Katerina’s Soul Gourds devoured any spirits that approached the vine barrier. The bulging fruit multiplied with each consumed, but even the expanding harvest was not enough to stop them all.
Where the specters threatened the Mad Witchdoctors, they used their strange melodic spells to weave them into innocuous ingredients and bottled them away in their pots and canisters of glowing essence and various mysteries.
Araxxis and her consort, Aranax, helped in the ghouls’ defense. Their demonic webs and soul-searing venom were capable of ensnaring and vanquishing even ethereal beings, and the spider queen delighted in the game the wispy targets provided.
Everywhere Beaumont looked, a supernatural battle raged except around him. It almost felt as if he was trapped outside of reality, looking in at the destruction his life had wrought. Normally, he would feel proud of such an achievement. But his life wasn’t over yet, he reminded himself, and he still had something important to achieve.
“The hordes of the Netherworld are near-infinite. They cannot win this battle, Ravenfell,” the Raven King declared. “They can only buy you time. You must create your path into the spirit world. They will try to stop you, but it is your path to walk. Make of it what you need.”
“You must cross with me, Raven King, if we are to break this curse once and for all,” Beaumont insisted. “Where you belong,” he added with a pat on his shoulder.
“We are bound for eternity, Ravenfell,” the Raven King replied as he transformed back into avian form and alit upon Beaumont’s shoulder. “Now, let’s cast open the gates between worlds.”
Chapter 16:
Dark Heart of Ravenfell
There was no direct path across the veil. Entering the Netherworld required a traveler to create one for themselves. Even as the Raven King entrusted this wisdom to Beaumont, he knew the truth of it within his soul, another fragment of knowledge bubbling to the surface. The veil was too ephemeral for a permanent path to persist. However, it was extremely malleable, allowing those determined enough to forge their own route.
There was no way of knowing his fate once he reached the other side. Beaumont hadn’t yet devised that part of his grand plan yet. Breaking the Ravenfell Curse was his focus now. He had to hope that would be enough to turn the tide, but he still had doubts. He needed to know more. That need drove his vision for a path across the veil.
Beaumont could see the dark boundaries of the Netherworld behind the Guardians and the tattered remnants of the veil, but that was not his path. That was his destination. He knew, in the end, an inevitable confrontation with the Guardians awaited, but to get there, he chose a path of enlightenment, a path forged of the truths hidden from him.
As he took his first step, the raging battle vanished. A stone altar appeared before him. A beast of supreme magical beauty lay slain across the top. Blood more ancient than the carved stone slabs it ran down marked the creature’s violent end.
“What is this?” the raven’s voice intruded. “A vision?”
“Secrets,” Beaumont replied. “Answers.”
The magical creature’s essence raged in a storm of fury above its broken form, building to unleash upon those who slew it. But two visitors calmed its vengeance and promised something greater, a raven quite unlike the one upon the warlock’s shoulder and a second darker spirit. The spirit’s form was indistinct, but something about it was familiar to Beaumont.
“You can waste your essence on these few who harmed you, or you can grant it to our cause and achieve revenge against all of their kind.” The spirit’s words carried loudly across the distance between them as if these, too, were necessary to the truth being revealed.
The radiant spirit agreed, and the accompanying raven sealed the bargain.
With the pact completed, the dark persuasive spirit turned its attention to the chanting humans covering themselves in blood around the altar. It materialized before its worshippers in a much more familiar guise.
“You have done well today,” the shadowy Guardian declared as its gleaming eyes scanned the gathering. “Your gods are pleased. We will return to you soon. But the blood must continue to flow. Bring us more sacrifices of these abominations.”
The cultists cheered and raised their weapons in religious frenzy. Then the rogue raven opened a path between worlds and carried the two spirits across, leaving the maddened rabble to hunt.
“That spirit should have never been allowed to cross back to the living world. I was negligent. I let this happen,” the Raven King commented, but Beaumont was already taking his next step.
They reappeared within a forest clearing. A harried young couple cloaked in black robes stood at the edge, communing with the glowing blue form of a gentle-looking spirit.
“I can sense the fel within their veins,” the Raven King’s voice offered from his shoulder. “They are Ravenfells.”
Beaumont was too focused on the vision to reply. Something stirred within him as he looked at the couple. Whether or not that feeling was part of the truth he sought or something more primal, he was certain they were significant to him in some way.
“Trust me, Vesparah,” the spirit’s hollow voice echoed. “The assault on magic has grown too dangerous. The cultists are nearly upon you. You should flee this world until the danger subsides. You are Ravenfells. You are permitted to cross the veil.”
“We can cross, but the spirits will never let us remain,” the woman countered. “Most of them loathe the living.”
“I will make you a bargain,” the spirit replied. “If you trust me and cross over, I will make sure you never have to leave. But you must swear now to do as I say.”
“I swear. Dralith?” The woman turned to her companion.
The man at her side nodded. “I agree, as well.” Then he turned to scan the horizon warily. “We should go. I can smell the smoke from our village. Everything is burning.”
“Fools,” the Raven King croaked. “The spirit has tricked them into a bargain.”
A woodland trail opened before the couple as they created their path through the veil and crossed into the Netherworld. The spirit watched them go. Then it turned its glaring red eyes upon Beaumont and his raven companion.
“Clever ruse,” the Guardian challenged. “But we see you trying to cross, Ravenfell. You cannot escape us.”
Before the spirit could close the distance, Beaumont took another step. The vision changed once more.
“They threatened to kill us if we stayed,” Vesparah insisted.
“We didn’t realize a child would be conceived or what that might mean. This was a mistake. We should leave this place,” her husband Dralith added.
“Then your lives will be forfeit,” the spirit from before informed them. “The battle in the living realm rages more fiercely than before. Witches and warlocks alike burn on pyres everywhere. If you return, they will kill you. They will kill your child.”
“I would give my soul to protect the life within me from the fire,” Vesparah pleaded.
“Mine, as well,” Dralith added.
“Swear you would give your soul to keep this child from the flames, and I will make sure you can give birth safely here.”
“I swear it,” they answered in unison, though there was something forced in their reply, an obeyance of command more than a passionate oath.
“You will remain within the Netherworld until the child is born,” the spirit instructed. Whether Vesparah or Dralith questioned the plan or not, they nodded assent. They had agreed, after all, to do what the spirit said even before they crossed into its world. The bonds of that bargain left them no other choice.
“The spirits knew all along,” the raven mused angrily. “They manipulated your parents into remaining even after they were warned of the consequences.”
“The entire thing was orchestrated. But why?” Beaumont replied.
“To regain what was stolen from us.”
Two Guardians intruded upon the vision, lunging for the warlock and the bird. The s
pecters’ fingers slid across Beaumont’s flesh with an icy chill, threatening to plunge deeper into his soul, but something resisted their touch from advancing.
Beaumont took another hasty step. His parents and his attackers vanished, but Guardians awaited him in the next vision as well.
Seven looming Guardian spirits hovered around the bodies of Vesparah and Dralith Ravenfell embroiled in a heated debate.
“You swore to us the Raven King would fall if we ended them. That the dead would regain control of the veil from the living.”
“Convincing the Ravenfells to sacrifice their souls to us was only the beginning. We needed the child.”
More Guardians appeared though they were undoubtedly not part of the assemblage of the vision. Their gleaming eyes targeted Beaumont and the Raven King with predatory focus. Yet, Beaumont was not ready to leave. There were important truths to be revealed, and he refused to flee before obtaining them.
“Consuming these two spirits only gave us the power to create a new layer of the veil to expel the Raven King and his despicable humans.”
Beaumont could feel the Raven King’s claws dig into his shoulder in warning as the billowing Guardians advanced, but his focus remained on the debate taking place. He needed to know.
“We needed that foul raven to break his pact and grant the child to us. His arrogance should have been his undoing.”
“Perhaps he truly does care for these creatures.” The spirits gathered seemed to think even the suggestion of such feelings was ridiculous
“Either way, we needed the infant for the entire plan to work. Your faction’s simpering over a living creature allowed it to escape.”
“It was nothing more than a baby, though an aberrant one. What possible purpose could it have served?”
The Guardians were nearly upon them. Beaumont knew he had to take another step to escape, but there was still too much to learn from this vision.
Their icy fingers were closing on them.
“We went to great lengths to create this child for a reason.”
Beaumont was so close to answers, but the Guardians were too close to delay. He tried to take another step but failed to advance. He had forged this path for the revelation of truth, and the truth of this moment had not yet been revealed.
“The child carries a fragment of the Netherworld within his soul.”
The spirits struck.
“A fragment of our world that is now in the Raven King’s hands. If he discovers its significance, our plans could be undone.”
The spirits’ hands touched no deeper than Beaumont’s flesh and offered no threat greater than an icy chill and prickling hair, though the intent for murder was there. The surprise on both sides was palpable.
“The Raven King’s veil lingers within him,” the attacking Guardians howled. They tried to strike again but were deflected. “How is this possible?”
“He bears my protection,” the Raven King answered scornfully. “You have taken much from me, but you will not take him.”
The Guardians had diminished the Raven King’s power and the veil he controlled until it spread no further than the bird on Beaumont’s shoulder and the fragment entwined with his soul since the Mad Witchdoctors’ jungle. But that fragment was enough to hold the dead back from the life within him, at least for the time being.
“Then we must retrieve the soul at all costs,” the Guardians of the vision continued, as those who assaulted Beaumont swirled around him impotently, testing his defenses.
“With it, we can control not only the veil that banished us here but the entire Netherworld as well. When the worlds merge, we will return with the entire strength of the Netherworld at our command. But we must claim the child’s soul and the fragment within.”
“We will find him. The Raven King cannot abide his stature being diminished for long. He will give himself away. Send word to the worshippers. Increase the purge and find the Raven King.” One by one, the gathered specters departed.
Knowing that the Guardians could not harm him was a helpful revelation. But, more importantly, Beaumont now understood the truth at the heart of his existence. It was time to take the next step. There was nothing more to be revealed. Only the Netherworld could stand beyond this place.
“Cross over with the raven, and the woman dies,” a Guardian’s voice boomed before he could lift his foot.
The vision of departing spirits melted away as the supernatural battle left behind reappeared. Unfortunately, the Raven King’s warning had proven prophetic. Beaumont’s allies could only hold so long against the near-infinite hordes of the Netherworld, and that time had run out since attempting to cross over.
Despite their masterful design, the vines of Katerina’s harvest proved inadequate against such forces. Though her Soul Gourds feasted on the bountiful flood of spirits, there were too many to repel indefinitely. Goliath and Thresher had led the lady’s fiends in valiant desperation, but even their lashing tendrils were stayed as their mistress was at last overcome.
Chains, forged from the very spirits who assaulted her, bound the witch in place. A darker figure hovered above the woman’s body, threatening to strike her down should Beaumont proceed.
“Stop!” Beaumont demanded. He didn’t need demonic amplification. The raw emotion in his voice from seeing Katerina bound thus exploded with near-equal fervor.
“Submit to us, Ravenfell,” the Guardian above Katerina ordered. “She does not have the raven’s protections, and we will do more than kill her. We will obliterate her soul. Everything she is will cease to exist.”
“Like you did to my parents?” Beaumont challenged, though he now understood that they had done something else entirely with the spirits of Vesparah and Dralith Ravenfell.
“Like we will do to everyone who resists us.”
“What do you want from me?” he asked. He needed to buy time. He needed to find an opening.
“Abandon the Raven King and cross over. Submit yourself to the new veil, and we will let her live.”
“Don’t do it,” the Raven King argued. “They will kill her anyway once they have you.”
“Don’t sacrifice yourself for me. Simply keep your word about my charges,” Katerina insisted. She was too proud to beg for her life.
“Silence!” the Guardian snapped. A tendril of spirit gagged her.
“I must,” Beaumont insisted. “We have a pact.” That was only partly true, though. He was enchanted by her and enthralled by her curious intellect. The thought of allowing her to die when he could do something about it was unthinkable. Especially since he finally had a plan.
“I will cross over, but only if I am allowed to do so freely as a Ravenfell once in my life.” It was an important request on many levels, but it also worked to buy more time.
“Mortal concerns are meaningless to us,” the Guardian replied. “Your life is forfeit either way. Do as you wish.”
“If you do this, everything is lost,” the raven argued. “The sliver of the veil I still control will not be able to protect you in their world. Hildegard’s Ravenwood will fall, and the Ravenfell line will wither and die like the tree.”
“I thought the Raven King wasn’t known for affections towards mortals,” Beaumont chastised.
“I’m not, but I was just beginning to find your human stench tolerable.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. We are eternally bound, Raven King. No matter where my soul resides, my dark heart will always be open to you.” Beaumont set the raven down from his shoulder and winked. Then he turned to walk through the bone-strewn hollow toward the Netherworld beyond.
Beaumont’s entire plan hinged on assumptions. His newly awakening knowledge of death and his ability to see its essence had risen unbidden since his recent interactions with the Netherworld, and the concept for his plan now arose from the same unknown well. He believed to his core that it was true, but he had no experience to confirm it. There was only one way to know for certain.
The R
avenfell histories claimed if one peered beyond the veil while alive, they could gain a deeper understanding of the world of death and its mysteries, and the records hadn’t let him down so far. It was how the shamans once passed on their knowledge and how Dorga nearly destroyed the world. It was also Beaumont’s last hope. But he was confident now after witnessing the truth behind his birth that his solution lay beyond the world of the living.
The chill of death settled over him as he crossed the tattered remnants of the veil. The seven Guardians loomed closer with every step. Death hovered all around him, but it lingered like an icy ember within as well.
Beaumont felt the weight of the moment. He was returning to the place of his birth, the place where the fragment within him was formed. Even as he was shielded from these forces for nearly his entire existence, its hold upon his life and destiny remained. It was finally time to understand why.
A greater understanding of the world beyond the veil greeted him like a long-lost friend. It was always there, for he was born in this realm of death, and thus was born with all the knowledge the shamans of old once sought in their quests and rituals of crossing. It had merely been suppressed by the earliness of the experience and the diligent efforts of Hildegard. But his return woke it from the recesses of his mind.
“At last, the plague of the Ravenfells and the abomination of the veil shall be ended,” one of the Guardians howled.
“Wrong,” Beaumont challenged with more confidence than he felt since summoning the spirit of Corvus Ravenfell in search of answers. “Like the Raven King before you, your arrogance will be your undoing.”
“You are no longer safe from us, Ravenfell. You left the Raven King’s protections when you left the world of the living. This is our world, not his. The veil has decreed him an exile.”
“You forget, this is my world as well. Thanks to your machinations, I carry a piece of it within my soul. You may refuse the Raven King entry here, but I welcome him within the darkest shard of my being. Your reign is over. It is time the veil returned to its true Guardian.”
Ravenfell Chronicles: Origins Page 28
