Heather the Necromancer

Heather looked in the mirror to see the woman she had always been looking back. There were no horns, red hair, or slitted eyes to mark her as anything but a normal human woman. She tossed her blond hair that was perhaps a hint yellow and studied her gentle face. This was who she knew herself as, but was this really who she was?

On instinct, she reached for her neck and felt for the collar that wasn't there. She felt naked without it on for some reason but resigned herself to go on. The three of them had decided to give them up because that made Frank happy, and that was all they wanted. Still, Heather wished he could understand just how wonderful intimacy was with it on. She licked at her lips just thinking about it, then looked away to clear her thoughts.

“NO,” she whispered. “I am not a slave girl like Jaina.”

Webster chirped from his perch on her desk, where he was curled into a ball, watching her fret over the unknown. She looked to the strange jumping spider that acted as her familiar and asked if he knew who she was. She heard him squeak, then heard a funny voice in her head that said she was his master.

“So I am more like Roric,” she laughed. “Only my slaves are undead or have eight legs.” He chirped again to agree, so she let the thought go and walked across the bedroom to the balcony. The sky was gray, and a cool rain fell in gentle drops while thunder echoed in the distance. It was one of those gentle summer storms she used to love. She remembered making a hot drink and curling up with a good book while the soft noise of the storm drowned out the real world.

“Maybe that's just what I should do,” Heather thought as she considered the dozens of books she had yet to read, not to mention the necromancer's guide that was full of secrets. It was vital that she keep reading to learn as much about the secrets of necromancy as she could, but her heart wasn't in it. They were finally home after such a long journey, and just for once, Heather wanted to be still.

She looked out over the swamp, looking beyond the mist to the forest in the east. Roric and Jaina were building their home, and already it had grown to epic proportions. She entertained the notion of visiting their forest they called the love wood but decided against it. It was no secret what the three slave girls planned to do in that magical forest, and Heather wasn't interested in seeing something she would rather not. She did want to visit Chandice's magic shop, though, and decided to look in on that in a few days. With no reason to stay in her bedroom, she donned her favorite yellow dress but left the sunhat on the bedpost. She headed down the tower, working through her rooms and guards until reaching the lower gates. She paused in the open doorway to hold out a hand and relished the mist of rain.

“Well, what good is life if you can't play in the rain?” she asked and looked down at the spider following her. “Do you mind getting wet?”

Webster chirped that he would rather be sleeping, and she laughed before bending down.

“You are welcome to stay inside,” she said. “I think I am going to go visit Quinny’s woods.”

He chirped that he was coming too, hoping to catch a bird or small animal. She picked him up and slung him under one arm before stepping into the gentle rain with a sigh. It was hard to believe that this world wasn't real and was a frequent topic of debate. Frank was sure it was digital and used the odd movement of the sun to make his case. Quinny and Breanne weren't truly convinced one way or the other but leaned in Frank's favor. They pointed out that the visitors made updates from time to time, and that would be impossible if this was a real world.

“But would it?” Heather asked as she splashed in a puddle collecting in a low spot on the cobbled road. She headed for the bridge over the stream from the waterfall and into the woods.

The stone bridge looked three hundred years old, with weathered carvings and moss to help make it convincing. Heather knew it had been made just weeks ago, but like all things here, it seemed impossible. She paused to look over the side as the water rushed under the bridge's gentle arch. She lingered to watch it flow, imagining it carrying away all her worries. For a brief moment, she thought about taking Blackbasts offer and wearing the collar for good. Maybe then she could be as happy as Jaina and her sisters were, carefree and full of love and wonder.

“No, that isn’t for me,” Heather denounced and turned to head into the woods.

Webster chirped as she entered the dark trees and began to walk through a forest that looked and felt haunted.

“What do you mean why?” Heather asked the spider under her arm. “I can't do the things they do. I have my own principles. It's alright for them so long as they have the strength of character to do those things and be happy, but I wouldn't be.”

He chirped again, causing a blush and smile as she admitted she would wear one for Frank.

“But that's completely different,” Heather insisted as the rain was blotted out by the thick canopy of dark leaves. “Frank is my husband, and he would keep me to himself. Roric likes to share his girls and have them do things that make my skin crawl.”

Webster chirped again, and Heather shook her head. He didn't understand that different people enjoyed different things, and for Heather, there could only be one man. She put the thought to rest and set him down so he could scurry along on his own. Together they wandered deeper into the forest, wading into mists and dark places as glowing eyes watched from the gloom.

“Has she made it mistier in here?” Heather asked as she stumbled on a path that she didn't remember. She decided to explore and discovered it went to a boarded-up farmhouse. It was a decent-sized structure with wood shingles for a roof and a turret that went up three floors. The front was wrapped by a porch whose crooked railing was missing a few spindles. The large double front door was open, revealing a paneled wood interior hall, staircase, and red carpet runner.

“When did Quinny add this?” Heather asked as she drew closer to the porch, trying to look into one of the windows. She could see a parlor out of a fourteenth-century castle with a great hearth and carved furniture. She climbed up the steps to the porch, causing the boards to creak as she looked in the other winder to see a sitting room with dusty blue couches.

“I don't see any monsters,” Heather said to Webster as she pondered why the building was here. “Maybe there are some hidden inside? Webster chirped that he didn't know but hoped there were spiders inside. “You would want to see more spiders,” Heather groaned and stepped to the door. She looked inside to see a simple hall adorned with sconces that held long dead candles now reduced to wax icicles. With no reason to be concerned, she stepped inside and walked to the stairs before calling out.

“Hello? Quinny?” Heather called, but the house remained silent. She dared a peek into the sitting room to see the surfaces covered in dust and a year's worth of cobwebs in every corner. An old book lay on the floor, and paintings of people she didn't know hung on the walls. It felt like it might have once been the house of a prosperous land owner, but the cold emptiness seeped in.

“Why is it so cold in here?” Heather remarked as she crossed the room with Webster at her side. They made their way to another door that went into a back hall. The hall took them to a dining room with a table that would easily seat twelve. The table was laid with a centerpiece of dead flowers in a stone pot over a red runner. There were places set for five, but the food had never been served, and the silverware sat in neat order beside plates.

“Hmm,” Heather said as she poked around the room, looking in cabinets to find more plates, cups, and serving tools. “I wonder what this place is for?” A slam startled her and Webster and sent them tracing their steps to the front door. They found it closed, and a pull at the handle showed it was firmly locked.

“We're locked in,” Heather said as she puzzled the sudden change. “Oh, well. There is probably a back door and a servant's entrance. Common, let's go see if we can find one.” Just as she turned about, a voice echoed from the dark halls sounding oddly familiar.

“Aren’t you the least bit scared?” Quinny said.

“Quinny?” Heather called and spun around. “Where are you?”

“I'm in my barrow mound watching you through my interface,” Quinny replied. “I worked hard on that house, and you aren't even scared.”

“What are you talking about?” Heather asked as her hands went to her hips.

“My haunted house,” Quinny replied. “I created an adventure that starts with an NPC in Finneous’s village. You get sent to my woods to find the secret of the haunted house and then get trapped inside.”

“Oh, so this is a haunted house,” Heather said as she looked up the stairs. “So is Breanne haunting it?”

“I have nothing to do with it,” Breanne echoed.

“Wait, are both of you watching me?” Heather asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah,” Quinny replied. “And the house is haunted by a phasmagora. It’s a kind of ghost that can appear as different types of undead. It picks what it thinks will scare you the most and starts hunting you.”

“So is this thing hunting me right now?” Heather asked in annoyance.

“Well, yeah,” Quinny replied. “But it messes with you first. Once you start to unravel the mystery, it gets more aggressive and will attack when you least expect it.”

“I will just use dominate undead and tell it to show me the way out,” Heather said.

“Oh, if you’re going to cheat, this won’t be any fun,” Quinny pouted.

“I wasn’t coming to be a victim in your little game,” Heather argued. “Besides, I don’t even have the quest.”

“Could you at least humor her?” Breanne cut in. “She has been working on this since we returned and is very proud of it.”

“You want me to try and solve the mystery of your haunted house?” Heather asked with a sigh.

“Please,” Quinny begged.

“Fine,” Heather grumbled. “But I expect lots of kisses later.”

“Oh, you can have all the kisses you want,” Quinny replied excitedly.

“Wait, why does she get kisses?” Breanne asked.

“Heather and I kissed already,” Quinny replied.

“When did you do that?” Breanne demanded as Heather tried not to laugh. The two went off on an argument, so Heather tuned them out and bent over to look Webster in his row of eyes.

“Alright, Scooby, are you ready to solve this mystery?” she asked. He chirped, and she laughed as he insisted he had no idea what a scooby was. She took the lead, assuming the best bet was to search the rooms one by one. If there was a mystery to solve, it would probably present itself, and she didn't want to disappoint Quinny.

They entered the parlor, and she immediately noticed the smell of smoke. On closer inspection, the hearth had warm embers from a fire that had burned perhaps only a few hours ago. She used the poker to dig around in the ash and found a half-burned paper with a few lines of writing.

My Dearest, Alashia.

It has been too long since I knew the touch of your –

How I long to be in your arms again and –

I hope you have been vigilant as I asked and not –

Remember, it must be kept locked. Do not O –

Your husband,

Octavious.

“Octavious? Really?” Heather said out loud.

“I thought it was a good name,” Quinny said in her ghostly voice.

“It does have a certain old-world charm to it,” Breanne agreed.

“So long as you're happy with it,” Heather said as she rolled her eyes. She poked around the rest of the room and paused before a portrait of a woman with curly golden hair. It had a metal plate on the bottom of the frame that read “Alashia Vonmoor.”

“Hello, Alashia,” Heather said with a pleased smile. A second later, a woman's voice screamed from someplace in the house, causing Heather to look back to the doorway.

“So that was a trigger?” Heather asked.

“It won’t be any fun if I tell you everything,” Quinny insisted.

“Oh fine,” Heather grumbled and wandered back into the foyer to consider the stairs. She wandered down the hall instead, going to a side room that turned out to be a library. She admired the modest collection of books but noticed a twelve-book set on the mysteries of the undead. One of the books was missing, and Heather wondered if this was another clue. She looked about the sparsely furnished room for the book, but it wasn't found. What she did find was a tall mirror anchored to the wall. She stood before it for a few moments, pondering why such a large mirror was in a library. Then, just as she was about to turn away, she saw something move in the reflection. Her eyes darted to focus on the motion, and saw a black form in the room behind her. Heather turned around with a start to see the room was empty except for Webster, who was still at her side.

“Ha! I got you that time,” Quinny said triumphantly.

“Did I really see something?” Heather asked as she looked about the room.

“Yeah, but I am not going to tell you any more about it,” Quinny replied.

“Did you see anything?” Heather asked and got a yes in spider sign language as Webster bobbed up and down on his long legs. “So the ghost knows we are here,” Heather replied and folded her arms. “I suppose it would be cheating to summon a bunch of skeletons and order them to find the ghost for me.”

“That would very much be cheating,” Breanne replied.

“You know other players aren’t going to respect your wishes,” Heather pointed out.

“Just try, please,” Quinny urged.

“Well, let's see what's in the other rooms,” Heather said and headed back into the hall. She found what seemed to be a back hall that had a few storage closets. A large bin held a supply of firewood and an axe firmly planted in one of the logs. On closer inspection, Heather noticed the red smear on the side of the ax and rolled her eyes once again.

“An ax murder? Couldn’t you think of something better? Did this Octavious come home and kill his poor wife?” Heather asked.

“Just because you see what looks like blood doesn’t mean it was an ax murder,” Breanne insisted.

“Oh, I should just assume a red stain on the side of the ax is jam?” Heather asked as she turned to point to it, only to discover it was gone. “Oh.”

“Ha, getting spooked now?” Quinny asked.

“Well, that was a nice touch,” Heather agreed as she studied the log where it had been planted. The slice in the wood was still there, indicating the ax had been real, but the weapon was gone. She looked around the space to find nothing more but an entrance to a pantry and a kitchen. The pantry was empty except for a few old jars and a small black spider that Webster chirped at as if having a conversation.

Heather entered the kitchen and walked around a large wooden table to a funny metal stove inside a stone arch. It looked like the stove burned wood and funneled the heat into chambers like an over. She opened the doors expecting to find a head inside, but the oven was empty. Something flashed before her eyes when she shut the door as a large kitchen knife clattered to the floor.

“Quinny!” Heather shouted as she looked around the room.

“What?” Quinny replied.

“I could have been killed,” Heather insisted and pointed to the knife.

“It’s programmed to miss you,” Quinny said defensively.

“What if I had moved unexpectedly?” Heather demanded and kicked the knife across the floor.

“It’s only meant to scare you and give you a sense of danger,” Quinny retorted.

Heather narrowed her eyes and looked about the room more before checking the next door. The door led to a small hall with a locked door at one end and an entrance to the dining room she had seen before. The locked door was made of wood and braced with a crossbar, held in place with a padlock. She surmised this was a door outside, and if she wanted to open it, she needed to find the key. Webster scurried in, fresh from his talk with the spider, and told Heather that the spider said he had come from the cellar.

“What cellar?” Heather asked.

“Oh, that’s cheating,” Quinny grumbled. “You can’t ask the spiders to tell you things.”

“I didn’t ask them,” Heather insisted. “Webster was just being sociable.”

“We should find the weaknesses in your adventure now,” Breanne cut in. “It will help you fix the bugs.”

“So, can I go on now?” Heather asked the house.

“No more talking to spiders,” Quinny said. “Or I will remove all of them from the house.”

“Fine,” Heather groaned and looked at Webster. “Just don't ask them anything that might give away a secret.” He chirped and bounced in agreement, so Heather took them back through the sitting room and into the hall. She double-checked for a way down to the cellar but could only find the stairs up.

“I guess we go up,” Heather said and started the climb with Webster jumping along. She was near the top and looking down a long hall when something thumped behind her. She looked back to see a dark form at the base of the stairs holding an ax as lightning flashed outside. When the flash was over, the form was gone leaving Heather with goosebumps.

“Did that scare you?” Quinny asked.

“Are you stealing scenes from movies?” Heather asked as she tried not to sound rattled.

“I am trying to make it scary,” Quinny insisted. “If you had gone up the stairs before seeing the ax, it wouldn't have had it.”

“Oh good, so I helped arm it,” Heather groaned as she turned back to the long hall. There were doors on both sides with a branch left and right at the end. She realized they would have to search the rooms one by one while triggering ghost events meant to scare her. The hall was dark, lit only by the light from the landing below. She could hear the sound of a thunderstorm outside and the heavy rain lashing on an old roof. Heather decided to use her undead sight, allowing her eyes to see through the gloom for a little loss in the sharpness of color. She reached for the knob of the first door only to have it open on its own. She and Webster leaned in to look at a bedroom with a lovely canopy bed and stained glass window of blue shapes.

“Oh, I love that window,” Heather said as she crept in. “Hmm, I suppose we should ransack the place and look for the key.” Webster chirped and offered to help look, jumping to a desk to riffle through the stuff on top. Heather went to a wardrobe and threw it open to find it hung with old clothes. She poked through the contents, searching for anything of interest to entertain Quinny.

Nothing of interest was discovered, but when she went to exit the room, the door suddenly shut and began to rattle. Heather began to feel uncomfortable as she didn't like playing the protagonist in a horror story. She waited a moment to see if the door would stop, and when it didn't, she looked to Webster or support. He recommended she use a spell to blow the door to bits and hopefully injure what was on the other side.

Heather opted for a more restrained approach, using her flower singer skills to summon a vine that twisted the knob and pulled it open. She felt bad that the plant broke some of the wooden floor but knew that it would reset after a while. She tensed, ready to cast another spell as the door came open to reveal an empty hall beyond. Webster bounced into the hall to look around and announced that it was empty.

“Now, this place is starting to get under my skin,” Heather said as she stepped into the hall.

“It gets creepy, doesn’t it?” Quinny asked.

“Why are you making me do this again?” Heather grumbled.

“I just thought it would be fun. If you really don't like it, I will unlock the door,” Quinny replied in a defeated tone.

Heather grit her teeth and agreed to go on while wondering what jump scare Quinny had planned next. She searched two more bedrooms looking for a key or clue as to what was going on but found only dusty furniture. The final bedroom on the hall was larger with a little extra furniture, and she noted a bed that looked like it had been slept in. Heather and Webster began their search, tossing pillows and throwing open all the drawers. She could tell this had been a woman's room because it had perfume bottles on the table by a mirror. It also had long dead flowers in a pot by the window and another painting of the woman, but this time she was with a man. Heather assumed this was Octavious, and this must have been their bedroom.

Aside from the normal things, she found nothing of interest and was about to leave when Webster said there was something under the bed. He scurried under and a moment later came out, pushing a small wooden lock box. Heather picked it up and dusted it off to see it was a rather beautiful reddish wood with a lovely inlay that looked like a garden scene. She worked at the latch to discover it had been forced open previously and was easily accessed. Inside she found a folded note, a large necklace with white stone at the center of a ring of gold, and a small glass vial of clear liquid.

“What is all this for?” Heather asked as she lifted the vial out. She shook it a few times to examine the contents and then put it on the bed. Next, she took out the necklace and held it up, wondering what purpose it might serve. She finally picked up the note and folded it open to see a few simple lines.

Octavious, you must abandon your quest.

She isn't coming back, and what you plan

to do will dishonor her memory.

- Darrian

Heather was about to remark that the mad husband did it after all when a scream echoed from the house. She turned to see lights flashing from out in the hall and a sound like an angry animal tossing things about downstairs. Heather ran to the door and looked into the hall to see a red mist coming up the stairs. It pulsed with a sickly blue light and formed a hellish face with dead black eyes that gazed at her in hunger. It made another scream that chilled her to the bone and caused her to sweep up Webster and run.

“Ok, I am not enjoying this!” Heather cried as she ran down the hall and turned right. Three more doors greeted her, but she ran for the one at the end. She threw it open to discover stairs up and hurriedly ascended the steps. At the top, she found what appeared to be a servant's quarters with three rough rooms and some basic furniture. Screams and growls grew louder as the red mist searched the lower level, working its way down the hall.

“Quinny, so help me, I will summon my bone champion to fight that thing,” Heather cried out.

“It’s hunting. You’re supposed to hide until it goes away,” Quinny replied.

“I am taking away some kisses,” Heather said as she retreated into a small room and shut the door. She listened as the creature stumbled around below her, presumably searching rooms for the intruder. She had to admit her heart was beating faster, and she felt a tingle of excitement. Deep down, she felt it had to be safe because Quinny wouldn't allow her to come to harm. Still, it was so real, and no matter how Heather tried to discount it, she felt afraid. Thankfully Webster was there to calm her down and huddled with her to watch the door, hoping they weren't discovered.

Eventually, the sounds faded, and Heather eyed the door nervously. She felt silly to be hiding from a ghost when she was a necromancer, but she didn't want to ruin Quinny's fun. However, she was starting to feel like this face had gone on long enough and just wanted to find a way out. She carefully opened the door and looked down the corridor to see nothing to be alarmed about.

“Alright,” Heather said to Webster as she looked down at him. “I think the way out is in the cellar, and as I seem to recall, this house has a tower on one side. Do you remember seeing the room on the inside?”

Webster turned left and right in a no, causing Heather to wonder where the tower was. Surely it had been hidden somehow, which meant it was important to get out. She went over what she knew so far and tried to make sense of it. When that failed, she had an idea and asked Quinny what the quest was. She was annoyed that she had to find the necklace and return it to the quest giver. The trick was that once she was in the house, it locked, and she had to find a way out.

So there isn't a mystery to solve,” Heather stated. “This is just a fetch quest.”

“But it’s a scary fetch quest,” Quinny insisted.

“She’s still working on the story,” Breanne added.

Heather rolled her eyes and stormed down the hall, pausing to throw open the doors and look in the rooms. She was surprised to see the last room had a big window allowing her to see the tower she couldn't find. At least Quinny had the sense to remind the player that the tower was there, and by her estimate, that meant it was off the library someplace. She went down the steps to the second floor to see Quinny had some sense of drama. The walls were covered in necromantic symbols and circles, all drawn in what appeared to be blood. The doors to every room was cracked open, and a slight mist curled at the seams. Some of the rooms pulsed with a green light creating a threatening atmosphere and a desire not to pass too close to the doors.

“Well, this is stressful,” Heather groaned as she crept down the hall with Webster brushing her leg. He, too, felt uncomfortable with the sudden change, urging her to find the way out before the ghost hunted again.

Though the passage was tense, nothing jumped out or attempted to impede her progress. They went down the stairs that groaned with every step to find the ground floor intact. She returned to the library and searched the walls for a secret door. By her guess, it was behind the bookcases someplace, but nothing seemed to indicate where. Once again, she was drawn to the books about necromancy and paused to consider the missing book. She tried to remove another book only to find they were part of the bookcase and couldn't be removed.

“Yet this book is gone,” Heather said as she thought back. “So what I need is a book to put back in this spot to trigger something. There is a book on the floor of the parlor! I bet that's it!”

“You’re no fun,” Quinny said sourly.

“It’s your fault for making the book so easy to find,” Breanne said.

Heather took their banter and confirmation and rushed to the parlor to see the book lying on the floor. She paused to look into the next room to see the dining room had been tossed about, the table and chairs toppled.

Heather turned away and focused on the book sweeping it up and looking at the cover to see if it was what she was looking for. There was another scream, and something crashed in the kitchen. Heather and Webster looked up to see through the dining room to the hall beyond. A dark shape appeared with an ax in its hands. Red eyes glowed, illuminating a skeletal face with rotting flesh still clinging to places. It suddenly moved, running into the dining room with the ax raised as Heather finally had enough.

A raised hand and simple command put a wall of bones across the room, baring the creature's passage. Heather heard it scream and begin hacking at the wall as it tried to cut its way through.

“Are we in the shinning?” Heather asked as she stepped away with the book. “Let’s find the door and get out before that thing gets through.”

Webster chirped as they ran, reminding her that there were two exits from the kitchen. Heather hoped the monster thing wasn't smart enough to realize that and ran into the library as something upstairs growled.

“Wait? Are their two ghosts?” Heather asked.

“Four,” Quinny replied. “Well, not ghosts; some of them are zombies.”

“Just so you know, I am marrying Breanne first,” Heather grumbled as she ran to the bookcase.

“Why!” Quinny protested as Heather put the book back into its place. She felt the house shake as clouds of dust stirred in every corner. Red light flooded the hall outside the library as something came down the stairs. There was a clicking sound, and as Heather frantically searched for an exit, the strange mirror on the wall slid open. Beyond it was a narrow wooden passage made to squeeze between the walls. Heather didn't waste a second and ran in, getting cobwebs in her hair as she and Webster fled.

“I am getting my dress dirty!” Heather shouted as they turned a corner and saw a narrow archway with light beyond.

“It comes clean overnight in the wardrobe,” Quinny insisted. “Please don't be mad at me. I was going to tell you about the house today, but you found it before I could.”

“I should have gone to Jaina’s forest,” Heather sighed as she neared the archway. “At least the only thing that hunts you there are naked women.”

“Oh, can we do that later?” Quinny asked.

“No!” Heather shouted and stepped through the archway into an octagonal room with boarded-up windows on nearly every side. She looked back to the narrow hall and saw nothing pursuing them, so she took a moment to take in her surroundings. There was a trap door on the floor and a narrow stairway that went around the sides to a balcony above. Aside from that, the only décore was some rotting curtains hanging from twisted rods.

“You know, I am pretty sure I can just break my way out a window,” Heather pointed out.

“We are sure you could,” Breanne said. “But Quinny has played a clever trick. That necklace you found is the wrong one. The real one is in the cellar with the key to the door.”

“So what is this necklace for?” Heather asked as she held it up.

“It tells the ghost how to find you,” Quinny said. “But you need it to open the trap door.”

“It tells the ghost where to find me?” Heather repeated and frowned.

“Look, you are in the right place to get rid of it,” Quinny sighed.

Heather grumbled and looked at the trap door to see a glass disc in the center. It was etched to look like the moon with a ray of light coming out of it. There was no handle or ring to open it with and the lip around the edge was perfectly fitted.

“If Frank was here, he could just tunnel through that,” Heather stated.

“He is too big to fit down that hall,” Quinny said.

“Where is Frank anyway?” Breanne asked. “He’s been awfully busy since we got back.”

“He, Legeis, and Umtha are looking for a place to found our city,” Heather said. “We both agree it should be in the mountains north of the swamp, and Umtha is showing Frank several places it could go.”

“You didn’t want to go with?” Breanne asked.

Heather shook her head. In truth, she just wanted to be at peace, not that this situation was helping that. She needed to be still and clear her head so she could approach the various problems later. If Frank found a suitable place, he would bring her to see it, and then they could start building.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but there is a timer on the necklace,” Quinny said. “The longer you hold on to it, the more aggravated the ghost becomes.”

“Great,” Heather said and looked up. “I suppose I have to go up there.”

“Sorta,” Quinny said with an apologetic tone.

Heather resigned herself to climbing the stairs that groaned and shook under her steps. They felt like they wanted to collapse at any moment, adding to a sense of dread. They went up beyond the second floor and even the third floor, where she could start to see the roof through cracks in the boards. She finally reached the round balcony and looked about to see it was open to the outside. The sky was black with distant stars and a bright moon that lit up the tower. A few clouds drifted slowly, causing Heather to wonder how long she had been in this house.

“Wasn’t it morning?” Heather asked.

“It’s thematic,” Breanne replied. “She made local time and weather for the house so the moon is always out when you climb the tower.”

“Oh,” Heather said and looked around some more but saw nothing of interest. “So what do I do now?”

“Figure it out,” Quinny said. “But hurry, the ghost is hunting again.”

Heather's eyes went wide as she looked over the railing to see the red mist boiling into the lower room. That horrid face formed, and looked up at her as a gibbering howl echoed up the tower.

“There is nothing here!” Heather insisted as she looked about.

“Yes, there is,” Quinny insisted.

Heather spun around again, but all she could see was Webster, who looked at her curiously. He raised a long leg and pointed up while chirping his voice into her head.

“What?” Heather said and looked directly over her head to see a single ray of moonlight coming through a round socket in the ceiling. The tower shook, and Heather looked down again to see the red mist flowing up the tower. As it rolled, horrid fanged faces appeared, growled, and then melted away, the strange creature intent on feasting on her soul.

Heather felt a twinge of panic, then thought of the glass seal on the trap door. She looked down at the clear crystal in the middle of the necklace and understood what had to be done.

“Sheesh, did you rip off every movie?” Heather cried as she reached up and stood on her toes. She had to lean over the railing as the red mist began to curl over the edge. The necklace fell into place, the ray of moonlight now sparkling through the clear gem. It became a beam of dazzling white light that blasted down the tower's center. The red mist creature wailed in pain as the light cut through it, the clouds collapsing away as it seemed to fall.

Heather stepped back to watch the monster collapse at the base, then fade away, leaving only the glass seal directly under the laser of moonlight. The tower shook again, but this time it felt like it was moving. The floor began to shift, turning into a spiral staircase as it sank into the earth.

“Well, that was impressive,” Heather said as she tried to steady her heart. “How much longer does this go on for?”

“Just a few more rooms,” Quinny promised.

Heather began her way down, listening for any danger that might be lurking in the hall. She was weary of what might be waiting below but, at the same time, curious. This was, to a certain degree, thrilling, and she admired Quinny's work so far. Webster took the lead, climbing down the steps in little jumps and arriving at a cellar of damp stone walls and a dirt floor. The smell of dirt and mold permeated the air, laden with dust.

“I'm going to get a respiratory infection,” Heather grumbled as she stepped down to join him. There was only one exit, a large bolted door with words carved on it.

“Keep out,” Heather read. “Isn’t that kind of simple?”

“I am still working on it,” Quinny replied.

Heather shrugged and pulled aside three metal bars that kept the door securely locked. She realized the door was locked to keep whatever was inside the room contained, not to keep her out. Beyond was an arched corridor that was lit by burning torches. She decided not to pester Quinny about who was replacing the torches when they burned out and proceeded into the hall with Webster in the lead again.

They arrived at what looked like a laboratory, with tables fit for a mad scientist. There were scattered necromancy objects, with skulls, bones, and bottles of dark liquids on all the shelves. The large central table had leather straps to tie something down, and Heather didn't want to find out what that was. A small rusty table nearby had the tools necessary to dissect a body, and she quickly moved away and headed for a large hall. Laying on the floor beside the tunnel was another painting of a young girl who could be no more than fifteen.

“Who is this?” Heather asked as she considered the old painting.

“Their daughter,” Quinny replied.

“They had a daughter?” Heather asked.

“Yeah, didn’t you see all the bedrooms?” Quinny said.

Heather found that to be a rather weak way of conveying they had a family and explained her point. Quinny extolled the story that their daughter died and the father went mad looking for a way to bring her back. He dabbled in necromancy to restore her and accidentally brought her back as a zombie. He was forced to lock her in the cellar and made his wife promise she would never go down there. He then went on a long journey to find a cure and wrote his wife letters to remind her not to go into the cellar. Of course, the wife was eventually overcome by grief and went into the cellar to see her daughter again. Here she was bitten and became a zombie herself. She was hacked to pieces by the groundskeeper when she crawled out of the cellar to kill the cook and maid. The husband came home to find out what had happened and punished the groundskeeper by turning him into an undead. Then mad with grief, he tried a spell to trade his soul for his wife and daughter, transforming himself into the red mist monster.

“So that monster can look like other things depending on who is here?” Heather asked as she peered down the tunnel, now aware that the daughter zombie was near.

“It's one of its funny advantages,” Breanne answered.

“Alright, so the necklace is around the daughter's neck, and I assume the key is nearby,” Heather surmised.

“You take all the fun out of this,” Quinny sighed.

“Oh, sweety, I didn't mean to downplay your adventure. This really is impressive. You just need to work on more details to tell that story and give the player a reason to want to know it. Maybe they need some hint from the story to defeat the daughter or find the key.”

“Yeah, I could try to work on that, I guess,” Quinny replied.

“Now I feel bad,” Heather said as she and Webster started down the hall. “Do I need a weapon for this?”

“Yeah, but you can just use spells,” Quinny said.

Heather nodded as the tunnel opened up into a large round chamber. It smelled like a graveyard, and a sliver of moonlight came down from what looked like a well high above the domed ceiling. Heather immediately saw a shadow move and then two more as three zombies got up. One was slightly smaller than the other and wore a simple gold locket. The other two were the cook and maid, turned into zombies by some dark process.

Oddly Heather wasn't afraid anymore as this was a straightforward fight. She silently communicated a plan with Webster and the spider bobbed in agreement. The zombies shambled in as Heather aimed a bone chip and began to cast boosted rotting bolts. The blasts were aimed at the two larger zombies as Webster raced in, leaping from side to side until finally landing on the young woman. The zombie hissed, but Webster leaped away, carrying with him the necklace for the quest. He rushed back to Heather, who summoned skeletal hands from the ground, grabbing at the zombies and holding them fast.

“Well, we can go,” Heather said as she turned around.

“What about the key?” Quinny asked.

“The key is on the undead groundskeeper upstairs,” Heather said.

“How did you know that?” Quinny asked.

“Because you placed a false necklace,” Heather said. “You meant for people to leave and try to turn in the quest only to find out it was the wrong one. If you hid the key down here, they would have to learn the proper use for the first necklace and then would be guaranteed to find the real one. They would never have the chance to make a mistake and bring the wrong necklace back.”

“She is very good at this,” Breanne remarked.

“She is too good at figuring things out,” Quinny pouted.

“Oh, don’t be upset,” Heather urged. “You should make some kind of extra dialog when a player returns the false necklace. Give them a hint that it has some purpose tied to the moon.”

“That is a good idea,” Breanne agreed.

“I guess,” Quinny sighed again.

Heather smiled and headed away with the necklace in hand as Quinny pointed out there was treasure in a box back in the room. Heather didn't need the treasure as she was just testing the adventure out; besides, her reward would be kisses. She asked Quinny if she wanted her to hunt the groundskeeper down or if she was done playing her game.

“Just go to the front door,” Quinny said in a defeated tone. “It will be open.”

Heather found the door wide open and walked out of the haunted house with a sense of accomplishment. She hadn't enjoyed the experience per se, but she was impressed by some of Quinny's ingenuity. As she took a few steps off the porch, the necklace vanished, resetting as Quinny made changes.

“Well, that was something that happened,” Heather said as she looked at her spider. “You make a useful detective.”

He chirped and made her laugh at the suggestion that she should haunt her tower.

“Sorry, I like my tower to be more normal,” Heather replied and headed for the path. “Now let's find those two. I have a reward to collect.”