"The tunnel!" screeched Rocan.
"Move!" yelled Myriad.
The three of us sprinted. For a good few seconds, I thought we weren't going to make it. Another Thavus roared overhead, and a jet screamed after it. There was another explosion from somewhere to my left. Other things were happening too, whooshing past my vision. I couldn't tell what they were, though. My eyes were fixed on the black hole in front of me - the entrance to the tunnel. I couldn't even tell if Myriad was still next to me. I just about registered Rocan bolt into the tunnel ahead of me, and a tiny part of me marveled at his speed.
Another explosion, closer this time.
I risked a look round.
Shit.
Myriad was stumbling, clutching his head, his gun on the floor next to him.
I struggled. Run back, or leave him? I had less than a few seconds.
"FUCK!" I yelled, sprinting back to Myriad. I seized the Americans shoulders and started to drag him. He shook me off.
"The gun."
"Leave it!"
"No."
He shook off his disorientation, and scraped it from the ground. I turned back towards the tunnel, as I heard a screech above me, and a rush of air from above almost forced me to the ground. It couldn't be a Thavus, it was too big. That left only one other thing.
It was a Wyrm.
We were metres away.
There was a shrieking howl, and the ground tore itself to pieces in front of us. I felt another rush of air and almost stumbled again.
It had made its first pass. We wouldn't survive a second.
I ran. Myriad would have to look after himself. I'd risked my life for him once, I couldn't afford to do it again.
Another howl, and an explosion that shook me to my core.
I stumbled inside, descending quickly. The darkness enveloped me, embracing me like an old friend. There was a crash from behind me, and what little light there was left winked out of existence. I felt myself losing consciousness.
Gladly, I succumbed.


"Daric. Daric, wake up."
I stirred, opening my eyes.
Nothing happened.
"I can't see anything."
"Yeah, there's a reason for that." the American drawled.
I gingerly got to my feet. There was a dull pain in my ankle.
"Ah, Jesus, I think I twisted it."
Myriad switched on the lamp on his eyepiece, temporarily blinding me. "No, you got shot."
I was so busy trying to shake the spots out of my eyes that I didn't immediately register what he'd said. "What?"
"I said you got shot."
I frowned. "Doesn't feel like I've been shot."
"I healed you up." said Myriad, looking around the tunnel.
I tested the ankle, putting my weight on it. Wasn't too bad.
"Why didn't Rocan do it?" I demanded. "He's the Acolyte."
"I need to save my energy." Rocan muttered from the darkness ahead. "It's a difficult journey. We need to move, very soon."
I flicked a switch, turning on the light on my own eyepiece. "You think we're being followed?"
"Oh yes, but not by soldiers." said Rocan, nonchalantly. "There are far worse things down here."
I looked in his direction, the lamp picking him out easily in the dark. I don't scare easily. I've killed people, I've spent two days being clinically dead, and I pick up spiders with my bare freaking hands. I am no wilting flower. But there was something in Rocan's voice, and his stillness, that made me uneasy. As I moved towards him, limping slightly, I could see that he was examining markings on the wall. I recognised them at once - it was Wild Elf writing, a language that hadn't been properly used for a long time, two hundred years or so.
"What does it say?" asked Myriad.
Rocan remained silent, still studying them. I frowned, running the lamp across the wall, examining the crude drawings. First there was a door, with a cross etched onto it. Hm. We were standing in a prison, apparently. Second, a mischievous Goblin, age old enemies of the Wild Elves. A Goblin prison? The final drawing I couldn't make out. Its shape was vague, and all I could see was a black splodge. Our ancestors had always been better craftsmen than they had been artists.
"What's this last one?" I asked, gesturing at the splodge.
"Shadow." Rocan answered without hesitating.
Prison. Goblin. Shadow.
Wait.
Prison. Mischief. Shadow.
Prison. Mischievous shadows.
"Rocan." I took a deep breath. "There aren't ghosts down here, are there?"
Rocan turned to me and fixed me with black eyes. "Oh, yes. It's a fortified tomb."
Myriad came forward. "What kind of tomb needs to be fortified? And what kind of ghosts need protection?"
Rocan turned to him. "They're not the ones being protected. We are."
"From what?"
I realised the answer a split second before Rocan said it.
"Poltergeists." he said, still calm. "Evil spirits."
Myriad looked sceptical. "I don't believe in ghosts. Never have done."
"You don't need to believe in them for them to kill you." Rocan retorted. "Some things just defy physics. If magic exists, why can't ghosts?"
Myriad was silent.
"Why are they here?" I scowled. It was the first time in a long time I could remember feeling genuinely spooked. I didn't like the sensation.
"Sometimes the dead just don't stay dead." Rocan began. "It's always been that way, especially in magically saturated areas like the Green Line. Sometimes souls don't move on. It doesn't always mean they're evil, but it's not supposed to happen. Victims or perpetrators of violence, especially, have a will to try and hold onto this world with everything they have, and some partially succeed. They leave an imprint of themselves. The imprints lash out, in anger, in fear. They envy the living. And though most are only echoes, some of them muster up the self-awareness to act on that hatred.
'When people started disappearing, our ancestors started to take notice. The imprints were imprisoned, here, with powerful Elven magic lost to history. And here, they remain. Some are neutral. Others will be hostile. None will be friendly."
He fell silent, still watching us with those black eyes. Myriad and I looked at each other.
"And we have to go through here. There's no other way?"
"It's the only way to get to the Copse." Rocan replied.
There was a whisper and a dull thud from somewhere behind us. We all spun, Myriad and I leveling our weapons while a ball of energy collected itself in Rocan's hand.
There was nothing. Just the expanse of the tunnel, yawning back at us.
"We have to go." Rocan muttered. "They know we're here."
Myriad scowled at me. He didn't like this any more than I did. But there was no way back up, and if the way to the Wild Elf settlement was forwards, then that was where we were headed.
Rocan spat a ball of light from his palms, which hovered just in front of us. Slowly, uneasily, we began to walk. It was a long tunnel.
We had been walking for half an hour before Myriad spotted the first sign of movement. He yelped, and spun his weapon around, the light from his eyepiece flashing across the wall.
Rocan and I both turned our attention in that direction.
"What was it?" I hissed, weapon also raised.
"I don't know." Myriad muttered. He was still searching for whatever it was.
Myriad was, if possible, even more uneasy than I was. He was used to using the darkness as a weapon, not having it used against him. The Dark Elf was impossibly quick, and had a talent for confusing his enemies - his favourite tactic was to use the darkness and his speed to make them think they were surrounded, hence his name. Moving slowly while being brightly illuminated was most definitely not his style.
He started forwards, but Rocan clapped a hand onto his shoulder. "Don't go into the shadows." he said. "You leave the light, and you're dead."
"And if I stay in the light?" Myriad asked.
"They should stay away from it."
"Should?" I snapped.
He whirled on me, his long coat swishing. "Nothing's foolproof, Daric. Not against creatures who will not die. But I told you, this is the only way."
A light flicked on over his shoulder.
Myriad and I both pointed our weapons at it. It was faint, but when Rocan turned he spotted it immediately.
"Move slowly." he advised us. "There shouldn't be anyone else down here."
"Wild Elf scouts?" I asked, hopefully.
"No." Rocan replied.
Worth a shot.
There was a growl from ahead of us, and a pattering sound.
"To the walls!" Rocan barked, with the first signs of panic I'd ever seen in him.
"You said don't go into the shadows!" Myriad stammered.
"Move, now!"
We split, Myriad and I flattening ourselves against the near wall while Rocan darted to the far one.
The pattering became a thudding, which became a thundering. Looking ahead, Myriad and I picked out a dark shape, moving towards us at the speed of a freight train. Another snarl, and it shot past us, creating a slipstream that almost pulled me forward after it. The light did nothing to illuminate it. One second it was there, the next it was gone.
We stayed there for a good two minutes. Rocan suddenly appeared next to me, and Myriad very nearly shot him.
"We're safe for now." Rocan said.
I stopped him.
"Rocan."
"Yes?"
There was a pause.
"I'm going to panic now, do you understand?"
"As you please."
"What the FUCK was that?"
Rocan turned away and started to walk. For a second I thought he'd ignored my question, and then he called over his shoulder. "The spirit of a creature long since dead."
I hurried to keep up, Myriad at my back.
"Are there more?"
Rocan nodded. "Oh, yes."
The way he said those two words was beginning to grate.
"What do we do if we see another one?"
He turned his head towards me, without slowing his pace.
"Die."


That light must have been half a mile away. It took us a long time to reach it. When we were a few hundred metres off, Rocan stopped us.
"We are the only three living creatures down here."
Myriad and I exchanged a nervous glance, not sure where this was going.
"Whatever you see down there," Rocan continued, "it isn't living. It isn't dead. You musn't interact with it in any way. You leave everything to me. Do you understand?"
"Yes." we both muttered. I felt, bizarrely, like a schoolboy, reprimanded for something I hadn't yet done.
"Put your weapons away." the Acolyte advised us. "You'll know by now they won't do any good against the things living down here."
"Maybe not." Myriad retorted, scowling. "But it's a comfort thing."
"If they see your weapons, they will kill you. If you look neutral, they may leave us alone."
"May...?"
But Rocan had already started towards the light.
It was a fire.
Three people sat around it, their rifles in their arms. They didn't move. Just stared into the flame. I was startled to realise they were human, and all wearing the same uniform as the fighters on the surface. They'd arrived recently. Their outlines were blurred - as if I was looking at them through glass.
Suddenly, all their heads snapped up in perfect unison. They watched us with featureless, blurred faces.
I went to ask Rocan a question, but he shook his head violently, and motioned us still.
They stared at us for what couldn't have been more than a few minutes, but what felt like an eternity. Without warning, they sprang to their feet, drawing ghostly weapons.
I tried to go for mine, but my arms would not move. I panicked, and tried to run, but my legs wouldn't either. I could only move my eyes, which swivelled frantically in their sockets. I glanced at Myriad, to see that he was apparently also gripped by the same force. Looking left, I could just about catch the bead of sweat rolling down Rocan's forehead, beneath his hood, and I realised he was the one holding us. I relaxed, and the magic relinquished its grip.
In front of us, the ghosts were still shouting, gesticulating at something beyond the fire. There was a roar, and their weapons chattered at something unseen bearing down on them. One suddenly flew backwards into the darkness as it was batted by an invisible force, and the other threw down his weapon and screeched into the darkness. The third, perhaps not noticing the absence of his comrades, or perhaps not caring, kept shooting. Something seized him and lifted him upwards into blackness. The sound of his weapon and his screams were abruptly cut off.
I tried to move, but Rocan held me again. I glanced at him, trying to question with my eyes, but he wouldn't move his attention from the fire. Reluctantly, I looked back at it.
Three blurred faces stared back.
If I could have, I would have scrambled backwards, but Rocan held more more tightly than ever. His face was going red from the exertion, and I guessed he was struggling to hold Myriad too.
The soldiers didn't move again. They simply stared at us, arms folded in front of them, huddled up to the fire. It took every fibre of self control I had, but eventually I relaxed. It took Myriad slightly longer, but eventually I noticed his flex his fingers, signifying his release.
Rocan motioned very briefly with his head, and we made our way around the fire, keeping it between us and the ghosts. The Magican waved his hand, and the light steadily followed us, overtaking and drifting ahead.
When we were a few hundred yards away, Rocan finally spoke.
"You both did well."
I sat down heavily where I was. "You said there were only Elven spirits down here."
"No I didn't."
I thought back. No, he hadn't.
"What happened to those Men?"
"We're not the first on either side to try to make it to the Copse." Rocan said solemnly. Behind us, we heard shouting and machine gun fire as the cycle started again. "The magic in this place prevents their souls from leaving - they're forced to live out their final moments over and over again."
"Why?"
Rocan shrugged. "Possibly the spirits have appointed themselves guardians, wishing to warn people off. Or perhaps one of the other creatures in this tunnel made that decision for them. Either way, they'll stay for eternity. They would have killed you anyway if you'd gotten too close."
"If it was their choice, surely that defeats the point of warning people off." Myriad frowned.
"They're guided by vague objectives, echoes of final thoughts, not morals or logic. They'll stay there forever, but it won't be long before they forget why. Maybe they already have."
"How long ago did they die?"
"Hard to say. Maybe weeks. Maybe days. Maybe hours. You want to go back and ask them?"
"Don't start cracking wise, Rocan. It doesn't suit you."
"We have a long way yet."
Rocan spun on his heel, and all but disappeared into the darkness. Myriad and I followed him, feeling more out of our depth with every step. If those were the most benevolent ghosts we'd see, I shuddered to think of what lay ahead.
Behind us, the screams still echoed from the darkness.

 

Part 2

 

We'd been walking for hours.
We remained silent, for the most part. The Acolyte still led us, his light illuminating the tunnel step by step. We hadn't encountered any ghosts, mobile or not, in a long time. In a way, that was worse. We were constantly waiting for something to leap from the darkness. Myriad was having an especially hard time. The Dark Elf's nerves were shot, and he was jumping at the quietest of noises. How he hadn't accidentally shot anyone yet, I didn't know.
"How much further, Rocan?" he asked, in a voice that quivered.
"Some way yet, Daric." muttered Rocan, barely loud enough to hear. "We still have to pass - "
He stopped talking abruptly. Unfortunately he also stopped walking as well, with the result that I almost slammed into him.
"What?" I hissed.
He pointed at something protruding from the dark.
"What?!"
He flicked his finger, and the light sailed over to it.
It was a car.
"That's not supposed to be here." Rocan muttered.