While Swiftshadow slept Wilson was hard at work. His first order of business was to take stock of his surroundings. The first thought when he looked around was that he was in a bedroom. Swiftshadow lay at the foot of a king sized bed. A ornately hand carved oak frame supported the mattress and a curtain laden canopy.
A chair sat in a corner next to a table with a lamp on it. A bookshelf loaded with phycology texts stood within an arm's reach of the chair. The balcony door was framed by a couple of busts of an old man. Old, gaunt, and a receding hairline. Wilson felt this was the image of the man who lived here.
A few oaken wardrobes lined the outer wall. Their contents spilled out across the floor. Bed sheets, shirts, pants, and other paraphernalia littered the floor. Someone had ransacked this place from top to bottom. He wonder what they were looking for in their place. Money? treasures?
Whatever it was they left never bothering to clean up after themselves. They haven't been back since. No one has been here recently if the fine layer of dust was anything to go by. The lamp told him the it previous inhabitants were quite recent. No medieval king could've ever imagined anything so miraculous as electricity.
His gaze shifted to Swiftshadow. He had more important things to worry about then whatever mysteries this castle had. She shivered as a cold draft flowed from the balcony. The latch that held them together was broken beyond repair. He rolled up his metaphorical sleeves and with all his might he closed one of the doors. He looked around for something to keep the door from drifting open. He soon solved that problem by knocking over the busts.
With that done he grabbed some of the scattered clothes and draped them over Swiftshadow's body. He managed to climb the bed canopy and cut down one of the curtains to use as a blanket. Soon she more resembled a pile of laundry than a great beast of myth.
He stepped back to admire his work. His brave little Swiftshadow all tucked in and safe. A while ago he realized that he'd come to view her as a little sister. A sister whose courage and ferocity he greatly admired as much as he admired the compassion and tenacity of his twin Annalisa. Swiftshadow did more in one day earn that title than his brother did in his entire lifetime.
Thinking about what Gregory did always sent waves of anger through him. Poisoning his final cup of tea for hunk of insurance money. He may have unwittingly preserved his mind with his invention the day of the murder, but that didn't change the fact that he could never enjoy another cup of tea again. There was also the whole existentialism thing going on. Was he actually Wilson or was he as Julien put it, a copy? A machine that simply believed he was the original Wilson? A literal ghost in the machine?
He tried not diving into that rabbit hole. Somehow his mind would always wander back to it. It was like mold, just as you think you've gotten rid of it all, It would somehow grow back. He didn't want burden Swiftshadow with these thoughts. She had more than enough on her plate.
A heavy sigh from her tore him from his thoughts. The first thing she was going to need when she awoke was food and water. While both could be remedied when she transformed and could access her backpack, He figured that glass of fresh water when she awoke would be nice.
The Castle was far larger than expected. Wilson managed to avoid the stairs with the use of a dumbwaiter. After bit of wandering he managed to find the remains of a lab. It was stripped bare of tech and equipment. Only loose wires, light fixtures, and a few pieces of glassware remained. Wilson was beginning to think a mad scientist had lived here. Most importantly though it had plumbing. After testing the water he grabbed a beaker and filled it.
On his way back, however, he heard a voice. It reverberated through empty stone hallways. Gripping the beaker tightly he located the source. He peered around a corner into what looked like a lounge.
A blazing fire place filled the room with light and warmth. A lone man sat on a old chair. His dark hair was sopping wet with grease which contrasted with his ash grey complexion. A sleek wetsuit covered his lanky body. His lips drawn back into a buck toothed grin.
He chuckled to himself, "Well, Neal, You are certainly slippery to the last." Something shiny dangled from his fingers. "With you and your friends I'll be very a very rich man." Wilson noticed several jewels sitting on a nightstand. The only gem that held his attention was the one in Neal's hand.
A shimmering white diamond in the shape of a wolf.
Swiftshadow woke to a strange tingling warmth seeping into her scales. It gently eked into her tired bones and soothed her stiff aching muscles. It almost was enough to send a rumbling purr into her parched throat.
"Wilson?" She muttered.
"I may have many names but I don't think Wilson was ever one of them," That voice made her jump into awareness. Her aching muscles made her regret her sudden jolt. Crawford rose above her. He smirked as he settled himself on a nearby chair. "You should rest my dear. Your enemies grow ever stronger waiting to drown the world in darkness,"
Swiftshadow focused her magic into her eyes. A trick she learnt from her last encounter with him. A bright violet aura surrounded the purple clad man. "Wow, you're actually physically here." Surprise bled into her voice. She expected his image to be nothing more than a smoky illusion.
"Don't be so surprised, I had to show myself sometime,"
"What are you doing here?" She accused. She rested her head between her talons, her muscles felt like stiff cables sheathed inside her flesh. She was in no mood for his games.
"Can't I 'pop in' on my favourite little wanderer? Especially when she's so far away from home?"
"What do you know of my home?" She growled. Even she didn't know where her home was. Ever since she woke up in the wolf den she could barely remember a damn thing about her past. Her memories remained shrouded behind a veil of static. All she knew was that she had a brother, her parents passed away in some freak accident, with her grandfather possibly joining them.
"I've taken enough trips inside that mind of yours to know what remains locked inside,"
"Locked inside?"
"The memories you've hidden from yourself,"
"Why would I hide my own memories?"
"You should ask that next time you have a nightmare,"
Swiftshadow frowned. Her near constant nightmares plagued her no matter where she went or her far she flew. Yet every time her eyes snapped open the memory of them vanished like a mirage. Were they somehow connected to her amnesia? What could she have experienced that was so horrifying that she would willingly conceal her own memories from herself? Or was she too terrified of what was hidden?
"Just who are you?" She growled.
"I'm sure you can figure it out yourself, you have enough of the pieces,"
Swiftshadow cursed him for forcing her to use her brain. Abby's memory had shown that he was far older than he appeared. He knew quite a bit about her magic. A raven was always either present or connected to his appearances. Wasn't one of the beast spirits was a raven? Frostbite had once mentioned a rumour that a spirit champion had survived Malic Korvoth's first onslaught. "You're the original Raven Marked,"
"Was. Without my patron I'm just a simple mage," Crawford stared forlornly at the back of his right hand.
"Malic was sealed away millennia ago, So how're you still-"
"Alive?" He chuckled, "Every victory has its price, which my cohorts paid in blood. I paid for it in solitude. A job needed to be done, and I the only applicant. Now get some rest your journey is not done yet,"
Before she could say anything Crawford's form changed. his body shrank as dark feathers coated it. His feet became thin delicate talons. A raven hopped onto the arm rest gave her a wink before flying through a cracked open window. She didn't need to her spirit vision to know that what she had witnessed was no illusion.
With her head between her talons, it wasn't long before sleep once more claimed her.
Two dark navy cars pulled up to the castle gates. Carmen glared at the stonework structure through the windshield. The last time she was here she wasn't herself exactly. Dr. Bellums memory eraser had altered her memories so she'd believed a false reality. One where it was shadow-san was the one who fled V.I.L.E. island, not her. A reality were she really believed that he really did kill her father.
It did more than alter her memories, it altered her personality too. It made her cold, cruel, and merciless. Images of Zack falling from a ferris wheel or Graham getting zapped by his own rod would sometimes flicker through her mind. Mind alteration or not those memories still haunted her. Why Neal the Eel would choose this place as a hide out she had no idea.
The setting sun cast a eerie golden glow on the ancient fortress. Overgrown weeds stubbornly dug their roots into whatever crack and crevice they could find. Dark windows gave no indication that anyone was wandering the hallowed halls. If Neal was here there was no obvious evidence that he was.
"What do ya' say Carm? Go in guns blazing?" Zack said.
"I recommend against such strategy," Countered Shadow-san, "Neal is a slippery foe. to capture him we must make sure that our net is woven tightly or he will escape,"
Carmen pondered for a minute. "Chase, Jules, you search the east wing. Zack, Ivy, Search the upper floors. Shadow-san and I will take the west. the moment you see him, call for back up and don't let him out of your sight,"
"You got it," Said Ivy giving an enthusiastic thumbs up.
"You got our backs Player?" She spoke through her ear piece.
"When don't I?"
For now all Carmen could do was hope that everything went to plan. Yet somehow some deep instinct told her that something was going take her carefully made plans and toss them in the trash.