Gwen stared at her reflection in the mirror, gripped by the surreal. The crimson runes continued to blaze across her ethereal chest, bathing the room in a rippling red light.

Her body was no more than delicate wisps of smoke in a feminine silhouette.

Hesitantly, she reached out to the mirror with the wispy shadow of her hand.

She pressed firmly on the mirror and a wave of relief washed over her as she felt the glass.

She was still corporeal and, therefore, definitely not a ghost. The idea of haunting the world as a disembodied specter was an unpleasant one to be presented with.

Definitely not a ghost, she repeated, silently reassuring herself and taking a deep sigh of relief.

Mentally, she beckoned the room's magical lighting on.

The runes and shadows ebbed until her normal appearance became faintly visible. Her pale skin and red hair appeared beneath a dark mist. Slowly, the mist evaporated and disappeared. Her eyes remained black orbs. The effect made her look terrifying, even to herself. Finally, however, they too gave way to the white of her eyes and the dark green of her irises.

Seeing her own eyes looking back at her quelled the panic rising in her chest.

"What have I gotten myself into this time..." she wondered aloud to her reflection.

With no desire to stay in the guest room a moment longer, she turned away from the mirror and left.

Downstairs, she found the mansion oppressively quiet. She scurried to the kitchen and retrieved a small handful of coins from the jar and placed them in her pocket. Frowning, she wished in vain that she had teleported with her wallet so she could leave some American currency, at least. She shook her head. Of all of the things she would regret tonight, she knew this would be the least of her conscience's worries.

She slid her feet into her sandals and walked out into the brisk, night air of London.

There was a sidewalk outside of Aloysius' house, illuminated by street lamps.

Looking carefully for any sign of a pay phone, she wandered away from the mansion, mentally noting which one it was so she could find it again.

As she walked, listening to her footfalls in the silence, she played through the events of the evening.

First, she thought. Hieronymous is being held prisoner by a man named Alcinous Alden. In the Otherworld. Or, as it's known to me, the one place I should never go under any circumstances.

She scowled at this.

Second, she went on, turning left as the street ended in a fork. Agravian.

Thinking his name, she frowned and folded her arms.

He claims he's a friend. He turned me into a shadow like him and gave me his "mark", whatever that means. And tomorrow, he's coming to open the Spiral Gate to the Otherworld.

She shook her head and remembered Professor Potsdam's lecture on the subject of the Otherworld.

"The world you see around you is only the tiniest fraction of all that exists," she had said. "There are infinite realms which exist outside of our own space and time. The nearest such realm is that which we call the 'Otherworld'."

Gwen tilted her head, trying to remember the rest of the lecture. She had been thinking about her campaign for school treasurer at the time. She momentarily reflected how winning such a mundane affair had so drastically altered the path of her life.

"You students must not enter the Otherworld under any circumstances. Can any of you tell me why that is?"

Minnie, one of her classmates, had eagerly risen her hand and explained how delectable the inhabitants of the Otherworld found human souls to be. The professor had quickly interrupted and politely thanked her before she could go into graphic detail.

"The Otherworld is a wonderful place," her memory of the lecture picked back up. "Magic flows more freely there, and many witches and wizards choose to live there full-time. But we are not native to it, and we are not immune to its dangers. Do not attempt to pass the Gate. Not even with an adult to guard you. Not even with a powerful spell or artifact to protect you. Not even with a friend who has been there before and told you it's safe. Some of your classmates have other-than-human heritage, but what is safe for them is not safe for you. Most importantly, if a spirit invites you to the Otherworld, do not accept, no matter what you are promised," Gwen frowned guiltily at this recollection. "I am not saying this to frighten you, or to challenge you to find a way around my rules. If you disobey, I will not need to punish you, because you will be gone."

Gwen stopped and looked up into the night sky.

The professor's right. And so is Aloysius. I don't belong in the Otherworld.

Her eyes widened as she came to a realization.

Of course, she thought, chiding herself for not thinking of it sooner. I can warn Aloysius he's walking into a trap. That solves everything.

She concentrated on the Far Speak spell, a smile on her face.

'Aloysius,' Gwen thought at him.

'Ah, Gwen,' his voice reverberated in her mind.

She had not used the spell very often, so it was still a little odd to her. Sometimes voices tickled her brain. His voice, however, sounded friendly and sincere, and somehow reminded her of a warm blanket on a cold winter's day.

'Is there something I can help you with?' his voice asked gently.

'I wanted to tell you...' she started, but her mind shut down before she could finish the thought.

She tried again.

Her mind stubbornly refused to obey.

A worried frown crossed her face. She tried to think Agravian's name. The same brick wall greeted her efforts. She tried to transmit something, anything, about her becoming a shadow, the image of the red runes, or details about Agravian himself.

'Gwen, are you still there?' Aloysius asked with concern.

Gwen screamed in frustration.

'Never mind,' tears welled up in her eyes. 'I just wanted to say... please be careful.'

'We will, never you worry, my dear,' he replied cheerfully.

Gwen felt the connection break away.

She walked on in despair, with nothing but her thoughts for company, until a pay phone finally came into view.

Following the directions written on the pay phone, she dialed 001 and then entered her phone number.

Though it was still early morning in London, she knew it would be late evening at home.

Her father answered the phone.

"Hello?"

"Hi Dad," she said, her own voice bubbling with happiness at the sound of his.

"Hey, that's weird," he said, sounding confused.

"What?" she asked.

"The caller ID. There's a really long area code from your end," he replied.

"Huh, weird," she replied, trying to sound equally puzzled. "Listen, I wanted to tell you what happened at school. There was a lot of confusion, but," she thought back to the fictional story she had devised, "apparently I received a scholarship to attend summer school. All my classes are already paid for, they just forgot to tell me."

"Oh," he said. His voice sounded far away, considering the story. "Are you going to attend the classes or come home?"

He sounded as if he sincerely believed her.

She rested her head against the glass window of the tiny pay phone box and covered her eyes.

"I think I should stay and take the classes. It would be a real waste not to use a scholarship, you know?"

"Well, alright. We'll miss having you around for summer. Just let us know if you change your mind and we'll come get you. It's only a hundred fifty miles," he said jovially, as if he didn't mind driving any distance for her.

Her throat choked up.

"Sweetie?"

She coughed.

"Nothing, just thinking, you're the best dad in the world, you know that?"

"I do what I can," he replied playfully.

"Hey, I have to run, it's time for dinner, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Sure, have fun. I'll tell your mother."

"Thanks, love you."

"Love you, too."

"Bye," she said in a whisper.

"Good night," he said as he hung up the phone.

"Viscount," prompted a feminine voice.

"Viscount," she repeated, louder this time.

Aloysius started.

"Oh, my," he rubbed at his eyes. "What time is it, my dear?"

"A little after eight in the morning," she replied, handing him a steaming cup.

"Oh, bless your heart, Olivia," he said accepting the cup and sipping gratefully. In the ten years she had been his right-hand, he had never had a complaint about the temperature, strength or amount of cream and sugar.

No one makes a cup of tea like Olivia, thought Aloysius. Each cup reflects the particular person.

"Everyone is briefed and ready when you are, sir," she replied.

Olivia was smartly dressed and, as always, in her set of serious black robes. She wore her short, black hair and bangs clipped sharp and even. A set of thin, black glasses framed her face and her black high heels brought her eye to eye with the taller members of the council. Not a single, other soul wore heels in the large council building, so when one heard their familiar 'click-clack', most jumped up in their chair, knowing who would be descending upon them. Her arms were folded and a severe expression was set on her face as a rule.

In stark contrast to her serious appearance, she always wore a vivid shade of red lipstick. Her skill in politics made her a highly sought after second, but she would work with no one other than the Viscount Montague.

With a final sip of his tea, Aloysius set his cup down on his desk beside the picture of a young boy with shaggy, black hair. His gaze settled on the photograph. He reached for it tentatively, but his fingers wavered, unable to touch it. Silently, he withdrew his hand, resting his fingers against his temple.

"Sir?" Olivia asked, faintly raising an eyebrow.

Aloysius shook off his melancholy and slapped his hands on his desk, standing sharply.

"Let's go get my son back," he said with a manic grin.

"Yes, sir," Olivia replied with a smile.

Leaving his office behind, they walked toward the conference room at the end of the hall.

"I'm going to need you here looking after things while I'm away. I shouldn't be long, but the bill regarding white magic presage needs reviewing, and..."

Olivia cut him off, placing her hand on the door to the conference room, "I'm coming with you."

"I can't allow that," Aloysius replied firmly. "I need you here."

"I wasn't asking," she said, opening the door for him.

The eight people gathered in the conference room fell silent and turned to look at Aloysius.

He stared hard at Olivia, but she didn't bat so much as an eyelash.

"You're welcome to fire me," she said quietly, a small smile touching her lips.

The hardened expression on his face cracked and gave way to a warm smile.

"Very well," he said quietly. Giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze, he turned and strode into the room.

"My friends," Aloysius greeted them. "I appreciate your coming on such short notice. I am in your debt," he said graciously.

Behind him Olivia began chanting a spell, the words clipped and articulate.

"Please, cast your wards now," Aloysius directed them.

A cacophony of commands filled the room followed by bursts of light from white runes spiraling before their casters.

"Please carefully inspect the ward of the person to your left, then the person to your right."

While the gathered men and women inspected one another, he heard Olivia complete the ritual of summoning. There was a brilliant shimmer in the air, followed by the appearance of a gate. The large gate looked, at first glance, like an elegant one from a wealthy estate, but on closer observation the metal was twisted into hundreds of thousands of tiny, delicate spirals. A magnificent lock joined either side of the gate at the center, adorned with a serpent devouring its tail. An opaque shimmer of white light emanated from within its ornate frame.

After inspecting Olivia's wards and vice versa, Aloysius stood before the gate.

With a wave of his hand the lock fell away and the gate spread apart with a faint metallic noise.

The group of witches and wizards strode through the Spiral Gate.

Aloysius blinked in the pitch black on the other side. He felt the tingle of Otherworld magic all around and began chanting an Awareness spell.

He heard his comrades chanting as well. Too late, he realized that it wasn't just chanting; it was a group chant. The spell, he barely recognized as a prison ward, went off before he could react.

Eight white runes formed a circle around him.

Olivia tossed a light spell into the air.

"It appears we've been betrayed, sir," she said, her voice grim, and stepped in front of him.

Alcinous stared down at his prisoner, his arms folded.

Hieronymous' unnerving, raven black eyes intently followed his every move. Long chains shackled his wrists to flagstones on either side of him. He had grown bored of standing hours before, and now rested on one knee.

The two men glowered at one another.

Alcinous turned his head, listening to something.

A victorious smile on his face, he returned his gaze to Hieronymous.

"I have good news and bad. The good, is that you'll have your father for company. The bad, is that you really have no hope of ever leaving here."

He saw surprise spread across Hieronymous' face.

"Then," Hieronymous replied resolutely, "you intend on incarcerating us within this disused prison, rather than doing away with us. If it's all the same to you," he said, folding his hands to rest upon his wrists, "I favor solitary confinement to the companionship of my father."

"I'll see what I can arrange," Alcinous said with a mock bow. He turned to acknowledge eight hooded figures assembling in the room.

A slow and wicked smile spread across Hieronymous' lips.

His thin, elegant fingers tapped twice and the shackles on his wrists shattered.