The sky remains cold and dark after returning the necrotic dragon to the embrace of the earth. The bubble of pure darkness surrounding the bog itself has abated, and the marshy sludge of fetid water and detritus has begun to dry out and seep back into the earth, but the overall atmosphere of miasma and ruin remains untouched.

It bothers me. After one core was shattered, it was hit or miss whether or not the field of effect would be weakened. Whoever designed this could have built in a decoy, or introduced redundancies, or maybe was able to, I don’t know, figure out how to rebuild the array with fewer cores in response to being destroyed. I suppose that’s just redundancies by a different name.

But now, with two cores shattered, I have to rethink our strategy. Maybe I was wrong before. The [Curse of the Bleak Woods] hasn’t strengthened in its deleterious effects, but neither has it weakened. Maybe there’s some other phenomenon at play. It is possible that the curse and the miasma are being generated by something other than [Necromantic Cores] we’ve shattered during the last two fights. Regardless, we are safer with these cores broken, as is the world at large, so I don’t consider it a waste of time or effort.

I pull my phone out of my [Inventory] to check the time. And it’s odd. It says 7:17 AM, which I know is wrong. That’s the time I stowed it away, and I know that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, at least two or three hours have passed since then. I wait a bit, wondering if it just needs a moment or two to adjust. Thankfully, it does so after about thirty seconds, revealing that it’s about twenty minutes before eleven.

And that’s problematic. While we’re not yet in a rush, we do need to complete this mission by nightfall. Chloe is in full agreement on that front. As dangerous as this place is during the day, we both know it’ll be several steps worse once the sun goes down and the nocturnal malevolence bears its full, active weight upon us.

“Do you sense anything, Chloe?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “Not in particular. Why?”

“You’ve mentioned already that your class has a particular hatred for the undead. I thought that maybe it would come with some sort of detection ability or maybe some supernatural sense or disgust that might point us toward where we need to go.”

Chloe looks around for a couple of minutes. Finally, she turns back toward me, a regretful expression on her face.

“It’s okay. I’m not upset,” I say.

“I know. But it’s like how you get upset when you feel like you should be able to do something, and then get disappointed in yourself when you fail to meet those expectations.”

I nod in understanding. “Then we stick to our plan of continuing into the heart of these profane lands.”

Chloe nods. After another minute to finalize our bearings, we depart. The smell of undecaying death is so… odd, indescribable to those who have never before smelled it. It’s not quite the smell of rot. It’s the squicky mix of dried bodily fluids that are perfectly preserved with necromantic sterilization, not made any better by vicious marks left behind by the scavenging critters that helped themselves to the feast. At least, until they either had the sense to retreat or became part of the macabre meal themselves.

It’s now nearly noon after another hour of marching. No more necromantic cores. No zombies, no zombie dragons, no spectral undead trying to poison our minds and bodies as we head inward. But there is a mansion, one that is built in the style of the plantations of the antebellum era. Three stories high, made entirely of wood so far as I can tell. Definitely made without regard for modern building codes, and I don’t see any evidence that the structure has been built to accommodate electricity or internet. Or even basic plumbing, for that matter.

“I doubt this structure has been here for long,” Chloe says.

I look at the numerous fresh stumps that dot the area immediately surrounding the mansion. It’s such a stark contrast with the natural state of the forest elsewhere within this domain. And, loath though I am to say it aloud, I have my suspicion about what the lord of this manor is.

I slice off several branches of a nearby tree, then, with a dagger from my [Inventory], begin whittling down one end of each to a nice, fine point. Add in a rudimentary [Durability] glyph and a tiny Ether absorption apparatus— something that doesn’t take all that long— and I have some wooden stakes. Perhaps an unnecessary precaution, but if my suspicion is correct, I’ll feel a lot better having them later.

Chloe takes one for herself before I’m able to put it away. She drops her wand into the pouch at her side, gripping the wooden shaft like a makeshift spear despite its general lack of offensive prowess. She’s still a couple of levels away from unlocking her own [Inventory], but the way she grips onto the stake reveals the anger that continues to bubble beneath the surface of her otherwise calm façade.

Neither of us say the V-word aloud or even silently through our bond, but we’re both thinking it as we approach. The colony of a few thousand bats of various sizes dangling from the nearby trees and eaves of the manor only serve to confirm our suspicions.

“If they try to reason with us, what do we do?” I ask. “Are we going to hear them out, or is it stake first and ask questions later?”

“I– I so badly want to excise this threat once and for all, but if they want to talk, I think we have to talk first. Even if it is ultimately going to end in battle.” She renews her [Saintess’s Cloister] upon both of us, charging me up with just under ten thousand points of damage prevention.

“I’ll follow your lead on this, Chloe.” I give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder, causing her to smile briefly.

We make our way up the creaky wooden steps leading to the front porch. Creaky by design— it’s the best of alarms, and if the lord of this dark domain weren’t already aware of our presence, they sure as the nine hells are now. Nevertheless, Chloe steps forward with unwavering determination, and I follow suit, feet on the ground to hide our flight capabilities.

With no need to knock, and certainly no need to wait for an open invitation, we stroll into the antechamber. A rather quaint sitting room, with a few crudely-constructed rocking chairs and a desk of some sort. No upholstery or cushioning pillows or really anything else that might provide comfort, which lends credence to my earlier conjecture that this domain sprouted up quite recently.

I scan the area, though it proves difficult. Here, in the center of the darkened land, especially away from the windows, the violet miasma is dark and thick enough that it obfuscates not just our optical sight, but the supernatural senses Chloe and I have developed over the past several months. It’s not impenetrable to either, but it’s hazy and faint, like trying to peer out into the distance with only faint candlelight to guide one’s eyes.

The sound of more steps follows, causing both of us to freeze and draw our weapons. Before us is a stairway leading to the second story, and a humanoid individual with stunning, jet black hair descends toward us.

“It’s polite to knock before entering a woman’s home,” the figure says, her voice melodious, a pleasing and harmonious timbre accompanying. I don’t move, but Chloe only grips her elm stake that much tighter.

“Who are you?” Chloe asks. “And are you the one responsible for all this?”

The woman laughs. “And what if I am?”

“Stop… it,” Chloe says, holding back her anger, but only just.

The woman struts down the staircase with grace and elegance. “Well, aren’t you a cute little thing? I dare say that I’m a bit taken.” She turns her glare from Chloe to me. “And you look mighty exquisite as well.”

“You can’t have her!” Chloe says, firing a [Piercing Beam] at the woman. “She’s mine!”

The woman, whose bright, cherry-red lips, pointed ivory fangs, and ominous onyx hair are now on full display, giggles as she brushes off Chloe’s attack. “A little feisty, are we? That’s just fine. I’m sure that you two can be persuaded.”

“Who are you?” I ask, cutting in. “And what are you doing here? Are you the one responsible for this miasma that’s causing the forest to wither and die?”

“That’s a lot of questions, Blondie. And it’s impolite to ask for a woman’s name without first offering your own.”

“You may call me Sera,” I say. I’m not sure if vampires do anything wonky with true names like some of the fey of folklore are said to, but I’m not keen to find out. I warn Chloe of the same.

“Cara,” Chloe says. “If you need.”

The woman smiles, baring her canines. “Scarlett.” She curtsies, revealing her pale right leg, as well as the scintillating black cocktail dress with a side cut that effectively goes all the way to the top of her hip. Definitely a case of putting the ‘vamp’ in ‘vampire’.

“As for your other questions,” she continues, “I am the one responsible for this miasma. As for why, you have to understand, of course, that being deathly allergic to sunlight isn’t all fun and games. I’m either stuck in a coffin in a tiny room for half the day, defenseless and vulnerable to any would-be hunter seeking a name for themself. That, or I take my life into my own hands and I create my own little sanctuary to call home.”

“And the necromancy? The army of the undead that tried to attack us?”

“You can’t expect a defenseless girl to live out here all alone without some sort of defenses. I can’t be everywhere at once, and sometimes, a girl has her needs.”

“What assurances can you give us that you won’t try to spread this miasma further?” I ask.

“Of course I’m going to spread this further. I plan to build an entire sanctuary for my kind, where we can be safe and protected from this vile daystar.”

“And I doubt you’ll change your mind on this? To preserve human settlements and peace?”

Scarlett shakes her head. “I will offer you a proposal. Both of you. I could use a couple of cold bodies to deaden the place up.”

“You’re offering to kill us like it’s a good thing?” Chloe says. “You must be mad!”

“I’m offering to turn you. Think about it. It doesn’t take a rocket surgeon to see the two of you are a lot closer than just friends. You might be thinking that you’re young and invincible and that you’ll live forever. But one day, age will start to get the better of you, and death will one day take one of you and drive the other into despair.

“Now, imagine what I’m offering you. Instead of growing older and eventually succumbing to the sands of time, you two will get to live here, together, forever. You’ll never grow old; you’ll maintain your youthful appearance and vitality forever.”

Chloe hardens her glare, concentrating holy energy in her hands.

“Maybe a bit more to sweeten the deal, then? Ooh, I know. You two are also quite the sight for sore eyes and lips. If you’re ever down for a third in bed, well, color me interested. I promise I know a few tricks that can drive a woman mad with pleasure. And I’ll teach them to you both if you want.” She extends her right hand out, wriggling fingers in a rather suggestive manner. “And if you two aren’t interested, I swear on my honor as the lady of the house that neither I nor anyone else will ever interfere in your relationship.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “We have a mission to carry out. People on the outside we care about. Things we need to do back home. I can’t accept your offer.”

Chloe shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Scarlett. But I agree with Sera on this one. I can’t abide by that offer either.”

“Is that your final answer?” she asks.

“It is,” we say in unison, taking one another’s hands.

Scarlett takes a long, deep breath. “I see. I was hoping you would accept my offer voluntarily.” Her fingernails extend outward into long, dagger-like claws, causing my nethers to wince. “But I can’t brook such impolite guests, not after they’ve trampled upon my land, destroyed my pets, and barged into my house without so much as a knock upon the door. Whether in a body bag or as a vampire, you won’t be leaving my home alive.”