The wolf stared at her for a moment. It bared a set of long, bloodied teeth, its red eyes glowing like embers. It let out one more strangely echoing growl.

And lunged.

Its teeth bit into the right sleeve of her heavily padded gambeson. She could feel its fangs' pressure, but no piercing. At least, not yet.

She swung the pommel of Shamus's sword towards its head. The weapon glanced off without touching, as though an invisible shield protected the creature. She aimed a kick at the wolf's legs, with no more success.

The wolf worked its jaw, tightening its grip on her arm, trying in vain to dig its teeth in. This struck her as odd - she usually expected wolves to go for the throat.

She started raising a ruckus, yelling, screaming, and kicking over and over again and shoving the light gem into those glowing red eyes. Perhaps if she put up enough of a struggle, she thought, the wolf would give up and leave.

But it did no such thing, instead holding on and dragging her to the floor of the house, then over the empty threshold, then off to one side, away from the village square, the battle, and the burning fires. She struggled and called for help the entire way, but no one came.

The wolf finally let go of her arm. Its blood-red eyes surveyed everything around her as it paced. It bared its teeth again. This time, they shone white. The wolf gave that growl, a voice that seemed to be animated by something not of this world.

Lidia pulled herself to her feet and held her sword forward in a guard. Her blood, running hot from fending off the wolf, suddenly froze.

Above her upon the wall of the house were three thin wraith-like shadows, in the shape of humans but without bodies. One of them reached a long, reed-thin, insubstantial hand towards her. She saw and felt no fingers, but a spot upon her cheek burned cold. She stumbled in place, her knees suddenly weak.

The wraiths' hands touched her again and again, without any force in their motions or strength in their grip - all that was needed for them was the brush of their fingertips. With every pass those hands made, every time the painful chill struck, she grew weaker and weaker, until she collapsed again. Shamus's sword fell to the ground from her hand.

Several other wolves of the same kind emerged from behind the house in easy strides, their eyes glowing red and their fangs dripping with blood. The realization flashed through her mind: once the shadows had finished her off, these wolves would feast.

She had a sudden, terrible sensation that the dark well inside her was rising up and soon would overflow. She'd always had the sense that there was something staring back at her every time she reached for its power, but now she could feel its eyes there burning her within, as the shadowy hands burned her without.

She gritted her teeth, defying those eyes: not now, not ever. She mouthed a wordless plea, and pulled her last wits together.

"Back," she weakly said towards the wall, trying to fend the shadows off with her hand. Above her, they hesitated for a moment, and the wolves fell silent.

This small act strengthened her spirit, even as she had to rally her body towards cooperating. She raised her left hand. She tried again.

Her voice was slow to come, and it felt as though a will other than hers were moving it. But she called out, loudly and clearly: "Back! Back to the Abyss with you!"

She felt the flash from inside her first, but in an instant everything else around her glowed brightly in soft white, as though a lamp had suddenly switched on. The shadows fled, and the wolves howled and retreated, whimpering in their disembodied voices.

It was not enough, she realized, wondering how long she could hold them off like this.

She heard a clear, high voice call out behind her. As she lost consciousness, lying alone, the last thing she noticed was her ink-black shadow, much darker than it should have been in the dead of night, upon the house's wall.

She was vaguely aware of being moved and laid out, though the world swirled in darkness in front of her.

And then, two voices. They were familiar voices, but the names that went with them escaped her for the moment.

One belonged to a man. "What about Lidia, here?"

"Look at her shadow. I don't think a normal healing spell will do any good." The other speaker sounded clearly like a young woman.

A long silence. "I will need to ask for the proper spell from Helm, then, and this will take time. Afterwards, I will return to her last."

"Can she make it?"

"She should if left alone, but she will not withstand a second attack. Examine this house and seal every crevice. Leave nothing wider than a finger."

The voices stopped speaking, and she sensed that their owners had left her side. For some time Lidia drifted in and out of sleep, unable to truly wake, but for how long she could not tell.

After wandering down shadowy paths and wild dreams, a sudden light seemed to burst again inside Lidia as it did before. But this time, it steadily grew, filling every crevice of her body before it dissipated.

When the light died, she suddenly awoke. For a moment, she was confused and looking wildly about for any danger, thinking that her shadow on the wall would strangle the last life from her body.

"It's all right," Elotte said, her quick, round race hovering above her, registering some concern. "It was touch and go, but Helm was merciful today."

Lidia looked up at her, trying to piece together where she was and why Elotte was in her armor.

"It's nearly highsun since the attack last night," the girl offered, clearly trying to help. "You're in Imnesvale, yes?"

Lidia still stared dumbly upwards a moment before she could finally put events and places in their proper order. She then looked around her again, this time out of curiosity.

She was inside the same cabin she'd put Shamus, or one very similar to it. She'd been covered with a rough blanket and laid out on a corner of the floor, on a lumpy straw mattress. Inside it was dark, as the lone window had been covered up with a cloth, but daylight still glowed through it, allowing her to see a little. She raised her hand, staring at the wall immediately to her left. Her shadow had become dim again.

She finally asked Elotte, "Those wolves...what are they? Why are they working with undead?"

The younger girl shook her head. "I don't know. Things from the darkness have been taking someone at least once a tenday. Even now, the cost to the village has been too high. I shudder to think what would have happened, even now, if none of us had been here."

Lidia sat up and pushed off the blanket. She had been pulled out of her gambeson and boots, and these were drying on a nearby chair, the blood from the ettin and the wolf's former feast having been cleaned off them.

Meanwhile, Anomen had slumped against a nearby wall, his head in his hand, his eyes nearly half closed.

He noticed that she was up, and made an effort to shake himself awake. "Lidia. Do you feel like yourself again?"

"Yes, I do." In fact, not only had she returned to her full strength, she felt better-rested than she had in two tendays.

For his part, though, he looked completely exhausted. "Have you been up this whole time?" she asked him.

"No, but the spell you required…" He leaned forward, as though he were ready to fall asleep then and there.

"Was it a restoration?"

He nodded, with a suppressed yawn.

She got to her feet. Some of the fine dirt on the stone floor slipped past the fabric in her rough woolen stockings, but she paid it no mind. "Here, take my spot."

Anomen complied, and within a minute he was on top of the straw and fast asleep, not even bothering with the blanket.

Lidia put on her still-drying boots and left as Elotte kept her vigil, making sure to close the door quietly behind her, and went outside.