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“It isn’teveryonethat comes back,” said Nickel matter-of-factly. “Only people who die in terrible accidents, or from sickness.”
“Or who kill themselves,” added Fricz. “I’ve heard that can make someone a nachzehrer, too.”
“That’s right,” said Serilda. “And now you know thatI’veseen one, so of course they’re real.”
Hans shook his head. “The more outlandish the tale, the harder you try to convince us it’s more than just a story.”
“That’s half the fun of it,” said Fricz. “So quit your complaining. Go on, Serilda. What happened?”
“No,” said Gerdrut. “A different story. Please?”
Serilda smiled at her. “All right. Let me think a moment.”
“Another one about the Erlking,” said Anna. “Those have been so good lately. I almost feel like I’m in that creepy castle with you.”
“And those stories aren’t too scary for you, Gerdrut?” asked Serilda.
Gerdrut shook her head, though she was looking a little pale. “I like ghost stories.”
“All right, a ghost story, then.” Already Serilda’s imagination had transported her back to the castle at Adalheid. Her pulse sped up, hearing the screams, the squelch of bloody footprints.
“Once, a long time ago,” she began, her voice faint and unsure, as it often was when she was just beginning to explore a story, not fully knowing where it was about to lead her. “There was a castle that stood above a deep blue lake. In the castle lived a good queen and a kind king … and … their two children …” Her brow furrowed. It usually didn’t take much for a story to begin to unfold before her. A few characters, a setting, and off she went, chasing down the adventure as fast as her imagination could keep up.
But now, she felt like her imagination was leading her straight to an unclimbable wall, with no hint as to what was on the other side.
Clearing her throat, she tried to push forward anyway.
“And they were happy, beloved by all the people in their kingdom, and the countryside flourished … but then … something happened.”
The children paused in their work and looked up at Serilda, waiting and eager.
But as her gaze fell, it landed on the god of death, or at least, this rather ridiculous embodiment of them.
There were ghosts prowling the halls of Adalheid Castle.
Real ghosts.
Real spirits, full of anger and regrets and sadness. Reliving their violent ends over and over.
“What happened there?” she whispered.
There was a moment of confused silence, before Hans chuckled. “Exactly. What happened?”
She looked up, meeting each of their gazes in turn, then forced a smile to her face. “I’ve had a brilliant idea.Youshould finish the story.”
“What?” said Fricz, his lip curling with distaste. “That’s not brilliant at all. If you leave it up to us, pretty soon Anna will have everyone kissing each other and getting married.” He made a face.
“And if she leaves it up to you,” Anna shot back, “you’ll kill everyone off!”
“Both options have potential,” said Serilda. “And I’m serious. You’ve heard me tell plenty of stories. Why don’t you give it a try?”
Skepticism flashed across their faces, but Gerdrut quickly perked up. “I know! It was the god of death!” She jabbed a finger into its stuffed side. “They came to the castle and killed everyone!”
“Why would Velos do that?” asked Nickel, looking severely unhappy with the way Serilda had given up so easily and passed her responsibilities on to them. “They don’t murder people. They just shepherd their souls to Verloren once they’ve already passed.”
“That’s right,” said Fricz, growing excited. “Velos didn’t kill anyone, but … they were there all the same. Because … because …”
“Oh!” said Anna. “Because it was the night of the wild hunt, and they knew the Erlking and his hunters would be coming to the castle, and Velos was tired of all those souls escaping their clutches. They thought, if they could set a trap for the hunters, then they could claim the souls for Verloren!”
