Micah returned to the castle with many shadows this night, all of them so full of evil that he felt drenched in it. Not going to Liliana until he'd washed off their stench, he was most displeased to find his bed empty - though the hunt had been long and dawn touched the sky in a luminous cascade of color. "Where is she?" he snarled at the mouse who had the bad fortune to be sleeping curled up on the bedside table beside the unicorn timepiece he'd shown Lily last night.

The mouse squeaked, stood up on two paws for a second, before dashing down and behind the table and under the bed. Leaving the creature because it was a denizen of the Black Castle, though its magic was very, very small, Micah slammed his way down to the kitchen. Jissa jumped when she saw him, then shook a wooden spoon.

"Look! Look at this!"

Bemused by the sudden aggression from this most sweet and timid of brownies, he walked around the counter to see what had her so upset. By and around her feet rippled a sea of furry black. The Bitterness. Micah scowled. "You promised to behave."

A chittering, squealing response.

"Oh." Raising his head, he said to Jissa. "Have they eaten any of your potatoes or rice?"

Jissa frowned, put down the spoon and went to check the stores, the Bitterness at her heels. They made a mournful hungry kind of sound when she opened the bins, but didn't swarm. Instead, they followed her back when she returned to stand in front of Micah. "No, they did not." Shocked words. "Not at all."

"Then I believe they must like you, Jissa." Kissing her on the cheek - and enjoying her "eek" of surprise - he left her surrounded by the squealing happiness of the Bitterness.

"Hush, silly, silly," he heard her mutter, but there was no ill will in it. Then, "Very hungry you are?"

Smiling because the Bitterness would not be harmed here and Jissa would not be lonely, he was almost in a good mood for an instant. Until he remembered that Liliana hadn't been waiting warm and naked in his bed as she should have been. She was his, after all. Didn't she know the rules? He was scowling again by the time he entered the stone garden, following the scent of her sorcery to the grassy area beside the long reflecting pool that was a favorite with birds.

She'd drawn a blood circle and though he could've crossed it as this was his domain, he didn't. To disturb such magic could cause harm to rebound on her. Instead, he took a seat on an overturned sculpture and watched as she knelt on the cold, hard earth dressed in nothing but her old brown dress and a black jacket.

At least the jacket was his, he thought, mollified.

A tickle at his leg announced one of the Bitterness. Looking down, he saw it was, in fact, four of the creatures. Carrying a cup of chocolate dusted with cinnamon. "My thanks." He took it, was almost expecting the group that came along with a plate of bread heaped with butter and honey. "Jissa is working you hard."

They all but leaped in joy before running back to their new mistress. That was what no one understood about the Bitterness. They had been created to eat bad magic, and that was how they got their name - for it was said they became bitter with the eating of it. That, however, was not true. When the Bitterness ate bad magic, it lost its badness and became inert. The Bitterness, on their own, were loyal creatures, full of happiness and a desire to help. If not for their unfortunate propensity to raid farmers' stores, they would be much loved.

Eating a piece of the bread, Micah decided to keep one aside for Liliana. He wasn't pleased with her for depriving him of a chance to touch and kiss her naked body, but he didn't like her looking weak. After spilling that much blood - from a wound in her arm, he saw - she'd need sustenance.

Her lips moved, her fingers lifting to make graceful flowing patterns in the air that glowed with light. It was blood sorcery, beautiful and arcane and of Liliana. He watched, enthralled, his own power resonating with hers, as if it was as enamored of it as he was of the woman who wielded it.

"See," she whispered.

A minute later, her hands fell, the glowing patterns disappearing into the ether. "I wasn't wrong, Micah," she said, her eyes flicking open. "He has sent the Arachdem."

Her words were a chill wind. From what he'd heard pass the lips of the condemned, the Arachdem were fed the worst of the dark magics and, as such, were nightmares given form. It was said they could cross the Great Divide, traverse the ice mountains, lava-filled pools and other obstacles that protected this realm. "When?"

"Soon. Within hours."

"Break the circle, Liliana."

"What? Oh." Standing, she ignited a match and dropped it on the circle. It opened with a "pop" of sound, the magic dissipating. "Is that for me?"

He held out the bread. "I will not share my chocolate." But when she smiled at him, he gave it to her.

A small, quiet moment passed with her sitting beside him, warm and smelling of nothing but Liliana. Then the sun's rays hit the broken circle, caressing the dark ruby stain of her blood. "How many?" he asked.

"I think...an army."

Bard took care of evacuating the people of the village to the safety of the Black Castle - which had, according to legend, never fallen. The villagers came in huddled and scared, not simply of the threat of which they had been warned, but of the castle and its inhabitants.

Jissa, shy and afraid of strangers, came out with the Bitterness holding cups of sweet tea and cakes for the little ones. At first, people stared and whispered, but the sight of the Bitterness chittering and obeying Jissa soon charmed them into smiles. Before long, the Black Castle was filled with the sounds of children's laughter as they attempted to catch the Bitterness - who were delighted at the attention, but never wavered from their devotion to Jissa.

"I think," Micah said to Liliana in a rare moment of quiet on the castle roof, "that the Bitterness are here to stay."

"Them, I welcome." She touched her fingers to his arm. "He has sent the monsters for me, you must know that."

He didn't know why she told him that. Did she think he would turn her away so as to escape the Arachdem? The thought annoyed him. "Good," he said, "then I'll give you to them at the edge of the village and they'll return from whence they came."

A small pause, then an even smaller voice. "I'm sorry."

Frowning at the bloody black of the sky, he shot her a glowering look. "Don't be sorry. Help me halt this army."

"The Arachdem are his greatest weapon," Liliana said, an odd catch in her voice. "He has never been defeated when he has brought them into battle with him."

Micah didn't like the sound of that, but he also knew that this was his domain. The power of the Abyss would respond to no other, and would sing for him. "He has never before attempted to breach the Abyss." Something pushed at him from the back of his mind, an insistent prodding. "Their eyes shine red in the dark - like living embers of flame, and they carry pure poison in the sacs on their legs."

Liliana's expression turned desperate. "Do you remember?"

"What?" Shaking his head, he dislodged the odd prodding.

"Please don't fight it."

But he barely heard her, his attention caught by a roiling cloud in the distance. "I must go. They're almost here." Turning, he caught her startled lips in a kiss that warmed him to the core, before he rose into the air on leathery wings meant for hunting shadow prey.

The sky thundered, menacing shades of red and black licking at the horizon. He dove down through the ugliness of darkest sorcery, to see another layer of black. But this one was furred and moving, flashes of gleaming metal catching the light as the huge spiders crawled forward on razor-armored legs; there were so many of them that they covered the bubbling lava pools that had kept out intruders for eons. He wondered how they did not drown in the agonizing heat of the pools - until he swept lower and saw that they were using the bodies of their fallen as a bridge.

It was no surprise.

The Arachdem were, after all, a creation of the blackest blood magic. It was said that the Blood Sorcerer himself, the one who had done more evil than the others combined, the one who sought to live forever and escape the Abyss, had formed them before -  A wicked lance of pain swept through his mind, trying to disgorge thoughts his consciousness wouldn't accept. It had him gritting his teeth as he hovered above the coruscating mass of the Arachdem.

They stopped as one.

Their heads lifted up, their many eyes holding him in their sights.

Chapter 19

He didn't flinch. "You trespass," he said, his voice amplified a thousand times over. "Turn back before you fall into the Abyss."

A high keening sound was his only answer, an unintelligible noise from minds that knew nothing but destruction and pain. The Arachdem didn't only kill; they ate the bodies of their victims until not even the slightest sliver of bone remained. But they weren't scavengers. No, the Arachdem were hunters, eating anything living in their path. They didn't mind if it was still screaming as it went in.

He didn't know how he knew that, but he had no doubt of its truth.

Now, their heads lowered and they resumed their relentless march. At this pace, they would hit the perimeter of the village in an hour. Narrowing his eyes, Micah flew back toward the Black Castle, speaking on channels of magic that were of the Guardian as he did so, commanding the land to awaken and protect itself.

The rise to consciousness of that land was a languid stretch at the back of his mind, a near-sentient presence that said, ???

Trespassers, he said. Those who should not be.

Below him, the ground began to roll and ripple, cracking open to expose huge chasms filled with noxious gases and ropes of liquid magma. Shrill screams pierced the air at his back and he knew some of the Arachdem had fallen prey. Still more fell when the land rose up into mountains, then crashed down on the invading army.

But the Arachdem were creatures of blood magic, and they had their defenses. They stabbed the earth with poisons enhanced with sorcery, tainting its strength. It cried in Micah's mind, and he told it to rest, to hide, to regroup. It had done enough, for when he circled back, the army had been cut in half, the formation straggling and broken, the bridge of bodies having sunk too deep for the survivors to cross the lava pools.