Cassima rematerialized in a place that was brighter than the one she had just left, but ten times more eerie. It was a gloomy cavern, and as lifeless as it appeared, the strange, sculpted rocks lining every wall seemed almost alive. Strange phosphorescent lights glowed from within hollows in the cavern walls, unusual claw-like formations protruded at various points and small, needle-sharp stalactites dangled from the ceiling. As her eyes became accustomed to the strange light, Cassima noticed a narrow path leading eastward – the only way out, it seemed.

This sure doesn't look like the throne room that Edgar described, Cassima thought. But this has to be the Underworld. I wonder which part of it this is.

Deciding that she wouldn't find out by standing in one place, the queen began cautiously picking her way along the precarious path, hoping it wouldn't lead her to something that didn't approve of her live flesh in the Realm of the Dead.

As she was crossing a naturally formed stone bridge, a transparent creature hovered in front of her so suddenly that she nearly cried out. She calmed herself when she realized that although the creature was a ghost, it was that of a small boy who couldn't have been more than ten years old when he died. His hair was unkempt, and his clothing was that of a peasant. As youthful as his face looked, there was still a strange cadaverousness about it – the eyes were sunken, the cheeks were thin.

"What's a pretty lady like you doing outside the Gates?" the ghost said in a mocking voice. "Waiting for your husband to die and come for you?"

"Who are you?" Cassima asked.

"Why do you care?" the boy said indignantly, crossing his arms. "My mamma didn't care. Starved me and fed herself to her heart's content. When I died, I would've gone back to haunt her but then she died herself, the nasty old pig!"

"But that's terrible!" Cassima said, suddenly feeling pity for the rude little spirit. "How can you say such things?"

"I was starting to do just fine with the other Dead until she arrived," the spirit sulked. "That's when I left and chose to stay here, on the banks of the Styx. I'm not gonna be with her again, no matter what they say."

"But she's your mother," Cassima protested.

"Not anymore," the boy snapped. "No one, not even the Goblin of Dark could make me be seen with her, even if only by other Dead."

Cassima decided not to give the ghost a lecture on the importance of a child's respect for his parents, since it seemed that such a thing would have no effect on this impudent child. She decided not to ask the boy what the Goblin of Dark was either, electing to ask him something more to the point instead:

"Could you please let me pass?" she asked in her most polite, unthreatening voice.

"No!" the ghost said, stamping its foot noiselessly on the ground. "I can do what I want here, and I'm just gonna stay here until I decide to do something else."

No matter how much Cassima pleaded with the ghost, he refused to let her by. He eventually stopped verbally responding to her words and began simply making faces at her instead. Angrily, Cassima stomped back to the cavern she had appeared in to calm down and gather her thoughts.

She had to get by that spiteful little spirit…but how? This was the sort of predicament Alexander dealt with multiple times during his travels. Without Alexander here to help, however, she had to figure out a way to get past this ghost on her own.

She doubted the child could be bribed – the dead had no need of material possessions, after all. She had no idea what his mother looked like, so the possibility of disguising herself as his mother and chasing him away was out of the question, even if she had something to disguise herself with…

A disguise did seem like a good idea. The question was, what could she make a disguise out of? She had nothing with her that would provide subterfuge, and the only harmless things in this cavern seemed to be a few stray pebbles and those fanglike stalactites –

Fanglike? Cassima suddenly had an idea. She walked up to two of the lowest hanging stalactites and carefully broke their tips off. This left her with two long, pointed items that looked remarkably like fangs. If she used them right, perhaps they would be enough to frighten that ghost away. It was a long shot, but it was the only one she had at the moment.

She cautiously approached the boy spirit. When she got close enough to see his glaring eyes, she turned around and carefully inserted the stalactite tips between her teeth and her upper lip, hoping that they would make convincing fangs. Then she turned to face him, raising her arms in a menacing gesture and growling.

It had the desired effect. The ghost looked terrified, and if he could have turned any whiter, he certainly would have.

"AAAH!" he shrieked. "You're the Goblin of Dark! Please don't hurt me! I'll go through the Gates and stay with my mamma!"

Cassima tried to respond with the fangs in her mouth – not an easy thing to do.

"I thought you said you'd never live…er…be with her," she lisped.

"No, Miss Goblin," the ghost trembled, "No, you were right. Goblins are always right. If I'm supposed to be with my mamma, then I will. Just don't come for me again, Miss Goblin, ma'am, please?"

Cassima forced down a laugh. She was starting to enjoy this "Miss Goblin" act she was putting on.

"Uh…as long as you are with your mother, I won't come," she said sinisterly. "Now go."

The ghost sped away, disappearing into the darkness of the caverns beyond. Cassima gratefully removed the fangs and continued down the rocky path, hoping that the poor boy would eventually come to some sort of agreement with his mother…however dreadful she might be. Still, Cassima correctly assumed that there were many souls with much darker pasts than that in this bleak realm.

The path widened, and the queen soon came to a clearing of sorts, lit by another strange yellow-green light. This clearing was not empty – a lone ghost dressed in a commoner's clothing sat on a lump of rock, not even looking up as she had entered. His heavily lined face seemed sad, yet indifferent. Unlike the ghost she had just dealt with, Cassima felt that this one would be worth speaking to.

"Uh…spirit?" she asked cautiously. "Can you hear me?"

The ghost lifted his head, his long, limp hair gently floating in the dismal air. His pale eyes must have been light blue when he was alive, but now they were almost completely white, and strangely clouded.

"Yes," he said in a distant, emotionless voice. "What does that matter?"

"You don't seem very surprised to see someone like me in this…land," Cassima explained.

"I have no reason to be," the soul said.

"Why are you here, instead of inside the Gates of the Underworld?"

"I never was a traveling man," the ghost murmured. "I'm in no hurry to get there."

"But I've heard that until people enter Samhain's throne room, they have memories of their lives, and that they can be torturous to endure," Cassima continued. Most of her knowledge of the Underworld came from her husband, who had journeyed there to rescue the souls of her parents. She was sure what he had seen and experienced had been very little compared to what the dead went through, but she was sure that that was more than enough for him.

"I have no recollection of my life," the ghost droned, "Therefore I do not wish to go through the Gates. When my time came, I was grateful to die. My time alive was finished, and now I am content."

"But don't you…"

"Leave me be. I don't wish to be spoken to," said the ghost, lowering his head. Hearing such an expressionless voice made Cassima feel as if her emotions were being muted, so she complied with his wish and walked away.

Something on the cavern floor caught her eye: a wooden box with silver, leaf-shaped hinges with a colorful design set in its lid. Oddly, the design – a circle divided into eight even sections – seemed incomplete. Half of the circle was colored, while the other half was the same color as the lid. Resting on the ground around the box were four wedges of the same size and shape as those that made up the colored half of the circle.

Cassima stared at the box in puzzlement. What was it doing here? Did it belong to the ghost? As she was turning around to go back and ask the spirit this, a curiously shaped pinnacle caught her eye. It was almost as tall as she was, and it was stone from the base to a point three-fourths of the way to the top, but there was something wrong about that last fourth. It was oddly formed…and it seemed to be breathing.

Cassima tried talking to the living stone, but her words had no effect on it. However, when she cautiously extended a hand, the tip of the pinnacle suddenly came to life. It unfolded its wings with a threatening screech.

"Who do you think you are, Warm-Flesh, to awake me from my precious sleep?" it rattled furiously, its glowing green eyes piercing Cassima's own.

"I'm sorry…" Cassima gasped, "What are you? A demon?"

"That is what the spirits of this realm call me, whoever you are," the demon hissed.

As frightened as Cassima was, part of her felt relieved to meet such a creature. Finally, someone who knew this place!

"I need to speak with you. It's important."

"Why does Warm-Flesh wish to speak with us, the citizens of the dark?" the demon snorted, clawing at its stone perch with its claws. "And what would she be doing here?"

"It's a long story, and I don't have the time. May I please ask you some questions?"

"Whatever your questions are, make them short so that I may rest again," the demon replied. Cassima felt that she shouldn't try this beast's patience. She quickly asked it the first question that came to her mind, the answer to which was the goal of her journey, the subject of which was the very reason why she had become caught up in this quest:

"I came here to learn about a dark wizard named Shadrack. Do you know anything about him?"

The demon stared at her and blinked slowly.

"Is he dead?"

"No, he's alive," Cassima admitted, "But this being the darkest place known to humanity, I thought I could start here…perhaps even ask…the Lord of the Dead…"

"And how would you be able to get to him from here?" the demon snapped.

"I…I don't know…" Cassima trailed off.

"Well, then I can't help you. I've never escorted those among the living into Samhain's throne room, and I never shall, and I don't think you could get out of this cave anyway."

"Well…thanks," Cassima said. The little monster hadn't been able to assist her, but she simply couldn't lose hope this early on. There had to be someone who could help. Perhaps even…

"What do you know about that old ghost sitting over there?" she asked the demon.

"He arrived here but a few weeks…nay, perhaps but a few days back," the demon replied, eager to talk about something he knew. "He keeps to himself and refuses to enter our Lord's realm. He is still too attached to the world above, but it is unusual how he hides his pain."

"What do you mean?"

"He has what you of the living world would call an inverted personality. If he appears indifferent, he may be drowning in his own feelings. If he appears happy, he may be grieving inside. It's almost impossible for even one such as I to get him to reveal his true feelings."

Cassima thanked the creature for his knowledge. Sensing that the queen had no further need of him, the demon folded his wings about himself and resumed his nearly indistinguishable stance atop the pinnacle.

Cassima looked at the ghost, then at the box again. She walked up to the box and knelt down to get a better look at it. She tried to open it, but it was stuck fast. There was no keyhole and no obvious means of opening it. She picked it up and shook it gently. There was a delicate rattle from inside.

She set it down and looked more closely at it. The wedges that made up the design on the lid and lay scattered about turned out to be brightly painted pieces of wood. The four wedges on the lid were red, violet, yellow and green, while the wedges on the ground were light blue, dark blue, yellow and magenta. Such bold, contrasting colors.

Cassima absently picked up a piece and placed it in an empty slot on the lid. It fit perfectly. She wondered whether all the stray pieces fit in just as easily. She picked up a second piece and began to place it in another slot, but then changed her mind and set it into the slot just opposite the violet wedge. Since the one she had just placed was yellow, it made sense to have it be directly opposite to violet, since violet was the opposite of yellow…

The opposite. The inversion. Something connected in Cassima's mind. If that demon was telling the truth, this box had to belong to that ghost – he had an "inverted personality", and this box fit him perfectly! Now she knew how to open the box – she had to place the inverse of each color already on the lid on the corresponding side in the empty side. Violet's opposite was yellow…orange's inverse was dark blue…red's inverse was light blue…and that left green and magenta.

There was a click from inside the box. Cassima tried the lid, which opened. Resting in the rough-hewn wood interior was a plain silver ring. Cassima gently lifted it out and shut the box. She looked behind her, but the ghost was still looking down. She doubted he had even glanced at her while she was opening his box. She slowly strode towards him, hoping that what she was about to do would work.

Cassima held the silver ring out, under the ghost's nose. His pale eyes suddenly grew wide, and he snatched the ring from the queen's hand – a chill passed through her as he touched her skin.

"Where did you get this?" he demanded, his voice suddenly brimming with emotion.

"It was in that box over there," Cassima said innocently. "Why, is it yours?"

The spirit looked as though it was trying to hold back tears.

"This…this was the ring my wife gave to me on our wedding day!" it sobbed. "We couldn't afford golden rings, so we exchanged rings of silver…my dear Elise, what was I thinking…"

"But I thought you said you remembered nothing from your life," Cassima recalled, "And you were ready to die."

"I was blinded by my own grief," the ghost moaned, clutching the ring with both of his transparent hands. "I covered it up so much that I almost did forget…until you gave me this…"

"I…I'm truly sorry that I…"

"No," the man said, "I'm indebted to you for reminding me of my past. Otherwise I might have remained here, on this stone, until the world itself ceased to be. If there is anything I can do to help you, my lady, just ask."

He looked earnestly into her eyes with a pair that no longer seemed clouded over. Despite being dead, he seemed very much alive now. Even though she had her doubts, Cassima asked:

"Do you know of a dark wizard named Shadrack?"

The ghost looked slightly shocked to hear this.

"Do I? He was the one whose actions brought me here."

Now it was Cassima's turn to be shocked…and just a little terrified.

"You…you mean he…killed you?"

"I was standing outside my cottage," the ghost explained. "By the road. This stranger comes up the road, pretty fast, and so I ask who he is, and where he's going to in such a hurry, but then he comes up to me and…"

He bowed his head and shook it pathetically.

"How horrible! I'm so sorry for you, sir," Cassima said softly. "I had no idea you were killed…I thought you just…died."

"It…it just wasn't time yet…" the ghost wailed, starting to grow tearful again. "Elise was still trying to live off what I brought back from the marketplace…and Ashni…my little Ashni, she was just a child…But we have no friends or allies that could avenge my death even if that monster was still in my homeland. Who can say where he was headed next?"

"Well," Cassima said purposefully, "I am pursuing Shadrack, not for what he has done, but for what he might do. When I find him, I will do whatever it takes to bring justice to what has happened to you and your family."

The ghost stopped his weeping and suddenly looked immensely hopeful.

"You do, and I will be truly amazed…but look at you! A mortal standing in the Underworld. I don't doubt your will, Miss…eh…"

"Cassima."

"Yes, Cassima. So I wish you the best of luck."

Cassima thanked him and promised to keep her word. But despite all the information this ghost had given her, she still had nothing to go on. She wondered if the place where the ghost lived while he was alive would be a good place to start…

"Where is your homeland, spirit?"

"So, you wish to pursue this Shadrack from there, eh?" the man asked with a hint of a grin. "I wish I could remember, but I'm sorry to say that I can't. All I remember is my family, and their love…that's the last thing to leave a ghost's mind as he enters this realm."

Rats, Cassima thought.

"Do you know who could tell me?"

"I think you should go straight to the top," the ghost surmised. "Ask Samhain, the Lord of the Dead. He knows the history of every soul that enters the Underworld. He might be able to tell you where I came from, or even better, where Shadrack is."

Cassima shuddered.

"But…how can I get to him? I have a magical pendant that can transport me to any place I can visualize in my mind, but I just can't get a clear picture of Samhain's throne room."

"I think I know how," the ghost said quietly. "Come here."

Cassima took a step closer to the ghost. He motioned for her to kneel before him, which she did.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I'm going to touch your forehead with my fingers," the spirit said matter-of-factly. "In doing so, I will transfer the image of Samhain's throne room from my mind to yours. Every creature of the Underworld, as soon as he enters it, knows every nook and cranny, every cave and crevice. Also, being touched by a ghost may transfer some of my own essence to you. This may confuse the Lord of the Death into thinking you are a ghost."

"I hope so," Cassima said, praying that the spirit knew what he was doing.

"I wish you luck, Cassima of the Living. Soon, I believe I shall join the rest of the souls in Samhain's court. If you ever succeed in your quest…I will know. Thank you again, child."

With that, he placed his hands on Cassima's temples. She felt a cool sensation run through her body, as if she had plunged into a sea of ice. For a moment, she felt nothing, then…

"The throne room!" Cassima exclaimed. "I can see it! I can make it! Here I go…"

Immediately, the pendant hanging at her breast began to glow, as did she. Within seconds, she had vanished from the cavern and reappeared in a place that no description, no matter how detailed, could have prepared her for.

As Edgar had said, Samhain's domed throne room appeared to be covered by a gigantic, irregular spider's web, which sent out huge, sickly strands that disappeared into the pale river beneath it. A worn path led up to the throne where Samhain sat. Over the eons, he had melded with his throne to the point that it was nearly impossible to tell which was which.

Cassima had appeared halfway down the path to his throne, and the cloaked guards at the path's end, looking towards the Gate that led into the throne room, hadn't noticed her yet, which was just as well.

Suddenly, a loud, deep, resonant voice boomed out across the throne room:

"Who are you, little ghost, and why have you entered my throne room without my knowledge?"

It was Samhain. He was gazing down at her with cold, stony, accusing eyes. Something about his words puzzled Cassima for a moment, but then she realized that she wasn't entirely solid. She could just see through her hand. The spirit's trick seemed to have worked…for now, at least.

"I have no recollection of you entering this realm," Samhain continued. "How did you slip by undetected?"

Cassima shuddered. As terrified as she was, she managed to gather up enough courage to address the Lord of the Dead:

"My Lord Samhain," she said in a voice that reverberated oddly in her ears, "There is a spirit dwelling outside your Gates who came from a place that I must get to. He has a wife named Elise and a daughter named Ashni. Please, my lord…can you tell me where he came from?"

"Why would a ghost wish to know that?" rumbled Samhain, drumming his rigid fingers on his armrest. "Are you a relative of his? Do you wish to spend time among those emotional, brittle mortals? I cannot see why."

"I only want to know where that man lived before…before he was killed," Cassima persisted.

"Such trivial information I have yet to understand your use for, spirit," Samhain muttered with a voice thankfully devoid of suspicion, "But I recall that the one you speak of came from the land of Serenia."

Serenia? Cassima thought. I know that place. Mother and Father told me stories about it all the time when I was young…in fact, wasn't Mordack's island off the coast of…

"To enter my chamber undetected just to ask the origins of a ghost who declines to become one of my subjects?" the Lord of the Dead growled. "You are a strange one, indeed."

"He told me he was going to join your court soon, my Lord."

Samhain seemed to relax slightly at this news.

"Is that true? If so, then you have my thanks, whatever your name was in the living world."

"Yes…" Cassima said uneasily. "Of course."

Serenia. Finally, a clear goal. If only the descriptions of it told to her by her parents were enough. In any case, she was ready to leave…

But wait –

"My Lord, do you know of a man named Shadrack? He is a powerful dark sorcerer, and since your wisdom is so vast…well, do you know where I might find him?"

Samhain shifted slightly, making the rusted chains that bound him shriek disagreeably.

"I have never seen this person of the Living of whom you speak, but I know of his existence. Many a ghost entering this realm speaks of him. He has touched many, and not in a good way at all, so they say."

"Do you know where I might find him?"

Samhain furrowed his crusty brow.

"I don't know why you would want to find someone in the Land of the Living, spirit."

"Please," Cassima tried again, "Can you tell me where I can find Shadrack?"

"Well, this Shadrack you speak of does not seem to stay in one place for very long. It would be futile and of no worth trying to find him, even if he was firmly rooted in one place."

"I can make decisions for myself, my Lord," Cassima said impatiently, catching herself before she said something she would regret for the rest of eternity. "No disrespect towards you, of course."

Despite Samhain's lack of emotions, he seemed almost amused by Cassima's words.

"You are an odd one, whoever you are. I have told you all I know about your sorcerer. Now would you kindly leave me to my thoughts?"

"In due time, my Lord."

The queen felt that she had gleaned all that she could from the ruler of the Underworld, and she was more than eager to move on. She stood still, shut her eyes, and tried to visualize the country of Serenia.

All right, she thought as the pendant started to glow, I hope these visions of Serenia I have in my memory are clear enough, because this is the only chance I have…

When she opened her eyes, she had to blink several times. Sunlight shone down from above, and although it was filtered through the leaves of many trees, it was still almost blinding after her foray in the Underworld. Cassima glanced down at herself and was relieved to find that she was no longer semitransparent – whatever the old man's ghost had done to her, it hadn't been permanent, thank goodness.

As her eyes grew used to the light, she found that she was standing in front of a small cottage surrounded by lush vegetation. A stream flowed in front of the house with a little stone bridge providing passage over it. Near the stream was a small door set into the ground that undoubtedly led to a cellar. In the distance were thick forests, and beyond these was a gigantic range of mountains.

It looked like the Serenia her parents had described to her, but there had to be dozens of lands with tall mountains and vast forests. She had to find out where she was…and if the occupant of the cottage in front of her was in residence, he or she could certainly enlighten her.

She gently knocked on the heavy wooden door. There were heavy, shuffling footfalls from within, and in a few seconds, an elderly gentleman wearing a dark gray robe, spectacles and a white, scraggly beard slowly opened the door. As foreign to her as he appeared, there was something faintly familiar about him, but Cassima simply couldn't place what it was. Before she could introduce herself, the stranger began to speak in a voice that was old, yet quite lively.

"Hello, my lady. Are you the one that I've been expecting all these years?"

"Huh?" Cassima asked, taken aback. His voice sounded familiar as well, but she simply couldn't remember where she had heard it before…

"Yes, I believe it is about time that you arrived," the man continued, stroking his beard, "But I have quite forgotten your name, my child. Could you please tell me who you are?"

"Yes," Cassima replied, making a quick survey of the stranger's appearance and deciding that he was safe to confide her name to. "I am Cassima. Cassima of the Green Isles."

"Ah yes, Cassima. I have many things to tell you, my friend, but we shouldn't discuss this here. Eavesdroppers could be anywhere. Come in."

As bewildered by the stranger's familiarity with her as she was, Cassima followed the stooped fellow into his small, yet accommodating cottage, which was sparsely furnished, with several wide windows looking out upon the surrounding countryside. He gestured towards a small stool, which Cassima gratefully sat down upon. The stranger himself didn't take a seat, however. He seemed to be waiting for Cassima to speak. Cassima was more than eager to do so:

"Could you please tell me what is going on and where I am, sir?"

"Well, as you may know, I am Crispinophur, and the land we are in is called Serenia."

A light flicked on in Cassima's mind. Crispin! This man was the wizard that had released her husband and his family from the clutches of the evil sorcerer Mordack, who had enslaved her all those months! Crispin had even transported her back to her homeland as well…Cassima felt like kicking herself for forgetting someone who had done so much for her and Alexander…

"I see," she replied. "And I am very grateful for your rescuing me and King Graham's family, sir. But tell me…"

"No time for talk, your Majesty," Crispin said, hobbling towards the center of the room. "I must explain everything quickly and at once. You are not in the same time that you were in when you left Alexander and the Isles. You have stepped into the past, Cassima. That pendant that hangs from your neck not only transports the wearer to different places, but also to different times."

This was more information than Cassima was prepared to receive. For a moment, she could do nothing but stare straight ahead, trying to make sense out of what Crispin had said.

"That's impossible!" she breathed.

"I wouldn't be telling this to you if it was, my queen. Since you have come here, I have decided to – "

His sentence was cut short as the window burst open from the impact of a tawny, feathery object that hurtled through the room and landed with a thud in Cassima's lap.

"Oh dear," Crispin grumbled. "Cedric, show some manners towards a guest!"

The feathery object composed itself, ruffled its plumage and hopped off of Cassima, who realized that the object was, in fact, a large owl…wearing a blue vest and a monocle.

"Yes, Crispin," the owl hooted, taking off and landing on a nearby perch, obviously created just for him.

"It's all right, Crispin," Cassima reassured the wizard (and Cedric as well). "I'm very fond of birds."

"Cedric," said Crispin, Cassima's comment either ignored or unheard, "This is Cassima of the Land of the Green Isles. I told you she was coming soon."

"Excuse me," Cassima interjected, "But I'm very confused about what's going on."

"Quite all right, my child," Crispin said. "As I was saying, I have a small magical charm that might assist you in your quest to find Shadrack. I know little about the mage, and I can only help you in a small way, Cassima. I know that your struggles will not be in vain, and though the road ahead is rough, you and your new friend Edgar will manage."

This wizard had baffled her so much already that Cassima wasn't entirely surprised to learn that he knew about the man she had only met a few hours before.

"Yes…by the way, who exactly is Edgar? Do you know anything about him?"

"Indeed I do, but I can't tell you anything now. You will find out soon enough. Now let me find that charm…"

Crispin shuffled over to a large trunk and began rifling through it. After a few seconds he straightened up, holding a gold bracelet and a scrap of paper in his hand. Carefully closing the trunk, he walked back to where Cassima sat, holding the bracelet out at arm's length.

"This will help you. Now I just need to explain to you what it is. Would you like some tea, Cassima?"

"No, thank you."

"Oh, please tell us about the charm, Crispin," Cedric trilled excitedly, peering at the gold object with his huge eyes. "You've never even shown me that thing before!"

"Very well. Now, this bracelet is engraved with six symbols, each representing a different animal. When you wear it on your arm, you will be able to transform into any of the animals merely by reciting their name in the Old Language. This may be very useful to you in your journeys, Cassima."

Cassima was intrigued, yet still slightly wary. Transforming into animals? It sounded so exciting, yet so frightening…

"What are the animals on the bracelet, Crispin?"

Crispin held the bracelet close to her face, turning it as he spoke the name of each beast.

"They are the raven…the wolf…the sea lion…the goat…the lizard, and the panther. At first, some of them may seem odd and ungainly, but think about it: the wolf and the goat will help you endure cold climates and climb steep cliffs. The raven will allow you to fly. The lizard will let you slip into places you would never be able to enter as a human. And the sea lion is a creature that will allow you to stay underwater for long periods of time."

"What about the panther?"

"Oh, that is a powerful one," said Crispin in a low voice. "Fierce and untamed, quick of wits and body. If you decide to change into that creature, or any other, for that matter, do it with caution, Cassima. This is a powerful little charm I am holding."

"It sounds like it, Crispin," Cassima said. "But it also sounds like you have a lot more to tell me."

"I am sorry, my child, but I simply have no time in which to do so…here, take this."

The wizard pressed the scrap of paper into her hand.

"This tells you about the bracelet. I don't know where it or the bracelet originally came from, only that it should help…but only if you wish to possess this magical item, Cassima. Now, the question is: do you?"

Cassima looked at the wizard's suddenly anxious eyes, the gleaming bracelet, then at the wizard again. It wasn't a hard decision to make.

"Yes. I do. Anything for Alexander."

"Please show me your right upper arm."

Cassima rolled up her right sleeve. Crispin hinged open the bracelet, fitted it around her arm, then clamped it shut. The cool metal became suddenly hot on Cassima's flesh for a moment, and then she could barely feel it at all. It was actually quite comfortable now.

"The Old names of the animals are now in your memory," Crispin explained. "You will be able to call on them when you wish. That is all that I can tell you, Cassima. Read that piece of parchment if you want to know more. It is time for you to leave now."

"Thank you so much, Crispin. I wish that I could repay you for your generosity."

"You already have…or will. I can never be sure which is correct," Crispin muttered. His wrinkled face suddenly became stern once more. "One last warning: the pendant you wear will be invisible whenever you are in the form of an animal, and you cannot use it in any way. Its magic cannot work while the magic of another item is at work, so be careful, your Highness."

"I will," Cassima promised, rising from her seat and making her way towards the door. "Thank you so much, Crispin."

"No need, my friend. You'd best be moving now. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Cassima!" Cedric hooted.

"Goodbye, Cedric. Goodbye, Crispin," Cassima said as she left the humble cottage.

"See you in another decade or so," Crispin muttered softly after the door had closed.

Standing outside the cottage, Cassima suddenly realized that she had forgotten to ask Crispin whether he knew anything about Shadrack. He was a wizard, so surely he would recognize the name of another…

Then again, Crispin seemed so absentminded. If he did know anything about Shadrack, it would take a lot of prying to get any knowledge out of him, and Cassima didn't feel like talking to the old wizard again. Though he was polite and considerate enough, she simply couldn't waste any more time chatting with him.

Still, if he had any knowledge at all of Shadrack, how could she unearth it?

As Cassima was staring at the heavy door, pondering the wisdom of knocking again, she glanced to her right and noticed the cellar door again. Normally, the thought of breaking and entering would never enter the queen's mind, but she was growing desperate. She cautiously made her way to the cellar door and tried it. The wood had swollen from the moist weather, wedging it firmly in place. Cassima muttered angrily to herself, then remembered the dagger she was carrying. She took it out and eased the blade between the door and its frame. A few gentle side-to-side actions made the door pop open. The smell of stale air wafted up from below. Apparently, Crispin hadn't visited his cellar in a long time. Carefully looking about to make sure no one was watching, Cassima stepped through the door and descended a short flight of steps to the cellar's dirt floor.

It took a moment to get used to the gloom. A cursory glance revealed a nearly empty wine rack, several broken implements, some magical, some mundane, a pile or two of moldy books and a single trunk sitting against the wall. This was the only thing that caught Cassima's eye. Even though she knew she was betraying Crispin's trust, she approached and opened the trunk.

The thick smell of ancient paper filled Cassima's nostrils. The trunk was filled to the brim with letters – hundreds, perhaps thousands of letters. More letters than Cassima was willing to read, that was certain. Still, she hadn't broken into Crispin's cellar for no reason, so she picked up the first three letters, which had to be the latest…nonetheless, they looked very old.

She began reading the bottom letter first:

Crispinophur:

Your last letter made it clear to me just how quickly your memory is failing. At our last meeting, we discussed the wizard Shadrack in great depth. I, among others, mentioned how he seems to have become more and more reclusive. He is still young, so some of us assumed that it was only a passing phase, but his condition has hardly improved over the past few years. It is difficult to tell what side he is on, and I believe you agreed that he is not one to be trusted. I pray that you can find a merchant who sells genuine memory-enhancing herbs, otherwise, I fear that you might not be trusted to remember the details of our discussions. I'd hate to see you exiled from us, but perhaps your retirement time is nearing. Nine hundred years isn't exactly a prime age, is it?

I hope to hear from you soon,

Eddissi

Then the next one:

To: The Wizard Crispin

From: The Sorceress Kaida

Crispin, I may be an amateur, but I know a bad apple when I see one. I write to you to tell you about Shadrack. I have been watching him out of the corner of my eye, and I shudder at what I see. I know how young men age, and in the last ten years, Shadrack's appearance hasn't changed a whit. Either he is indulging in some powerful, as yet unheard of rejuvenating potions, or the reason behind his unchanging face is something far worse.

I can see into most people's minds very well, thanks to the tutoring of Master Yendralia, but Shadrack seems to have built up a solid wall that I simply cannot penetrate. The only activity which seems to calm him is engaging in a game of chess – even then he seems to play it only in the hopes of defeating an opponent. He is temperamental, overly defensive and suspicious, almost like a caged animal. You don't think Shadrack really is an animal, do you? I pray that my imagination has merely been running wild with speculation. Perhaps Shadrack has been dabbling in transfiguration, or we might be harboring a werewolf in our midst. I surely hope not.

I hope you don't forget to write back to me…like last time.

Then the top letter:

Crispin,

I don't know if anyone has told you, but in case they have and you have forgotten, here's the news:

Shadrack has disappeared. He left no note or trace behind, and left most of his equipment as well. We have tried to find him, but to no avail. I fear he has turned down the wrong path at long last. I can't say whether I am glad that he has left or that I wish he would come back so we could give him another chance. There doesn't seem to be any hope for the poor boy. Still, keep a steady vigilance, and hope that he eventually changes for the better.

Sincerely,

Barathos

So Crispin did know Shadrack…or he knew of him at the very least. But as much knowledge as these letters contained, they didn't help her at all. All she knew now was that Shadrack was young, didn't age for some unknown reason, had disappeared from whatever guild or society Crispin's correspondents were part of some time ago, and had a tendency to be beastlike.

Cassima carefully replaced the letters and shut the trunk, her head buzzing with confusion. She made her way up the stairs to the cellar door and stepped out into the sunlight once again. Her efforts to close the door completely were futile, and she had to leave it slightly ajar. She hoped that Crispin would fail to notice this or forget the way the door originally was shut.

She slowly crossed the small bridge over the stream and began heading south, into the cool, verdant forests of the land of Serenia. As peaceful and idyllic as the land was, the multitude of questions ringing in Cassima's ears seemed to grow louder with every step.

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