Chapter 8: That's a Door

She was right; it was, indeed, a door. Quite an impressive door, too; a double door, in fact. It stood at least twice as tall as Charlemagne, and merged smoothly with the cliff face. The style was simple, but imposing; a lightly polished tan-hued frame bordered a dark grey body. The edges of the design were jagged and inconsistent; to the unobservant, the door could easily have looked like a cave entrance, or a peculiar patch of shadow. This close, though, there was no mistaking its door-ness.

Charlemagne walked up to the immense gate and laid a palm against it. With barely a whisper, the doors glided open, and revealed an immense hallway that stretched deep into the cliffside. He motioned to the others to follow, then marched inward.

Abzel whimpered slightly, as she began to comprehend the vast, imposing silence inside. In some places, like graveyards or caves, the sound of emptiness had a certain malevolence to it; even if nothing stirred within, you could tell that those places were just inherently evil. The inverse applied to temples and mausoleums; there, you felt a sense of regal bearing to the air, and did not wish to disturb the peace.

This place, though, lacked even that; the emptiness here was entirely void of moral undertones. This was not a silence to be feared, or revered, but observed. Analyzed. Used. It was a library fortress.

Charlemagne motioned for them to stop, and took Edgy's helmet out of Abzel's paws. "Wait here," he said, before disappearing into a side room and closing the door behind him. A few minutes passed before he emerged, with the massive cadaver no longer in tow. "Alright then," he said, clasping his paws together. "If you'll follow me, I'll show you to your accommodations."

He led them through twisting corridors and spacious rooms, pointing out signs along the way that would help them navigate the halls on their own. Finally, they came to a corridor filled with doors. He opened the first door on the right. "Here we are, Room D-31."

The room was a tidy affair; four beds sat in the corners, with pristine white sheets arranged perfectly on each. Beside each bed was a nightstand, and at the feet were wardrobes with intricate designs engraved into the doors. Small oil lamps sat on the walls on decorative mounts, their dancing flames adding to the friendly atmosphere of the room. In the center of the room, clustered around the central support column, stood four small tables with inset washbasins. Beside each basin was a small bowl with a floral arrangement; the scent of fresh-cut flowers filled the room.

Abzel let out a noise that could only be described as a squee, and danced into the room. She chose the bed in the far right, and immediately started bouncing around on the immeasurably soft mattress. Welking entered much more slowly, looking over the room with veiled curiosity. He made a full circle of the room, inspecting everything with care.

Charlemagne brought a halt to his exploration with a small cough. "Well then. Abzel, go ahead and make yourself at home. Welk-"

"We can stay here!?" Abzel was now practically touching the ceiling with her jumps.

"Yes, if you wish."

"FOREVER?"

"As long as you please."

"WAHOO!" Abzel performed a tight backflip, landing on her back square in the middle of the bed. She stared up at the ceiling with a dazed happy look, then squeezed her eyes tight shut and began dancing in place, still laying down.

Charlemagne stared at her a few seconds longer, with what could only be a confused expression concealed by his mask. Then he turned back to Welking. "If you'll come with me, Welking, there's something I need to check."

As Abzel looked for somewhere to stash her bag of vittles, Welking followed Charlemagne out into the hall. They left the dormitory wing, and returned to the main parlor. (Unlike Abzel, Welking was actually fairly competent at navigating buildings, and understood the concepts of parlors and wings.) From there, Charlemagne led him down a hall marked "R&D".

After an extended period of intense silence, Charlemagne spoke up. "Something on your mind?"

He looked over his shoulder to find Welking staring at the ground as it passed underneath him. The stoat's eyes shifted to look at the ceiling, then the wall, before finally turning to Charlemagne. "Did you ever feel like you shouldn't know something?" he asked.

Charlemagne turned back to the direction he was walking. "Now that's an interesting question." He put a finger to his chin and thought for a second. "Well, if you mean 'dark secrets of the universe,' then I would suppose so." He looked back at Welking. "Why do you ask?"

"Well… I woke up in a pile of bodies, after what I'm told was a killing blow to my head. If I really did die, though, you'd think I wouldn't know… well, anything. But I can speak, and I can walk, and I know…" He searched for the word. "Well, stuff. I shouldn't know stuff if I died."

"True, true. If you were a normal beast, that is. However, judging by the fact that you're still breathing after death by blunt force trauma, I'd say mere partial memory loss is quite the blessing in its own right." He pointed to the oaken door that had somehow snuck up on them. "In here."

Inside was the most eclectic collection of items Welking had ever seen. Suits of rusted armor for all manner of beasts stood in glass-shielded display cases, various weapons hung on racks on the wall, and the back of the room was devoted to a wall-to-wall bookcase filled with ancient tomes and scroll cases.

"Watch your step," Charlemagne warned. "Most everything in this room is some relic or another, lost to time; I'd prefer that time didn't catch up to them just yet."

Welking's eyes strayed to an alcove in the wall, where a bleached clamshell sat clamped shut. He went to open it, but was stopped by Charlemagne's paw. "I would prefer if you didn't touch that; the power contained within is beyond your current ability to control."

"Oh." Welking's eyes strayed to the name plaque. "'Toao'?" he muttered. He could read, somewhat, but this wasn't a word he'd ever heard of before.

"Over here, please." Charlemagne had moved over to a freestanding display column. On top of the column was a glass dome; underneath that sat a sapphire of an unnaturally deep blue. The gem was roughly the size of Welking's paw.

Welking moved over to the case timidly, intimidated by the obvious importance of the jewel. "What is it?" he wondered.

Charlemagne lifted the dome and picked up the sapphire. "This," he stated, with a fair deal of drama, "is the Night Eye-a Tether."

"Okay… so, what does that mean?"

"Well, for a regular beast, not much. Aside from it being slightly harder to break, it's little more than eye candy. To the dead, though, it's a little more. You see, Tethers are specially crafted links to the realm of the afterlife, a process that imbues them with unique properties. The Night Eye in particular acts as a sort of bridge, allowing passed souls to return to this side and communicate with us. It's a property shared by many Tethers, but this one in particular is especially strong."

"So, it can bring the dead back to life?"

"Not this one, no. There are a few that may be capable of that, but they would require almost a lifetime of attunement. You see, Tethers are, in essence, little fragments of Creation. Broken, but in such a way as to be used by those who know how to wield them. And, while the knowledge of how to do so has a tendency to fade with time, the Tethers have a sort of… well, consciousness. They desire to be used; and when they are not used, they exert a force of raw greed, that drives beasts to find them and give them the use they so desire. This greed, though, is fairly subdued; and because Tethers tend to be objects of value, such as precious stones, it often seems quite natural."

Welking nodded. "I can see why."

"Now, for a select few-you may want to sit down." Charlemagne motioned to an armchair against the wall. Welking obliged; the chair, like the beds in the dormitory wing, was abnormally comfortable. Charlemagne continued. "For a select few beasts, Tethers have another effect. These few are shattered creatures, whose souls are torn between life and death. They exist in a cycle, not fully in this world, but unable to stay in the next. When these beasts come into contact with Tethers, they interact quite violently, widening the hole between the worlds and allowing the broken beasts to slip through. In the case of the Night Eye, the tumultuous void between worlds overwhelms them, pouring into their minds all manner of unexperienced memories and intangible sensations. It's actually quite cathartic, on particularly stressful days." Charlemagne carefully placed the stone in Welking's lap. "Now, I'll explain further if I need to. However, if my hunch is correct, that won't be necessary."

Welking stared down at the sapphire, unsure of how to proceed. "Uh, what do I do?"

"Touch it."

Slowly, he placed his paw on the gem. At once, a surge of energy coursed up his arm; he tried to remove his paw, but his body wasn't responding anymore. He felt the energy fly through his bones, across his chest, up his neck…

And everything went black.

The void between worlds was particularly orange, Welking thought. Not bright orange; more of a salmon-y sort of color. He was floating, presumably, right in the center, as if suspended in water somewhere below the surface.

Gradually, the blank expanse of color swirled and shifted, as streaks of red and yellow, and then green, began to flow across the image. The colors resembled pigment dropped into a pool, shifting closely together but never quite mixing.

He felt something brush against his arm; looking down, he found a yellow-green tentacle had twisted out of the seemingly unreachable, distant edge of the void to brush against his fur. It had an almost misty appearance to it, like some kind of ghost entity; Welking could see his arm through it, if he looked from the right angle.

While his attention was elsewhere, something else touched his cheek. He looked forward again, and found a young squirrelmaid, holding her paw against his jaw. Her form was only vaguely defined, stretched out of the same ethereal material that composed the tentacle before. She gave him a look that was equally soft and curious, and tugged lightly at his jaw.

He looked back at the tentacle, to find that it had turned into the paw of a well-groomed rat boy. He, too, was tugging lightly at Welking. Then another paw landed on Welking's shoulder, a massive appendage that most likely belonged to a badger.

Gradually, more and more spirits slipped out of the void, laying hold of Welking at one point or another. He looked around at the crowd with confusion and rising fear, as he struggled to free himself. The gathered souls felt his growing unease, and began to pull harder.

"No!" he shouted. "Let me go!" The spirits began to chatter, speaking in ghostly voices that resembled a low murmur in a crowded auditorium, only without the all too important element of actual linguistic content. As they boxed him in tighter and tighter, he found it increasingly more difficult to breathe. He shoved and swung at the ghosts trying to drive them off.

Then, without warning, the squirrelmaid grabbed his face again, and screamed. As she did, her visage morphed until it was little more than a massive mouth filled with wicked fangs. The shriek carried through the crowd, twisting them into similar abominations. They began to claw over each other, latching on to Welking's body with hideously curved claws and gnashing their teeth at him.

All at once, gravity returned, and Welking dropped. Through the gathered wraiths, through the orange void, he sped towards whatever substituted for ground here. The only thing that tipped him off to the fact that he was falling was the feeling of air moving past him.

Then, for the third surprise of his out-of-body experience, he was brought to a halt by the prong of a trident skewering him through the chest. Strangely, it didn't hurt (much), but it still brought him to a sudden and total halt. He looked down, and found that the trident was held by an unnaturally large fox. The beast's fur was streamlined, a deep fiery red that stood in stark contrast to the much paler void around him. A crimson cape hung from his shoulders, and one eye was covered by a black patch. He stood at least twice as tall as a badger, and was built like one to boot. Behind him, nearly invisible past the vomit-sherbet-colored fog, stood a massive gate

The great fox lifted Welking from the trident tip with one paw, and held him before his eyes. "So, my brother's greatest mistake comes to visit me at last." Despite his terrifying appearance, his voice was deep and calm, radiating a sort of eldritch power. "You should not have brought life to this place; they are desperate for it. Return now to the waking world, and do not tarnish my doorstep until your allotted time."

Without warning he dropped his arm, swinging Welking down past his hip, then brought him up in a tremendous underpaw throw. Welking streaked back through the crowded ghosts, colliding with the distorted squirrelmaid and tearing a hole through her side. As his vision began to fade, his last sight was her shrieking in rage and agony as her twisted yellow body disintegrated outwards from the wound.

Welking jolted upright, knocking the Night Eye to the floor. It took him a few seconds to start breathing at a normal rate again; his skin was still tingling and felt warm to the touch.

It appeared Charlemagne had left the room at some point. Taking his place was an elderly white rabbit (hare?), sitting opposite the room from him with an ancient tome in paw. When the Eye hit the floorboards, he looked up, then gingerly closed the tome and set it aside. He rose from the chair with a groan, then hobbled over to Welking. "Welcome back to the world of the living," he said, as he bent down to pick up the sapphire. "Was your sleep… refreshing?"

Welking held his head, which had started throbbing from the sudden jolt of waking up. "Ugh… how long was I…" He trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

"About three hours." The creature of indeterminate species placed the Tether back on its pedestal, and gently replaced the dome. Then he headed for the door, motioning for Welking to follow. "Come with me."

"Where are we going?" As he left the room, he noted that the clam shell had been removed from its alcove.

"Master Charlemagne requested that I direct you to the mess hall upon your return to the living world. An urgent matter, the details of which I am not at liberty to disclose, has currently diverted his attention."

"Ah." Welking put a paw to his chin. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

The creature nodded. "I will answer to the best of my ability."

"Okay, first of all: rabbit or hare? I know hares are quite sensitive about being called rabbits, but I can't for the life of me tell which you are."

The creature laughed. "I am a rabbit, my good sir. Do not bother yourself too deeply about the distinction, though; I am not so easily insulted as my gluttonous cousins." He turned to face Welking, and extended a somewhat withered paw. "Seamus Mirdop, pleased to make your acquaintance."

Welking took the paw. "Um, Welking… the stoat…"

Seamus laughed again. "Yes, yes, Master Charlemagne has already informed me."

"Which leads into my second question: why do you call him 'master'? Are you a slave or something?"

This question, Welking noted, was the first to be met with actual indignation. "Heavens, no. Charlemagne is the master of this house, and I honor him as such. That does not make me his slave; I am no more than a guest, like yourself."

"Then why serve him?"

"I owe it to him, as a good houseguest. After all, I have been such for over thirty seasons now."

Welking began chewing the inside of his cheek awkwardly. "Oh."

"Did you have any other questions?"

"Ah… yes, yes I did." Welking struggled to remember the circumstances that spawned the question. "Um, so you mentioned my 'return to the living world', or somethin' like that. What exactly does that mean?

"It means that you reacted to the Tether, and in the way that Charlemagne predicted you would. It means that your soul exists in limbo between this life and the afterlife." Seamus stopped and turned to face him. "It means," here he paused for dramatic effect, "that you are an Aspect."

Guh. I have delayed this chapter for far too long. I'm still not sure whether I'm happy with it, so if anyone notices any errors or inconsistencies, I'd probably be okay with violating my 'no major edits' policy. EDIT: I have violated my 'no major edits' policy. Tethers fixed, fox fixed, accent fixed, et cetera. Hopefully I won't have to do this again.

Anyway, I promised Blackish that I'd get back to Ripfang in 'the next chapter'. However, I'd already finished Chapter 7, and this chapter ran too long for me to put him here either. Because of this, I'll be starting the next chapter with Ripfang's section, just to make sure he gets in there. Sorry for the misinformation, Blackish.