Witch Hunt

The woman's office is adorned with portraits of herself. Her visage repeats again and again on the walls, as if a hall of mirrors reflecting her. Each painting is distinct, but carries over a degree of iterant traits from the last; an askew pose or a variegated outfit, like the still frames of a film, played in clockwise perigon glances.

There's a small window behind the ornate desk, but fog coats the glass, barring view to what lies beyond in an opaque and shifting haze. We're upstairs from the basement below, having passed through a small supply store between, in which I saw no shoppers browsing the shelves. Only the basement receives visitors, it seems. It does strike me as odd; why hide the bar, both underground and planarly?

Antitia stands in front of her desk and leans backwards, one foot thumping the wood in unsteady rhythm. She takes a long drag from her cigarette, and smiles curtly at the gathered kidnappees. "Well, you lot sure made a mess a' things."

"Kinda our specialty", says Alabastra with a smirk and self-satisfied shrug. Our... I almost object then and there; but no, she doesn't deserve even that acknowledgement.

Faylie steps forward, grabbing her bicep guiltily. "It really was my idea to use your name, Auntie. I didn't realize you would actually have to get involved!" She looks around. "I never even knew you were interested in mortal stuff at all!"

The fae taps on the desk behind her, rapping on it in little off-beat percussions. She chuckles. "You don't need to apologize, honey. Can't blame ya for a well-constructed con." Antitia lazily deposits the cigarette holder along a tall crescent-moon ashtray, smoke still drifting from the end. "Actually, this whole affair's been a blessin' in disguise, really."

The three thieves share a glance, confused. Alabastra lets out a disbelieving laugh. "Well, in that case... it was our pleasure." She performs a small bow.

"Yea, yea, don't get ahead of yourself." The fae's eyes roll at Alabastra's confidence. The correct response. "This little tiff you've set off has been the excuse we needed to dip our toes into mortal waters. Never let a good casus belli go to waste, after all. We can gobble up this mortal gang's holdings like a pig at the dinner table."

The rogue smiles at that, no doubt imaging her former associates suffering fae curses.

Faylie says, "But... why? I thought you were still stealing those moondrops for the Unseelie, not running a dang ghost bar!" At the utterance of Unseelie, the temperature in the room quite literally drops several degrees. I grab at my arms, rubbing against the sudden chill.

"When the moon's tears dried up, that business did that same", Antitia responds with a quick snap to accentuate. I suppose that's the usual Faewilds nonsense, then. "Opportunity's knockin' in the mortal realm, and Marble City in particular. It was even before your little plan, in fact. You just happened to pull us in a tad early." Early? Opportunity knocking? She did claim to all but see the future before...

Alabastra has that usual 'I'm trying to figure out everything because I am an impulsive meddler' look on her face. "And... how'd you find out it was us that put the frame on you?"

Antitia stares down at her niece. "I've had a charm on this one ever since she was twelve. After all that trouble she got into, I had to make sure I knew if she was ever in danger. I feel it in my heart, every time her fate gets near a possible end. Which was quite a lot, that night."

Faylie laughs nervously. "Haha. Oops?"

"Not that I coulda done anythin' about it... you brush with death like ya breathe, kiddo." She reprimands Faylie like she caught her hand in the cookie jar, not regularly puts herself in death-defying situations. I will try to refrain from judging all Faewilds families based on these two, but that's a rather blasé approach to peril. She rolls her eyes, and continues, "Then we heard about the Carlivain, and us gettin' implicated in particular. Wasn't hard to put two and two together on who would know enough about us to frame us, was in a hell of a lot of danger the same night it happened, and has herself a history of mayhem."

Then Faylie's to blame... the bitter thought rots in my mind. I was still technically correct, it's their fault I'm caught in a web of idiocy once more...

The faun herself looks a little nervous. If I cared I might wonder if she knew about that charm of hers. "But... how did you track me, Auntie? I mean, I know mom and dad know I live in Marble City, but we move a lot!"

"We sent some men out to investigate the Carlivain. Spoke with some corpses, read some minds. Learned about your little heist second-hand, and tracked ya down with a blood whisper."

The corpse-speaking and mind-reading indicates that they must have necromancers and psychics in their employ; unsurprising considering the menagerie downstairs. But that third thing she said... "And, a blood whisper is...?", I ask.

"Old monster huntin' trick. Psychometry from spilled blood leaves emotional echoes, like footprints. Duck soup for our former monster hunter-slash-necromancer to follow."

Alabastra looks concerned. "How'd ya even get in to investigate? Whole place is swarming with pigs. I mean, there are limits to what illusions'll getcha, and it sounds like you were castin' spells left n' right."

Antitia outstretches her arms into the space around us. "We had a little ethereal help on that end."

The Ethereal Realm... a shifting, strange plane of insubstantial unreality, just under the surface of the physical, full of fluid fog, seen into with spells and by the mad, and slipped into by ghosts and planar travelers... Oh.

The Other Side. "That's where we are...", I say, mostly to myself. Suddenly I feel foolish for not making the connection earlier. Then, this building we're in, it must be manifest but empty in the real Marble City, but populated here, in this pellucid verse. I'd assumed nothing in the Ethereal could be made permanent; an establishment seems to run counter to the realm's ephemeral nature. It's supposed to be the osmotic outer layer of reality; the threshold into the planar verse, where stranger still realms like the Faewilds and elemental planes and the various Heavens and Hells lie beyond. "How is that possible...?"

The fae smiles. "Close... but no cigar. The Other Side is... special. Carved out of the Ethereal, but made not quite so. This is a place that shouldn't exist. We're nowhere, population anybody." She gestures to the window. "But the real Ethereal Realm's near enough to taste... and step into, if ya got the gumption. That answer all your questions?"

There's only one I still need. I cross my arms. "How did you find me?"

Robeno laughs, and walks around the back of her desk. She cracks open a drawer, and pulls out a familiar stone amulet, inset with a glowing red gem. Ah. "Got some pretty strong reads off this little doodad. Figured your trinket, and ipso your very violent fourth, wouldn't be far behind wherever it was pointin'." Damn. I should have taken the tracking amulet, too.

Awfully quiet so far, having been tapping her foot and not meeting the woman's eye, Tegan speaks up, "Okay, wait, could any monster hunter pick up that trail and find us? Like, uh, one that could be hired by the cops that are there, right now?"

Antitia so-so's with her hand. "Trail should be too dry to follow by now. If they haven't come knockin' yet, they likely missed their chance." She rolls her shoulders. "Plus, blood magic's a real tricky art. Monster slayers are a dyin' breed, and even if they do find one, hard to get a read unless you know the folk, or got blood to compare. We only found you so easy because I let ol' Forrest borrow the vial I had of Faylie's."

"You have a bottle of my blood?!", Faylie exclaims.

The fae continues with a wince, "But, if you're paranoid of the buttons, we could swing through and clean up your mess, just to be sure."

Alabastra says, "Aw, Singsong, we didn't even getcha anything in return!"

Miss Robeno smiles wryly. "Not yet ya haven't." She crosses her arms, and turns her back to us, looking out the window into the roiling fog. "You didn't think we were operatin' out the kindness of our hearts, did ya?"

"Nooot even for family?" Faylie's bargain ends in an upward trill.

"Especially not for family. I can't be playin' favorites, now can I?" She tuts, glancing over her shoulder and fiddling absent-mindedly with her scarf. "We are ready to capitalize on what ya did, but that doesn't mean we're not out for a little recompense."

Exactly at the moment I thought I was free of this nonsense, the very process by which I arrived here is what pulls me back in. The cruel irony sends my shortening temper over the edge. "This has nothing to do with me. Count me out."

The fae woman only laughs, turning around and stepping toward me. She considers me carefully for a moment, and says, "If anyone's got a price to pay, it's you. Your little atrocity carnival has sent our reputation into the gutter before we even had a chance to get it off the ground. Now, we got time enough to fix that, but you owe us."

I nearly spit in her face. I never wanted any of this to happen. I never asked to be a Godsdamned weapon. And now, after being used as one, I'm being blamed for the blood spilled? I have half a mind to launch into a tirade.

But before I can begin, Alabastra says first, "That's not fair. Oscar really isn't a part of this, let him leave."

A frustrated snarl rips through me, and I shoot daggers at Alabastra. Why can't she let me solve my own problems? She just wants credit for getting me out of this debt... So she can take it on herself. "Stay out of this!", I seethe, then turn back to the fae. "I wasn't in control when the... violence occurred."

Antitia narrows her eyes as I speak, and retorts, "Whether or not you meant to do the particulars yourself, it was still your choice to purloin your little trinket, wasn't it? You made yourself a part of this." She lifts the tracking amulet with one finger. "Now... we could be convinced to forgive your debt and letcha leave, no strings attached... if you gave us somethin' in return. Mayhaps..." She stares directly at my sternum.

I put a protective hand to my chest, as if her gaze alone might pry it from me. "You said you wouldn't take it!"

"And I won't! But that doesn't mean I won't... ask for it. Fair's fare is fair."

Then that's her game. She wants me to bargain away my only cure... or force me into this confluence of chaos once again. On second thought, I am starting to hate her almost as much as Alabastra. It had to be a fae, and their forsaken obsession with deals... "Fine. I'll play along. What do you want?"

The faery looks to the other criminals. "Ornery one, ain't they?"

They at least pretend to not immediately agree, instead shrugging indecisively. Faylie says, "He's had a rough week..." I glower at her, attempting to convey 'stop talking' with just a curl of the lip.

"Far be it for me to question that." Pulling herself taut, Antitia explains, "As I mentioned, we're lookin' to scoop us up some prime real estate and assets from this Iron Syndicate lot, put ourselves in a mighty fine position for when Anily starts to boil over. It's why we built The Other Side in the first place." I think back to our meeting with Vatrizia... she'd mentioned something similar. Like criminal elements all over a readying themselves, seeing a domino before it falls.

"This isn't a job offer, is it?", Alabastra says. "Because, not that I'm not flattered, but I've sorta... been there, done that, never goin' back?"

Antitia shakes her head. "While that heist and escape you pulled proves that your skills would be useful... no. Not today, anyways." Alabastra wipes a bead of sweat from her brow. The fae continues, "No, we need help with somethin' a little more... specific. See, we've been dealin' with a certain... complication courtesy of the big city."

Faylie tilts her head. "Complication? I didn't think anything on the mortal plane could stop you Auntie."

She chuckles. "I can't even stop foot on the mortal plane, honey. This is as close as I get." Faylie seems confused by that. I nearly need to remind myself not to care enough to be curious. Antitia says, "We'd love to get on this opportunity, but starting a few weeks ago, we've been runnin' into this little issue. More than a few of our own started actin' all out of sorts when the sun went down. Forgetting their duties and taking to flights of whimsy. Our changelings started copying everyone around them, and our lycanthropes started having trouble keepin' their muzzles on."

All three go bug-eyed. Tegan, spine stiff and straight, says, "C-could you, uh, say that last part again?"

"Our werewolves and wererats and werebears been transformin' like it was a full moon every night." She stares for a moment overlong at the knight, then shakes her head and puts her fingers to her temples. "They're some of our best earners and enforcers. We can't run an operation like this. We want you to figure out why this is happenin'." Then the strange transformations are affecting fae changelings and those cursed with lycanthropy as well... though, the second was almost certainly a given.

Alabastra pats Tegan on the shoulder, and steps forward to say, "Well, you're in luck, Singsong. The three of us were already takin' a crack at this case."

"How serendipitous", the older woman responds through a wide and knowing victor's smile. "Who says mortals can't carry a Fatetune?"

"Not me!", says Alabastra, very obviously only pretending to know what she's talking about.

The glowing eyes of Antitia narrow like a hooded lantern in my direction. A thought seems to have occurred to her. For how alien fae mindsets are said to be, her mannerisms are quite human... yet something is off about them. As if her entire demeanor is practiced, a little too perfect, unnatural to her. She's following stage directions, donned a coat of humanlike savoir faire, taking embellishments on some baseline 'How To Be A Person' manual. If that were the case precisely, I wouldn't mind a read-through myself.

"And... the three of you, huh?", she says.

With guilty hands in her coat pockets, Alabastra cuts in, "Like I said, he really doesn't need to be part of this. We can... we can take on his debt-"

"No!", I shout. I don't even look at her. Instead I stare right back into the fathomless and lambent white voids set in Antitia's skull. "I'll pay my own dues."

It was never my intent to owe anyone anything. But these otherworldly racketeers clearly see the situation different, and I imagine them even more unyielding in that position than the half-elf. But now, faced with owing them directly, or passing that debt onto Alabastra... I don't want a single thing over my head that she holds the strings of. I'll owe a thousand mobsters, loan sharks, scoundrels, or hags before I owe her one more thing.

Antitia nods. "Then speak it with me." She looks between the four of us, and her next words are not so much spoken, but felt through every open pore of my skin, every corner of my still-shattered mind, breathed in and bled out and run through me like the narrow-avoided stake.

"Enigmatic tribulation
Cattywampus alteration.
Elucidate, shine a light;
Strive to fettle-fine our plight.
Bound in blood and word and bone.
Troth made true, it is known."

It is an entirely involuntary compulsion to repeat the words in chorus with the others. Our joined promise flits into the air, and I feel a chord of magical intent snake itself around my heart. "There", she says, "That'll serve as our shared covenant - until our business is done."

Under compulsion of a faerie pact... Exactly when I thought the insanity was over, I have instead hit a new low. But I just need to finish this out to this woman's satisfaction, and then never think of this again.

Alabastra says, "Already got the perfect place to start." Of course she does... "Singsong, you said you were thinkin' of sending some roughs out by the Carlivain to scrub up our blood gunk?"

"Repellently put... but I was, yes. Though, you keep callin' me 'Singsong' and we'll see how far my hospitality spreads..."

The half-elf winks. "Don't temp me with a good time, Miss Robeno." Her grin could melt ice. Braggadocious oaf... isn't that her girlfriend's aunt?! "But... I was actually thinkin' you send us to clean our own mess. Through that Ethereal place, like you did! Let us kill two birds with one stone."

"Oh? And who's the poor second bird?"

"Aw, don't make me spoil all my surprises...", she begins. I fire another glance in her direction. She's truly learned absolutely nothing... "I-I mean... Well... we were on the trail of this detective that might know more, and... the cops might have a bead on where he disappeared to. Was thinkin' we try and finesse their lead out of 'em." Ah. So she'll explain herself to her, but not to me. Typical.

The detective, then. Only days ago, I might have argued against this course of action, how unlikely it is that we actually find him, or that he would have any information of note. But that would require speaking to Alabastra, something I am still steadfast in my refusal to do. Besides, there's never been any point in trying to talk her out of anything. And, as idiotic as her methods are, I must admit they bear results. Her nose for trouble isn't what's in question.

Antitia considers, then nods. "We can accommodate that. I'll teach Faylie the knack. Talk to my man Forrest across the street to crack into the Ethereal Realm proper, or the bartender if you want more information on them shifters... or just need a drink."

A double snap-point is Alabastra's affirmative response. "We'll hop to it."

"Now, give us some privacy. I need a word with my niece."

Faylie lets a nervous little smile creep across her lips. "Um. Nice to see you?"

The fae rolls her eyes. "Yea, we'll see." She snaps, the world shifts, and the three of us are shunted from her office in the blink of an eye. The door slams shut behind.

* * *

The Other Side isn't just the bar, I learn. It compasses a whole city intersection. The buildings opposite the nondescript store stand several floors tall, creating a four-corner plaza of stone walls and brick streets. Just past the edge of each building on the block - in fact cutting the northwest abode in two - a massive dome of moiling, smoke-like white fog encircles and entraps the crossroads. The omnipresent brume drips from the hazy dome like condensation, suffusing the space in an eerie miasma.

But it is far from the empty and lifeless common the ghostly ambiance would imply. Instead, much like the bar below, a medley of multiplanar travelers cut in and out of the four cornerstone structures. Floating specters, winged devils, creatures of fire and rock, even an angel of impossible torus shapes and seraph wings mantled with sporadic blinking eyes; some of these pedestrians pass through the fog layer, back and forth, swallowed up or spit out by the cloudy canopy. Most make their way to and from the canteen, but the other corner shops do attract their fair share of ambling patrons. The glass storefronts promise cafes, a general store, and even an establishment of 'Mystical Attunement'.

A short number of days ago these sights might have shocked me, but I've become fast accustomed to nonsense. The absurdity only seeks to remind me of my misfortune. I grip the watch under my shirt. At least I'm not on the clock for this; the only time-sensitive facet of our current venture is my eagerness to be away from these three.

As we step into the busy street, Alabastra says, "Right, where we headed first?"

Before I can object, to my surprise, Tegan answers instead. "We? Maybe you should go alone for now, Allie." I raise a brow at the knight. Her tone is cold and curt.

"Oh. Yea. I'll just... go talk to that bartender then." The rogue bites at the side of her mouth, looking askance at the ground, downright sullen. Then, hands in coat pockets, she turns and darts back into the building without another word.

I stare at the knight a moment longer. While I feel I would normally be curious, my stance is unchanging. I want nothing to do with them, and that includes their petty dramas. I elect to say nothing.

Yet she decides to fill the silence. "We're, uh... I'm kinda fucking pissed at her right now."

"..." I stare into the street.

"It's actually... about you. Kinda, I guess." The knight grabs the back of her neck, groaning. "She... ugh. She broke a fucking promise."

My arms cross. "I see." Knights and their oaths...

Tegan continues to ramble. "And like, obviously she didn't do it to hurt anyone, and I'm glad you're still here for sure! But, she brushed it off like it didn't mean anything, and... and then the shit she said in that conversation, pressing you when she shouldn't have, it... Fuck." Her hands run through her hair. "Gods, she doesn't have a patient bone in her body, sometimes. She can just be so... much. And she knows it, too, of course, like I keep fucking telling her and she doesn't listen until it's too late - it's - it's like she hears you... but she doesn't learn until she's already crashed into the wall!" Tegan's erratic hand movements and quickening pace remind me of a released pressure valve. She's been building this resentment for some time now.

I wonder, then, if I've found an unexpected ally... "So, then, you're no longer with her?"

"What?!" She steps back, blinking in confusion. "No, no, I still love the shit out of her, it's just, like- well, y'know. She fucked up."

Ah. Of course. "Okay." So then nothing's really different then. She's more of a coward than I thought.

"She has to make it right with you, and once she does, then we'll be okay too. Until then, I... uh. Just wanted to let you know that I've, like... got your back!" She moves to pat me on the shoulder.

I step away before she can reach. "Are you done?"

"Uh... what?"

"Because if I recall correctly, I told you that I was done with her. So regardless of your gripes, if you're still intent on following her around like a guard dog, then I am done with you, too."

Her face falls in stunned silence before she can pick her words off the floor again. "Alright, uh... I guess it's all still pretty fresh for you. That's totally fair, just... y'know, if you ever-"

"I liked you more when you talked less", I interrupt. She bites her tongue, finally. I turn, walking toward the mystic's shop, where this Forrest is supposed to be. The knight's footsteps follow behind, some distance away, shuffling across the street in a metal clamor.

As I look up at the building we approach, the full sign hanging about the doorway reads, 'Forrest's Emporium of Mystic Attunement'. The sign itself doesn't look congruent with the rest of the building, likely placed atop it after the fact. In fact, now that I look to the rest of The Other Side, many of the otherworldly additions look quite recent. I wonder where in Marble City this place, or rather the place that this place was carved from, is; it looks like an older neighborhood in The Reds, perhaps towards the southeast? Impossible to tell, really, thanks to the foggy dome that surrounds the area, almost like a grim and ghostly snow globe.

We walk inside. The interior is draped in wine-colored velvet curtains, floored with a burgundy carpet. Stuffed yarn dolls hang from the ceiling alongside prismatic wood beads and bushels of herbs... patchouli, amaranth, witch hazel, foxglove... a meager but respectable selection. Taxidermized creatures, elaborate masks, dusty old tomes stocked on the bookshelves, black wax candles lit against the dull indigo glow of The Other Side, and even a tarot deck on a round table in the center; this all seems more like Faylie's domain.

Operating the occult outlet is a bizarre figure, when compared to his surroundings. Easily 6' tall, crystal blue eyes and covered in fur, what looks to be the massive form of a bipedal and hunched black bear, wearing a top hat and matching dark plum suit tailored for his hulking anatomy, and a pair of glasses on the bridge of his snout. A lycanthrope of the ursine persuasion, slowly pinning a needle through a small cloth doll clutched in his paws. He doesn't seem to notice our arrival.

"Are you Forrest?", I ask.

He looks up, a slow and easy gaze, taking his own time. "Who's... asking..." His voice is like smoke: deep, old, and rumbly yet sly and wistful.

Right to the point, then. "Antitia Robeno said you could get us through the Ethereal Realm." I'm hardly in the mood for pleasantries or frivolities.

The werebear sniffs, snout pointing up, appraising our scents as if a jeweler would a gem. "Mmm. Of course... I smell her on you... along with..." He stops, then narrows his eyes at Tegan. "Do we... know one another, sister?"

Tegan stiffens like a board. "Uh, no! No, never met, sorry... brother?"

He looks at her a moment longer, furry brow raised as he pulls a rather human gesture of curiosity, looking bizarre on his zoomorphic form, face muscles not quite made for it. "Ah... my mistake. Though... I suppose, we all know each other... In a sense?" Of course, it was too much to ask that anyone else here was coherent.

"Uh, can we just move on, please? The Ethereal Realm. Just that, nothing else, thanks." At least the knight's propensity against personal questions remains reliable.

"... Very well. Forrest. Many call me a mystic... a necromancer, but... I prefer to think of myself as a... simple purveyor of strange oddities." He taps his bear claws together, click-clacking in keen interest. We have his attention, at least. "What... exactly do you need to pass through the plane of fog for?"

I groan. "That is a long and exasperating story."

His large, fur-covered body leans over the counter, hair standing up with intent. "I'm all ears." For emphasis, he wiggles his rounded bear ears, jutting out either of the top hat.

My eyes roll. Are fae beings just naturally nosy? "I'm being strong-armed by your boss to assist with these involuntary transformations. We're going to the Carlivain Hotel, and it was... suggested that we might do so with ethereal aid."

Forrest chuckles, his laugh like a newly-fed furnace, sharp bear teeth showing under his snout. "Oh... I get it now...! You must be Faylie's compatriots! Well, I'm pleased to hear our other lycanthrope siblings will have more control of their nightly selves soon. Not that it bothers me much - I quite prefer this form!" He looks to the knight. "And, are-"

"For fuck's sake, just, like, the magic, guy, please", she interrupts. I look to Tegan. An unusual response...

The werebear holds up his hands apologetically, looking silly for the gesture. "Right, right, right you are, madam." He gets up from the stool he'd been sitting on, and begins to maneuver around his shop, crouched on his hybrid hind legs. "The Other Side is... a special sort of demiplane. To get in, one needs to be invited, or know the entrances. But to leave again, all that is needed is... to walk away. Through the fog wall. It will deposit you at the place and plane you belong to... Handy, for our many visitors."

He pulls a book off a shelf, a red and black leather tome with golden buckles on the front. With a breath, he blows away the gathered dust on its cover and tucks it under his arm. He continues, "Now, typically, you could enter the Ethereal Realm with a very powerful spell, or equally rare oils..."

Easily done. I've even made an etherealness oil or two, though the request is rare due to the prohibitively expensive material cost. Not a concoction I've ever even tested on myself... ordering the ingredients is a supply chain nightmare. "Do you have any oil, then? Or at least, a revenant heart and enough ectoplasm and rashvine to make it myself?", I ask.

His eyes widen. "A fellow alchemist? Ah... fascinating. Well, we do have some of this oil in stock, indeed, but it is for emergencies... and as I'm sure you're aware, they don't come cheap." Forrest starts to walk towards us. "Luckily, there is instead a way we can... leverage the unique properties of The Other Side to take... a bit of a shortcut."

"... A shortcut?"

"A little... trick. To make The Other's Side's magic believe you belong in the Ethereal Realm."

I cross my arms. "And how are you planning on doing that?"

He smiles, teeth bared. "We're going to kill you."

"Excuse me!?"

* * *

The other two thieves exit the supply shop front, deep in conversation, not yet noticing us. We get close enough to pick up the tail end of their chatter before they spot us.

"Didn't I tell you I knew some people in the faery mob?", Faylie says, one hand on her hip.

Alabastra laughs disbelievingly, shaking her head. "You didn't mention they were family, Glowbug." It seems secret-keeping is a hobby for these three. "I'd think that'd come up. We coulda had so much to talk about!" She seems rather sedate, despite the withheld information. Just another demonstration of how constantly superior she has to be. Ugh.

"I'd always just assumed this was, like, Auntie Antitia's hobby. I didn't realize she was so..."

"In deep?", she asks. The faun nods. As we approach, they turn to us, and Alabastra says, "Hey-hey! Right on time!" She carries on like she and Tegan aren't as on-the-outs as the knight alludes to.

Tegan readjusts her sword hilt, still missing more than a few bits and pieces of her armor. "Bartender say anything?" She carries that brusque and direct tone from before.

"Yep. Just like the rest; involuntary shifts, bizarre desires." Her emerald eyes squint in concentration. They were once reminiscent of a verdant woodland to me, but now only remind me of a snake's, full of venom and ill-intent. "Though, some are gettin' it worse than the others. No tellin' why... hells, could just be dumb luck."

"Fair enough. Forrest said-"

Faylie interrupts the knight, "Ooh, you talked to Forrest? It's been forever since I saw him! Can we go see him?"

Lines dig their way through the knight's face. "Actually, he wanted us to come get you two. So he can, uh. It's... Actually it's probably better if he explains it."

The rogue claps her hands together once. "Alright! Then..." Her eyes fall on me. I snarl, and look away. "Before we get this ball rollin'... Oscar. I know bein' around us right now probably ain't a cakewalk. I did mean it earlier... we can handle this. No judgement, no debt, no strings attached-"

"Absolutely not!", I say, "Even if I was willing to let others pay my way, which I am not... I can't trust you at all. You can say you won't hang it over my head... up until the moment you do. That is not happening. So for the last Godsdamned time, Alabastra... I will pay. My own dues." It's already enough that I'm having to work with them again at all... that they're so insistent on being heroes about it is an infuriating additional layer. This is to be the furthest thing from camaraderie... naught but business. And I refuse to be anything less than a reliable collaborator. If this is to fall apart again, it will be solely on their heads.

She bites her bottom lip, then nods once. "Okay. Consider it dropped." Doubtful.

Tegan and I lead the two back toward the shop.

As soon as we enter, Faylie gasps, and runs forward. "Forrest!" She wraps her arms around the werebear, as his eyes go wide with a start. "Ohmygosh it's been so long!"

The werebear lets out a rumble of a laugh, bracing himself on his roundtable, before it starts to threaten to tip over under his weight. "Faylie Nevis! Why, last time I saw you, you were... 'bout ye high!" He puts a hand out.

"I'm... still pretty much about that tall!"

Forrest looks down, and puts the hand lower, clearly unsure. Then he turns to Tegan and I. "This is all of you?"

The rogue puts a suspicious brow up. "That it is... what's this about?" Though I'm of course not pleased about this particular course of action, it is some small comfort that for once I know something she doesn't.

With a withered hunch, the necromancer opens up the book he'd pulled off the shelf, careful to not shred the pages with his claws. "Now... I will need the utmost cooperation from the four of you."

"W-wait!", Faylie shouts, "I wanna catch up first, Forrest! Whatcha been up to? Have you talked to dad lately? How're likin' Marble City? Or, I guess this only technically counts-"

"No." I seethe down at the faun, "Stop wasting time." Her ears flop down in disappointment.

The others look shocked for a moment, before Alabastra's face shifts to a neutral, and she clicks her tongue. "He's right, Bug. Gotta get this show on the road." She looks to the werebear. "We can yak it up later... Forrest, right?"

"Indeed, madam." He nods even lower, crouched low enough to actually meet our eyelines now. Then, his hand starts to hover over the book. "Now... do not be alarmed. Despite the peculiarities, this is rather routine spellcasting... I assure you. I am going to grab at your souls-"

Alabastra blinks. "I'm sorry-"

Undeterred, Forrest continues, "Then, I'll perform some temporary magic to, ah, pull them, and your perspectives with them, out of your bodies-"

I deadpan, "Are necromancers capable of conceiving of any solution that doesn't involve creating corpses?"

"Your... bodies will be left as... essentially empty vessels, but..." He seems content to not address my comment. "I'll keep a watch over them here. They'll be ready to accept your souls back inside them once again, as long as I, ahem, ensure they remain breathing."

Less scared than she had been a moment ago, despite the horrifying insinuation, Alabastra starts to smile. "And... we can get into the spooky realm?"

Forrest nods. "Indeed. You will... essentially be as ghosts!" He adjusts his glasses, a ridiculous gesture seeing as he doesn't even see through them, and puts his hands behind his back, like a lecturer. "Now, a few things you should know... Firstly, while the Other Side plays by a... separate set of rules, once you leave here into the Ethereal Plane properly... your interactions with the real world will be... limited. Mortals as you are, you'll only be seen, heard, felt, or smelled at any one time on the material plane. Only one of those four."

"Why would I wanna be smelled-", Alabastra mumbles under her breath.

"And secondly, I'll be granting you... roughly an hour or perhaps two to complete your business, before I end the spell and bring you back here. Hopefully that should be time enough without... risking your vessels."

A scheme quickly dances behind Alabastra's eyes, and she asks a follow up, "Could we... come back here and keep doin' this, then?"

Forrest laughs. "Sure! So long as you don't mind running the incredibly and increasingly likely risk that it becomes permanent!"

"Wait, what?", asks Tegan. "Actually, uh, on second thought are you sure we should be..."

Without another word, Forrest swirls his hand above the spellbook. The pages slightly lift into the air, as if pulled by some unnatural gravity, and a teal-green energy swirls amidst the werebear's claws, forming into a glyph between his hand and the book. "PRECARIUS MORTUUM", he chants, and the deathly energy swirls around us like a snake, constricting, then rising up in a curl above. It dissipates with sounds of screaming, and the three thieves drop.

Their bodies lay on the floor, fallen over unceremoniously. And where they had been standing, translucent simulacrum versions of the women look down and amongst each other with curiosity. They glow slightly, and float just off the ground, much like the ghosts elsewhere in The Other Side.

Yet as I look down at myself... I'm still exactly as I had been. My shoulders droop, and I stare cold murder at the mystic. "You forgot one."

"I most certainly did not!" He looks agitated, as if his mistake is my fault, somehow. He wrinkles his snout, and looks me over, truly taking me in. "Ah. You... wouldn't happen to already be undead, would you?"

I snarl at the bear. How quickly I've forgotten his beastlier nature... "You could have informed us that might be a complication."

"You could have asked!" The werebear shakes his head, sighing. "And precisely what manner of dead are you? Do you... have a soul?"

Shame and paranoia drum a heartbeat thump into my ears. The question bounces behind my mind... I... How do I answer that? Do I answer that? Do... do I... Regardless, the facts of my vampirism aren't something I'm inclined to divulge to a stranger... I stare him down, not letting the fact that his question rankled me show through.

Tegan steps forward. Terror grabs me by the heart. What is she... "Does it matter? It didn't work."

He grumbles. "I'd at least like to know why..."

"Too bad", she declares.

I sigh in relief. But before this can fall off the deep-end into Faewilds gibberish, I say, "Forget the spell. I'll take the oil."

Forrest growls, befitting his ursine demeanor more by the second. "You should know that's not an inexpensive thing you are asking for..."

"Put it on my damned tab, then."

He shakes his black bear head, the skin and fur bunching around the collar of his suit as he stands again. "Fine. But you're racking up quite the debt, young man." I wish the bear would stop talking. He turns to Faylie. "Hasn't this one been informed not to make deals with Fae?" I roll my eyes. As if any of this was my idea.

Back behind the counter, Forrest produces a vial of viscous lavender liquid, handing it off to me. I turn the vial over in my hand, catching it instantly for what it is: cheap. A poor quality elixir, improperly mixed, or perhaps even purposefully diluted. I can't stand a cost-cutter, shoddily sabotaging their own work for pennies on the dollar. I deposit the vial in my pocket with a scowl. I'll have to wait until we're closer to use it, just so it doesn't run out.

"Thanks", I seethe.

He wrinkles his snout, and turns to the other three. "Well... the three of you are welcome back... anytime."

Perfectly fine with me. I march out the door, and the others follow behind after only a moment longer.

Alabastra dusts her hands, her now ghostly form floating off the stairs and back onto the street. For a moment, she looks like she's going to say something in my direction. A horrible idea. Then she visibly considers otherwise. Instead she turns to the rest. "Alright, team. Let's shake a leg."