Rise of the Night Witch

Chapter 4.3 - Too Late

Recap: It's Halloween night and our heroes went in the basement to meet a creepy spirit.

Simon and I stared at the unscratched, stainless mirror bolted to the wall. One of us had to go first. One of us had to scout the Domain for traps while the other waited. We didn't discuss beforehand who'd go first. I didn't expect it to be an issue that couldn't be solved through a coin toss, but the half-open mouths and silent lips in our reflections suggested otherwise.

"Let me go first," Simon said.

"Why?" I asked.

"I don't think I'd be a good backup. Remember last time I was down here?"

"Simon, you did everything you could."

Simon removed a horseshoe and a crowbar before leaving me his backpack. "And it wasn't enough! Let me be useful, okay? We might die and I'd at least like to go out with dignity."

Simon walked through the mirror surface before I could respond. It was as if he were diving into a river. Soft ripples formed through his entrance and blurred the labyrinthine bookshelves he approached. He had disarmed himself. By leaving his iron-filled backpack behind, he made himself less threatening to the spirits and left me with weapons for backup. I hoped he wasn't about to regret his decision.

Although the arcane library was large, it was easy for me to see where he was. His blue robe stuck out so nicely from the black walls, the glowing torches, and the red book envelopes. He went behind each of the shelves, checking their corners for secret traps. Each time he returned into my field of vision, he was unharmed. No claw marks on his body or bloodstains on his clothes.

Yet, I never let my guard down. Once or twice a minute, I checked the boiler room and looked at my necklace's glow.

The waiting paid off. Simon returned to the mirror in one piece, beaming with joy. He showed me what he found: A piece of parchment and a book without a title.

The book first. I opened it and read its first paragraphs. "Once upon a time, there was a sheep with wool as soft as the cotton clouds and the innocence of the fairest maids. It was grazing under the gentle warmth of the morning Sun when the Big Bad Marissa came."

"Why is the villain of this book named after me?" I asked.

"What?" Simon asked. "The villain is called Simon. I picked it up because I found that funny."

I dropped the book like it was poison. A book that cast anyone who read it as the villain fit this day of the year a little too well.

Simon handed me the parchment. I made a photo of it and sent it to Marco (who was, hopefully, already on his way) before I started reading it.

"Dear reader,

"you might have heard unpleasant rumors about me, but I have my reasons for what I do. I wish to go against tradition by merging the natural and supernatural worlds. Your people deserve the truth about the nature of reality. The world of practitioners is full of supremacist fools who keep the masses ignorant. Unfortunately, the resistance I faced made a peaceful arrival impossible. After my Nuckelavee has overcome its psychological barriers and manifested in your world, I will follow. By the time you are reading this, it is likely All Hallows' Eve. Thanks to hundreds of generous supporters who offered me their names, the Headless Horseman will start the Wild Hunt in towns all across the northeastern United States. You can find a list of names if you flip the page.

"Yours Sincerely,

"The Erlking."

I flipped the page. My last name was near the bottom. And above it was Devons, Turner, and so many other names that he had to write small to fit them onto one page. Judging from the dates he added with little crosses, many of them died decades ago – even though the oldest murders linked to him were years old at most.