Chamber of Blood

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**Chamber of Blood** is a vast set of stories from The Archives, revealed story-by-story and piece-by-piece across several Tomes.

This page intends to collect all stories and their individual parts in a single place.
The stories are ordered by Tome.

## Summaries

### Harbinger of Hell

#### Evil Eyes

In the heart of India, near her ancestral village of Mohi, Haddie Kaur, gifted with the unique ability to perceive otherworldly dimensions, embarks on a harrowing journey with her stepbrother Jordan. The duo, known for their web series 'Harbinger of Hell', is led to a forsaken fort following tales of a thuggee rebel who vanished with a mysterious relic. Their adventure deepens inside a cave, where they face menacing captors and confront nightmarish creatures with countless red eyes. After a frenzied escape from these beings, Haddie and Jordan recover the relic, a fragment of a pillar associated with grave sorrow from another dimension. Back in safety, Haddie addresses her followers, setting the stage for the series' exploration of India's urban legends, starting with the haunting tale of "The Eyes."

#### Beneath the Ruins

Stefan, a writer and show producer, is safely ensconced in a lavish Turkish hotel room, working on a vampire story inspired by a theory that all imagined beings exist in an "omniverse." While Stefan ponders this, his niece, Haddie, and nephew, Jordan, are on an expedition to find unmarked graves in Turkey. They uncover a mysterious casket with unfamiliar symbols. As they ponder its meaning, they are confronted by a woman from a secret society searching for hidden knowledge. Despite their warnings, she opens the casket, releasing a black mist that transforms her into a monstrous creature with fangs. As the siblings reel in horror, they face imminent danger from the transformed being.

## Stories

### Harbinger of Hell

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 6 - Divergence and Tome 7 - Forsaken.

#### Evil Eyes

##### Part 1

*Haddie Kaur lifted her chai tea, let the steaming, spicy cardamom and cinnamon elixir sooth down her throat, and set down her stainless-steel cup in the small dhaba near her ancestral village of Mohi. The tea warmed her insides, yet she shivered cold with a nameless terror that mocked and poked at her like a formless apparition, reminding her that all wasn't what it seemed and that there were nameless things that went bump in the night.*

*Ever since Haddie could remember she had seen and heard things beyond the veil, and she even had vague recollections of the day her parents disappeared while they were vacationing when she was five years old. She remembered the whispers, the approaching darkness, and the sense that somehow they were in another reality. She didn't remember much about that time, but she remembered being taken in by her French-Canadian godparents, the Rois, who raised her with their son, Jordan.*

*Now Haddie and her older stepbrother Jordan were in India, filming episodes for their fairly successful web series 'Harbinger of Hell' with their uncle Stefan. A fan had sought them out after having watched one of their episodes about interdimensional overlaps which Haddie could sense, feel and even explore if her focus was right and she was able to 'tune in' as she so often described her process.*

*As their luck would have it this mysterious benefactor had funded an entire expedition all over the world, giving her brother and uncle access to countless remote and classified areas of known paranormal activity and unexplainable disappearances.*

*Haddie sipped her tea, listening to the villagers speak a language that reminded her of her disappeared father, and she suddenly heard a familiar voice and Quebecois accent that stood out from the rest calling out her name.*

*A moment later Stefan entered the dhaba with Jordan. “I found the site of the massacre,” Stefan said. “Finish your tea, and let's get outta here!”*

*Haddie sprang to her feet and followed her uncle and brother into the scorching hot day.*

##### Part 2

*“The thugs were ambushed in the valley near the ruins of the old signalling fort,” a turbaned man with a beard said. “I'm not sure what you hope to find here. Most stay away from this place like the plague.” He stared at the older teens as if they were mad. “You should have returned to the hotel like your uncle. Nothing here but the eyes, and they're probably watching us right now.”*

*Haddie and Jordan didn't answer or want to explain that their uncle didn't have the stomach for adventure, that he was more of a producer and that he was trying to finish off a horror novel he'd been working on for the last ten years. Ignoring the guide's nervous ramblings, Haddie studied the white stone bricks of the ruined fort and the surrounding caves with a strange feeling that they were being watched.*

*The guide said, “The official story is a unit of British soldiers died fighting a band of thugees.”*

*“And the unofficial story?” Haddie turned to him. The guide stared at her for a long moment. “The unofficial story is they turned their rifles and swords against each other. Something in these caves drove them mad.”*

*Haddie absorbed this and closed her eyes while Jordan filmed the ruins and the caves. Calming her heart and silencing her mind, she began to hear the rising screams and cries of people being butchered. When she opened her eyes again, she could see the scintillating orange residual memories of British soldiers cutting down thuggee rebels.*

*One thug seemed to be holding something important in his hands as he escaped the massacre. She walked through residual memories and approached the thug, starring at a piece of broken pillar in his hand. The thug desperately clambered over the rocks and rubble, charging into a nearby cave with the soldiers in hot pursuit.*

*Jordan stepped up behind her. “Did you see anything?”*

*Haddie nodded and pointed at the cave the thug had run into.*

*The guide raised his eyebrows. “And that's my cue to go,” he said, turning his back on the siblings. “Not that I think you're both crazy... which I do... but I need to get home before my wife realises I'm gone. It's my day to make rotis and pick up the kids from school.”*

*Haddie and Jordan watched the guide disappear down the rocky, sun-baked valley. Then they turned and approached the gaping mouth of the cave. For a long moment they stared into the darkness without saying a word. Jordan turned on the flashlight of his cell phone and just as they prepared to enter, they heard the crunch of stone behind them. Brother and sister turned slowly to face the barrel of a rifle.*

##### Part 3

*Three men speaking an ancient, unknown language forced Haddie and Jordan through the dark and seemingly endless cave with flickering flashlights to illuminate the way. Somehow these captors knew Haddie had a gift and were barking orders for her in broken English to lead them to the place where the thuggee rebel had hidden the relic. She didn't recognise her captors but it wasn't the first time someone had forced her to find something with her special abilities.*

*Haddie followed a trail of residual memories—memories and whispers only she could see and hear. She could sense they were walking through an 'overlap' of realities which heightened and reinforced her abilities in an inexplicable way. She followed the scintillating orange trail and froze when the residual soldiers suddenly disappeared. Then she started when the soldiers blinked back into existence and she heard desperate screams as something she couldn't make out attacked them.*

*“What is it?” one of her captors asked.*

*“She's seeing something,” Jordan said. “Let her do her thing.”*

*“This better not be a trick!”*

*Haddie watched the indiscernible creature rip the soldiers into an unrecognizable mess of flesh and gore. The creature then snatched the thug and dragged him screaming through a series of interconnecting tunnels. She chased after the fading memory, entering a small cavern as she watched the thug release the relic as the creature dragged him into a smaller tunnel that she imagined led to a feeding den.*

*Memories burned out like dying embers to reveal a cavern of human bones piled over thick rotting sludge. She winced at the stench of fermented organs and fluids and waved a cloud of flies away from her face. Near one pile of bones was a corpse, still warm, flayed from head to toe, eyes missing, mouth transfixed in an agonising scream. The captors stared at the corpse for a long moment before one prodded Haddie with the barrel of his rifle.*

*“What the hell did this?” One of their captors murmured in disbelief.*

*“There must be a bend in reality here.” Another captor offered as an explanation. Haddie noted that what she called an 'overlap' these men called a 'bend.' It was clear that they had an understanding of other dimensions and that somehow this piece of column was more than just a relic.*

*“Where is it?” The leader prodded Haddie. “Where's the relic!”*

*Haddie took a moment, then pointed at a pile of bones. “But it could also be in there...” She motioned toward the tunnel that led to the feeding den.*

*“Check the bones,” one captor ordered the siblings.*

*Jordan and Haddie kneeled in the sticky sludge and rummaged through the bones as the leader turned toward the shadowy tunnel. He inched close to the opening and flashed a blade of light inside. While the other two captors were dealing with flies and covering their noses, Haddie found the jagged piece of column and stealthily slid it over to Jordan.*

*A sudden chatter of teeth and hissing made them all turn to the leader. He searched the darkness with a beam of light that suddenly momentary revealed a grotesque creature with a face covered by dozens if not hundreds of glowing red eyes.*

*The leader brought the beam back to the face as the creature hissed and revealed a mouth filled with needle-like teeth. An instant later the creature grabbed the flashlight and pulled the leader inside the den.*

*The other captors stumbled, dropped things and fired stupidly into the darkness. Haddie instantly grabbed a fallen flashlight, looked at her brother with wide, desperate eyes and yelled for him to—*

*“RUN!”*

##### Part 4

*Jordan and Haddie rushed through the cave with the screams and cries of dying brutes echoing through the bowels of the mountain. “What was that thing?”*

*“I didn't get a good look and I don't really want to!” Haddie yelled and she could see the sunlight ahead but sensed they wouldn't make it. “Keep going!” She yelled and turned to face the darkness with only a flashlight.*

*The hissing and crumbling faded to silence. She had no idea what she was going to do next. She narrowed her gaze, waiting. Teeth suddenly chattered and a hundred red eyes bore down on her.*

*Haddie inched back and fell to the ground beside a skeleton holding a kukri in one hand and a revolver in the other. She instantly wrenched the weapons out of its boney hands and clambered to trembling feet.*

*The creature approached slowly, hissing and chattering, its terrible eyes fixated on her. She stared at long arms and fingers with claws like knives. She lifted her arm and aimed the revolver at its head. Then she pulled the trigger and—*

*Nothing happened.*

*A hundred eyes stared down at the revolver, then back at her.*

*“Shit.”*

*The creature hissed, then attacked with a roar. Haddie evaded. Terrible claws swished overhead and hit the wall. Bits of rock and stone rained over her.*

*Covered in debris, she sprang up and ran with the creature in pursuit. She turned in the gathering dust and instinctively felt the attack before it came as she often did. With one quick thrust of her arm, the blade of the kukri severed the hand. The creature shrieked something terrible.*

*Haddie seised the opportunity to severe the head but the creature lunged away and the blade hit the stone wall. The kukri vibrated out of her hand and she dove to the ground as the creature charged her.*

*Tumbling away, Haddie instinctively grabbed a slab of stone. The creature attacked and missed, hitting the wall. Without hesitation Haddie smashed the slab over its bewildered head with a terrible crunching sound she wouldn't soon forget.*

*The creature collapsed and Haddie, adrenalin rushing, bludgeoned the head and eyes. When there was nothing left but a sticky, warm pulp she released the gore-covered stone and fell back on her haunches to gather herself. But no sooner did she relax than she heard the rising crescendo of chattering teeth echoing through the darkness.*

*With an almost defeated sigh, Haddie staggered to her feet. White fear flashed through her mind as the chattering and hissing grew louder and louder. Teeth clenched as thousands of red eyes flared up in the inky blackness of the cave. She backed away slowly, then spun on her heals and ran!*

##### Part 5

*Haddie charged toward the mouth of the cave with millions of eyes and chattering teeth on her heels. She felt the swipes at her back but never wavered. She vaulted wildly out the mouth just as one creature lunged at her. Haddie tumbled out of the cave as the creature hit an invisible barrier where the overlap of dimensions ended. She turned to see the dark mouth of the cave fill with scathing red eyes.*

*Jordan stepped up behind her. “Helly Haddie, does it again,” he said with a laugh.*

*Haddie gave her brother a dirty look. “Don't call me that,” she said curtly. Even though he had meant no harm, it was a name along with 'The Harbinger of Hell' children used to call her because bad luck, strange things and unexplainable accidents seemed to follow her. Years of therapy gave her the courage to accept her abilities and to boldly call her series the Harbinger of Hell.*

*Exhausted, Haddie sat on a sun-baked stone and watched the red eyes slowly disappear from the gloom of the cave. “Did you catch the creature on your shirt cam?”*

*Jordan shook his head as he sat beside her. She didn't think he would as creatures or relics from other worlds didn't register and often left blurs or glitches.*

*Jordan sighed and handed over the relic they had recovered. “What do you make of it?”*

*Haddie held it and felt great misery. In her mind's eye she saw cloaked figures hiding pieces of the same pillar in another world. She shrugged and kept what she had seen to herself. Then she pulled out her cellphone and handed it to Jordan. He centered her in the frame and indicated he was filming.*

*Haddie cleared her throat, mopped her forehead of sweat and soot, looked into the lens, and proceeded to address her online followers:*

*“My name is Haddie and I was born with a wonderful curse. All my life I've attracted strange and unusual things, and when I was twelve, I realised I was able to acquire insight to unexplainable events and otherworldly places.”*

*She took a moment to calm her racing heart. She swallowed her fear, remembered she had a series to sell, and forced energy and pep into her voice. “What do you need to know about India? It's where my father grew up and it's where I am today to explore the urban legends of this amazing country.”*

*Haddie took a moment to find her words.*

*“Our adventure begins in Northern India at a strange place locals call The Eyes or the Valley of Evil Eyes where hundreds have disappeared or died including a unit of British soldiers in the 1800s. What happened to these soldiers? Where did they disappear to? And is there any merit to the accounts of a cave-dwelling demon with eyes around its head that burn right through the soul?”*

*Haddie stared meditatively into the camera and wanted to say 'yes' to every one of her questions but decided it was better to leave them up to interpretation. After a dramatic pause, she finished, “Take a look at what we discovered. Judge the evidence for yourself... and see if there is any truth to the Evil Eyes of the Himalayas.”*

#### Beneath the Ruins

##### Part 1

*Stefan sipped his cold Turkish coffee as he read over his early-morning efforts toward a short story he hoped to share on his blog. He read the opening lines and decided they could be stronger. With a sigh, he tore the yellow page from the legal pad, crumpled it into a ball and tossed it into a growing pile of false-starts in the middle of the opulent, black and burgundy hotel room. He slammed the desk, frustrated, and wanted to write something fun and original for his blog, yet nothing came to him. The latest episode sponsored by their mysterious benefactor had his production team investigate ancient tombs in South-West, Turkey. Not so much him. But his niece and nephew, who had tougher nerves for the macabre.*

*Stefan much preferred a safe and cosy hotel room where he could raid the mini-bar and see to the logistics of the show. It wasn't that he didn't like adventure. It was more that he didn't like graves, tombs or places that felt dark, creepy and dangerous. Haddie had once suggested that he wrote horror stories as a kind of therapy to work out his fears and anxieties of the unknown. She was half right. The other half was that he simply liked to be alone—alone with all the characters and voices chattering in his head, voices that demanded to be heard and set to paper.*

*Now the voices were compelling him to write a vampire story. Their benefactor claimed that there had been a village of real vampires in ancient Anatolia that had been hidden from the rest of the world. According to the intelligence provided, vampires weren't fictional monsters but actual intra-dimensional creatures that had once tried to overrun the world. They had been defeated by an unknown group of mystical warriors. Somehow the few creatures that had survived managed to erase themselves from history by warping and weaving whatever memory of them was left into exaggerated myths and legends.*

*Stefan found this theory of myths and legends and parallel worlds interesting if not intriguing.*

*Vampires real.*

*Actually, real.*

*Nothing like the movies, but real nevertheless.*

*One theory he had just finished reading online suggested that everything created or imagined existed somewhere in the 'Garden of Infinity.' In other words, stories and characters came from a real place in the infinite landscape that was the omniverse.*

*The theory went on to suggest that artists had somehow unlocked their third eye and were able to see into other realities. An idea, a vision, or a dream, according to the theory, was the pineal gland seeing into the infinite for truth, wisdom, inspiration. The brain, then, was a quantum computer that could network with the infinite. It was a nice idea. It meant that his most cherished characters from his favourite books… were somehow… somewhere… real. A sudden knock at the door startled him out of his quantum musings.*

*"Mr. Roi… Your lunch is ready."*

*Lunchtime already and Stefan still didn't have his story. He rose lazily in his bathrobe, hoping Jordan and Haddie had better luck finding the unmarked graves they had set out to find. He imagined his niece and nephew were enjoying the sun while filming the ruins and enjoying the peanut butter and banana sandwiches he had prepared for them.*

##### Part 2

*"Move away from the casket!" A middle-aged woman with blonde hair and blue eyes dressed in a black suit pointed a revolver at Haddie and Jordan. Haddie dropped her shovel, sighed, exchange a look with her brother and stepped away from the bolted casket.*

*"Who do you work for?" Haddie asked, eying the woman.*

*"That, my dear, does not concern you."*

*Jordan shook his head. "I don't think you should open it."*

*"Shut-up!"*

*"My brother's right." Haddie pointed at the symbols etched all in the rotten wood of the casket. "It's a warning of some kind… whatever's in there… is meant to stay in there." She scrutinised the half-crescent and three dots and wondered what they meant. They didn't resemble any of the other symbols she had come across in the last few months.*

*"Superstitious nonsense!" The woman yelled, aimed the revolver at the bolt and pulled the trigger. A report echoed through the ruins and the surrounding forest.*

*Haddie wondered if their guide and translator had heard them. He probably didn't even take notice or didn't care. He refused to follow them near the tombs, called them ignorant tourists, and said he would stay by the car texting his friends until they returned. The woman pulled the trigger repeatedly until the bolt clanged off and hit the ground with a thud.*

*"I hope he calls the police," Jordan whispered to Haddie.*

*"I wouldn't count on it…"*

*The woman examined the casket carefully. Haddie and Jordan inched backward as she struggled to yank the lid open. As Haddie cautiously backed away, she figured the woman worked for the same secret society that had now interfered with several of her investigations.*

*She didn't know much about them, but from what she had gathered by overhearing a few of their goons in Egypt was that they were searching for hidden knowledge—knowledge they believed would help humanity transcend to another plane of existence.*

*"Please…" Haddie cautioned. "Don't open it until we know what the symbol means."*

The goon scoffed and, with a laboured scream, yanked the lid open to reveal—

*Nothing.*

*Nothing but a strange black mist.*

*"I don't understand," she said. "It's supposed to be here… the book…"*

*The goon's eyes narrowed. Frustration creased her face as black mist suddenly rose and spiralled into her mouth and nose as though it were alive.*

*Haddie and Jordan stepped out of the grave.*

*The woman gagged, coughed and collapsed. There in the dirt, she jerked and twitched in all kinds of unnatural directions, screaming and shrieking as the mist reshaped her body into something indescribably grotesque. Her veins stood out thick and black in her neck. Her hands smashed the ground, and she went into hysteric convulsions as though being burned alive. Then, with a blood-curdling scream, her body went limp and silent.*

*Haddie repressed a cry of horror. She felt a cold prickle run down her spine as she stared at the scene in disbelief. What was going on? What strange mist could do such a thing to a person? Was it some kind of ancient poison… some kind of toxic vapor… or was it something worse…*

*"Well… you don't see that every day, do you?" Jordan said flatly. "I seriously wish I got that on my phone."*

*Haddie sighed. "Is she dead?"*

*"Dead as a tomb."*

*Haddie didn't find him funny. Not in the least. He was scared. She could tell by his desperate attempt to use humour to hide his fear. He was just about to crack another joke when the creature suddenly twitched back to life.*

*Startled, Haddie gasped and pulled at Jordan's t-shirt, saying, "We need to get out of here." But just as she stepped back, the creature turned to face them with blood-red eyes and a jaw protruding like a snout with teeth that seemed to be growing underneath stretched skin.*

*"Oh shit!" Haddie blurted. She lost her footing, and fell to the ground with her brother. The creature that had once been a woman roared at them, revealing two massive fangs like carving knives.*

##### Part 3

*"This way!" Haddie yelled, leading Jordan through the shadow and light spilling through the forest canopy. She could hear the creature shrieking as it hunted them with unnatural speed and resolve. Spotting an outcrop of jagged rocks, she quickly yanked her brother into hiding.*

*"Aren't vampires supposed to explode in sunlight?" Jordan asked. "I mean, isn't that what's supposed to happen!? Doesn't it know it's supposed to be dead?"*

*Haddie instantly placed a finger by his quivering lips as she heard footfalls approaching. She repressed an urge to look at the creature. Instead, she listened. She could hear the clattering and hissing coming from its hungry jaws. She could hear the crunch of stones and the distinct snap of twigs as the creature searched for them. Then the footfalls seemed to change direction, growing fainter and fainter until all she heard was the chirping of insects.*

*Haddie heaved a shuddering breath.*

*Jordan gulped and swallowed a lump in his throat, saying, "We should have respected the warning."*

*"If that's what it was… a warning…"*

*"What else could it be?"*

*"I don't know… What I do know is… we've released something foul into the world."*

*"And by foul you mean the vampire and not gas," Jordan said with a smirk. "Just clarifying."*

*"Not funny."*

*"A little funny."*

*"No. Not even a little."*

*Haddie risked moving beyond the rocks. She glanced apprehensively, half expecting the creature to hurl itself at them. When nothing happened, she stood and, slowly and quietly, led Jordan back toward their guide.*

*As she pushed her way through the woods, she couldn't help but notice the similarities between all the symbols she had seen at the last few investigation sites. They were unlike anything she had ever seen before and she had discovered them in completely different parts of the world. India. Africa. Portugal. England. Paris. And now… Turkey.*

*Haddie couldn't help but feel something was amiss. She broke the silence, saying, "We're being pulled into something far more complex than we've been led to believe. Almost like… we're being used…"*

*"Used? For what? Who cares about a bunch of bozos from Montreal who release foul things into the world?"*

*Haddie shook her head, gave him a grave look and answered, "I don't know. But I think it's about time we meet our mysterious—"*

*A twig snapped, startling the siblings.*

*Before Haddie could finish her thought, the creature stood framed between two trees, dappled in sunlight.*

*Jordan screamed in terror as the creature lunged at him, grabbing his arm and sinking its bony claws into his skin. With a mighty roar, the creature hurled him against a tree with a thud. Groaning, he sagged to the ground as inky blackness seeped down over his vision.*

*Haddie thought quickly, spotting a fallen branch on the ground.*

*The creature inched closer to Jordan, staring at him as though he were a steak. It kneeled before him and prepared to sink its fangs into Jordan's neck to satiate its red thirst. Just as it opened its gaping mouth, a resounding yell interrupted it.*

*The creature hissed and turned just in time to receive a branch across the face. It fell to the side, then scrambled to its feet, locking eyes with Haddie.*

*Haddie backed away slowly, glad she had saved her brother from certain doom, but unsure what would happen next. Then, inspired by the vampire films she had seen with her uncle Stefan, she turned the sharp side of the branch to face the creature just as it pounced on her like a lion.*

*The make-shift stake hit its mark, skewering the creature straight through its monstrous heart.*

*The creature shrieked something awful and collapsed to its knees, holding the stake. Wiping her brow, Haddie stepped away from the creature and approached her brother. But a sudden squelching sound froze her to the core. Slowly, she turned to watch the creature pull out the stake with the pulpy, dead heart still attached.*

*The creature tossed the heart to the side with a mangled smile. An instant later, it pounced over Haddie, taking her to the ground. Haddie pushed and jerked under its powerful grip as it salivated and peered hungrily at the thick arterial vein pumping in her neck.*

*Saliva dripped down Haddie's neck slow, warm and slimy like a slug. She screamed, and then had no breath to scream and began to see not stars but…geometry… symbols… symbols she had previously discovered in The Overlap as she often called it. She didn't know what else to call what she understood to be a Venn intersection of worlds where she could see and access knowledge and memories no one else could.*

*Haddie closed her eyes and saw the twisted triangle symbol she had just uncovered in an ancient temple. Then she saw the strange circle slashed in half with a line that she had discovered all over the walls and floor of an abandoned asylum as though someone or something was conducting dark experiments in The Overlap on the patients. It was all very bizarre and new to her.*

*Now, as the creature prepared to feast on her blood, Haddie wasn't seeing memories pass before her eyes but all these strange and arcane symbols that felt older than life itself—as though someone or something were trying to send her a message from The Overlap.*

##### Part 4

*As the creature prepared to quench its thirst, Haddie felt the end coming. Desperate hands fumbled over dirt and twigs, searching for something, anything. Then, just as the creature prepared to puncture her neck, she grabbed a rock the size of a baseball and smashed it straight through its mouth, shattering its deadly fangs.*

*The creature jolted to its feet with mad agony. Pieces of bone and tooth dropped into a thick puddle of blood and saliva. Haddie turned to see Jordan moaning. He was alive, barely, nevertheless alive. Relieved, she scrambled to her feet, trying to think of a way to destroy this ancient evil once and for all. Then she saw it—*

*The revolver!*

*Hanging from the belt!*

*Without hesitation, she rushed up to the creature as two new white fangs pushed out the bloody remnants of the old. Before it realised what was happening, she snatched the revolver and shot the creature point-blank in the face.*

*The creature fell head over heels as Haddie unloaded the revolver into its face and body. But bullets were futile against this otherworldly apparition. Within moments the creature was clambering to its feet the whole while staring at Haddie with blood-red eyes. Nervously, she inched backward, not knowing where to go or what to do. There was nowhere to go. Nothing she could do. This was the end.*

*With incredible speed and strength, the creature pounced and took Haddie to the ground. Gleaming white fangs approached her neck with malice. She jerked and kicked and screamed under its weight. She felt its warm breath inches away from the nape of her neck. Then, in her mind's eye she saw them again.*

*The symbols.*

*All of them.*

*They swirled and flashed and then coalesced into one symbol—the symbol she had seen etched in the casket. With dawning realization, she understood. The symbol wasn't a warning but a seal—a seal to imprison this unfathomable, indescribable creature.*

*As the creature prepared to gorge on her life, she managed to grab something sharp off the ground—*

*Its broken fang!*

*And with the last of her strength, she managed to etch the crescent and the three dots deep into its cheek.*

*Suddenly, the creature's eyes widened into great big pools of disbelief. It looked at Haddie in abject terror as it stumbled backward, desperately trying to scratch the symbol off its ghastly face.*

*But it was too late.*

*Black mist like acid bubbled and burned through the creature's skin. The percolating mist filled its lungs, chest and neck. The belly and chest ballooned as pressure bludgeoned the creature from within. Then, with an agonised shriek, it exploded like a cherry bomb.*

*Covered in gore, Haddie dragged herself beside her rousing brother.*

*"What did I miss?" he groaned and sat up, leaning against the tree. He narrowed his gaze and peered through the thin red mist of blood that hung heavy in the air. "Where's the—"*

*His voice trailed away as he noticed the shards of bone and chunks of flesh covering his clothes. In silence, they picked off bits and pieces of the creature. Then Jordan broke the silence, saying, "Well… this was pleasant… pleasant as a funeral."*

*Haddie didn't respond to his stupidity. She was thinking about the symbols they had come across in their investigations. She wondered what they meant, where they came from, and if there was something connecting all these paranormal sites they were being sent to investigate. Moreover, she wondered if their benefactor was using them in some kind of chess game against forces unknown.*

### Ole Bloody

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 7 - Forsaken.

*This is the story the tour guide told us after showing us around the old Mad Canyon Distillery in Moonlight Bay. She offered the adults a taste of Ole Bloody, a recipe that had been infamous during prohibition. While we tasted the bathtub gin, no one spoke as the firewater burned down our throats. The tour guide talked about the abandoned distillery we were walking through, telling us about how the first gang had all but disappeared before the legendary Al Capone got his hands on the operation. She must have told the story often as she spoke fluidly and made gestures and pauses at all the right moments.*

*"Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm not one for tall tales but what we know of the disappearance of the Maddy Hatter Gang is very much a vampire story if ever I heard one. The Maddy Hatter Gang was mostly made up of the Maddock family led by the father Hank who had a thing about collecting hats from the rival gang members he butchered. He must have stolen the wrong hat because that bloodlust came back to haunt him in the fall of 1921 when his gang disappeared with only the youngest of the family left to tell the tale of what had befallen them. And what had befallen them was indeed a great mystery. A mystery people to this day bicker about and dismiss as an urban legend. But I swear it's no legend and all of it is the truth.*

*"The twins Candice and Coddy, while returning with some equipment they had picked up in Ontario, drove into the valley and then carried the copper tubing and flasks into the caves where the gang prepared their white lightning. But when they arrived they found nothing but blood. Blood on the floor. Blood on the walls. Blood, if you'll believe it, running through the tubes and coils of the still. At first, they thought it may have been a rival gang. But there was no sign of bullets or bodies or even a struggle — just blood and an uncanny fog that hung low and heavy in the air.*

*"The twins instantly resolved to find whoever had done this to their gang and moreover they wanted to give their siblings, cousins and parents a proper burial. So they grabbed a lantern and plunged into the twisting bowels of the mountain, following a trail of blood. They searched deep into the night with no result. Coddy shone the lantern and was just about to tell his sister he was beaten when he heard the crunch of stone in the distance. He charged ahead, and she chased after him, stumbling over a boulder, hitting her head against the ground and losing consciousness.*

*"When Candice roused, she sprang to her feet and rushed toward the flickering lantern light, screaming her brother's name. Through dancing shadow and light, she approached her pale brother sprawled over the ground with two small puncture wounds in his neck. She felt his chest for a pulse and gasped when she realised he was dead. She shuddered, then screamed, and moved by an unknown force, she grabbed the lantern and charged forward. Then, without realising it, she entered a massive cavern, feeling the ground beneath her feet turn to mush.*

*"She shone her lantern around, revealing piles of human skulls amidst thousands of beetles moving through a thick sludge. At her feet, she saw a few beetles devouring a sick bat. She tensed and looked upward to see thousands of bats sleeping. A few beetles scurried over her foot with morsels of rotting flesh and she kicked them away. She swallowed her fear, realising that if she woke the bats, they would strip her flesh clean in a matter of minutes. Then she glanced at familiar barrels in the corner by a pile of animal bones.*

*"Silently and carefully, she made her way past the bones. Opening the barrel, she cringed as a horrible stench assaulted her nose. She peered at the dark brew and wasn't sure what she was looking at. Then she realised she was staring at fermenting lumps of flesh in thick, putrid blood. She was in the vampire's lair. But before she could continue her search, a roar suddenly startled her.*

*"Candice turned and found herself staring at a demon with fangs with a swirling black fog rising at its feet. Through the fog, she saw it was wearing her father's hat. She gave a shout of revenge like thunder. The vampire twisted its ugly head in startled disbelief. Fearlessly, Candice threw herself at the vampire. She didn't care what this thing was or where it came from. She just wanted it dead, and she wanted to do her family proud. The vampire meant to kill her by sinking its fangs in her neck. But she felt strong enough to bring down a mountain.*

*"And so she jerked and kicked and pushed its snarling face. With a snarl of her own, she bit back at the vampire, tearing pale flesh off its neck with teeth and jaws strong enough to crush rock. Before the vampire realised what was happening, she gouged its eye with her thumb, ramming it deeper and deeper as it desperately clawed flesh off her arms and face. But she didn't care. She would not be denied, and within moments she felt the delicate brain matter like warm mud and smiled. Then she curled her finger and yanked as hard as she could with a mad laugh.*

*"With a shriek, the vampire convulsed violently, then stopped all at once, its jaws frozen in a twisted, agonised howl. Unable to control her growing laughter, she took back her father's hat and stood proudly as open wounds leaked and sputtered blood. Then the fog rolled over the vampire and somehow made it all disappear. The vampire. The bats. The beetles. The blood. Everything.*

*"Needless to say, no one believed Candice and she was put into an asylum to shut-up and wither away. But eventually, some rich philanthropist took charge of her, and she was never seen again."*

*Everyone was silent. Someone laughed and said, "That's not really a vampire story, is it?"*

*The tour guide replied, "Not like we're used to, no. But that's her story and I swear I told it like I heard it."*

*Then a young woman, in a concerned voice, added, "I hope that girl ended up all right."*

### HarbingerFM

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 8 - Deliverance.

#### Worlds Away

##### Part 1

*Haddie entered the small deli in Manhattan, New York, approached a small booth, and plopped an envelope in front of her stepbrother Jordan. He stopped chewing his early morning, scrambled eggs and asked, “What's this supposed to be?”*

*“I know who our mysterious benefactor is!” Haddie opened the envelope and pulled out a picture of a middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair in a dark suit.*

*Jordan shrugged. “Who am I looking at?”*

*“Surin Rivera. He was a sound engineer for a highly classified military project in the Office of Strategic Operations. He experienced a nervous breakdown and was institutionalised for years until he was released under the care of billionaire, philanthropist Kobe Dax. Others in the same program experienced similar breakdowns. One lives close by. The question is… why is Surin helping us?”*

*Jordan raised his finger and pointed to a man standing behind Haddie. “Why don't you ask him yourself?” Haddie turned to face the man in the picture standing beside her.*

*Surin took a seat beside Jordan and said, “You need to leave my case alone. I assure you both... You're not ready for what you’re prying into.”*

*“And what is that?” Haddie questioned.*

*Jordan took a small, nervous bite of his eggs and chewed slowly. “Let's not provoke the man, sis. If we're not ready... we're not ready... I'm good with that.”*

*“How do you know our uncle?” Haddie asked when he didn’t answer her question. “Why are you helping us? What are these places you're sending us to?”*

*Surin peered at Haddie for a long moment. Then he said, “Let's just say I have a fond interest in your work and your special abilities.”*

*Jordan swallowed and shrugged. “Okay... sure... that's good enough for me.”*

*“Not me.” Haddie's face hardened as she waited for an answer. “I want to know why your helping us.”*

*Surin scanned the deli nervously, then turned back to Haddie and Jordan. “Take my advice and don’t go down this rabbit hole. Not yet. You're not ready, and you’re exposing yourself to dangerous people.”*

*“What kind of people?” Haddie narrowed her gaze on him. “Police? Military? What are we talking about here?”*

*Surin shook his head gravely. “We’re talking about people who don’t answer to the police or military. People who create governments and corporations to use to their end and then throw them away like garbage when they're done.”*

*“What do they want?” Haddie asked, unsatisfied with his answer.*

*Surin stood. “Leave my case alone. Focus on the show and the leads I send your way. All will be revealed in due time.”*

*Haddie held up the envelope with his picture. “I'm getting ahead of myself... is that it?”*

*“Leave my case alone,” Surin repeated and walked away.*

*Haddie and Jordan watched Surin exit the deli in silence. Then Jordan turned to see Haddie's determined expression, and he knew they weren't leaving anything alone.*

##### Part 2

*“Come on, bro! Let’s get ahead of ourselves!” Haddie led Jordan to the entrance of a dilapidated house in the suburbs. “Colonel Jim Dunn worked with Surin Rivera in the OSO.” Before Haddie could say another word the door creaked open, revealing a plump, middle-age woman with short blond hair.*

*“Can I help you?”*

*Haddie smiled. “Yes. I was actually hoping to speak to Col Lt Dunn for our podcast.”*

*The woman took a step back. “Is this some kind of a prank?”*

*Haddie shook her head. “No, ma’am.”*

*“Jim disappeared seven years ago. No one has any answers for me, and all I’m left with are rumours.”*

*Jordan inched closer to the woman. “Maybe our podcast could help? Maybe someone out there can help you if you share his story.”*

*“Share his story?” The woman hesitated for a moment. Then she nodded and said, “Yeah... all right... I just want my Jim back.”*

*Haddie and Jordan entered the home and followed her to the kitchen where they sat around a small, round table.*

*“I can only tell you what Jim told me,” the woman said, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly to calm her nerves. “He worked for the Office of Strategic Operations which was... I guess you could say... the stuff of conspiracy theories.”*

*She paused, then continued. “Did you know Jim said the word ‘conspiracy theory’ used to never exist until the military created the term? Once you could actually question the government’s narrative but now… you’re not questioning anything because you don’t want to be called a ‘conspiracy theorist.’”*

*The woman laughed, then added, “Brilliant, really, and that’s pretty much why no one questions the government anymore... even if you’ve got a dozen whistleblowers with leaked documents all saying the same thing... you don’t really doubt or question anything cause you don’t want to be stigmatized.”*

*The woman shook her head in disbelief and continued with a little laugh. “Jim used to say the origin of ‘conspiracy theory’ is a conspiracy theory… anyway… he told me… there were places in the world that weren’t like other places… places which defied the laws of physics… which defied human comprehension… places connected to worlds away… to other dimensions… the government called it The Overlap. Crazy stuff, right? ”*

*Jordan nodded.*

*Haddie didn’t respond. She had heard the term before when they were investigating a mysterious cult that believed in a kind of ancient deity that would one day help humanity evolve to another plane of existence. It’s a strange coincidence that this cult and the government would have the same name for the phenomenon.*

*“Like a wormhole?” Jordan questioned.*

*The woman shook her head. “That’s not how Jim described it. He didn’t talk much about The Overlap but he said what they had seen made him think another world was... how did he put it... consuming ours… like these Overlaps were growing bigger and bigger as we went down a kind of celestial digestive track… and… he said… he said they were pulling stuff out… things from other worlds...”*

*The woman fell silent and thoughtful for a long moment. “I could see changes in him. He was getting angrier and mean and he was never mean. He stopped sharing things with me. And I started hearing rumours.”*

*“What kind of rumours?” Haddie asked, leaning forward.*

*The woman went silent and thoughtful. Then she said, “Rumours that the government was doing things to them so they could stay in The Overlap for longer periods of time. I even heard that they pulled someone out from another world. Imagine that... a person from another world or dimension.”*

*Tears filled her eyes. “They say he left me… but I know my Jim… something happened to him and the authorities dismiss me as conspiracy theorist for saying otherwise. But I’ll tell you this — ”*

*A sudden report and the woman’s mouth filled with thick, warm blood as she tried to speak. Shattered teeth and saliva gushed out instead of words. Then her eye went wide and she slumped forward.*

*Jordan cursed and instantly tackled Haddie to the ground as bullets began to rip through the house from every direction.*

*Haddie stared up at her brother as bullets flew over their heads like angry wasps. “I think… we got ahead of ourselves.”*

'“You think!”

##### Part 3

*Bullets discharged from a flashing muzzle in the living room as Haddie followed her brother into the basement of the house. They stumbled down the stairs into the darkness and through a beam of sunlight pouring through a rectangular window. Before they could hide, the assassin was already descending the stairs with his rifle trained on them. Haddie and Jordan held hands and closed their eyes waiting for a quick death. A loud report sounded and when they opened their eyes they were both still standing.*

*The assassin stared at them with big white eyes of disbelief, then he collapsed to reveal Surin holding a smoking revolver. “Come on,” he said. “We need to leave before others come.”*

*The siblings didn’t hesitate, following Surin up the stairs and out the door past several dead bodies. Haddie counted seven dead assassins by the time she followed her brother into an unmarked black sedan. With a great sense of urgency, Surin started the engine, hit the accelerator and the car peeled away. After a silence, Haddie asked, “Is any of it true? The rumors? Worlds intersecting? The Overlap?”*

*Surin didn’t take his eyes off the road as he drove them back to the hotel where their uncle was waiting for them. “I can’t really answer that right now and you need to focus on your next episode. You’re here to investigate the old, abandoned subway station, and I think you should stick to the agenda.”*

*“Is it an Overlap?” Jordan asked. “Is that why there were so many accidents? Is that why it was abandoned?”*

*Surin hesitated, then nodded gravely.*

*“What do you and a billionaire care about the old, subway?” Haddie asked.*

*Surin sighed, took a moment to find his words, then answered. “I’m looking for my colleagues. We explored these areas all over the world and a few of us never returned and those that did… they came back to us... lost... confused... insane, even. I want answers. I want to know what happened to the others. I know they’re still alive. They’re lost somewhere... between worlds.”*

*“So you’re using us to find them?” Haddie said flatly.*

*“We’re helping each other in mutually beneficial ways.”*

*Haddie shook her head. “I need to know more. That’s not enough for me.”*

*Surin sighed and pulled the sedan over to the shoulder of the road and killed the engine. After a long thoughtful moment, he looked at the siblings in the rear-view mirror and said, “I was undergoing some, let’s say, unorthodox training to enter The Overlap… but it wasn’t possible… it’s like an impossible energy that pulls… I don’t know… hell... pulls hell right out of you… I mean there’s no other way to describe it. What you feel is just pure darkness. But the OSO figured when the mind is developing it can be… it can be fractured… broken in ways so that it rewires itself to withstand the stress of The Overlap.”*

*“You turned children into tools!” Jordan spat in disgust.*

*Surin looked away from the rear-view mirror and lowered his gaze without answering.*

*“And so I’m your new tool,” Haddie said. There was a short silence as Haddie considered her last few investigations. She remembered finding journals in the old asylum that had notes about other realms. Memories of other people trapped in a deathless world and journal entries revealing thoughts about how artists and writers were able to somehow tune into these other worlds with what they believed was their imagination but what was actually their third eye. It was a strange theory that Haddie had dismissed as the ravings of a depraved lunatic with a wild imagination. But something the patient had written had stuck with her.*

*The truth is in the story.*

*Haddie whispered the words to herself and thought she would give those notebooks another read in case she had missed something. She had them stored in her studio apartment in Montreal and would force Stefan to make a detour before their next investigation.*

*“You don’t understand,” Surin continued. “This isn’t just about the friends I lost… There are things in The Overlap we need to understand. There could be a new type of energy… a new way of seeing the world… the universe — ”*

*Jordan interrupted with a laugh. “Or... there’s nothing there… and it’s just a living hell.”*

### The Spiders

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 8 - Deliverance.

*I have seen them, the spiders, in my mind. They’re coming! They’re coming for us all! Big ones! Small ones! Even giant ones the size of dinosaurs. I see them in my visions charging through the streets bringing truth and understanding to the ignorant.*

*But now… now… they’re safe… they’re hiding… hiding in my head and I can feel them crawling through my ear and skull, laying their eggs, nibbling at my nerves and waiting… waiting for the right time to burst out into the world to help humanity achieve transcendence. I actually don’t even know what that means… but they whisper it to me every night before I sleep.*

*I remember the cave… I remember how it all happened… how I breathed them in… they were in the thick, dark mist. Little things that are now growing inside me, consuming me, showing me visions of Truth, and whispering sweet nothings to me… a million chattering voices telling me I am the one… the chosen one… the one who will change the entire world as we know it. And yet…*

*The unbelievers try to medicate me! They try to poison the life growing inside me… They want to kill my children and prevent me from doing with my life what I was always meant to do. I have heard them go so far as to call me insane. Insane? How? How am I insane? Would an insane person protect the life growing inside them? Would an insane person set aside his wants and needs for the life growing inside him?*

*Of course not! They are the ones who are insane. They are the ones who need to be medicated. I am the only sane one in this absurd institution. I’ve done everything for the spiders crawling under my skin and the doctor sprawled at my feet will never harm them again. They are ready, and they are pushing out of my skull and crawling down my nose and out my mouth and I am becoming something more.*

*How could they doubt! How could they not see? How could they not see what I am and what I have become? They will burst out of me and consume me and I will be the apocalypse.*

### The Tale that Follows

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 9 - Crescendo.

*Constable Duncan J. Smith said thousands of dogs haunted him wherever he went, but no one else saw them. To get away from the dogs he would hide in the crawl space underneath his cabin, or he would hide in the shed where he kept his snowmobile, or sometimes he would escape to the glaciers and hide in the ice caves where he prayed for the howling and the yelping and the whimpering to stop. But the howling and the yelping and the whimpering never stopped, and no matter where he hid, the dogs always found him.*

*The first day Duncan saw the dogs was the day he started questioning his job. Or rather, it was the day he started questioning the law and what he was doing with the law. There was something about legally destroying dogs that felt off… that felt… wrong… something that tugged at his heart and wouldn't let go… something telling him that he needed to get out of the cold, lonely Arctic Archipelago before it was too late — if it wasn’t already too late.*

*For Duncan, it was the first time in his career as a police officer that he realized that the law wasn’t always the glorified tool for civilisation he had imagined it to be. Sometimes the law was something else. Something blunt. Something hard. Something almost like a gavel… a gavel of destruction or oppression or perhaps both — destruction and oppression.*

*Truth is, Duncan wasn’t sure what he was thinking anymore. He was exhausted, and the dogs… well… the dogs just wouldn't leave him be, and all he wanted to do was return home and farm. He liked working on the farm. Things were simpler on the farm. But here, up north, things were more complicated, and Duncan couldn't help but think about the law.*

*About the gavel.*

*And the last thing Duncan wanted to do was wield that gavel against anyone. And yet — to his everlasting regret — he had used it against the dogs.*

*And though he had done everything by the book… and though the law said he had committed no crime… his heart continually testified to the opposite.*

*To be sure, Duncan had led countless dogs to the bay, where he had shot them like vermin in front of their owners. And it was only when he was alone and surrounded by their ghosts that he would admit to himself that what he had done didn't feel so right and that maybe... just maybe... these dogs weren't the dangerous beasts or the diseased rats his captain had made them out to be. They were… well… they were something else.*

*They were friends.*

*They were family members.*

*They played with children, entertained them and kept them safe. They warned against approaching wolves and polar bears, and even snowstorms. And more than anything they made sure no hunter ever got lost in a blizzard unlike those unreliable ‘iron dogs’ or snowmobiles that broke down in the middle of nowhere and left a trail of black smoke across the cold, white, endless expanse. No ‘iron dog’ ever led someone out of a blizzard. The same... well... the same could not be said of the dogs…*

*…the dogs he had so heartlessly destroyed.*

*But in those days — when the production of the first commercial ‘iron dog’ commenced — there weren't many challenges to the law, and so Duncan certainly tried to convince himself that he was doing the good and lawful thing for everyone.*

*And while it’s true that the mind might not make the difference between what is right and what is lawful, the heart certainly does.*

*The heart — it is often said — doesn't lie.*

*Nonetheless, Duncan found ways to trick himself and ignore the appeals of his heart. He told himself these dogs weren't like other dogs, and he actually believed his lie for a few months. But as time wore on, he very quickly realized that these dogs were… well… like the dogs he had known back home.*

*Knowing this made it harder and harder for him to fall asleep, and soon he started to hallucinate and see all the dogs he had shot.*

*At first it was just one. Then it was two. Then a dozen. Then a dozen became a hundred. And a hundred became a thousand. A thousand dead dogs howled and stared at Duncan every night, preventing him from sleeping, from dreaming, from thinking—preventing him from living the life he had once known.*

*Everywhere Duncan went, there they were, the dogs, looking at him with those eyes—those pleading, confused eyes, wondering what they had done wrong, or how they had failed their family and friends to deserve such a cold and indifferent end.*

*Truth is, Duncan couldn’t escape those ghosts any more than a dog could escape its own tail. Wherever he went, there they were, following him, reminding him of all the lives he had disrupted and destroyed with… well… with that gavel.*

*One evening, Duncan sat in bed, holding his aching head in his hands, staring at the decaying dogs sitting all around him. They watched him closely as he tried to fall asleep and howled or barked every time his eyelids began to slip. Trembling with fear and exhaustion, Duncan murmured he had done nothing wrong and that he had acted in accordance with the law and that they should just leave him alone. But —*

*The dogs wouldn't leave him alone. They just stared at him in silence with those eyes — eyes that reminded him of his own dog.*

*Anguished, Duncan lurched from his bed, screaming at the dogs, telling them he needed to sleep and that he wasn’t going to feel guilty for doing his damn job! He outright refused to apologize or feel guilty for doing what the law required him to do. What the law said he had to do!*

*The dogs suddenly stirred anxiously about the cabin with their heads down and tails between their legs. Duncan's screams grew louder and louder, and one by one, the dogs whimpered and whined for their lives like they had done when they had been destroyed. Then — just like that — they vanished into thin air as though Duncan had finally scared them away.*

*When Duncan realised the dogs were gone, he collapsed into his bed and prayed that they should finally leave him alone. He just wanted his life back, for the dogs had robbed him of his strength and freedom and even his sense of identity as a morally upright officer of the law.*

*That night, a storm picked up and blew all around his small cabin. Feeling a chill seep through his bones, Duncan rose from the bed, and he made a small fire in the iron stove as he remembered his first and only dog, Buster, a plump Yellow Labrador Retriever with a black snout.*

*Smartest, kindest and warmest dog he had ever known.*

*To Duncan, Buster was more than just a dog. He was his guardian, his confidant, his best friend. He was the brother he never had. He caught rodents, guarded against coyotes and drove cattle on the farm. His father used to say a good dog was worth two or three farm-hands, and Buster was certainly worth four. Thinking about it now, he was glad that no one ever used the law against Buster, or any other dog in his town for that matter.*

*To be sure, Buster wasn’t as big or strong as these Arctic dogs, but he was quite the hunter and had once even saved him from a wolverine. But what Duncan remembered most was that Buster used to curl up in bed with him to calm his anxious heart and help him drift away to sleep.*

*And now Duncan longed for nothing more than the undisturbed, soundless sleep of youth. And as he longed for sleep, the wind blew harder and fiercer through the cracks of his cabin. The fire flared, flickered and snapped, casting violent shadows that seemed to tell stories.*

*Duncan rubbed his eyes to make the hallucinations go away. But wherever he looked the shadows took the form of officers and hunters shooting at confused and frightened dogs as a thick and unnatural black smoke began to fill the cabin.*

*Duncan tried to pinch himself awake. But when he realized he wasn’t asleep, he quickly shut his eyes and once again begged for the dogs to just leave him alone.*

*He wanted one night of rest. Just one night! His brain reeled with despair, and he began to hear the warped voice of his captain laughing at him, shouting at him, tormenting him, telling him the dogs were dangerous… aggressive… a definite blight on their future plans.*

*Duncan felt madness clutching at the seams of his soul. He screamed that these were lies! All of them! And when he opened his eyes again, the black smoke was gone, and the shadows were once again meaningless shapes flickering about the cabin.*

*But just as Duncan sighed his relief, he heard a sound.*

*A gentle, scratching sound. At the door. Then he heard a bark that sounded vaguely familiar. The bark came again and again and it sounded like —*

'*Buster.*

*Duncan narrowed his gaze and cautiously approached the thick, wooden door. The scratching stopped just as he placed his hand on the doorknob. He stood in silence for a long, tense moment. When the scratching came again, he quickly opened the door and caught a fleeting glimpse of yellow fur disappearing beyond thick sheets of falling snow.*

*Exhausted and confused, Duncan rushed into the churning storm in his undergarments and slippers, yelling for Buster to wait for him. Then he stopped suddenly when he realized he was being irrational. His tired mind was playing tricks on him.*

*Buster had been dead for over twenty years. He had been hit by a car. And for a fleeting moment, Duncan remembered holding his paw on the side of the road, calming him down as his life slowly seeped away. He had never cried so much in his life. There was no possible way Buster could still be with him.*

*Covered in snow, Duncan told himself the solitude was getting to him and that he just needed one night of undisturbed sleep. He turned back toward the cabin. But as he turned, he realised…*

*…he was lost.*

*He couldn't see an inch in front of him in any direction. Cold and panic swept over him at once. He turned and turned as the wind howled and shrieked and whimpered. In the raging blizzard, he could only make out —*

*Dogs.*

*Ghostly dogs. Dead and decaying dogs. Thousands of them. Running around him. Growling. Howling. Barking. Confusing him.*

*Duncan shouted for them to stop, and he tried to scare them off as he had done before. But the dogs grew faster and fiercer as though they were one with the storm.*

*Duncan fell to his knees and felt the cold bite all over his trembling body. His face twisted in terror as each dog seemed to pounce out of the storm to take its turn chomping down on him with cold, indifferent teeth. He collapsed to his side in agony. A terrible numbness crept over him, not so much from the cold but the memory of hurting all those poor dogs. He begged for them to stop, and then he did what he had never done before.*

*He confessed his shame and begged for forgiveness.*

*At once, the dogs froze and stared at him with eyes that seemed to look straight into his heart.*

*Duncan choked out that he was sorry, that he was truly sorry, and that even though he had done everything by the book, he had done everything wrong. He had done them wrong. He had done their families wrong. And he had done himself wrong.*

*And as he emptied his heart, he heard a familiar bark as Buster suddenly emerged from the ghostly pack and stood before him.*

'*The dogs looked at Buster, then Duncan, then Buster again. A wave of peace seemed to wash over them as they disappeared one by one and left Duncan with his guardian… his friend… his brother. And Buster curled down beside Duncan as his heart slowed to a stop, and the blinding, white storm swept his life away as it had done so many others.*

*When Constable Duncan J. Smith didn’t show up at the station the next day, his fellow officers searched for him and found his frozen corpse not ten feet from his cabin. He was lying on his side with a peaceful expression on his face. One officer noticed that he had been running around in circles, while the others questioned why he had been foolish enough to leave his cabin in his undergarments in the middle of a snowstorm.*

*The captain kneeled by Duncan’s frozen black and blue face and sighed. Just as he ordered someone to cover the body, another officer panicked and rubbed his eyes, claiming he saw dogs all around him. He stumbled back and screamed for the dogs to stay away from him. No one saw what he was seeing, and the captain told him to stop making jokes at Duncan’s expense. But the frantic officer shrieked in terror and swore that the dogs were real and that they were following him.*

### Day of Night

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 10 - SAW.

#### Mahan Singh

*Mahan Singh spent seventeen years amassing a fortune for his estranged niece by leading mercenary missions all over the world for Leviathon Securities. A decorated soldier in the Indian army, Mahan was discharged after thirteen years of service for disobeying orders while on assignment for the United Nations. Shortly afterward, he joined Leviathon and found himself on a series of strange assignments that involved securing haunted locations and procuring strange artefacts of an occult nature. Locations and artefacts that seemed worthless but were of grave importance to governments and organizations for some reason or another. Mahan didn't know what to make of it. To him, it all felt like a kind of invisible war between secret societies that were somehow able to use governments and corporations like pieces on a chessboard for a bunch of old, mouldy books and geometric trinkets from forgotten civilizations.*

*Now Mahan was pinned behind a crumbling wall in a village in the outskirts of Nairobi, Kenya with his fallen unit scattered in pieces all over the surrounding dirt roads. He had been fighting all day against different units and was fresh out of luck and ammunition.*

*There’s no way out of here, he told himself. I’ve got no support, no ammunition, no luck. Why do you need luck when you have a weapon and your wits? You’ve been in worse situations and survived. Think you are beaten and you are beaten. I am beaten. You are almost beaten, and that’s not the same thing.*

*Suddenly, Mahan heard the surrounding mercenaries yelling at one another in Russian. They were planning an attack and coordinating with one another. He peeked around the corner, then ducked fast as several rounds punched holes into the wall sending clouds of dust and stone into the air. He cursed in Punjabi, grabbed his automatic rifle, then craned his head ever so slightly to see fast-moving silhouettes against the full moon closing in on his position. Quickly, he crawled into a nearby home and hid the asset—the ancient scroll—underneath several corpses of British agents he had killed just before the Russians had decided to join their party. Then he hid in the shadows, holding his rifle by the barrel, refusing to die without a fight.*

*They probably all work for The Collector, he told himself. Crazy rich man with too much time and money on his hands. Shah just wants to make sure he gets the scroll before another eccentric billionaire beats him to it. And from where does this prize come? It supposedly comes from a lost, elder civilisation with advanced and forbidden knowledge. Nonsense, all of it. A bunch of ancient stories about pagan priests and barbaric rituals and cosmic deities told around a campfire. Ancient sci-fi, at best.*

*Taking a deep breath, Mahan heard their almost inaudible footfalls before he saw them. His eyes narrowed and his face hardened as two mercs entered the moonlit doorway. With a groan, he launched himself into the air, smashing the butt of his rifle against one head and then the other.*

*Both mercs collapsed to the ground unconscious. A split-second later, Mahan yanked a loaded rifle from the hands of one of the fallen mercs and rushed through the doorway taking cover behind a well spilling over with thick buzzing flies like living black soup. Inside the well were the rotting bodies of those who had sought the scroll but had found death instead.*

*Mahan buried his nose in his arm and suppressed an instinct to retch. Then, seeing a merc, he lifted his rifle and pulled the trigger. Bullets tore holes through the neck and face as the mercenary staggered back and forth, then fell against a wagon with the pulpy head hanging by a shred of flesh.*

*As he searched the shadows for other mercs, Mahan suddenly heard the crunch of stone behind him. He whirled to fire—*

*A second too late.*

*Several rounds pounded into his Kevlar vest like a jackhammer, sending him stumbling backward into the black soup of death. A moment later the surviving mercs loomed over the mouth of the well as a thick black fog coiled around them like a snake.*

*Taking a deep breath, Mahan closed his eyes and waited for a death that never came. Instead of a report ripping though the darkness like a clap of thunder, he heard a scream followed by a cry and then shrieks of agony. When he opened his eyes, the mercs were gone as though they had been erased by the fog.*

*Mahan struggled through the putrid blood and fluids to climb up and out of the well. As he pulled himself over the gore-covered mouth he noticed the world had been plunged into an abyss of fog. Before he could make any sense of what was happening, something snatched his ankle—hard—and tried to pull him back down.*

*Desperately, Mahan gripped the edge of the well and held on tightly. He looked to his feet where he saw multiple hands yanking and clutching at his legs. He held on for dear life but his hands slipped in the blood and gore and soon gave way.  With a terrible cry, he fell back into the gore as boney hands clawed at his legs, his arms, his throat, his beard, his nose, his turban and pulled him deeper and deeper into the darkness.*

*Needless of pain burst inside his head as he drowned in thick, fermenting blood. He knew with a strange resignation that he was dying, or that he was already dead, and that he would never know his niece or what had become of her. After his wife and parents had died in a plane crash and his brother had disappeared, she was the only one left. She was his only family, and he swore he would always take care of her.*

*But then life happened, and in the end, he had only taken care of himself. He had lived a lonely, selfish life counter to his upbringing and his beliefs. He was a walking contradiction who had somehow convinced himself that he was cursed, that everyone he had ever loved died or disappeared, and that he was doing his niece a favor by staying out of her life. He had somehow convinced himself that he was keeping his bad luck away from her while he amassed a fortune that he would one day leave her.*

*But Mahan knew it was all a lie. He didn’t know the first thing about nurturing and raising a human being. Raising his brother’s daughter terrified him and that’s why he had clung to any reason he could to abandon her. All he knew was killing and destroying in the name of governments and corporations. And as the darkness swallowed him whole, Mahan realized in horror that killing and destroying was all he would ever know.*

*Mahan had failed his ancestors. He had failed his family. He had failed his brother and his niece. He would never know her hopes, her dreams, her likes, or dislikes… He would know nothing except the inky blackness that swept over his eyes and the unnamable terrors that awaited him in the great unknown.*

***MAHAN OPENED HIS EYES WITH A START.***

*He was still in the well, submerged in the putrid, death stew, staring up at thick black fog drifting over him as he heard a whirring sound—the sound of a motor accelerating and decelerating somewhere in the distance. He took a moment to gather his senses. He didn’t remember much. He remembered being shot, stumbling back and falling into the well. Everything after that moment felt like a nightmare that had been inspired by one of his father’s stories—the one where unarmed, peaceful protestors were shot dead and stuffed into a well and left to rot in the blistering Punjab heat.*

*With a painful groan, Mahan reached out with trembling hands to a jutting rock and, with difficulty, pulled himself free from the gore. Rock by rock, he climbed his way up the festering throat of the well and finally pulled himself over the mouth and into the thick black fog.*

*A cry sounded over the incessant whir of the machine and Mahan quickly realized he wasn’t in Kenya anymore. He stood and took in his surroundings. There were strange structures like factories submerged in the fog. Scattered around the structures were piles of clothes and bodies set ablaze. Above in the pale red sky crows circled and cawed adding to the oppressive cacophony.*

*“Help… please…”*

*Mahan heard a woman crying for help coming from a bank of fog. Snapping out of his daze, he extended his hands and waved a tunnel through the fog, searching for the source of the sound.*

*“Help… someone… please… ”*

*The disembodied voice reached him again, and she somehow seemed close and far at the same time. He froze to listen carefully, but all he could hear was the incessant whirring of the motor accelerating and decelerating.*

*“Help…”*

*There it was again. He moved left, then right, and finally he reached a woman in pilot fatigues stuck in a trap of twisted barbed wire. Without a word, he pulled the metal thorns out of her legs as she winced and squirmed in pain with every movement. “I don’t know what happened or how I ended up here…” Her voice trailed away, and she seemed bewildered.*

*“What’s the last thing you remember?” Mahan asked as he struggled with the barbed wire.*

*The pilot stumbled back and answered with intermittent groans as she nursed her wounds. “I was on patrol… soaring through clear blue skies… when this black cloud suddenly appeared… and then the plane began to shake and break apart and… I don’t know… I was here…”*

*A sudden click and they both turned wide-eyed to face the barrel of a rifle. Behind the rifle a man in black fatigues appraised them. “Who the fuck are you two?”*

*Mahan raised a hand. “Wait! Careful… we’re not a threat. We’re just as confused as you.”*

*“Who are you and what are you doing in Texas? Are you CIA? Is this some kind of a test?”*

*Mahan gritted his teeth. “This ain’t a test. And I’m pretty sure this ain’t Texas.”*

*“Who are you?!”*

*The agent shoved his rifle in Mahan’s face. But before Mahan could answer a Japanese woman in a black and red kimono emerged from the fog, unsheathing a katana with a high-pitched ring. She yelled at them in Japanese, and Mahan extended a calming hand to her.  “Please… put the sword down…” He then turned to the agent. “Please… put the gun down… let’s figure this out. “*

*“Who are you!” the agent yelled, pushing the muzzle in Mahan’s face. “I won’t ask again!”*

*“I can tell you who I am, but that’s not the question, is it?”*

*“Yeah! What’s the question, then?”*

*“Where?” Mahan said flatly, motioning to the destroyed factories, the craters and the smouldering piles of trash and bodies. “I should think the question is: Where? Where are we?”*

*Another voice came from behind. “He’s right, you know. “*

*Mahan turned to watch a man with a police jacket emerge from the fog. “We’re still trying to figure that one out… but right now we should all be asking: How?”*

*“How?” Mahan repeated.*

*“Yes,” the detective said. “How much time do we have before The Horror finds—”*

*Before he could finish his sentence, a shriek followed by and high-pitched whine startled them. A moment later a mass of melded humanity and machine came at them.*

*Mahan could make out several heads all shrieking battle cries in different languages attached to a patchwork of charred scraps from missiles, tanks, fighter jets, and nuclear submarines all bearing flags and strange logos of brands from different periods he vaguely remembered. He stared at this monstrous chimera in shock and wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at.*

*The Horror, he called it. Looks more like the embodiment of war—sponsored war.*

*Mahan swallowed a thickness growing in his throat as The Horror rushed the stunned agent and tore his head off, swallowing the terrified face and dripping neck like a ripe cherry. Then its ghastly mouth opened wide and a stream of fire torched the jerking, headless corpse as it collapsed into a heap of industrial garbage.*

*Not waiting to be next, the samurai lunged at the monstrosity and, with incredible speed and precision, cut it to pieces. Then all of them watched in disbelief as the pieces of flesh and metal slowly disintegrated into the living fog.*

*The detective sighed. “It will be back,” he said, appraising the samurai. “18th or 19th Century. Red Crown Clan. You’re not the first. We could definitely use your skills here.”*

*The samurai sheathed her katana and grasped at the fog as though trying to capture pieces of it to study—as though she recognised it.*

*Mahan approached the detective. “Where exactly is here?”*

*But the detective didn’t answer. He merely turned his back on them and walked away, saying, “Follow me… if you want to escape.”*

*Mahan took in a deep breath and gathered his senses. Then he took to his heels and followed the detective into the unknown with the samurai and the fighter pilot in tow.*

***MAHAN FOLLOWED THE DETECTIVE***

*through a labyrinth of bombed-out factories and mountains of garbage set ablaze. At the centre of this industrial hell was a giant machine with hooks and cameras and television screens of every possible brand and size broadcasting moments of Mahan’s life as though his brain was a Wi-Fi signal that could stream his memories—his darkest memories. And not just his memories, but the memories of the samurai, the pilot, and the detective. It was as though they had been selected by some un-namable and incompressible intelligence for mere entertainment.*

*The detective stopped when he reached what seemed to be a submarine hatch surrounded by a pile of smouldering trash and mangled, charred bodies.*

*“Get in!” he yelled, opening the hatch. “I'll explain what I know when we’re safe.”*

*“Where does it lead?” Mahan asked.*

*“Away from here,” the detective said. “And that’s all you should care about right now. We don’t have time for explanations. But when we’re safe, Ben will answer all your questions as best he can. Right now, you need to—”*

*A clanking noise suddenly interrupted him.*

*“Go, go, go!” The detective yelled as The Horror came at them from the shadows. Instantly, he pulled out his flashlight, distracting The Horror as Mahan and the others escaped down the hatch.*

### Twelve to Midnight

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 10 - SAW.

#### Dark Age to Come

*The sound of a bottle clanging against the ground greeted Haddie as she entered the half-burned building that had gone up in flames nearly a week ago. Thick, smoky air stung her nose as she stepped over shards of glass and heaps of charred wood. Bright city lights spilled through the shattered windows and crumbling walls. Carefully, Haddie picked her way across the floor toward the elevator, where she found the door leading to the stairs. A sign on the door warned her that the entire structure would be demolished in the morning.*

*There’s still time, she thought, as she ascended the narrow stairs. I’ve got a few hours to convince Max that he’s not crazy, that he’s not losing his grip on reality and that something is happening to our world. Something only a few of us can see and feel.*

*Haddie reached the last door at the top of the stairs and pushed her way onto the roof. There she spotted a man sitting on the ledge with thick, tangled hair and a weathered army jacket, drinking himself to oblivion as he stared out at the bright lights of the city.*

*She approached him slowly, and he didn’t react or even turn to regard her when she sat down beside him. She merely sat in silence, listening to the police sirens wail in the distance over the horns and the muffled music coming from the clubs and bars below. At last, she said, “I thought I’d find you here.”*

*Max took a few swallows of rum. “I don’t know you.”*
*“But I know you, Maxwell.”*

*“I don’t care where you’re from. I don’t want to talk.”*
*“Yes, I can see that. You want to drink.”*

*“Perceptive,” he said sarcastically, then extended the bottle toward her. “You’re welcome to join.”*

*“No, thank you, Mr. Holt.”*

*“How do you know my name?”*

*“I know much more about you, Max.”*

*“You CIA? FBI?”*

*“If I were, you’d already be dead,” Haddie said. “You were an Olympic Biathlon athlete. You were a soldier. Iraq. Syria. Afghanistan. You left the military after an incident and after that you kind of pulled yourself off the grid.”*

*“You know how to use a search engine. You get a gold medal. Now leave me alone to my quiet time.” Max raised the bottle and took another swig.*

*Haddie narrowed her eyes and looked to the shadows on the roof beyond him. She couldn’t see anything but she could hear disembodied voices talking to him. She shut them out, then leaned closer to him. “I know you see and hear things others can’t. I know they follow you. I know you want them to stop. And I didn’t get all that from a search engine.”*

*Max lowered the bottle from his lips and fixed his gaze on a couple arguing on the sidewalk below. “You don’t know what I hear… what I see…”*

*“Things from another place. Another world. Another realm.”*

*Max swallowed a growing lump in his throat.*

*Haddie paused, then continued:*

*“Something otherworldly attacked your unit and you survived because of your abilities and now… no one believes a word of it. You were ridiculed, discharged and silenced with an endless supply of opioids to fog your memory and neutralize your questions.”*

*Haddie stopped as his eyes filled with tears.*

*“You’re not crazy, Max. You saw what you saw, and no drug or drink in the world will relieve the guilt or stop the nightmares. And that’s why you’re here, isn’t it… Waiting for morning to make it all stop.”*

*Max cleared his throat. “What do you want?”*

*“Your skills and abilities on my team.”*

*“And what team is that?”*

*“The one that is trying to stop the end of the world.”*

*Max laughed uproariously, then stopped at once. “You’re serious?”*

*Haddie grabbed the bottle out of his hands, took a swig, handed it back to him and nodded gravely.*

*Max shook his head. “What do you know about what happened to my unit?”*

*“Not much,” Haddie admitted. “What I do know is there are some very powerful people who have the answers or think they have the answers you’re looking for. What I do know is that since I was a teen I’ve been caught in the crossfire between two warring groups that need people like us to access this other realm and bring things back. I’ve been running from them for the last forty years, and I have helped others like us from suffering an unknown fate at their cruel hands.”*

*Max’s face hardened. “They laughed at me. They said something in me snapped and that I had imagined the fog and the creatures that came out of it.”*

*Haddie shook her head. “You didn’t imagine anything. I lost my brother in the same way.”*

*They exchanged a look.*

*“He’s not dead… I can still hear him… I do… but I can’t see him…”*

*“Where is he?”*

*Haddied shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is we’re not the only ones who lost friends and loved ones to this phenomenon. And if we work together we might one day see them again.”*

*Max laughed and pulled on his bottle. “So you’re recruiting me? Is that what you’re doing? Recruiting me in some kind of paranormal army.” He laughed, again in disbelief.*

*Haddie watched him laugh. “I’m giving you what you need.”*

*“And what is that?”*

*“A second chance,” Haddie answered flatly. “Purpose. Meaning. A chance to save others from being murdered or used by the same assholes who are coming for you right now as we speak.”*

*Max laughed. “What are you talking about? Who’s coming for me?”*

*“I have a list—”*

*Haddie broke off abruptly. She pulled out a gun from her jacket and shot two dim figures in the head as they emerged from the exit door. She then jerked to her feet and hurried to the bodies, searching their jackets for IDs without any success. “They’ll be more,” she said, looking up at Max as he stepped beside her with wide, confused eyes. “You’re at the top of their list and that’s why I’m here.”*

*“What list? What are you talking about?”*

*“Follow me,” Haddie said. “And I’ll explain everything.”*

*Max nodded, dropped his bottle with a loud clang, and followed Haddie down the stairs, through the charred building, and out into the ally where a cab was waiting for them.*

***MAX HOLT STOOD IN THE BASEMENT***

*of the Park & Sherwood bookstore examining a wall of pictures, notes and numbers covered by a web of red string highlighting connections. He narrowed his gaze on hundreds if not thousands of missing people from all over the world. Tacked between the pictures and notes were transcripts of horror stories from various podcasts decoded into numbers and coordinates. He then glanced around the room and noticed artifacts and artwork from ancient civilizations he did not recognize from any history book he had ever read, and he had read many. He turned back to the wall and noticed for the first time a picture of his unit in Afghanistan among countless other units that were missing in action. His face grew stern, his eyes narrowed, and he turned to Haddie and asked, “Is this the list?”*

*Haddie stepped beside him. “This is the list of those we failed.” Her eyes fixed on a picture of her brother at a World War Two zeppelin crash site in the French Alps where they had recovered several “Wunder Weapons” that a secret unit of German soldiers was transporting for the Thule Society. It was the last time she had seen him before he had disappeared. “The list is of those that are being targeted by some very powerful and disturbed elites. They will either be killed in ritual sacrifice, or they will be used as tools to search areas that overlap with another dimension.”*

*“I don’t understand.”*

*“I know it’s a lot to take in. But these groups… they through random podcasts and deliver encoded messages in stories and media. And we do our best to decode them.”*

*Max scoffed. “Is this some kind of joke? Codes in stories… That’s your list?”*

*Haddie shook her head. “This is real. There are people who are in serious danger, and you can help them. You left the government because they laughed and ridiculed you. That won’t happen with us. We know what you saw is real.”*

*Max approached the picture of his unit.*

*“I’ve got names and places and endless funds at my disposal,” she said. “We’re twelve to midnight, and only a few of us know it, and I need you on our team, not theirs.”*

*“Minutes?”*

*“Seconds. Twelve seconds.”*

*“These groups,” Max queried. “Are they that powerful?”*

*“You have no idea.”*

*Max extended his hand, touching the picture of his unit. He then followed a red string to a passage culled from a horror story. From the passage, he followed yet another string to a series of numbers—the time, day and place the creatures in the fog attacked them.*

*Haddie stepped away and soon returned with a folder, pulling out a picture of an abandoned cemetery in Chile along with a picture of a man. She handed the pictures to Max, and he stared at them for a long, thoughtful moment before nodding that he would join her team.*

### Rabbits Attack Hiker in Colorado

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 10 - SAW.

*A hiker is in critical condition after being bitten by a dozen rabbits that escaped the Acendix Research Institute, an emergency responder said Friday. The hiker was bitten in the legs and face near Misty Lake, said national park ranger Steve Downer. The hiker's condition was unknown Friday but doctors are optimistic.*

### The Redcrane

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 10 - SAW.

#### Veil of Blood

##### Part 1

*Several paths lead to the harbour where peasants and merchants had witnessed the strange arrival of a foreign ship. They discussed the ship and the arrival in the surrounding villages with mingled anger, fear and curiosity. Most believed the foreigners were here to disseminate contraband and rob their beloved land of precious artefacts. Many believed a band of thieves was selling these precious goods to these foreigners in exchange for their weapons. Some even claimed that they had seen these thieves on the gangway, loading stolen artefacts and relics from fallen lords and noble families onto their ship.*

*Saku Nakano stood in the moonlight, considering her options. There was the long and safe route along the dirt road, and there were shorter routes through the dark and deadly woods where many unlucky villagers had been killed by creatures—it was said—not of this world.*

*Saku knew of these cursed places all too well. She had lost her entire clan to these mist-enshrouded areas over the years and now she roamed the country—the last of The Red Crown Clan—seeking out the great corruption that was upon her people, finishing what her clan had started centuries ago.*

*The enemies to her clan, The Black Serpent Society, served a nine-headed serpent made of black mist. They believed the black serpent would grant them powers and boons beyond human comprehension in this world and the next in exchange for unquestioning devotion. They were convinced that the black-mist serpent was a demon that slithered through these wooded cursed areas creating doorways into what they called The Belly of the Serpent, or just, The Belly.*

*Saku turned toward the dark woods, and sensing raw evil in her midst, she prepared to enter, thinking about the hushed conversations she had overheard in the nearby markets. She remembered the merchant hacking and gutting fish as he talked to a woman who was going through a bag of oysters she had just gathered in the sea. She remembered them talking about how they had seen bandits with pistols and gunpowder and other strange weapons.*

*I remember them mentioning the foreigners, she thought. They said they were Dutchmen. They were on the wharf speaking fluent Japanese with unknown merchants in plain kimonos with the exception of a strange serpent crest. They described the crest as a nine-headed serpent twisted in a circular knot as it chased its nine tails. They described only a few sailors and how most of the crew had perished of an unnamed disease during the voyage across the ocean.*

*A sudden laugh interrupted her thoughts.*

*“Where is your husband? “*

*A man in a plain brown kimono looked her up and down in the pearly light of the moon as he approached her.*

*Saku met his gaze but did not react or respond.*

*The man placed his hand lightly on the hilt of his sword as he continued to appraise her. She was tall and lean with strong, sinuous arms and piercing dark eyes. She had long, black oiled hair gathered in a perfect queue, doubled over and tied neatly with a red and white sash. She wore thong sandals and a simple black kimono. A vibrant red sash around her waist held two scabbard swords. One sword was short and straight, the other was long and curved at the tip.*

*“Where are your papers?”*

*The man edged closer to her with dim recognition in his eyes. He had heard rumors of an Onna-Musha in a black and red kimono roaming the land, destroying the wicked while protecting those who could not protect themselves. Or did she roam the land seeking justice for her butchered clan? Or was she a bandit leader who raided and pillaged villages?*

*The man couldn’t quite remember what he had heard, and he had forgotten the name people had given her. It was related to her clan and its origin. That much he knew, but not much more. It would have helped if he had paid closer attention when his wife had been discussing her many adventures with her sisters.*

*But he had ignored most of the stories as exaggerated gossip and legends not unlike that other samurai that everyone called a demon. There was no such thing as a demon samurai and there was certainly no such thing as a woman samurai that could perform all the feats the stories claimed she had performed.*

*Saku breathed deeply and placed her hand near the hilt of her long sword.*

*“Do you not see I am addressing you! Where are your papers! Answer me wo—”*

*With impossible speed, Saku whirled her sword in a gleaming silver arc and the man’s torso toppled off his hips and a fountain of warm crimson fed the ground. The twisted mouth twitched as it sputtered bile and blood and tried to make out the words, “Redcrane.”*

*He had remembered—*

*A moment too late.*

*Returning her sword to its scabbard, Saku sighed and said an inward prayer for the brute. Then she stepped over his jerking torso and entered The Belly of the Serpent.*

***WITH CAREFUL, SILENT STEPS,***

*Saku pushed smoothly through The Belly, paying close attention to the lurking black mist slithering through gnarled trees that seemed to shift and waver with her every step, as though to intimidate her.*

*Don’t make a sound, she thought, stepping down a slope through noiseless shadows toward the sound of waves crashing against rocks. She was close to the wharf. She could smell the seaweed, fish and salt in the air.*

*There was also something else.*

*A strange heaviness in the atmosphere.*

*Staring up through the shaking canopy, she saw thick clouds marching across the sky. She sensed the floor moving, and looked down to see her legs completely submerged in the creeping mist. A moment later a branch cracked not ten paces away, and she knew she wasn’t alone anymore.*

*Saku neither ran nor hid. She froze, closed her eyes, listening carefully for threats approaching through the black mist that heaved and moved as though it were alive.*

*Saku knew she was somehow—as difficult as it was to explain—in two worlds at once. And she knew there were demons and monsters in the other world that hunted within these overlapping areas.*

*Saku didn’t know much about this other world. What she knew she had learned from her mother and father. The Black Serpent Society—they had once explained—believed the black-mist serpent was a living deity that consumed people, towns, civilisations and worlds.*

*The Black Serpent Society believed that within The Belly there was lost knowledge and power from all these consumed worlds that could help them usher in a golden age of peace, prosperity and abundance. Their dedication, their devotion, their ritualistic killings were, in the end, for the betterment of humanity.*

*The Red Crown Clan, however, believed the promise of a golden age was nothing more than a cosmic ruse—a shiny gold lure to snag minnows, fish and whales in the abyss.*

*With a deep breath, Saku sensed the threats were gone. She opened her eyes and continued through wavering light and shadow as the wind began to pick-up and the mist grew thicker. But then she stopped suddenly when she heard a familiar roar.*

*A thunderous roar that seem to shake the world.*

*This time she didn’t close her eyes.*

*She didn’t run.*

*This time she silently lowered herself by a tree as she heard the pounding footfalls of a giant samurai in shiny green and gold armour approaching. She heard him smashing bushes and trees with his kanabo as he searched for her in the shadows. She knew without seeing him that she was being hunted by the samurai that had been corrupted and turned into a demon by the Black Mist Serpent.*

*Her sister had told her many tales about this samurai. How he had once been a man of honour and conviction. How he had hunted and executed corrupt merchants and false samurai. How peasants and villagers began calling him a demon because of his savage methods. And how he had ultimately been turned into the very thing he hated most, the very thing the stories depicted him as—*

*The Oni Samurai.*

*The very same Oni her sister savagely battled long ago when they had been caught in the mist. She had escaped, her sister hadn't and now all she wanted to do was take down this demon and make him tell her where she was.*

*But Saku knew better than to lose herself in the past. She pushed the memory of her sister out of her thoughts and instantly found her focus. She looked through a gap in the trees toward the wharf, where she saw orange specs of light against the wall of darkness that was the sea. She could make it. She could outrun him to a place where he could not follow.*

*Looking over her shoulder, Saku saw the giant samurai only ten paces away. He was decked in shiny gold and green armor, and carried around his back a massive leather bag dripping, thick blood at the bottom. A few heads jutted out of the bag and clouds of buzzing flies surrounded him.*

*The Oni searched the trees and bramble and was now only seven paces away. Unexpectedly, something jerked away from a bush and he launched at the creature and smashed it with his kanabo, losing his bag in the attack. The bag fell and dozens of heads rolled toward her.*

*One head stopped at her feet and stared at her with wide open eyes.*

*Saku gasped as she suddenly realised she was staring at her own face. She fixed her gaze at the other heads in the mist and thought that they all seemed to resemble her, as though this demon samurai had already decapitated her countless times before.*

*None of it made sense.*

*Impossible, she thought. It cannot be. And yet… it is… Have I fallen to the demon before? Are there others like me in the demon world that made him? But look… a scar!*

*Saku observed the head at her feet and noticed a long scar on the side of her face. She instinctively felt her own cheek where the scar should have been. It was proof that this was someone else, though she could not deny the resemblance was uncanny.*

*Saku swatted flies and reached for the head to get a closer look, but then she suddenly froze when she heard a terrifying roar not five paces behind her. In one fluid motion she dove into a thicket as the kanabo missed its mark. Without a moment to spare, she scrambled to her feet and turned just in time to see a gore-covered kanabo with the crushed head of a rabbit coming down on her with devastating speed.*

*Quickly, she sidestepped and withdrew her sword. An instant later she slashed off the demon’s arm with a roar of her own. But knowing the arm would grow back in the mist, she turned and charged away, desperately running for the beach. She had downed the demon before, but somehow it always managed to rise unscathed to continue the hunt.*

*There was no defeating the demon.*

*There was only one option: escape.*

*As she rushed through the woods, she turned back to see the demon chasing after her. She pushed herself to run faster and faster, and just as the demon lunged at her again, she dove out of the mist through a break in the trees to a place he could not follow.*

*The demon samurai stopped suddenly and watched her closely.*

*Saku clambered to her feet, brushing off sand, seaweed and salt. She turned to face the edge of the woods where she saw red glowing eyes fade into the night. Then she heard the crunch of rocks behind her followed by a clicking sound. She turned slowly to face the barrel of a musket pistol glinting in the moonlight.*

##### Part 2

***SAKU LOOKED BEYOND THE PISTOL***

*to a man in a dark kimono and short black hair. He inched closer to her with a smile, but she did not move nor give him the satisfaction of flinching. She met his gaze and edged back slightly. Then she stared off in the distance where she could see shadows moving about a cluster of abandoned homes near the wharf. The small village had been abandoned, no doubt, due to its proximity to the woods and the creatures that lurked within the mist.*

*The man cleared his throat and placed the barrel inches from her face.*

*Saku stared into his eyes without fear or concern. She looked down at his sandals and back to his eyes. “Move!” he ordered, his ignorant smile widening. “I know who—”*

*A sudden flash of moonlight and his head toppled off his shoulders before he could finish his sentence.*

*Saku watched the headless body spray warm blood into the cool night as it jerked left and right and finally collapsed into a mound of shells and seaweed, startling a nervous crab that instantly scuttled away into the gloom of night.*

*Saku gripped her sword and patiently picked her way through the jagged rock formations to reach the small village where Black Serpent brutes guarded the area against anyone who might try to interfere with their dark rituals and secret trade negotiations.*

*She moved silently through the shadows, following the edge of a home. She froze when she heard footsteps approaching. She slowly placed her back against the wall and waited. She peeked around the corner and saw two thugs telling stories about the demon samurai.*

*She crouched slightly, then, like a mighty tigress, she leaped into the air and thrust her sword through the two heads. They jerked violently then collapsed when she pulled her sword from their skulls.*

*She took a moment to survey the area, then made her way noiselessly to the wharf where three thugs laughed and made jokes about the strange red alcohol the foreigners had shared with them.*

*She held her sword firm, and she started toward them, practically gliding with quick, smooth steps. Just as one brute turned to meet her focused gaze she lunged with blinding speed and—*

*Three headless bodies suddenly staggered stupidly in the dark and collapsed into each other with arterial blood spraying darkness against the bright light of the moon.*

*Wiping warm blood off her face, she climbed a series of crates, moved past a clump of fishing nets, and crouched by the gangplank. She listened carefully for movement and heard steps just above in the ship.*

*When the footsteps receded to silence, she moved stealthily up the gangplank and halted, scanning the ship, spotting one thug sitting crossed-legged on a crate. Beside him were several other crates bearing the VOC logo and name of the Dutch East India Company.*

*Carefully, Saku embarked on the ship and moved toward the brute. But just as she prepared to pounce, she heard a click, followed by a high-pitched wheeling sound. It took her less than a moment to understand she had been lured into a trap—less than a moment too late.*

*Before Saku had time to react, she felt the heaviness of a net collapse over her as dozens of thugs surrounded her with dirty looks and curses. She then watched the sitting thug, the leader of the group, turn to face her.*

*The leader smiled, stood briskly, and laughed. “We thought you might show up?” he said as he approached her. He made a quick wave with his hand, and the thugs instantly trained musket pistols on her. “You’ve been quite busy interfering with our good work.”*

*She didn’t respond, but she pushed and pulled against the net to gauge its strength. She glared at him as she realized this was no chance ambush. The Black Serpent Society had been tracking her and had somehow managed to trap her. The leader shook his head at her.*

*“Your clan is destroyed. Your weapon is irrelevant and outdated. You’re outnumbered and trapped and still you think you can do the impossible.”*

*This will be difficult, she thought. But not impossible. I’ve been in worse situations and survived.*

*Saku inched closer to the leader as he smiled at her. She believed his reluctance to shoot her was evidence that they wanted her alive for one of their rituals.*

*The leader motioned to all the thugs and laughed, again.*

*Saku gritted her teeth and studied the thugs as they slowly closed in on her from every direction. She looked into the leader’s thieving dark eyes and saw all the lies and treachery of the Black Serpent Society. Then, looking beyond his eyes, she visualised herself triumphing against her enemy, leaping from thug to thug, cutting them down with her sword like weeds.*

*Suddenly, the leader barked orders, snapping her back to reality. The thugs inched closer to her with hideous smiles and wide, nervous eyes.*

*“Surrender willingly,” the leader said flatly. “And we will reunite you with your clan—as misguided as they may have been.”*

*Saku understood his meaning.*

*He believed their rituals would open a doorway into the nameless realm where they were supposedly trapped and cursed to live out an endless cycle of life and death for reasons beyond comprehension.*

*Saku didn’t know what to believe. What she did know was that she wouldn’t allow these thugs the satisfaction of serving her on a sacrificial platter to the darkness they served and she had promised to destroy. She had made an oath long ago as a member of the Red Crown Clan to cleanse the world of the reeking corruption that was the Black Serpent Society, and she planned to honour that oath.*

*With the strength and power of her ancestors coursing through her veins, Saku instantly rushed forward, her hand thrusting through the net. Powerful fingers grabbed the leader by the scruff of his kimono and pulled him in. Then, using him as a human shield, she whirled as pistols fired and balls ripped through his belly, chest and skull.*

*Through the rising smoke from the pistols, Saku could see the thugs trying to reload. Without a moment to lose, she tossed her busted and shredded shield to the ground, and, with difficulty, she sliced through the net with her sword. A moment later, she was a hurricane of death and destruction, leaping from thug to thug as her hissing blade painted the deck red.*

*The thugs didn’t know what to do. They were too stunned to react. It was like fighting a ghost, a monstrous shadow, a formless mist with swords for claws. Their futile attempts to parry her attacks with pistols met empty air as limbs fell and heads rolled.*

*It was a horrible nightmare, as if by some strange, ironic twist of fate the Redcrane actually drew her power from the black mist serpent so that she was somehow a servant of the very darkness she had sworn to eliminate.*

*When the last thug fell with a gasp, Saku found herself surrounded by blood and carnage. She took in the stench of gunpowder as her gaze slowly lowered to a thug groveling like a maggot. She had sliced his legs at the knees and he was crawling away with nervous elbows that slipped with every move in the growing pool of blood.*

*Wiping the gore off her face and kimono, she blocked his path and crouched to face him. The thug looked up at her with widening eyes. A bleat of terror rose from his throat that rose to a shrill pitch as she raised her sword and ended his service to the Black Serpent Society.*

*Saku rose slowly, and searching the ship, spotted a cluster of oil lamps glowing and flickering atop a crate. With focused determination, she picked her way through the bodies and kicked the crate, sending the oil lamps scattering to the wooden deck below.*

*The lamps spat liquid fire and set the deck and lifeboat ablaze. Then, walking away from the burning ship, Saku considered everything she had just experienced.*

*Trapped. How did they know she was coming for them? How could she have taken the bait? How had she been lured so easily?*

*Enough. Warriors do not waste time with what ifs and what they should have or could have done. What matters now is the present and taking the next right step.*

*Where to now?*

*She couldn’t think straight.*

*Despite all her training, a flame of anger burst in Saku for her careless mistake. Yet, she repressed her frustration and knew there was no use for it. Anger would only cloud her judgment and waste her time. She needed to keep her composure because—*

*Her friends and family could not have perished in vain. Because she was the last of her clan. Because the Black Serpent Society had to be stopped. Because she the hope of all those who believed she would end the darkness that was upon their land. Because she was—*

*The Redcrane.*

### Dejavuism

This story in **Chamber of Blood** was revealed in Tome 10 - SAW.

*It was a book club, and they were arguing over the latest Edwin Cain novel along with the interview the author had given where he discussed a concept he had called Dejavuism. He put forward the theory that our brains are biological, quantum computers with vast networking abilities beyond our current understanding of physics. Cain believed that our quantum brains could connect to other beings with similar frequencies within the multiverse as though they were inter-dimensional cell phones. The club members, who discussed these theories and how they sometimes felt their inner voice was another version of themselves advising them from another time or place, began telling stories about instincts, gut feelings, and deja-vu experiences that felt all too real. There was one sceptic who scoffed at the idea of the multiverse. He thought the idea was ridiculous comic book nonsense, and he laughed at the very notion that our brains were interconnected, multidimensional computers that received or projected ideas from the ether.*

*One woman exclaimed:*

*“It could be true. Such a theory would help us understand why ideas seem to come to us as a group, or why so many similar ideas seem to bubble up all the world at pretty much the same time. Who’s to say we aren’t all tapping into the same stream of ideas.”*

*The sceptic answered:*

*“It’s just coincidence. That’s all it is when a bunch of people from different places come up with similar ideas. And coincidence has nothing to do with the multiverse or other versions of ourselves in the universe.”*

*Another man shook his head and said:*

*“I don’t really agree. There’s shit out there we just don’t understand, and I recently read the idea for Wi-Fi and cell phones came from a bunch of scientists trying to understand a gland in our brain. A gland that’s bioluminescent and seems to be searching for signals. Granted this could be online misinformation, but what is true, and what many cultures believe is that our artists can tap into things not of this world. What I found interesting was how Cain said these visions that artists receive are only accessible to those who experience trauma when they’re young, those who have been bullied, abused, exiled… those who have learned to shut out their reality for self-protection in order to fully experience other realities.”*

*A woman added:*

*“The door to the physical world closes, the door to another world opens.”*

*The sceptic laughed and was just about to speak when another woman, an aspiring storyteller, interrupted him and said:*

*“I get visions and dreams about the same place all the time. One of my recurring dreams is of Romulus how he is taken up by a massive black storm cloud and brought to this dark realm where he’s chased by a hideous creature… a monster that could not possibly exist. What’s strange is he’s not alone. He’s not the only being hunted. He’s with a biker and two other Scottish men who at first I thought were sailors, but then I had this other dream that showed me that they were, in fact, lighthouse keepers. I did some research and I could swear by the pictures that the biker I was seeing was Yui Kimura, the one who disappeared a few years ago.”*

*The sceptic laughed and said:*

*“So what your saying is the Emperor of Rome wasn’t assassinated by his generals but is somehow stuck in some kind of demented world with Yuri Kimura and two lighthouse keepers. This, you somehow believe, is real. Romulus and Yui are running from a monster as we sip coffee and tea in our cozy chairs and talk books and authors. This is what you’re putting forward as something possible? Something reasonable for all of us to believe?”*

*A woman said:*

*“It sounds a bit out there. But maybe there are things in the cosmos that are beyond reason or science.”*

*Another woman beamed at the aspiring storyteller and said:*

*“Real or not, you should write a story for your blog or even for your next performance. I think it would be a lot of fun, even if it does require a little suspension of disbelief.”*

*The aspiring storyteller smiled and answered:*

*“Actually, I have a draft I’ve been working on, which I wanted to share with the group before I posted it. I’m still not sure if it’s a story I can perform because it’s a bit complicated and messy, but maybe you can help me find ways to energize and simplify it.”*

*Everyone nodded enthusiastically, except for the sceptic who rolled his eyes.*

*The storyteller pulled out a coffee stained notebook and opened it to a story that she still hadn’t titled. She took a deep, calming breath and began:*

*“This story doesn’t have a title but I’m thinking of calling it The Tragedy of Cliff and Alex, who were real people and who disappeared before most of us were born. Now, I’m not one to believe in conspiracy theories or urban legends but their story, which I acquired through extensive interviews and research opened my mind to the possibility that there is more to our lives than that which can be seen or proven.”*

*The sceptic quipped:*

*“Well, that’s convenient, isn’t it?”*

*The storyteller ignored his comment and continued:*

*“Love, for example, exists and ceases to exist just as soon as we indulge in proofs and evidence. As soon as there is doubt… as soon as there is a need for proof… love is dead. And yet, we know love is a real. And we know — don’t we — that love is quite unreasonable. It’s powerful. It’s maddening. And we hate that we can’t define it. Love exists, and it doesn’t need to be proven in any way, shape or form for it to be real—” the storyteller made an exaggerated gesture to grab something in the empty air — ”And yet, just as soon as you try to grasp it — it tatters at the touch.*

*“Cliff Barra always loved horror movies. He started making scary movies when his father bought him his first Super 8 camera. And so it comes to no surprise that he grew up to be a famous director who translated his favourite gothic novels and horror stories to the silver screen. It’s also no surprise that when he met Alex Damaro, an equally famous art director known for his brilliant and visionary production sets and costume designs, that they were instantly smitten with one another. Together, it`s safe to say, they produced some of the scariest and most iconic films to date. But all this changed when Alex suddenly disappeared while on set in a rolling cloud of black fog the crew insisted they had not designed.*

*“From that point on, the movies stopped. A great heaviness came over Cliff as he found himself confronted by the horror that he would never see Alex again. He turned his back on his friends, his career, his life, and he became possessed by an obsession to find out what had happened to Alex. Investigations into this strange fog led him to a group of people searching for missing loved ones. With this group he learned about the existence of secret cults and societies that understood The Black Fog and the strange realm from which it came. He dug deeper and deeper, discovering his old movie set wasn’t haunted as everyone said it was… but was… a kind of doorway to another realm. So he returned to the haunted movie set where Alex disappeared and waited… and waited… He waited for days until finally he heard Alex’s laughter, and with the laughter came The Fog. And the fog rolled in and carried him away.*

*“And so, Cliff ended up in another world that defied his wildest nightmares. He followed Alex’s voice through a darkness that had never known the light of day. At last, he came upon a forest of wooden stakes bearing skewered heads. He picked his way through the stakes, inspecting each head. The scene reminded him of one of the first films he had made as a teenager. He soon came to one head that resembled an old producer friend of his. Suddenly, the eyes sprang open, and Cliff started. At once, all the heads came alive, taunting and ridiculing him like he had been ridiculed as a child for his passions and hobbies.*

*"But Cliff stayed the course despite the insults and the taunts that he would never see Alex again. One head of the thousands shouted louder than the rest. The head screamed that Alex was being corrupted and that he should turn back before it was too late. Realizing this severed head knew more than the rest, Cliff kicked the stake and caught the head as it toppled off. The head protested and yelled that it had once been a king and it didn’t want to be in the hands of a commoner. And Cliff promised the king he would release him after—and only after—he helped him find Alex.*

*“Long story short, the head lead Cliff to the edge of a massive gate that surrounded a town that resembled every production set Alex had ever designed for Cliff. Before he could take in the area, he suddenly heard Alex screaming in the distance. The king warned Cliff not to interfere with the process and explained that Alex was being twisted and tortured into a brutal, murdering monster for reasons they would never understand.*

*“But Cliff couldn’t bear to hear Alex suffer. Every agonizing scream was a dagger in his heart. And so, dropping the head, he climbed over the gate and, unperturbed by the formless creatures moving in the fog, he followed the cries to the top of a castle he recognized from his Frankenstein film. Cliff charged up the winding stairs to the roof, where he found Alex agonizing on a metal table as bolts of lightning struck him every few moments from a thick, black storm cloud. All around him in glass prisons filled with formaldehyde were all the monsters Alex had ever designed since he was a child. Cliff couldn’t believe what he wasn’t seeing. It was as if this living nightmare were all a projection of their combined memories.*

*“Cliff didn’t even try to understand what was happening or what he was experiencing. Without hesitation, he rushed up to Alex not knowing what to do. In the shadows he spotted an ax on the cobblestone floor and instantly grabbed it. Then, despite the deadly lightning, he pushed through the sizzling and sparking pain to smash the chains that bound Alex to the table. Alex opened his half-conscious eyes with difficulty. He barely recognized Cliff. Alex squinted with charred eyelids and managed to murmur words that made Cliff smile. Then Cliff hefted Alex over his shoulders and charged down the stairs and out into the thickening fog where frantic, formless creatures did all they could to prevent them from escaping.*

*“Cliff kicked, punched and charged through the fog, smashing through creatures, crows, and claws—everything and anything the world set against him. He remembered the king telling him something about a hatch—the hatch would somehow lead to freedom. Desperately, Cliff searched the ground as he heard a roar followed by a clap of thunder. Pounding steps chased him through the darkness. He didn’t even bother to look back. He rushed forward until he saw it! The glint of metal by a crumbling Gargoyle statue from one of his movies. He ran to the hatch, opened it, and lowered Alex to safety. Then, just as he was about to descend, something sharp like talons clutched his ankles and pulled him screaming into the raging fog!*

*“I’d like to say that it all worked out in the end and that they lived happily ever after. But that’s not the truth of this story. The truth is Cliff took Alex’s place at the torturer’s table and was turned into a perfect champion of horror with little or no memory of who he was or how he ended up in this dark realm. And Alex… well… He ended up with a group of stranded souls who did whatever they could just to survive. But that’s another story for another time. Suffice to say that love torments all—bringing the best and worst out of us when we least expect it.”*

*The storyteller finished and everyone was silent and inward, thinking about what they had sacrificed for love and what they would sacrifice for love. But not the sceptic. No, the sceptic was turning the story over and over in his head searching for issues. At last, he broke the silence, asking:*

*“What happened to the head? The talking head? Cliff just drops the king’s head and then you never hear about it again. It kind of makes the story incomplete.”*

*A woman blurted out:*

*“Who cares about the damn head? It’s a love story!”*

*The sceptic added:*

*“Also, I don’t think you can use 'tatters' as a verb.”*

*The storyteller smiled and politely said:*

*“I’m still working the story, and the ideas are still coming to me in my dreams. I’ve been logging them in my notebooks and I’ll re-read the current version more critically to see if I need to do something else with the talking head.”*

*Another woman said:*

*“All that horror, and for what? To end up twisted and tortured and turned into some abomination worse than anything he ever filmed. I feel so bad for him.”*

*A man said:*

*“I don’t. Not because I don’t like him as a character, but because that’s just the kinda things we do for love—the horrible and the beautiful, the bitter and the sweet, the euphoria and the madness — ” he lost himself in a memory for a moment—”Love twists and torments. And I’m sure there’s nothing that dark world can do to anyone that would surpass the torment of not knowing what had happened to a loved one… or worse… the regret of knowing what had happened and not doing anything.”*

*Another man said:*

*“Well, I do hope you publish this story on your blog. I found it heart-breaking and terrifying… and I guess I’m wondering if you really think this is what happened to the real Cliff and Alex.”*

*The storyteller shrugged and closed her notebook as she prepared to leave. She wasn’t sure what she believed anymore.*

*The sceptic laughed and said:*

*“I’ll tell you what I think. I think the real Cliff and Alex faked their disappearance to get out of the limelight, and they moved far, far away to some gorgeous, exotic island where they’re eating grapes, drinking margaritas, and living happily ever after.”*

*The man said:*

*“Well, I do hope you’re right and the story is just a story. But if you’re not… well… I hope Alex will one day be able to do for Cliff what Cliff did for him.”*

*A woman said:*

*“It kind of makes you wonder if the characters we read about in the books are actually real somewhere.”*

*Another woman said:*

*“A story in this world, reality in another.”*

*The storyteller stood, smiled at all the book club members, and excused herself as she had an early shift at the café. Everyone said goodbye, watched her disappear out the door, and then returned to their discussion about Edwin Cain, Dejavuism, and the story they had just heard.*

## Trivia

* *Harbinger of Hell* was the story that first introduced Haddie Kaur as one of the many Lore Characters, before she was eventually added as a playable one with CHAPTER 24: Roots of Dread.