The water splashed around his neck and his boots sunk into the mud but he did not relent. He trudged forward, climbing over hills of dirt and grass and descending into pools of water as thousands of stars and a pall of darkness looked down on him. Sometimes the water was over his head but it didn't bother him. He kept walking through any obstacles in his path, his large battle-axe in one hand. He climbed one mound of dirt and glanced back, water dripping down his rags, chainmail, grey hair and white porcelain mask.

Scores of werewolves followed, their eyes lifeless, their stares blank as they too simply walked forward, tumbling into the water and climbing over mounds and hills of grass to fall back into the pools on the other side. Some were missing legs or arms, or both, and all showcased gruesome wounds on their bodies. Some were even missing half a head. Their progress was slow but steady but he was confident they would reach their destination in time. A young woman with wavy, blonde hair and grey eyes flew into view, holding on to the hands of a dark-skinned man of about the same age. She dropped the man on a nearby mound of grass and rubbed her aching arms.

"You think we'll reach them in time?" Athena asked Durn.

He nodded. "Yes, I believe we will. It will take time for them to secure the next anchor and at this rate we should reach them before they succeed."

"How do you know all of this?" Seth asked, his eyes on the small army of zombified werewolves. "What if they already succeeded and are leaving this world right now?"

"Then they are leaving," Durn replied with a shrug. He looked ahead and saw the black block in the distance, barely distinguishable in the blackness of night. "The mansion is not so far away. I sense the presence of a powerful being there, one who is undead, like I am. If we arrive when the ones we were sent to kill are gone at least I'll still have someone worthy to claim."

Athena spat. "So we're just doing this for you? That's not fair! I can go with Seth and reach that mansion right now if I wanted to! I don't have to wait for you and your stupid zombie werewolves!"

"Then go ahead," Durn offered. "Fly off with your little friend there and attack them by yourself. You failed last time you tried but maybe this time will be different. Need I remind you that you were very nearly killed by a wolf?"

"He wasn't a normal wolf. He was way bigger than the ones I've seen and Seth and I didn't do that bad last time when we took them all on by ourselves!"

"You did fail, however."

"So did you this time!"

"You do not stand a chance against the owner of that mansion. He is much too powerful for you alone. You will fail quickly without me or my army."

"Yeah, whatever..."

"Athena," Seth said, grabbing her arm and trying to calm her. "Let's just keep pace with Durn and his werewolves. If we don't make it in time then we don't but if we just go charging off alone we'll die. I just want to go back home. I don't want to die in this stinking swamp. Do you?"

Athena took a deep breath and did calm down somewhat. "No... I just hate it how he keeps reminding us that we failed, like he did so much better than we did."

"If it weren't for those werewolves we might have done better last time. This time those werewolves are on our side. Those guys don't stand a chance!"

Athena glanced back as the army of werewolves reached them and grabbed Seth under the shoulders. She lifted him high into the air as a werewolf walked straight through where they had been standing. "They're pretty dumb, more than they were before, but I get your point. We should win this time, or at least kill that damn healer of theirs."

"Do that," Durn started, overhearing them, as he began to walk ahead once more, "and the battle is already over."

****

The dance was finished and the mansion was quiet as the nine companions were led to their sleeping chambers. The mansion was so large that they could each have their own room. Celestia didn't like the idea of sleeping alone in a huge and strange mansion so she slept in the same room as Casandra, on a separate bed. The others all took their own rooms and slept alone.

"I trust you will all sleep well," Valthumar said to Celestia and Casandra as he held the door. "This room once belonged to my sisters. They didn't much care for the dark so they slept together until they moved out. I do hope you sleep as well as they did."

Celestia, dressed in a silk nightgown and practically drowning in her thick comforter eyed Valthumar through the darkness. "Your vampire sisters were afraid of the dark?"

Valthumar smiled fondly. "No, child, they were not vampires. I am the only one who was bitten. They lived thousands of years ago, when I was still human. They had long and happy lives filled with laughter and joy but they are long gone now. Only their memories remain. It warms my cold heart to see two beautiful young women sleeping in their beds again. You two remind me of them very much."

Celestia smiled back at him. She had never met a vampire before but she liked this one. "I'm sorry about your sisters but what were their names?"

"You are sleeping in Tatyna's bed and you, Casandra, are sleeping in Mindaya's. Their spirits reflect yours rather well. Mindaya always looked out for Tatyna, who could be quite clumsy at times, and I loved them both very much. Even after all these years, you would think it impossible, but I do miss them."

"You are a generous host, Valthumar, and a fine gentleman," Casandra said sincerely. "They would be proud of you."

He bowed to her, his long dark hair brushing the floor. "You are too kind, Casandra. I should leave you two be, however. You have a difficult task ahead of you and I do not wish to distract you any longer. I bid you goodnight and best of luck." They thanked him and wished him goodnight as well as he left and closed the door behind him.

Celestia looked up at the ceiling, her eyes wide. "What do you think we have to do to clean the anchor?"

"Cleanse it, you mean?" Casandra said. "I am not certain. Valthumar said it will come to us in our sleep."

"I don't know if I want to sleep. I'm not strong enough to beat it on my own."

"He said we will defeat it together."

"How will we beat it together when it'll come for us when we sleep?"

Casandra sighed. "I don't know, Celestia. We will have to see for ourselves."

"I'm...I'm kind of scared..."

"Don't be. I am right here."

"Yeah but..."

"Get some rest, Celestia. You are stronger than you think. You can do this."

Celestia didn't believe that but she said nothing and kept looking at the ceiling. She kept her eyes open, fixating on a certain spot and trying not to blink. She did, eventually, and found it difficult to open her eyes again. She managed, but when the next blink came her eyes were closed for just a little longer than before. She opened them again and used her fingers to keep them that way. It wasn't long before they dried up and began to hurt. She shut her eyes to moisten them but couldn't bring herself to open them again. It was too comfortable. She had done a lot of walking that day and had survived a terrifying werewolf attack and had also flown through the air. She had even danced with Graham and they had kissed again! Memories of their third kiss floated through her mind and made her smile. His lips were so warm and tender. She could kiss them forever.

Sleep took her, and her mind cleared of all thought.

It was not long before it came for her.

She felt a strange tingling at the back of her mind, like an itch that needed to be scratched but from inside her head. She twisted and turned in her bed, trying to ignore the sensation. It was futile. It grew painful and she began to moan and whimper. She tried to wake up but whatever had grabbed her mind was not letting her. She began to breathe heavily and sweat beaded on her forehead. She tossed about as the pain increased, as if a knife was slowly stabbing deeper and deeper inside of her head, twisting slowly. She cried out in pain, briefly at first, before the stabbing feeling doubled in intensity and she then screamed. Finally, she opened her eyes.

She was surrounded by blackness, complete and utter blackness. She could see herself well enough, as if she emitted a dull light. There was nothing around her at first. Then, straight ahead, a shape began to materialize. It formed into the figure of a woman, an older adult woman. Her heart froze when she realized who it was turning into.

When the transformation was complete, Celestia's mother stood before her.

A deep frown was etched on her face. She did not appear pleased.

"Hello, mother," Celestia said shyly.

"Celestia," her mother growled. "Where have you been?"

"Um..."

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

"Nowhere! I've been trying to find my way back, honest!" Celestia's heart began to race. She didn't like it when her mother was angry at her. She looked like a monster.

"You left home ages ago and I've been worrying myself sick since you left. Now I see you here, dressed in someone else's nightgown and sleeping in some strange man's bed!"

"What? No! This bed belonged to his sister!"

Her mother ignored her. "I heard from a reliable source that you were at that Vander mansion. Were you there with that witch, Diana?"

Celestia was momentarily confused until she realized her mother was speaking about the time before she had arrived to this world with the others. "I...I needed a place to stay."

"You have your home!"

"It was too far, mother!"

"Do not speak to me like that! I am your mother, Celestia, and I know what is best for you! Do not assume that because you were kidnapped and taken away that suddenly you are capable of caring for yourself. The very fact that you were kidnapped contradicts that very notion!"

"Mother, leave me alone! I can live how I want to! I'm eighteen! I'm an adult!"

Her mother laughed. It sounded much more fearsome than she remembered. "You are nothing but a child, Celestia! You always were a child! You are clumsy and naïve and too inexperienced to be out on your own. You would give someone your last coin if he asked nicely enough."

Celestia felt tears forming in her eyes. Her mother was being so cruel. "Some might call that selflessness!"

Celestia's mother slapped her hard across the face,the sound echoing all around her. "I call it stupidity! You never think far enough ahead about your own safety! It's how you got kidnapped in the first place. You ignored my words as you always have and it got you in trouble! Now you think because you live in a bankrupt old hag's mansion that you are better than me?"

"No, mother, I don't think that. I really don't..." Tears were dripping down her cheeks now. She wanted her mother to stop. She wanted it all to stop. The sting of her slap remained, torturing her.

"She may be prettier than me and have a larger and fancier house than mine, Celestia, but she is not your mother! Her daughters are not your sisters and you are not their family! I am the only family you have left! Why must you torture me by avoiding me? Why must you hate me so?"

"I don't hate you! I just...You...you never let me do anything..."

"Because look where it got you! I don't know where you are now but it looks like you found yourself another mansion. This one looks well-furnished and owned by someone with more wealth than that Vander whore. Who did you have to sleep with to get access to this place?"

"Mother! I..."

"It doesn't matter. He will grow tired of you and throw you out soon enough, once you break something or trip into him or he finds someone better, which shouldn't take long. Without me to help and guide you there isn't much you can do on your own. I tried my best but I've obviously failed you. You want to live like a little harlot and sell yourself for the illusion of nobility then go ahead. You are no daughter of mine. I wish I never spent those hours in labour to give birth to such a disgrace."

"Mother...why are you saying this?" Celestia began to sob, unable to hold the tears back.

"Go ahead. Cry. It's all you ever do. I don't know where you got such weakness but it wasn't from me. You're a disappointment to the family name. You're a disappointment to your ancestors and to me. The day you get murdered by the one man you shouldn't have spread your legs to is the day the world will be set right. I won't hold a funeral for you. I won't acknowledge your death. I won't even tell anyone you died. Why should I? You're already dead to me!"

Celestia fell to her knees, overcome by grief and pain. She sobbed into her hands, the tears streaming out of her eyes and down her face. Her heart was torn apart and her gut weighed her down like a boulder. She wanted to cry forever. It didn't lessen the pain but it felt like the right thing to do. She didn't want to get up. She didn't want to see anyone ever again. Her mother was right. She was a failure. She was useless. She would never amount to anything. A flash of Graham's face appeared briefly and then vanished. That only brought more tears. How a man like that could find any interest in her made no sense. It wasn't real. None of it had ever been. This was the reality. This is what her life was; full of emptiness.

****

Boog, tossing and turning and his head in great pain opened his eyes. Darkness surrounded him. He called out to anyone but no one replied. He clenched his hands into fists, wondering if a beast of shadow would appear. It would be impossible to see but if he could strike it as it grabbed him, before it did too much damage, he might be able to kill it.

Before him, a scene appeared. He was in a kitchen he recognized immediately. He was back home! A younger version of himself, much shorter than he was now, sat at a table, his back to Boog and a spoon in his hand. Beyond the table, a tall and elegant woman was preparing a bowl for him. He could smell that it was her specialty: her gumbo soup, full of whatever leftovers she had found in the fridge that needed to be eaten before they went bad. It was usually full of potatoes and hamburger with some vegetables here and there but he remembered seeing some chicken in the fridge earlier that day. He couldn't wait to taste her gumbo with some grilled chicken thrown in. His mouth watered at the thought.

"Did you put the chicken in, Mom?" he asked her, his voice much higher than what it was now.

She turned to look at him, her gentle face etched in a smile and her wavy black hair tumbling over her shoulders. Seeing her with his eyes now, he never realized how beautiful his mother was. The back of his head felt a stab of pain as a realization came over him. He was beginning to recognize the scene. No. It couldn't be! Not this one! "Of course I did, Charlie Bear. I think you'll love it."

Maybe it was a different memory, Boog thought. It had to be. I had to be! He saw his mother place the bowl of hot gumbo soup on the table, offering him another smile. He saw himself grab for it, his younger self bouncing on the chair with excitement.

There was a knock on the door.

No. No. No. No!

A man that looked very much like him, but older and wiser, appeared from behind the wall to the living room. He walked to the door, sniffing the air as he did. "Supper smells wonderful, dear," he said. "Can't wait to try it!" He grabbed the doorknob.

"No!" Boog shouted. "Don't open it, Dad! Don't do it!" He shouted as loudly as he could but his father didn't hear him. He tried to move but found his feet planted to the black ground. He called out again, screaming at the top of his lungs. His heart beat against his ribs and his mind raced all about, searching for a solution. He had to do something. He had to! He felt moisture in his eyes, a sensation he wasn't accustomed to. Glancing at the table, he saw his younger self dip his spoon into the gumbo, his mother watching with a smile. Everything seemed to move so slowly. He couldn't let this happen again!

His father opened the door.

A man dressed in a ragged coat and a black toque stood in the doorway his hands in his jacket pockets. His father looked at him curiously. He opened his mouth to say something but the man pulled out one of his hands and extended it at his father. In it was a gun. His father acted quickly, swiping the arm aside and pulling a fist back to hit the man in the face. The man was quick, though, and snapped several jabs into his father's chest, dazing him for just a moment. Blood leaked from several holes in his father's shirt and he fell to the ground in a heap. Boog only then realized that a knife had been hidden in the other hand. The man turned the gun on his mother.

"Mom! Run! Run out of there! Look out! Hurry! Get out of there! Mom!!!"

The man pulled the trigger and Boog watched as a cloud of red burst forth from a hole in his mother's forehead. She fell atop to the table, her head knocking aside the bowl of soup and spilling it all over the table and ground. Blood dripped from the hole in her head and mixed with the soup, her eyes staring ahead blankly. Boog watched as his younger self screamed in terror and the killer came for him. He grabbed the younger Boog by the arm and roughly pulled him along toward the door.

"Mom! Dad! Help! Mom! Mom!!!" he heard his younger self cry out. He tried to fight back and resist but the man pistol-whipped him over the head and stunned him. He dragged the limp boy out of the house and closed the door behind him.

Boog fell to his knees, his head bowed low as the memory rocked and ripped him up inside. That's how it all began. That's how everything turned around for him. After that he remembered the orphanage and Dr. Petri and the tortures he endured under him. Things got better, eventually, but it took a long time for that to happen. It had taken an even longer time to bear through the constant nightmares this scene had given him.

"You did this," he heard someone say. He looked up and saw his mother standing upright. Her eyes were glazed over and staring ahead at nothing. The hole was still in her head and blood still leaked out of it. His father was standing as well, blood dripping down from the stab wounds on his chest, his eyes white and unseeing.

"Mother?" he asked. "Father?"

"Long ago, maybe," his mother said. "Now we're underground, feeding beetles and earthworms." Her body transformed into a decaying mass of flesh and bone, her eye sockets hollow but her wavy hair still on her head, a reminder of who she had once been. Her skeletal jaw moved up and down. "You did this!"

"No!" Boog said weakly. "It was the killer!"

"YOU!" his father said, his body little more than rotten skin and feeble bone, one bony finger pointing at him. "You forced us to live here! I had to find another job to support you and keep you alive. Look where that got us!"

"That's not my fault!"

"I couldn't take a job," his mother was telling him, back to her former self, though her eyes were still blank and gunshot wound was still on her head. "I had to stay here and raise you. Your father worked like a slave to keep us alive. He did all he could."

"Mom, none of this is my fault!"

"Had you never been born this would have never happened!" She frowned at him and walked around the table and moved closer. His father, back to his old self, chest dripping blood, approached him as well. "We surrendered our lives for you! We got ourselves killed for you!"

"NO!" Boog stood up, his mind conflicted with pain and anger. He couldn't listen to this anymore. "I had nothing to do with this! It was Mr. Petri! His henchman did this! Not me!"

His parents weren't listening. They were almost on top of him now. He backed away but soon came to a wall, as black as everything else around him. His mother's hands, cold as ice, grabbed his neck and began to squeeze. His father's soon wrapped around hers and squeezed as well. He tried to push them away but they were much stronger than him. He couldn't move as they held him in place. Their fingers dug into him and he was soon unable to breathe.

"M..mom," he managed to stay. "P..p..please. M...om!"

Her glazed eyes looked straight at him, frowning angrily. His father was angry as well, his large hands threatening to rip his head right off his shoulders. These were his parents, though. They'd never hurt him. This wasn't real. This was all a dream. It hurt immensely but it was a dream. He had to believe that.

Something to his right tugged his shirt. He glanced down that way and saw his younger self looking up at him, a solemn expression on his face. Boog, overcome by pain and weakness, fell to his knees, his parents still choking the life out of him. He shut his eyes and opened them again, hoping to wake up, but he was still there. Nothing had changed. Again, something tugged at his shirt. He looked again and his younger self stood there, staring at him. He extended a hand, offering him something, and in it was a gun.

****

Graham opened his eyes after enduring the pain in his head for as long as he could. He stood on a paved road. Ahead of him was a town in complete ruins. Splintered pieces of wood, broken sheets of drywall, downed electrical poles, shattered glass, demolished vehicles and various types of furniture scattered the area. He walked down the road and made his way through the wreckage, wondering where he was and what had happened.

He put his hand to his nose as he smelt something foul. He lifted a slab of plywood and released it immediately, nearly retching at the sight beneath. It had been a young boy, his body split in half and mangled by the plywood. He kept walking through the ruined town, wondering what to do. He glanced behind him and the road led on into a thick forest and he could see no more than that. Ahead all he saw was wreckage and large farming fields beyond.

"Why am I here?" he asked aloud. "What do I have to do?"

No one answered him. He kept walking for no other reason than not knowing what else to do. His legs felt an urge to move forward and he let them take him. Maybe he hoped he'd find a survivor and he'd be able to help them. Maybe that's why he was here. Perhaps the corruption had caused the devastation and he had to rescue the anchor. He didn't know what it looked like but he hoped it hadn't been that boy.

He saw a hand poking out from a pile of rubble and he moved to it quickly. He threw aside boards and planks of wood and shoved aside a large refrigerator, watching it tumble down the pile of rubble with a crash. He caught his breath and then removed a sheet of drywall, the last thing covering the trapped person.

It was Aragol.

Graham's eyes grew wide and his heart caught in his throat. What? How? It couldn't be! How could this happen? How could the corruption do this to him? Why had he arrived to late? He might have been able to save him! He bent down and shook Aragol but his skin was cold and his body was stiff. His eyes were glazed over and his mouth slightly open. Only then did Graham notice the piece of rebar protruding from his chest. Aragol was very much dead, and had been for a while already. How? How could this happen?

Graham moved away from his dead friend and wiped the tears streaming from his eyes. With Aragol gone how would they find their way? Who would tell them where the next anchor was? Could they even cleanse another without him? The man in black had chosen nine people to complete the task. Could eight still do it?

He walked away, his eyes on the ground as his sniffed back more tears. He climbed over a collapsed roof and slid down the other side. He spread his legs as he saw a body on the ground. He landed his feet around it and bent down to inspect it. He hoped the person was still alive. With a grunt he flipped the body over and fell to his knees.

Victoria's blank face stared back at him.

"Why?!" he screamed. "Why is this happening?!" He turned left and saw another body, the face visible underneath an overturned truck.

This time Boog looked at him, his face expressionless.

Graham closed his eyes and ran off a distance before wreckage blocked his path, which didn't take long. None of this was real. It couldn't be real. It was the corruption of the anchor playing tricks on him. That's what it was. He opened his eyes.

Karmen, Ivory and Casandra lay before him, their bodies twisted and broken, their arms at strange angles and their legs bent in impossible ways. He screamed. It was too much! He couldn't take it! He had to wake up from this nightmare. Somehow he had to find a way to wake up. He crawled over more wreckage and ducked under an electrical pole that was hung up on the roof of a crushed van. Live wires zapped and crackled on the ground nearby. He avoided them and leapt over a puddle of oil that had leaked out of a vehicle. His heart beat so thunderously against his chest he worried it would break through. His eyes scanned the destroyed town around him. He found more bodies, all dead, but belonging to people he didn't know. He had to find Elmar. He would be able to take him away from here. Together they could find Celestia and try to contact the man in black somehow.

Then he saw him! He saw Elmar! He was standing with his back to him just thirty or so yards away. Graham ran to his side and shook him to catch his attention. His hopes rose and he saw salvation. Elmar would make things right. He had always been kind to him. He would help him.

When Graham stood in front of Elmar his hopes immediately plummeted. Elmar's face was white, blank, and maggots had eaten out his eyes and were crawling around on the inside of his head. His mouth was slightly open and more maggots squirmed about, some of them falling to the ground. Graham shook his head and backed away. He glanced down and saw that a long strand of rebar jutted up from the ground, impaling Elmar's body and keeping it upright.

He backed into another pile of rubble and felt something soft touch his arm. Spinning around in haste and fright he looked at what it was. A female body lay on its back on some rubble, golden hair tumbled over her face, veiling it from view. His body went ice cold and he stopped breathing. No. Not her too. Not her too!!

He brushed aside the hair from the face and yelled. "Nooooo!!!!" He fell to his knees and held his head in his hands. He couldn't believe this was happening. This couldn't be true. They had been in a mansion surrounded by swamp. How they got this town he did not know. He refused to believe that it was true. He wiped away tears and looked up at Celestia.

His resolve broke and sobs rocked his body as memories flooded his mind. He remembered the kisses they had shared, the tender moments, the laughs, the blushes, and all the good times he had wished would never end. He put a hand to her face.

Her skin was warm.

She was alive!

He stood up immediately and examined her body, searching for a safe way to remove the rubble that lay atop of her. He began to panic, worrying he wouldn't save her in time. She wasn't moving and he couldn't see her chest rising and falling. He started to remove the various pieces of rubble covering her, his breath quickening with each second as the cold grip of panic squeezed him tighter and tighter. He would save her, he told himself over and over. He had to save her! She meant too much to him. He couldn't live without her.

When he finally freed her he slowly and, as gently as he could, pulled her off the pile and held her in his arms, resting her head on his chest. He sat down against a slab of broken concrete and lowered his head down to hers.

"Celestia," he whispered softly. "Celestia are you there?"

Nothing.

He spoke a little louder. "Celestia! Wake up! It's me, Graham! I'm here! Everything will be ok now!"

Nothing.

He began to lose his mind as he lost hope that Celestia was still with him. He began to hyperventilate and cold sweat poured down his head and across his face. He glanced about, not entirely knowing what he was looking for but hoping a solution of some sort would reveal itself. His body grew colder and he began to rock back and forth. This was real. Everything around him was real. This wasn't a dream after all. He could feel Celestia in his hands, the hard slab of concrete against his back, the cracked pavement he sat on.

Celestia moaned lightly.

Graham froze, his eyes bulging, his heart pulsating rapidly. He looked down and saw her stir lightly. He brushed the hair out of her face and watched as she moved a little more. "Celestia!" he said, hope and relief rushing through his body. "I am here! It's Graham!"

She fluttered her eyes open and looked at Graham's face.

He looked down at her, a great smile stretched from ear to ear.

Celestia screamed at the top of her lungs and swung her arms about, struggling to free herself.

Graham, confused and bewildered, let her go and she crawled backwards away from him, her eyes like saucers as utter terror gripped her. She backed into the pile of rubble he had found her on and she pointed a shaking finger at him.

"Get away from me!" she hissed, her voice low and full of fear. "Get away from me!!"

Graham stood up, clueless. "What? Celestia, it's me! It's Graham! You know me." He took a step toward her.

She shrieked and got to her feet, her face pale and her breathing rapid. "GET AWAY!!! Don't come closer, you monster!!"

"Monster?" What was going on? What was she saying? "I..."

"YOU KILLED THEM!"

"What? I don't know what you mean!" Tears welled in Graham's eyes. Why was Celestia afraid of him? He had never in his life wanted to scare her. She meant everything to him. He only wanted her to be happy.

"You caused that storm!" she yelled, her finger still pointing. "The wind! The tornadoes! The storm! The storm that blew this town down and killed everyone! You did it! This is all your fault, Graham! You killed everyone! You killed them! You ruined everything! I HATE YOU!!!!"

Graham put a hand to his head, overwhelmed and struggling to stay up. It made sense now. It all made sense. He had created a storm and it had demolished this town, killing everyone living in it and all of his friends. He had been unable to control it. He could begin remembering pieces of it. He had struggled to contain the power. Struggled...and failed.

The last thing he saw was Celestia running away, never looking back, before darkness took him.