unseen before. She's unconscious and as injured as she was before. The bloodied streak from the sorceress' hand in stark comparison to her still pale skin.
Father Tobias appears much the same as Castor herself, dark brown skin and dressed in rags. He looks to be in a much worse state however. Both his legs are broken, his left hand is crushed, and his right arm is a mess of broken bones. Cuts and bruises cover every inch of visible skin. 
Blood leaks into Castor’s eye, she rubs it out and gently pushes Tobias off of her and gets gingerly to her feet. Immediately, she’s struck with a vision.
She’s sweaty and most distinctly, a man. A glance at her hands shows him to be black. Several others work near her, each hard at work in the summer heat. They’re building something out of wood. It seems to be the frame of a house. One that will be quite stunning, the wood they use is immaculate quality. She picks up a bucket and gets up on a ladder. She loses her balance a moment and drops a bucket on the ground, whatever was inside splashes out. Everyone freezes. A wash of fear strikes her, a chill runs down her spine. 
A well dressed, hardly perspiring man comes over. “Somebody else come ‘ere!” The white skinned man demands, “kneel!” her body moves without her consent to kneel in front of him. He brandishes a whip. The cracks fill the air and the pain jolts down her back. Face down on the ground, sweat, blood, and tears soak the dirt. The mix sticks to her cheek, she chances a glance at the man who says, “I reckon this one is a lost cause.” He pulls out a pistol and aims at her head. Castor closes her eyes feeling a well of emotions. Anger, fear, bitterness, sadness. Her head throbs. She puts her hand to her temple trying to lessen the pain. Streaks of color sparkle in her vision then she feels nothingness. 
When she wakes up she’s face down on the ground. Wooden floor beneath her. She feels something in her hand. With great effort she shifts her arm and drags it to rest in front of her face. The first thing she notices is her skin is once again white. The second thing she sees is that she has a gun in her hand. She feels leaden, unable to move. She tries to will her body to toss away the gun but it disobeys, firmly grasping it still. Out of her control, her body stands. She finds herself standing in the mountaintop cathedral. Everything appears the same as the day she was rescued: the portal, the masked man but this time it is she who stands aiming the gun at Marco and it is Tobias bound and gagged at the altar, being dragged into the portal. Her mind takes a moment to process, her arm shakes. The raised gun aims at the back of Marco’s head but she can’t pull the trigger. Tobias gets dragged further away, she needs to decide.
Her hand steadies. She moves her sights down. Her finger squeezes the trigger, the gun aimed at his neck. With a burst of noise everything fades to white. 
She stands in a creaky old home at the bottom of the staircase. It's familiar. She realizes she’s in the hall of her childhood home. She calls out, “mother?” From her mother’s room at the top of the stairs emanates a faded, weak voice, “Castor?” With a rush of emotions she runs up the stairs. As fast as she can she reaches her doorway. She finds her mother in bed. She looks awful, her disease progressed tenfold. She lies, drenched in sweat, clutching a filthy handkerchief. Castor flies to her side, kneeling next to her, tears already rimming her eyes.
“Mother! I thought the church… they said they would take care of you!” she gently but urgently grasps her mother’s frail hands. 
Her voice is thin, “You left me…”
“Mother- I- I had to- God, He asked me…”
“You left me to die.” blood turns icy in Castor’s veins.
“Mother…no. I-”
“You're no daughter of mine.” She turns her head away, pushing away Castor’s hands. Castor slumps back on her knees, her shoulders sag. Heartbroken, her mouth works, trying to speak but nothing can be said. Her head falls, chin to chest, tears streaming down her face. Cold steel presses to her throat. She reels back, finding herself once again in the satanists camp just before her aschar activates for the first time. A split second later, it does activate but she is in control of herself. She tries to knock out all the satanists, several fall but too many resist her. Their knives slit open three throats. Blood spurts from Ivetta, Marco, and Viridis. She sees the light leave their eyes as Viridis’ sister watches with a smirk. Castor screams. 
Her spirit returns to her body but travels far far far away. Over fields of crops, through forests, and across rivers. She passes through a battlefield strewn with canons and death. Until she comes to a frozen river. On its banks, in the snow near a bridge, a small simmering blue diamond. It calls to her as all waypoints do.  
She wakes up on the floor of the cellar, tears streaming down her face, stinging the cuts on her cheeks. Her throat aches but she drags herself up and swipes them away, she doesn't have time for tears, her friends need help. 
She gets up warily this time. Creeping up the steps to the outside she pushes open the door just slightly enough to peek out. Down the street, she sees two men. They tote guns and lead dogs on leashes. The dogs have their noses to the ground and the oddly dressed men appear to be searching. Castor closes the slanted door silently and heads for the other door. 
She listens for noise on the other side but she hears nothing. She tries to open it but it is locked. Descending the stairs again she finds another small room that houses only a wash basin with dirty water, bandages, and rusty razor. 
She pulls her friends toward the locked door and goes up to knock on the door urgently. Someone shouts from outside, "We found 'em! They're down here!" There's no answer from the door she knocked on but the doors to the outside open and the men come down the steps, their guns raised. 
Castor raises her hands and meets them at the bottom. 
"What are you doin' down here?" One of the men spit at her.
"I-I just woke up down here!" She gestures to her friends, "Please help them! They're hurt."
"Shut the fuck up, (n word)!" 
The other adds, "did he hurt her?" Referring to Tobias and the unconscious Ivetta.
“He couldn't possibly! He's too hurt to have!" 
"On your knees! Hands behind your back!" He shouts at her. She complies, the other guard readies restraints and moves behind her. The back of her head is clocked with the butt of his gun and her world goes dark.
She wakes up outside in the cold, leaning against a tree, Tobias, still out cold next to her. Each is shackled, wrists and ankles with heavy chains. Ivetta is nowhere to be seen. A huge house stands next to them, white columns in front. A vast field sprawls out, dusted lightly with snow coming up to the edge of a forest. Before the woods stand about a dozen shoddily constructed shacks.
In front of the house is a porch where the two men from before speak to a well dressed man. They come into the yard out to a pair of horses, the dogs tied beside them. The new man speaks to them once more, “Well officers, thank you for bringing my property back to me.” Both tip their hats, mount their horses and leave. 
The man walks toward Castor. His face is clean-shaven and strong jawed, blond curly hair fades slightly at the top. He has an easy, in-control gait, the walk of an entitled man. He stops short of the pair and looks down at them. Seeing she’s awake he speaks to her. His voice drawls, “I say, um, I don’t know who the hell you are but I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You’re my property now, got that?”
Castor says, “What about him? He is badly hurt. He needs help.”
He flicks his gaze over Tobias, “he’s a strong lookin’ one. Gonna have to have someone check him out. There ain’t no doctors ‘round here for your kind though.”
“What about the, um, woman they found with us? Is- is she alright?”
“She didn’t seem to be hurt. She’ll be fi- Why am I tellin’ you this? It's none of your damn business. Now, you'll address me as Master Jeremiah. My wife is mistress Madison. Imma release you, you go on and get. Find some place to sleep tonight.”
He does as he promises, the chains fall to the dirt. Castor hefts Father Tobias, his arm over her shoulders and heads toward where Master Jeremiah jerked his chin: toward the shacks. She knocks on a door. Someone answers, “What do you want?”
“That- Master Jeremiah told us to get- to find a place to sleep.”
“Find somewhere else.” Many doors slam in her face. One of the last shacks an ancient woman with braided hair answers the door. She looks at the disheveled, bloodied, desperate Castor who holds her broken friend.
“Your friend ain’t gonna make it if he don’ get some help.”
“Please, can you help?”
She opens the door wider and hobbles past them. She goes to an even smaller rounded hut, several yards away from all the other shacks. Smoke coming out of it’s roof. It takes the woman many minutes to cross to the building, made longer by Castor’s desperation. But eventually they get there, having to kneel down to get inside. Little trinkets are littered everywhere. Wood carvings, basic felt dolls. A fire blazes in the center. The woman goes over to a pallet laid on the floor.   
“Put your friend down. He ain’t gonna make it very long.” 
Castor sets him down with care. “Please, I’ll help in any way I can.”
“Hush up now.”  She begins her ministrations, Castor looking on with nervous energy. Like Ivetta, the woman uses herbs and such to heal him and binds his wounds. She pulls bone back into place and splints them each. She takes his left hand, observing the fingers. Both the pinky and ring finger are a sickly black. She hums a  contemplative “mmm.” She addresses Castor, “see these fingers here?” She nods mutely. “They're gonna have to be cut off.” 
“They can’t be healed?” the woman shakes her head. “If you think it's best…” She shuffles to the fire, placing a knife next to the hot coals and letting it sit. The metal grows red hot all too soon. Castor turns away, thanking her lucky stars she can’t smell the burning flesh of her friend. 
Finished with the grizzly task she says, “He’s got some kind of sickness. You know where he got it?” Not waiting for her to reply she continues. “It doesn’t much matter. He'll need to recover here a while.”
“Will he be alright?”
She runs her hands over him but doesn’t touch him. “Yes, but if he don’t get medicine that right arm will have to come off.” 
Hot fear jolts through Castor’s body, “W-where can we get some?”
“Only place around here would be the manor.”
“Is there some way we can get it? Wouldn’t J- the master want to keep him healthy?”
She chuckles a moment and says, “you must be new here.” A groan comes from the bed as Father Tobias begins to wake up. She wipes her hands on her apron and moves to leave, “I'll give you a minute, you can bring him up to speed.” 
“Th-thank you ma’am.” She exits and Castor moves to Tobias’ side, trying not to hover her worried face too close. 
He reaches for his gun. His fingers find empty air. He grumbles, “Where are we? Where is she?” 
“I, uh, don’t know and I d-don’t know. She was here when we first got here but I got knocked out. Now we’re here. We- we escaped the sorceress but only just. I- I- I left Hollinzoller. I only barely got Ivetta. And you-are you okay? How do you feel?” He says nothing instead he tries to get up. Pain flares though his body. “Ah- st-stay down you're really hurt.”
Tobias takes stock of himself. He sees the several splints and takes note of each ache and pain. “It'll be fine, Castor, you got us out of there.”
“N-not all of us. Hollinzoller… You know saw what they did to Marco they'll do the same to him!”
“Scoff as he may, he seemed to be a soldier first to me. He knew what he was getting into. He'll get out of it if he can.”
“But- Ivetta- she’ll never- I failed them both.” 
“Castor, you have to stay focused. We have to find her and get her out first. She can be upset after she is safe. We have to find her and then a way out.”
“I know where the waypoint is in a vision but it's so far away…I actually had a few visions…” She describes what she saw but when she gets to the part about her mother she can't bring herself to repeat what she had said, opting instead to skip forward. 
“That sounds like a lot happened.” Tobias responds simply. “If it means anything, I am not sure.
As long as we're still capable we will pull through.”
“But- you’re so hurt. You can’t fight.”
He raises his left arm, “So long as I can hold a gun I'm fighting fit. That said, I think you're going to have to do what you can here. If it's medicine we need here then maybe we can get it.”
“The woman who healed you said there was some inside the house. I don't know that Ivetta is hurt. She tells him what happened to Ivetta at the cathedral, that she didn’t get physically hurt. She describes how Hollizoller went down, flinging them their escape. And how, for a brief moment she thought everyone would be safe, but at the last she had to make a choice. And even then she only barely managed to get her. “She was with us in the cellar when we got here but some men found us and brought us here. This man, Jeremiah said he owns us now? But Ivetta could be in that house.” 
“Then perhaps she is more alright than not.” He sighs, “At the very least she sounds in a better position than us. Perhaps we could get her a message somehow.” he raises his left hand again, contemplating the missing fingers. “Did this happen in the cathedral?”
Castor grimaces, “n-no they were stiff and blackened. The woman said they had to come off. I-I didn’t know and she sounded like she knew what she was doing. She said if I don’t get medicine your whole arm would have to come off.”
“It was probably an infection. It happens a lot on campaign. If we were on campaign, in my condition, I'd probably be in the position that I would be left behind.”
“I won’t do that! Sure, the waypoint is far but I’ll-I’ll steal a cart, a horse, I’ll carry you if needs must, but I’m not leaving you! I can’t-” her voice breaks. 
“I'm not asking you to leave me behind. But I have seen this before.” He sighs again, “I'd certainly appreciate the medicine.”
“If only I had mana left.”  
“Now that you're in a situation where you don't have magic you lament instead. You are more than your magic Castor.”
“I could have healed you! I’ll have to sneak inside instead...”
“Staying here with me will not progress our cause.”
“I know but…I’m not- not good at any of this. I wasn’t half good at magic either but I- I’m useless-lost without it.”
“If you're lost here, think of Ivetta. She needs your head on your shoulders. Instead of worrying, listen. There are others here. Listen when they speak and you might learn things.”
“They had little to say to me before when I needed help.”
“They might be more willing now you are not asking. Talk to them, listen as they talk.”
Castor sighs, standing up, “I will see what I can do. You stay and recover.” 
“I can do little else.” Castor leaves the yurt, bumping into the woman as she exits.
“So shall I cut it off now or later?” 
“Later. I’m going to get medicine. Is it just the master and mistress in the house? It's awfully large for just two people.”
“No, just them. There’s house servants there of course.”
“Could I be a one of those?” 
“Not in time to save your friend’s arm.” 
“Is there anywhere else to get it? Are we close to town?”
She points behind her, “town of Mayberry is two miles that way.”
“Is there a doctor there?”
“Not for us.”
“But there is medicine.”
“Yes but you’d have to steal it. And if you’ve no qualms about that there's some in the manor.” 
“I’ll get it…somehow.” the woman returns to the warmth of the hut.
Castor tries to speak with several house servants but finds none willing to speak to her until she lites upon a young girl who is about seven years old. Castor’s heart aches at seeing this young girl in such straits. She speaks with her, gaining her sympathy. First, she describes Ivetta and asks if a young woman like that was brought here. The girl says she’s never seen her. Secondly Castor asks where they keep the medicine in the house, her friend is desperate, he could lose his arm. Every few seconds the girl glances back to make sure she’s safe but she tells her it's kept in the washroom. As the girl tries to edge away Castor begs her to get word to her if that young woman is seen. She gives a slight nod, Castor thanks her before she disappears, closing the door behind her. 
Castor is about to leave and wait until nightfall to sneak inside but she hears the mistress screaming at the master using choice words to describe the women in town he's been seeing. Castor takes the opportunity to sneak inside, closing the door silently behind her. 
In the hallway, she moves silently through the hall past the grand staircase and the sitting room. She ducks into the left most room as she hears a final shout from him and tromping footsteps come down the stairs. Luckily, she picked the correct room, a washbasin and cabinet within. She finds the medicine she needs. The master sits out on the porch mumbling to himself. Castor peeks out but moves out of view as she spies the wife creeping soundlessly down the stairs and toward the door. She opens the door and it bounces closed. 
Castor waits several minutes and looks out again. She sees the mistress, her head thrown back, an expression of ecstasy on her face. The Master stands behind her, trousers down, his huge hands gripping her hips. Immediately Castor averts her eyes. Her face burns. Beet red, Castor goes as swiftly and quietly as she can to the kitchen. She makes it to the back door, desperately trying not to think of the sounds of skin slapping against skin. She hears their grunts stop but she’s already run out the door.
Flushed and panting she presses the medicine into the woman’s hand. She has Tobias drink it. 
Castor takes a few moments to collect herself, still blushing furiously. It’s not a sin if they are married. But surely it's a sin to be so open, so public about it? She’s tempted to ask Tobias but decides against it. She tells him that, based on what the girl said, Ivetta isn’t inside the house.
“So you got the medicine then, saved your friend.”
“Y-yes but you did the rest. T-thank you. I-my name is Castor. This is f- Tobias.” her mouth feels odd not adding Tobias’ title. “What’s your name?”
“I don't share my name. Too many come and go.”
“But I- I’d like to thank you…” she simply shakes her head and goes to another pallet on the floor, curling up to sleep for the night.
Castor sighs, bidding Tobias a good night. Although she herself is exhausted, her mind races, she’s sure sleep will be difficult to attain. Too shy to ask the woman to patch her up, Castor attempts first aid on herself. Afterward, she starts to fashion Tobias a crutch next to the fire. She hums as she works, momentarily enjoying the feeling and distraction of working with her hands. She scratches her cheek and finds it wet. She swipes the tear away realizing that she was humming the lullaby she used to sing to her mother. Her mother…a wave of sadness washes over her. Her mother’s words echoing in her ears. She drops the crutch. 
Castor clenches her fist, shaking. All her muscles tense as she curls in on herself, clenching her jaw and squeezing her eyes shut. Her other hand grabs the top of her head, fingers tangling in her hair. She holds there, breathing shaky.
She slams her fist into the dirt next to her, a small puff uplifting at the impact. NO! No I don’t believe that! That wasn’t her! She’d never say that! I did all I could. I tried- I tried to get her help! I did everything I could! No! My real mother understood. She loved me! And I love her…Those visions- they weren’t real. Tobias killed Marco because he had to. He had to. He had to then but I can fix it. And my friends- they didn’t die! I…I killed those satanists. If I had been in control, my friends would have died…but they didn’t. That was some trick of the sorceress! Designed to upset me. Make me question myself even more. No, I won’t be trapped. I don’t believe those things. Her jaw is set, expression determined, she sits straight. She grabs the crutch and continues to work on it. She adds the finishing touches then rises and sets it next to Tobias’ bedside then returns to her seat by the fire. She sits cross legged as if to meditate but instead stares into the fire, her eyes reflecting its blaze.
Ivetta wakes up in a very dark stone hallway. It's dimly lit with a single torch. She gets up slowly and takes up the torch in her hand. She walks forward through the corridor, she calls out “Tobias? Castor?” her words merely echo in the seemingly endless black. Out of the darkness a door materializes on her left. Behind her she hears a growl. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle. She spins around and grabs the handle behind her. She backs up through the door, ready to defend against whatever beast stalked her. 
In the room it is brightly lit. She turns around after closing the door and finds it mostly empty. But on a bed in the center curled up, shivering is the form of her sister. “Luda?!” She looks up through eyes ung with deep bags. Ivetta checks her over and ascertains she's dying. The illness, luckily, is one she can cure. She casts about for her herbs but finds her bag missing. On the wall however she finds a cabinet full of medicines. She mixes a curing concoction, bringing it back to the bed, her sister drinks it with her help. After it’s downed, she settles back in the bed. Luda disappears. Leaving the door back out to the hallway in her place. Ivetta leaves the room, the door slamming shut behind her. On the wood a symbol carved in the door begins to glow white. Curious, Ivetta touches it. She’s shoved back into the wall. Her torch blows out but she relights it just in time as she hears a creature in the dark growl right next to her. She swipes at the darkness with the relit torch shooing back whatever that was and continues through the hall. 
She finds a second door with an unlit crest on it. She opens the door backward again and begins to back in. From the blackened room she hears a familiar clicking of heels. The sorceress’ voice echoing, “I knew you'd be back.” Heart pounding Ivetta runs out. Spinning once more to slam the door shut she sees a massive fireball coming at her. Door closed and unburned, the symbol remains unlit. Taking only a second to recover, she continues down the corridor finding a third door.
Backing into this room she finds a bright, familiar church. Ivetta finds herself back in Florence, in the church she attended each week from childhood. The congregation is full, the well-known faces of her fellow townspeople, all of whom are chattering amongst themselves. She turns at last to face the altar. At the pulpit, instead of their normal priest stands Marco’s brother, Manual dressed in Mora vos Malus garb. He calls the congregation to order. “Now! Now! Everyone calm down! Miss Amorosso is here, calm down!” Ivetta stands in shock and fear taking in the scene. Right beside the altar, a cage sits. Castor resides motionless in said cage on the verge of death. Her skin mottled and bloody. Her eyes, soulless, her spirit broken.
The notion that she’s been called forward to sit in the chair slowly permeates Ivetta’s brain. 
She’s standing at the end of the aisle. Her father comes up behind her and urges her forward. She turns to look at him, a gasp catching in her throat. 
He speaks to her, “it will all be okay. As long as you tell the truth.” She tries to turn around and hug him, but he insists that she go. She nods and walks up the aisle. She sits in the chair. 
Manuel begins to question her after silencing the congregation once more. “Do you know this woman?” He gestures loosely at Castor’s cage. 
Ivetta replies as her father bid and nods, “She's my best friend.”
“Do you have any knowledge of witchcraft?...Our sources tell us that no one else is involved.”
Ivetta casts shield on herself and responds, her tone acid, “With all due respect, your information is incorrect. I too am a perpetrator of witchcraft. I'm not going to let my friend die alone.” The room falls completely silent. Every single jaw drops. Their mouths gape open, grow larger and larger until darkness envelopes the room. She finds herself in front of a door. Opening it she sees the hallway. Closing it behind her she sees the symbol on the door glow. She finds another door, this without a symbol and backs inside.
It turns out to be a library. Lit with a cozy fire, and chairs, with books written about her and her life. She rests for a time and then exits to the hallway. 
This corridor is different, much more twisted and bending. A labyrinth. After a few steps the structure shakes, she loses her footing and the torch flies from her hand and sputters out. She hears that horrible growl again but she can’t reach the torch in time. A clawes grip on her leg and the creature pulls her into the darkness. 
She wakes up in the library. A circular ring now glows on her chest, just above her heart. It displays a single crack in it. Getting up she searches the room desperate to find anything that might help her. She finds a lantern and lights it before opening the door and bracing herself for the labyrinth. She is able to find another door without trouble. 
She backs into a bar in Stralsund. One of The Bois™ asks if he can buy her a drink. Right behind him, another comes up asking the same, introducing himself as Bernard. Ivetta finds him to be a creep. 
“You from around here?” he asks.
“No.”
“That’s alright, I like foreign girls.” Gerrard sits down next to her on her other side and chats her up as well. She gratefully turns to him and leans away from Bernard. 
“You're Ivetta right? You're so pretty, I was nervous to talk to you…” 
More guys start to try speaking with her but they get in eachother’s ways. Fights begin breaking out. Random men start fighting over her, trying to attain her affections. The entire bar is filled with men, all the men who have ever been attracted to her, brawling. 
Unable to stand it, Ivetta gets up on the bar and shouts “Stop it!” they don’t stop, only escalating, beating eachother to pulps, bloodlust in their eyes. She grabs a pot and pan from behind the bar and bangs them together to make noise. They all look up in unison, fists raised and still poised to fight. Eerily they all speak in unison, “What can we do for you Ivetta?”
“I need you to stop fighting!”
“But you're so pretty.”
“But that doesn't matter! It's not worth killing each other!”
“But you’re worth it Ivetta.” They begin to chant this phrase in their odd monotone. All massing and moving toward her. 
She backs up and brandishes the pans at them, “Stop!” They continue. She says it much more forcefully, “Stop!” They continue. She closes her eyes and grabs her head screaming, “STOP!!” When she opens her eyes again the bar is empty. The door swings open on its hinges. Rain pounds the ground outside. 
She puts down the pot and pan and gets off the bar, going through the door. Standing in the rain atop a small hill is a tattered, cloaked figure. Their hood is raised but their face upturned catching the raindrops. They say, “I thought they'd never leave you alone.” Castor turns and faces Ivetta, her eyes sad, “You seem to always get the attention.” Ivetta tries to hug her, her arms reach out but she grasps at thin air. She appears back in a square stone library.  She lights the torch and lantern again and leaves. She finds the symbol emblazoned on the door leading to the bar. She readies herself against a bracing, howling wind that blasts her cheeks. The lantern stays lit but the torch peters out. As soon as she finds the next door she goes through. 
This room is bright and seemingly empty until she turns around. Immediately the door behind her audibly locks. She sees four vials on a desk in front of her. She’s not sure how she knows but she knows that at the bottom of one of these vials is a key to get out of this room. At the bottom of the other three there is nothing. Two have poison, the one with the key is harmless, and the last will wake up whoever drinks it. She turns around. Tied to chairs are two unconscious figures, their heads tilted back, their mouths open. On one, sits the quartermaster and the other Marco Fabri aka the masked man. 
She begins testing the vials, this is something she’s confident in, poisons. She wafts each vial's smell toward her. She's unsure if the first one is poison. Pretty certain the second isn't. Would stake her life that the third is. The fourth is difficult, many aspects are like poison but she’s unsure. 
She tries to pour a single drop into Marco’s throat but it won’t come out. It needs to be the full vial. She stops, instead downing the contents of vial 2 herself. A small key hits her in the face. Surprising herself that she guessed it on the first go. She pockets the key. Deciding to experiment to see which will wake someone up she pours vial four down Marco’s throat. A sizzling emits from him. He convulses and bursts into flames turning to ash in front of her. After witnessing that she determines it was poison. Finalizing her theory and praying that the potion wakes her from whatever nightmare this is, she drinks the first potion. Absolutely nothing happens. 
“Damnit!” She cries to the void, “I thought that would wake me up!” She leaves the door slamming behind her, the symbol glows. Rightfully distressed, she fails to prepare for the jostling hallway. She falls forward, the lantern shatters. She's once again dragged away and awakens back into the library room. Another crack on the symbol above her heart. 
She passes the lit doors and braces for the shaking, just barely making it to the next door. As customary, she backs into the doorway. A wind swirls behind her. She turns. All she can do is stare at this very strange thing. It evokes an uneasy feeling. A huge white tower, too tall to see the top, long streaks down its face. She turns around again, wanting to leave. She opens the door but where there should be passage through the door, there isn’t. The door stands alone, swinging open with nothing around it, an empty frame. She closes it again and it disappears.
She takes a step toward the tower. A wave of apprehension hits her, she feels in her bones she does NOT want to go there. She backs away and tries to find another way out. She wanders the void for minutes…hours…? in search of an exit but finds nothing. 
She curses herself. And crosses herself. And looks toward the tower. She moves toward it once more. The curses swirl in her head, why did I close the door, such an idiot. damn fool and the like. The thoughts continue to compound. Until she hears “I’m so stupid” audibly behind her. A grating yet familiar feminine voice. She stops in her tracks. Ivetta thinks to herself, go away! and takes a few steps forward. 
“I can’t go because you can’t.”  
“What do you want from me?”
“Don't go there. You know what will happen if you go in there!”
“I don't-”
“Face me!” Her voice is unsettling, weird, off. 
“Who are you?”
“You know who I am.” 
“I don’t… I don’t know who I can trust in this place so forgive me for not turning around.”
“I know you. You can trust me. We can talk this out. You know me, more than anyone.” Ivetta takes another step forward.
“STOP!”
“I don't know you!” 
“If you go you'll get him killed, after you just got him back!” Ivetta stops in her tracks. “I know what it feels like. Just… we can talk about this.” Tears drip to the ground. Footsteps approach her, getting closer. Ivetta casts a shield on herself. The voice sighs. “I told you, you don't need to worry.”
“How else can I get out of here? There must be another way.”
“We can figure something out. I'm intelligent, you're intelligent. We’ll find a way.” 
“Why would going to the tower kill him?”
“You heard it yourself.”
Trying to probe, Ivetta asks, “When?”
“If you go to the tower… You can't… maybe it won't kill him I don't know but you can't go there, please.”
She turns around slowly. And stands face to face with herself. An exact copy. 
“You see now.?” Ivetta stands shocked and backs up slightly, toward the tower. The other raises her hand and speaks, “please, don’t.”
“I want to hear your plan.”
“I don't have one. We can make one, together.”
“The door is gone. There’s no way out.” She takes another step back toward the tower.
“If you go there you know what will happen! There has to be something!” Her twin pleads.
“There's nothing I can do!” 
“There has to be something I can do!”  The copy says back. Both repeating, each getting increasingly more upset. 
“The door is fucking gone!”
“There has to be a way!”
“It's gone!”
“If we look together! Take my hand.”
“No thank you.” Ivetta is adamant.
“We need to be together on this. We can't keep beating ourselves up.” 
Ivetta turns and walks to the tower. 
“Stop!” Ivetta runs.
“STOP!” She runs after her, the other still shouts trying to stop her. She reaches the base of the tower. No openings reveal themselves at its base, no doors, no cracks. As close to the tower as she can, Ivetta searches again, going around and around the base. 
She reaches out and touches the tower. A door forms and opens. The hallway stretches before her. Water coats the floor and icicles hang from the ceiling. The door slams shut and the symbol appears, emblazoned on the door. Taking a deep breath she moves forward and makes it to another door. 
Another safe-room with another happily crackling fire. She finds a second lantern and arms herself with it. She searches the room for a knife but finds none. She steps out into the corridor. Wind hits her face, snow blows in, and ice coats the ground and climbs up the walls. She braces herself and moves forward slowly sliding down the hall. She slips a little once before the labyrinth shakes and she drops one of her lanterns. A creature snatches the lantern into the darkness. She drops the other lantern that slides away but she grabs it before it too is snatched. It’s light goes out. She tries desperately to relight it with magic but it merely sparks in her fingers. The tiny spark is enough to catch the silhouette of the creature stalking her before it goes out. She wakes up back in the room, a third crack glowing above her heart. 
She lights a magical light ball and the lantern on her next venture and makes it safely to another door. 
Inside it is dark but she feels someone inside. They drum their fingers on wood. She leaves fearing the sorceress’ return and makes it to the next room. This one is sunny and calm, painted beige walls and an interesting mix of smells. She turns around. It's an art studio. Probably one similar to Viridis’ father’s. Paintings and canvases line the wall, equipment for painting is everywhere. Canvases, pallets, paints, brushes, easels, etc. A few bookshelves house books but not much of interest. 
An empty canvas sits in the middle of the studio, resting on an easel, waiting. Ivetta nears the blank slate. She sits in front of it and begins mixing paints, imagining what to paint. Ivetta thinks of depicting her house but thinks it might be some sort of target. Instead she begins to splash colors across the pale canvas. An array of color and shape, line and form. She doesn’t know how long she paints, the sun never moves, but she takes the time of brush to canvas to calm her mind. 
She sets down the brush and gets up. She nods in satisfaction at her work and turns to leave. She opens the door, finding the icy hallway. This time as she walks, the ice melts around her feet. Her head throbs, her light ball goes out. She feels something trying to get into her head but she resists. She falls and the lantern shatters but she runs making it to the next door. 
She backs into the door darkness presses in, the fingers tap on the table. She leaves, making it to the next door. She hears the same tapping in the dark of this room. She leaves again. Ivetta reaches the next door. The tapping comes faster accompanied by a sigh. Ivetta leaves once again.
Her head throbs, something is trying to break her. She feels an extremely powerful magical entity reach into her head making her a screaming prisoner in her mind. Her body wakes up in the safe room, a fourth notch in her heart. She sits in a huff for a moment and regains herself.
Relighting her light ball and lantern she heads into the hallway. Down the hall to the left she sees two doors without a symbol and one with. To the right doors with lit symbols. Makes her way down the left hallway. The ice moves around her feet once more and makes it to the door without the symbol. 
Fingers. Wood. Dark. Steeling herself, this time she pulls the door closed and turns around. Dim moonlight comes through a small window as in a cellar. A cloaked and hooded figure sits at a table.
“I knew you'd find your way here…eventually.” Her voice is of one she's spoken to only once and very recently. The voice of Amanda.
“Where are we?”
“You are exactly where you're meant to be.”
“I don't know what that means.”
“Good. Then we’re off to a confusing start.” Ivetta stands at a distance. The table only has one chair anyway, not that she wanted to get any closer to her. “I’m more than willing to bet you wish to leave. Not just this room but this prison as well.”
“Yes. Do you know how I might do that?”
“It depends upon which of the two you wish to leave. This room. Or your prison.”
“I would prefer to leave my prison.” 
“I am afraid I am no use. This room is another matter.”
“How can I leave? The door is gone.”
“Not the way in which you came in, I assure you.”
“I don't see another way out.”
“You seem like an intelligent soul, Ivetta, am I correct?”
“Some would say so.”
“I am quite an enigma myself, I enjoy others racking their brains attempting to understand my motivations. It brings me such joy. And you, Ivetta seem to have a fixation on me.”
“So I was right? You were controlling the vampire?”
Amanda ignores her, “To exit this room, you have to play a game with me. One of intellect, between the two of us. I will go and then you. So on and so forth until one of us wins.”
“What happens if you win.”
“You die.”
“Are you kidding?” 
“If you win, you leave.”
“This room or this prison?”
“You can't get out that easily. I’ll start.” She stands and starts to pace. “I have towns without people, forests without trees and rivers without water, what am I?”
Ivetta contemplates a moment, “A ghost?” Her vision fades black and she wakes in the same room, a fifth crack in her heart.
Amanda asks the riddle again.
“A map.” 
“You're correct. Your turn.” 
“I give you a riddle?”
“That's the game.”
Ivetta gives her a riddle and Amanda guesses it. 
“Next one,” she says in a sing-song voice, “I am wasted by a foolish man, spent by an average man, and invested by a wise man. Everyone succumbs to me. Who am I?”
“Time.” 
“Correct, your turn.”
As soon as she finishes her question, Amanda answers it. Shooting one back at her in turn.
“I make people merry and give people mirth, even though I am old, I turn the meekest quite bold. What am I?”
“Wine.”
“Correct. Your answers are sufficient.” she returns to her seat. “You may go.” 
Ivetta leaves, heading to the second to last door. A large shake rattles the ground. She drops the lantern but she grabs it before it goes out. Her head aches and the light grows dim but she runs and just barely makes it into the last door, slamming it shut on the snarling creature on her heels.
Locks click into place. It is dark. A single pedestal is illuminated by a glowing light, emanating from nothing. A pistol rests on the pedestal.  
She goes toward it and picks it up. The revolver has three shots in it. 
As she took up the pistol, the pedestal disappeared, replaced by five people chained to chairs. Glass contraptions holding identical keys rest in the contraptions, only reachable by releasing trapdoors beneath the chairs. Ivetta finds there are three locks on the door, needing three separate keys. 
And before her, the only way to get those keys are held captive, the five people most dear to her: Hollinzoller, Castor, Tobias, Marco, and her sister Ludovica. All look very distraught and scared but none speak to her. Tobias is gagged. Ivetta starts crying but she swipes them away trying to figure out a way not to kill any of them. Touching the chain wrapped around them, trying to release them burns her hands. She questions them, “Are you really here?”
Not one responds to her, only looking on with fear.
Ivetta spends time racking her brain, trying to save them all. She decides that, rather than shooting any one of her loved ones she’d shoot herself.
Ivetta holds the pistol under her chin and pulls the trigger.
She blacks out and wakes up the gun still in her right hand and a key in her left. Still standing in the room. A sixth crack emblazoned on her chest. She sobs and tries to shoot herself again but the chamber doesn't move, two bullets remain. Ivetta hears humming in the back of her head. Sobbing, she tries to shoot it again, nothing happens. 
“Why are you making me do this?! Whats the fucking point??” She screams to the emptiness. She falls to her knees and tries once again to shoot herself. She wakes up a seventh crack. 
“I'm not doing this. I'm not playing your game!” She waits for the humming to get louder. She waits for hours, perhaps days but nothing changes. She waits for an ungodly amount of time not wanting for food, not needing to sleep, alone with her thoughts. 
She tries the key in the door, it sticks in the lock, unable to be removed.
Finally, she hardens herself, willing herself not to believe this is real. Trying to convince herself that everything is a lie. She tries to open Marco’s trap door. 
At last he speaks to her. “Ivetta, what are you doing?” She ignores him. “What are you doing please don’t- you're not going to kill- haven't you done enough to me?” he gets angry, “Say something to me before you- look at me you coward! What more could you possibly do to me?! Haven't you taken away enough from me? You took away one of my lives, now you’ll take another?” his anger shifts to pleading, “Please Ivetta! Please! Don't do this!” Ivetta couldn’t bring herself to respond, knowing she’d falter. The trap door opens and he falls, screaming. 
She puts the second key in the lock.
Ivetta is broken, her hand shakes as she aims the last shot at her sister. She too begs and pleads tears stream down Ivetta's face but she doesn't stop. Knowing if she doesn’t the nightmare will never end. 
She pulls the trigger. Gaining the third key and enough trauma to send her reeling.
She cries hysterically. It's all she can do for a long time. The pistol and the other three people have long since disappeared. All that is left is the key in her hand. She cries alone in the darkness until she physically can no longer muster the emotion. Her sobs echo against the walls, completely alone. 
She puts the key in the lock the door clicks open with insolent ease. The hall outside is different, there is only a single door straight down at the end of the walkway. Dim torches light the door, lighting the not glowing symbol. To the left and right there's just darkness not walls. Lanternless but armed with another magic light orb she edges forward cautiously toward the opposite door. She turns to see the glowing symbol on the door. She feels multiple eyes following her from the dark on either side. Halfway down, a cold chill runs up her spine up the back of her neck and up to her head. The light ball flickers. Shapes shift in the dark. She tries to recharge it. But it falters. She lights a blaze in her other palm. She feels a touch on the back of her neck just as she lights the flame, something scampers away back into the dark. Behind her the door has disappeared. As she makes it to this door, she doesn't back into the room but walks straight in.  
The walls and floor of the darkened room are made of stone. A door stands on the opposite end of the room. A hooded figure sits their back turned, on the ground. The fire in Ivetta’s palm dims. 
“Hello?”
Their head slowly turns left and her light goes out.
A grating metallic voice says, “I knew you'd find your way back here, eventually.” She stands up. Ivetta casts fire resistance on herself. 
She cackles, “You think that will work?” She unfurls something from behind her. It lands on the floor. She raises the whip and cracks it, igniting with fire. Its glow casting her rusted mask in an orange light. “Come now little Ivetta, you think you have the power to face me?”
“You're not real.” Ivetta trembles but keeps her voice even.
“Submit and I won't have to do to you what I did to your father.” Ivetta flinches. “He begged to make the pain stop. Oh, he held out for a while but I know how to handle men. He broke eventually. Give yourself up Ivetta, save yourself the trouble.” She twitches. 
Ivetta tries to run past her. She cracks the whip over her head and it comes right at her. She ducks to the side in one quick motion. She hits her. The whip doesn't make contact however no fiery pain rips her skin. It simply disappears. 
A disgusting, unholy cackle reverberates around the room and the figure of the sorceress turns to ash. The laugh continues to echo off the walls, dissipating agonizingly slowly. Ivetta goes to the door and opens it. She’s blinded by a white light. She covers her eyes unused to the brightness. She walks forward. 
The bright light continues as she awakens in the real world. She’s laid out on a cot, dressed in an immaculate, long green dress. She wakes to two men sitting at her bedside, neither her friends. One is an older gentleman wearing a badge that reads “slave catcher” and a younger man has a similar badge that says “sheriff.” They ask her what happened. She lies saying she doesn’t remember. They tell her they found her with two runaway slaves. She asks where they are now. They tell her they were returned to one, Jeramiah. She asks for the year and directions to his house. They tell her the way and that the year is 1863.
As soon as she can, she leaves. Finding a general store she immediately tries to buy a knife. Realizing she has no money she can’t pay. Seeing her straights, a nice attractive gentleman named Klaus buys the knife for her and chats her up. He says he lives above the bar and would like to see her again. As she leaves, a drunk man outside drops a coin and stumbles away. She picks it up and washes it off. It turns out to be a florin. She decides to go speak to this Jeremiah feeling two slaves found with her have to be her friends. 
Castor wakes up where she slumped over in exhaustion next to the fire. Father Tobias wakes to find his broken leg isn't as broken today. The woman gives them porridge to eat for breakfast. She tells him, “Best not be using that leg too much, the other one will take longer to heal.”
Amazed and impressed, Castor says, “It healed so fast! How did you do that?”
“Hush girl, You don't know nothin’ about no medicine.” Castor deflates a bit, believing if magic, which she highly suspects was used, were accepted here, she would have said. She thanks her for the meal and exits to explore the grounds. She checks out the stables hoping to find their steeds but only find two horses and a cart. She keeps that in mind for later.
She decides she might as well try to find Ivetta so she begins to walk toward town. 
She spots someone coming from down the road, another slave but she goes into the house. Castor also tries to walk toward the town. A big burly slave stops her, blocking her path. 
“Where the hell you off to?”
“ah, town?”
“No you’re not. If another one of us runs off we all gonna get beaten.” She looks taken aback.
“Look, I don’t belong here. I don’t belong to Jeramiah, I need to find my friend.”
“You do belong here and to massa.” Castor sighs, not wanting to fight him. 
“Well then what am I supposed to do here?” 
“It's winter, not much to do. You're not from around here are you?”
“Uhh…”
“Georgia? Louisiana? One of those southern states where it don’t snow, hmm?”
“I don't know what those are or really where I'm from but I know it’s not here.”
He gives her a strange look. “You’ll learn the ropes sooner or later. Come to my hut later, we can talk over lunch.” 
“That would be nice, could I bring a friend? I’m Castor.”
He nods, “Bubba.” He walks away but Castor is sure he watches to make sure she doen’t try to leave again. She simply looks at the house, lost in thought. The girl who came from town comes out and spots her staring.
“The hell you starin’ at?”
“Wha- just the house- its very nice.”
She shakes her head, “You youngins, you better not be tryin to get me beat again.”
“Again?? I would never!”
“Best know what's good for you and get up on outta here.”
“I was just… look we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Castor.”
“What the hell kind of name is Castor?”
“It was my-my grandfather’s-”
“Damn fool name, who named you that?”
“My-m-mother.”
“She must be sick in the head."
“Don’t insult my mother!” flustered Castor stutters, “W-Why are you trying to m-make me your enemy?”
“I don't have to explain myself.” 
At a loss for words Castor simply turns and walks away.
“Yeah, you go on and get!” Castor turns the other cheek and goes back to the hut for Tobias. They both go to Bubba’s hut. 
The smells that waft out of it are delicious. Castor knocks, Bubba answers, “Who is it.”
“C-Castor and Tobias.”
“Come in I was just finishin’ up supper. Catfish. Make yourselves at home. What was your name? Tobias?” He nods. “Never known no slave named Tobais.”
“Now you can say you do.”
Castor asks, “We need to leave to find our friend is there any way?”
He shakes his head, “Master Jeremiah, don't let us off the grounds unless you got express permission. You don't know that? Where were you before?”
Frustrated, Castor cries, “I don't know, I just woke up in a cellar somewhere!”
Bubba is wary, “Ah… I don't understand what you’re…”
Tobias steps in, “We were running. This one got the fever and… it takes to different people you understand.”
“Mmm.” he nods in understanding. “A good thing you ran into Zikya. She's the best healer south of the Mason Dixon line.” 
“Yes, she’s been most kind.” 
“Why don't you tell me Tobias, where did you come from? Your friend here seems to have forgot. Who was your master?”
“Our master was…” he pauses briefly to think of a generic name, “George. Not sure exactly, just know it was South.” 
“Jeremiah is fair enough but he's got a temper about him. If you're plannin’ to cross him just don't. Don’t. There's a war goin’ now. They say they fightin’ to free us but that won’t be for a long time. Maybe in a few years. 
“What are you…?” They give him confused looks.
“You don't know about the war? How is that possible?”
“Gerorge liked to keep us isolated, it was hard to get news off the farm.”
“Well, the country is in a bit of a kerfuffle. From what I'm hearin’ I hope those Northerners will pay us a visit. If any Northerners come across us we'd be free men.”
“You wouldn't happen to know where a map is or where we could find one?” 
“Maybe master Jeremiah would have that but uh…what job did you do for this George. Are you a learned sort?”
“I…did not start my life with George and I didn't plan on ending it there either. On that path a smart man picks up skills.” 
“I'd keep that info to myself. You play a dangerous game. All we gotta do is just wait a little while longer. Just gotta wait by the grace of God we gonna get through this.” 
They continue to chat. The fish is really good. Castor can even kinda taste it.
“....some slaves come and go to town right?”
“Just the runner girl whenever the mistress needs her.”
“I don't suppose she needs another.” 
“You'd have to talk to North, the runner girl.” 
“I already did and she does not have a high opinion of me.”
He chuckles, “yeah, fiery temper that one.” 
“I don’t suppose you could help.”
“I don't know what girls talk about. Go talk to her.” 
Tobias asks, “Did Jeremiah serve?”
“I've heard his father is an important man in the war, don't quite know who though.”
They make small talk for the rest of the meal. 
Tobias gets up, “Well, thank you for the dinner.”
“It was very good, thank you.” Castor adds. Bubba nods his appreciation. 
Before they can return to the yurt the feminine voice the mistress shouts across the field. “Where the new ones at?! Come here!” She stands in front of the house. Ivetta standing next to her. 
Castor and Tobias approach the pair. Castor sees Ivetta, a look of relief and happiness splits her face. Mistress Madison gestures at them, “you wanted to talk to ‘em, I’ll stand here while you do.” 
Ivetta speaks in the same twang the people here do, “you’ll stay? Al-alright.” Ivetta makes eye contact with Castor, reciprocating her relief. Restraining her emotions as much as possible she says, “I can't remember anything that happened before they found you with me. Is there anything you can tell me about what happened to me?” 
“We were traveling…” Tobias begins but pauses. 
Castor adds in his silence, “With-with you mistress we-”
“Mistress?!” Madison is furious, “You’re our slave now. Don’t you be callin’ her mistress. I am. You always belonged to us!”
Castor looks down at the ground, shrinking in on herself, “ye-yes ma’am.”
“They look familiar…They could be my slaves.” Ivetta says. 
“It’s not possible. I don't want to hear any more of this.”
“Please, they were found with me they seem to have answers!”
“I told you no more of this. I want you outta here! Go on get!”
“If I could ask one more thing, please.” Madison nods curtly. “My husband’s name do you know it?” 
“George.” 
“Yeah!” A fake spark of recognition lights her face, “That's my husband!” Madison starts trying to get her to leave again.
Jeremiah busts out of the house in response to their shouting, his gun slung on his shoulder, “what in tarnation?!” 
“She’s claiming that these slaves are hers!”
“You best get out of here little lady.”
“Please, they know my husbands name. I don't know exactly what's going on but they know my husband.”
“I'm going to have to escort you off my property.” 
“I know I’m causing you a lot of trouble but these slaves are my husband’s and he’s gonna be real mad if I don’t get them home.”
“Get off my land. Get your husband to come talk to me. Don't need no women muddying up this business.”
“Please, I can pay!” She shows him the gold coin.
“What's this?”
“Solid gold coin, a florin.” 
“I aint no fool. Out West they got that fools gold and I ain’t no fool! Now got out and go get your husband.”
Tobias cuts in, “Sir, George can't come cuz he’s servin’.” 
“Where's this George servin’?”
“North. He didn't really take the time to tell his slaves.” 
“What general?”
Thinking of all the most generic name he replies, “Johnson.”
Jeremiah turns to Ivetta, “Your husband served under general Robert E. Lee at Gettysburg?”
“Well, sir the letters are sporadic, he moves around a lot.”
“I know a General Johnson at Gettysburg and I have respect for these two men now if it is true- I do have a mighty big respect for them I'm sure we can go to the civil service center-”
Madison interrupts him. “Jeremiah, how dare you! I knew you were sleeping with this harlot!” She storms off into the house.
“Honey, no it's not-” He calls after her but she slams the door. He turns to Ivetta, “you best leave for now. We’ll sort this out another day, alright?”
“I'm sorry to give you trouble.”
“I'd offer you a room but my lady wife would take offense. Where can I find you?”
“I'm staying at the local church.” 
“Alright, now please go. If I see you out here I'm going to have to go through this again.”
They duck into the slave hut. Castor hugs her and Ivetta squeezes back even harder. In fact she’s trembling.“It's so good to see you. I thought I'd never see you again!”
“Ivetta!” Castor’s elation dies feeling her friend shaking, “Are you okay? You seem very distressed…what happened?”
“I was in a prison-The sorceress when she touched me I think it sent me to a prison there was this thing in the dark and and I- it was so awful.” 
“Shh, it's alright,” Castor soothes her, rubbing her back. 
“It all felt real. I have this mark every time I died in there I got another crack in it.” She reveals the scar on her chest. 
Castor winces, “I wish I could take your pain away.”
Ivetta breaks down, Castor hugging, and rubbing her back making circles. They both weep. Castor starts singing softly, trying to calm her. Eventually the sobs that wrack Ivetta subside but Castor still holds her until Ivetta pulls away. 
“I don’t-don’t have a husband, George. Maybe a guy could agree to be one?” 
Tobias, always thinking ahead says, “There's a war on. If we could get rid of those two obstacles we can make it North apparently. Castor, where was the waypoint in your vision?”
“North, by a river, but how are we gonna get you to the North? We could steal a cart but if we run they'll beat everyone, there's more than just us here.” 
“There’s a man from Germany here, Klaus. He helped me, bought me a knife in the general store when I didn't have enough money. It might be worth the risk to ask him to disobey the entire societal norm.” 
Ivetta tells them she’s going by the name Scarlett Wilmington while they’re here.
They discuss options, plans on how to leave, ranging from straight up kill Jeramiah to trying to bargain them free through the courts. If they need magic for any of their plans they have to wait a few days to get it back. 
Castor’s face brightens for a moment as an idea strikes her, “wait, Ivetta did you learn any glyphs from… from… from…” her voice fades and chokes in her throat to whisper, “Hollinzoller.”
Ivetta sees Castor’s 180 demeanor change and pales. “What…happened to him? Where is he?”
Castor already has tears overflowing her eyes. Ivetta’s heart sinks further. “I couldn’t-couldn’t- reach… I had a choice to make and I chose you.”
There’s a far away look on her face. “I- the sorceress made it sound like she had him. So I suppose in a way I expected it to be true…”
“Ivetta- I- tried…Father Tobias is right, he said…he’s stronger than- than Marco…”
Ivetta twinges at the mention of his name. 
Castor registers the flinch. “Something happened… he was there wasn’t he? I know it was horrible but…you’re not there anymore…you’re safe.” She tries to give her another hug.
Ivetta makes a small motion back. Castor, if possible, looks even sadder. Ivetta stands trying to figure out what to say, looking at the ground thinking. “Castor, you did everything you could. I know if you could have saved him you would have so…I- I know you would have- its…” she tries to say more but nothing comes out. 
Castor speaks to the ground, her voice hollow, “I-I’m sorry. I failed you. I failed him.” She balls a fist, suddenly angry, “I had one shot and I wasted it! I had one aschar I could control and I wasted it on that stupid bat! I should have–I could have– but I wasted it!”
“You didn't know we were fighting a huge beast. I don't blame you for him not being here. It just— feels like I'm still in that place. Him not being here… it feels similar.” She hugs herself. 
The anger has drained from Castor’s voice leaving it weary, “I don’t think you're there still, wherever that was. But to find him, we need to get out of here. As soon as we can. Before it’s–” she cuts herself off, unwilling or unable to finish her sentence. She sits next to the fire and closes her eyes. 
Tobias says to Ivetta, “Capitalize on the opportunity he gave you.” She nods to him and heads to the exit, off to try to enact their plans. 
Ivetta leaves and heads to the Nellysford bar. The burly guy asks her business and she asks to see Klaus. He nods leading her upstairs. She knocks gently.
“Who is it?”
“Scarlett from earlier.” He opens the door. His room is darkened, the curtains closed, bedclothes ruffled and he with his shirt off and hair ruffled. 
“Miss Scarlet, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner.”
“To dinner? What time is it?”
“Oh, I mean later tonight.”
“Of course!”
“I do not know the local fair but I'm sure we can do something.”
“It is a date.” She leaves him to look about town for the drunken man who dropped the coin. She searches but is unable to spot him. She instead goes to the records office to try digging up something on Jeramiah in the guise of looking for information on herself. The records office is located on the bottom half of the sheriff’s office. She enters finding an older gent reading a tattered book. He’s burly and wears a gray hat. He asks if she needs something. “I’m looking for the sheriff.” He points upstairs. Here too, the curtains are closed. He sits at a desk, a candle lit. “Oh, Ms. Scarlett you’re back, something else I can help you with?”
“Ii was wondering if you have any records I could take a look at?”
“What would a little lady like you want to do with records?”
“I’m still havin’ trouble rememberin’ and–” completely flustered she abandons her train of thought. Turning and leaving abruptly. 
“Ms. Scarlett?” the sheriff gets out of his seat to follow her. Ivetta feigns passing out. He runs over and catches her. “Ms. Scarlett! Are you alright!? Whatever is the matter?” He calls down the stairs, “Jimbo get up here! The lady- she just passed out. Help me get her in the office.” Jimbo lumbers up the stairs and lifts her feet. They put her on the bed, “stay here I'm gonna go fetch Doc.” Then he leaves. Jimbo sits next to her. Ivetta curses herself, wishing just to leave. 
The doctor comes in and examines her, his Northern accent saying, “She seems fine to me.” Ivetta feigns waking up, the  Sheriff crowds her as he is oh so concerned. The doctor is stern.  
The sheriff gets her a glass of water, “You took a nasty tumble. Drink this. Are you alright?”
The doctor is reserved, “Nasty indeed. What came over you Ms...?”
“I don't know but I lost my memory, maybe it's related to that.”
“Can’t say I've treated a patient with memory loss and fainting spells. Could it be the tightness of your corset?”
“I don’t think memory has anything to do with my corsets.” 
“I meant for the fainting. They might be too tight, restricting air. Medically you seem fine. If it becomes chronic perhaps someone in Richmond could see her.” 
“Is it that serious Doc?”
“I could take you up to Richmond and you can see a professional. If it becomes more serious.”
“I’d appreciate that if the need comes to pass.” The Doctor excuses himself. 
The sheriff tells her, “Rest up now, I'll bring you some supper later.” 
Ivetta pointedly does not rest, instead going through the sheriff’s papers. She finds the missing property report from Jeremiah. It describes two males who do not fit Castor and Tobias’ descriptions in the least. There is also a list of members of a search party on retainer but they’re off duty for the winter. Armed with this information she approaches the sheriff. 
“Now, Ms. Scarlett, you were ordered bed rest.”
“I know the two slaves I was found with. The ones you returned to Jeramiah? They belong to my husband.” 
“They’re your husbands slaves? Not possible.”
“But this says here– those two you returned, they don’t match anything like the description he gave.”
“You– you were goin’ through my files?”
“Ah, I was worried. I was going to ask you before. I was worried you wouldn’t understand. I needed to prove to myself those are my slaves. Jeremiah is wrong.” 
“They might be yours…I didn't know you were married. I'd like to talk to your husband…
This town owes Jeremiah a great deal. He’s a respected member of the parish…” 
He Can’t come. He’s servin’.” 
“Well, where is he?”
“I don't know but he’s servin’ under General Johnson.” 
The brigadier?
“I don't know.” 
“Do you have anything that could identify your husband? We could send a letter. The post can find him in the army.”
“Sir please, it's the only thing that makes sense. Why else would I have been found with them, unharmed?”
“Well, I suppose it does make a little bit of sense.” 
“Here look at this-” she shows him the document, pointing to the descriptions.“They don’t match the descriptions he wrote.”
“I didn't get a good look, I suppose they could be. I could talk to him tomorrow. But without your husband… it makes things complicated…”
“But those slaves are not Jeramiah’s!” 
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” She nods, accepting this is the best she’ll get today.
“I am sorry for looking through your things. I had to prove they were mine.” She suddenly makes herself look real tired and returns to the room resting until evening.  
She feins going to the church to “pray for her husband” promising to say one for the sheriff’s brother as well. She enters the chapel in case he observed her and waits a few minutes before heading to her date. 
Klaus is sitting in the corner at a table. At the bar sit big beefy bois covered in black dust. The doctor is at the bar as is the shopkeep. The bartender and his wife serve the bustling pub clientele. Next to the doctor, six soldiers in uniform enjoy a drink. Klaus waves to her. 
“Ms. Scarlett, you must be freezing here, take my jacket.” They sit down. “What would you like to eat? They don't have much to offer here.” He dominates the conversation as Ivetta questions what she’s really doing here. “Do you know where you are heading yet? Or are you waiting for inspiration to come?”
“I think I'll be headed to Richmond soon.” 
“Perhaps we can go together, if you need a companion.”
“I'm not sure when you want to leave.”
“I do odd jobs. I would very much like to accompany you. I think we could do well together.”
“There's some business in town I have to take care of.”
“Anything I could help with?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“If you think of anything I would be more than happy to help. Please we could think of something.”
She caves and tells him the story but instead of her husband’s slaves she bills them as her father’s. “They belong to my father but he's servin’.”
“You must have a mother? A place to call home.”
“See, I don't quite remember but I know they're my father’s slaves. I recognize them and they know his name. I went to the sheriff and he'll talk to him but I can't leave without them.” 
“I see your predicament. But I don't know this Jeremiah, maybe I could speak to him but I don't know what good it would do.”
“You’re sweet to offer but I think the sheriff will do.”
“It is a terrible thing not to remember who you are.” The doctor gets up, Ivetta turns her face away and he leaves without spotting her. Kalus flirt for the rest of dinner. Your eyes are so entrancing…etc etc She flirt back a lil bit. And at the end of their meal, he escorts her back to the church. 
Meanwhile, Castor has been attempting to meditate. Father Tobias sees her trying, her face scrunching up willing herself to concentrate. He gingerly sits beside her putting his hand on her shoulder. She releases the tension she was holding in them and looks at him. He asks her to find something to write. She nods leaving the tent and returning a minute later with a stick. With it he begins to drag it in the dirt, long strokes and elegant lines. He teaches her calligraphy and soon, she too is writing elegant letters in the dirt. The process is relaxing, the tension in her face slowly melts enough for her to calm her down. She thanks Tobias and revels in the fact she's able to relax. She tries once more to meditate. This time she’s transported.
She feels her head and body resting on a hard surface. Someone is shaking her awake. “Jack. Jack, wake up.” She opens her eyes to see an attractive man in a VERY strange outfit. She’s sitting at a big wooden desk. The rounded room is opulent, clean, and fancy but not gilded as it was in Versaille. “I know you're tired Jack but we gotta get to the war room.”
“The war room?” 
“Jeeze, When was the last time you slept?”
She hesitates, “I’m, uh, not sure let's go to the… room.” The man opens a door next to them and they walk through. They make their way through a nice garden. It’s night but it is a far brighter night than Castor’s has ever seen. People follow the pair wearing all black, guns in their holsters. The man leads her to a black box on wheels, and motions to get in. She crawls in and sits on the black leather seats. He gets in next to her. 
“Goddamn Russians. Looks like they’re gonna run the blockade. We gotta get to the Pentagon. Where you at right now Jack?” Castor gawks at him and the word vomit he just said to her. 
Having comprehended about 2% of what he said she responds, “Well, what do you think of the situation?”
“We can't fire on them.  We have to warn them but we have to show strength. The chief of staff found a few more missiles. I’ve got this report for you. I’m trying to get a meeting with the consulate. If we can get you on the line with Kruschev might work something out. The Italians want to use their missile as leverage. Of course we’ve got our missiles in Turkey.” 
“Why did we put them there again?”
“Listen, Jack, if you're not feeling well…I might need to call Johnson.”
“N-nah, I’ll be fine. Just, here, give me the report that’ll clear me up.” She tries to read it, but like their conversation it doesn’t mean much to her. Circles outline words. She finds square drawings rendered with such life-life accuracy, she can't even see the brushstrokes(photographs.) The words ‘Medium range ballistic missile launchers’ and ‘Bomb them if meed be in x amount of time’ stand out. However, many kilotons of nuclear warheads stands out as well. Castor knows what a ton is, a kiloton must be something awful big. A place called Cuba seems to be important for some reason. 
They get to the Pentagon, Castor hardly noticing they just sort of got there without walking very far. The man leaves her side, she tells him not to call Johnson. He gives her a look.
She’s led into the war room. Guns and men with hats that say ‘mp’. So many guns. People feeding info people pounce on her as she gets inside All addressing her as 'Mr. President' (she thinks this is a pretty odd name but oh well). Their words are all foreign and odd to her as well. The few things she’s gleaned is that Russia has weapons and they need to stop them somehow. In this war room she’s sat at a huge round table. People talk and argue and press buttons and flashing lights. Pictures move on the walls. 
Someone holds an odd curving object on their ear and near their mouth. He shouts over people talking. “I’ve got the USS Newport News on the horn. They got visuals on the blockade. Looks like they're running it.” 
Every head in the room turns to Castor.
“Sir, are we firing on them?” others begin arguing again, “no we should send a warning shot!”
“I– what about that Kruscheiv? I want to talk to him.”
“We haven’t gotten him yet sir.” 
“We need an order!”
“D–do not fire on that ship.”
“What's the use of a blockade if we're not gonna use it?”
“There’s explosives on that ship, hold fire!”
After a tense few moments the man says, “they’ve run it. They got past.”
The room of strung out, testosterone filled men is an air of anger and defeat.
The guy she met before comes back and starts talking to her saying, “I was able to secure a meeting with the consulate. What do you want me to tell them?”
“I should go.”
“Jack-”
“Look, they ran the blockade.”
“You let them through?! Jack, what are you doing?”
“I’ll go myself.”
The man fumes, “Fine, you don’t listen to me anyway.” Castor watches him storm away and then finds some poor intern and gets them to explain everything in as much detail as possible. 
After the information grab she heads to consulate’s office. 
The man is surprised to see Castor enter the room. “I thought I would be meeting with an advisor.”
“I believe this is far too important a situation.” 
“Yes, well, let’s begin. My government not willing to remove the weapons from Cuba.”
“Why not?”
“We offer her protection. From you.”
“Cuba is an independent state.” 
“Not yet. I will make it simple for you. We will continue to have our missiles in Cuba. If you remove yours from Turkey, perhaps we will stop shipments.” 
“I don’t see why we both can’t mutually remove missiles from their respective locations.”
“No. we might remove some missiles if West Berlin annexed East Germany.”
Thinking she can’t hardly screw this up anymore than she already has, Castor agrees. This decision takes the other man by surprise but looks pleased. 
The meeting concludes and she’s returned to the office in which she woke. There’s an angry Southern guy sitting behind the desk now. He says, “you need to take a break.” Her vision fades and she wakes up back in the hut, thoroughly disappointed. 
Wednesday morning, Ivetta goes to the sheriff's office. “Oh Ms. Scarlett, I was wondering where you got off to.” 
“I slept in the church.” 
“I was just going to go talk to Jeramiah, you wait here.” 
“Might I come with?” 
“Ah, sure. I suppose. It’s just gonna be manly talk.” The wind is biting and flecks of snow ride on it. Dark clouds on the horizon hold a blizzard. They make it to the estate and the sheriff knocks on the door. “Jeremiah! You in there?”
“What can I do for ya sheriff?”
“Well there seems to be a predicament here as best I can see it. Those two slaves there might not be yours entirely. It seems–”
Jeremiah snaps at Ivetta, “I told you missy not to go spreadin’ lies. What is the meaning of this? What is this slander?”
“I’m not saying that you knowingly kept them but they're not yours.” 
“I'm sick of this. God as my witness those two slave are mine! You hear me sheriff?”
“Ah…”
“Show him the papers.” Nudges Ivetta. 
“Don't let this damn harlot convince you otherwise!”
“Sir, I am no harlot!”
“I know what it's like in the heat of passion, you can't let her control you sheriff.” 
“Maybe you were mistaken ma’am-”
“Read the descriptions!”
“You think I know what my slaves looks like? They all look the same!”
“This says they're both male.”
“They are.” Jeremiah insists.
“That's not true, there's no way. I can prove it, lets go talk to them.”
“Theses slaves are my property, goddamnit.” 
“You're right Jeremiah, I don't think it'll be necessary. We don't mean to be slandering your name
I just want to sort this out in a way that's good for everyone.” 
“Then look at the evidence!” Ivetta cries.
“I’ve looked at the case and I say those slaves are Jeramiah’s.” 
“They are not! One of those slaves is female its easy to check!”
“That won't be necessary.” 
Desperate Ivetta begs, “Sheriff, please sir it'll take only a couple minutes!”
“I've made my decision. I am the law around here.” They leave. Ivetta fumes but she doubles back that night to speak with her friends. 
Castor sounds completely thrown off, “You want to kill Jeremiah and his wife? How-”
“I have a knife we can sneak in and get his gun.”
“But- that’s too dangerous!”
“I tried working with the law but Jeramiah has the sheriff in his pocket!”
Tobias says, “An alternative… we might be able to convince them the house is not fit to stay in.”
“What do you mean?”
“If we could convince them some...untoward presence is inhabiting the house, they might just leave. A few parlor tricks for you, shaking a cross off the wall, that sort of thing.”
“Then we could go in unhindered and get supplies!”
“Exactly.”
“But what if they take the wagon?”
“Then we can take them down another way.”
They agree the plan is solidly shakey but go for it anyway. Tobias limps to the stables and prepares the horse and wagon. Castor and Ivetta approach the house. Ivetta stands guard in case they come out attacking.
Through the window they see the couple sitting at their dining room table taking dinner.
North is there serving food on a silver tray. They might be having a nice dinner if it weren't for their bickering. Castor starts small.
The cross shakes on the wall. They don't even notice, continuing their shouting match. Ivetta whispers "we could use our magic to incapacitate them." 
Castor shakes her head. "I don't have enough magic left. This will work." She pulls the cross off the wall from afar. It chatters to the floor. Immediately, they stop talking. Jeramiah gets up, muttering to himself, "what on-" He stoops to pick it up. Immediately he drops it as Castor causes the cross to heat, singeing him. He shouts for North to pick it up. Castor attempts to make the plates in the cabinet rattle and shake but succeeds only in slamming the doors open. It's effect is similar however as Madison screams. A magical gust of wind blows all the candles out plunging the room into darkness. North backs out of the room. Jeramiah and Madison stand petrified in fear as the silverware from their table shudder and slide across the cloth forming letters. 
"LEAVE." The metal glows red hot and the tablecloth begins to burn. The table catches and bursts into flames. 
Jeremiah rushes upstairs and grabs his gun, hoists up his frozen, terrified wife and makes a b-line for the front door. He slams the door open, strides to the stables. He doesn't even bother with Tobias. He drags his wife onto the horse, gets on behind her and fucks off toward town. 
Ivetta and Castor grab food, about $400, warm clothes and leave as well. The house burning to the ground behind them.
It takes a day or two to make it to the Potomac river. On the way Ivetta teaches Castor glyph craft. They trundle past a battlefield with lots of dead bodies. They make it to the bridge. Castor know exactly where the waypoint sits and digs down in the snow. There they find a huge, blue heart shaped diamond surrounded by diamonds. Castor activates it thinking of the usual people and things she wants to take but a pang of sorrow hits her as she remembers the missing one.
They clatter to the deck of a ship. This one looks a little different, more modern.
TBC
Episode Twenty-Eight: Thy Quest Will Go On