Eris's sneakers barely seemed to touch the red-brick pathways of Valdis University. She wasn't running; she was a streak of motion, a blur of panic and athletic grace, the world dissolving into a smear of dark academic buildings and the occasional startled squirrel. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, a drumbeat syncopated with the slap of her soles on the pavement.
After a full minute of all-out flight, she dared a glance over her shoulder. The path behind her was empty, swallowed by the deep, familiar shadows of the campus oaks. No towering, cloaked figure. No silent, impossible horse. She slowed to a jog, then to a walk, her breath coming in deep, burning pulls that scented the air with the smell of damp grass and her own sweat.
A buzz against her thigh made her jump. She fumbled in her pocket, pulling out her cell phone. The screen glowed with a notification from Otto: 'Urgent! Need your address!'
A wave of relief so potent it felt like weakness washed over her. He was alive. And texting. That had to be a good sign. Her thumbs flew over the screen, typing out her apartment address and the building's entry code with practiced speed. 'On my way. Be there soon.' She shoved the phone back into her pocket and continued her brisk walk, the normalcy of the action feeling surreal.
Sarah Torbit materialized beside her, drifting along as if carried by a gentle breeze. "Shew, that was close," the ghost said, fanning her translucent face with a hand. "But I have to say, I wouldn't have minded being caught by that one. All brooding intensity and ancient lineage. You could just feel the drama rolling off him."
Eris smirked, the expression feeling strange on her tense face. "Well, I don't think we have to worry about that tonight. We were able to slip away from him."
She rounded the final corner, the modern, boxy silhouette of the Beith Apartments rising before her. Pushing through the main glass door, she entered the sterile, brightly lit hallway and finally reached her own apartment door.
Crossing the threshold was like entering a different dimension. The air was warm and smelled of microwaved popcorn and floral shampoo. The only light came from a large monitor where one of her roommates, Abigail, was utterly absorbed in a video game, Destiny, her fingers a frantic blur on the keyboard. She gave Eris an absent grunt, not tearing her eyes from the digital battle on the screen.
From down the hall, another voice called out, "Eris, is that you?"
"Yeah, Clara, just getting back!" Eris called back, toeing off her sneakers by the door. She took a steadying breath. "Hey, I have someone coming over in a few. It might be… a little weird."
"Okay!" both roommates chimed in unison, their voices layered with the sounds of virtual gunfire and the rustle of homework from behind a closed door.
Eris made her way to her bedroom, closing the door on a sanctuary of vibrant, curated chaos. The walls were a mosaic of One Piece posters, their bold colors a stark contrast to the beige dormitory paint. A large body pillow of Luffy sprawled across her bed, a cardboard Zorro stood guard in the corner with crossed arms, and shelves sagged under the weight of plushies and action figures. The iconic straw hat dangled from the corner of her desk chair, a sacred relic in her personal temple.
She flopped onto the bed, the springs groaning in protest, and pulled out her phone just as the screen lit up with a single, word: 'here'.
Her heart did a nervous flip. She stood, smoothed her shirt, and opened the door.
Her eyes bulged. Every muscle in her body went rigid.
There, filling the hallway, was Otto. His face was as pale as printer paper, his glasses askew. And standing directly behind him, a firm, proprietorial hand clamped on his shoulder, was the towering, cloaked figure from the graveyard. The man's presence seemed to suck the sound from the air, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the hall.
Otto's lip quivered. "I am so sorry," he whispered, his voice cracking. "I had no choice. There was nothing I could do."
Sarah Torbit floated in through the wall, her ghostly form shimmering with delight. "Hubba hubba," she purred, circling the new arrival with an appreciative gaze. "The lighting in here is so much more forgiving."
Eris swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry.
From down the hall, Clara's voice called out, sharp with suspicion. "Everything alright out there?"
Eris wrenched her gaze from the unsettling tableau and looked over her shoulder. "Uh, yeah! All good!" she called back, forcing a chuckle that sounded like a small animal being stepped on. "Just… friends!"
Dáinn gave Otto a slight push, propelling him through the doorway and forcing Eris to stumble back a step.
"Sure," Eris muttered under her breath, her voice tight. "Come on in. Make yourself at home."
Dáinn stepped into the middle of the small living room, and it was as if a grand oak had been planted in a flowerpot. The space seemed to shrink around him, the ceiling feeling suddenly lower. The mundane scents of popcorn and cleaning wipes were overwhelmed by the smell of old leather, cold night air, and a subtle, wild aroma of deep forests.
Eris blinked, and then a spark of recognition ignited in her eyes. She pointed a finger at him. "Hey, I know you. You were looking for your dog earlier."
Dáinn's scowl deepened, the lines on his face carving themselves into a mask of stern impatience. "What were you two doing at the crypt?" he demanded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the quiet room.
The clicking of Abigail's keyboard had stopped. She pulled her large gaming headphones down to rest around her neck, the tinny sounds of digital battle escaping into the room. She put her controller down with a soft thud and stood, her movements slow and deliberate. Leaning against her doorframe, she pushed her beanie up slightly, her bloodshot eyes taking in the massive, anachronistic stranger.
"So," she said, her voice flat and devoid of inflection. "Is this like a party or something? The server's kinda crowded."
Dáinn, Eris, and Otto all turned to stare at her.
Eris let out another strained chuckle. "Ah, no! No party. They are just… stopping by." Her mind raced, scrambling for a plausible lie. "We are going to study for the big Chem test. In my room. Super intense. Sorry to bother you!"
Without waiting for a response from her bewildered roommates, Eris quickly ushered a confused Dáinn and a petrified Otto toward the sanctuary of her anime-filled bedroom, desperately hoping the cardboard Zorro was up for a different kind of showdown.
The door clicked shut, sealing the three of them—plus one admiring ghost—inside Eris's vibrant sanctuary. Dáinn stood frozen for a moment, his ancient eyes performing a slow, bewildered scan of the room. His gaze drifted over the grinning, straw-hatted Luffy on the poster, the determined cardboard Zorro, the army of wide-eyed plush creatures, and finally came to rest on the body pillow. A faint, almost imperceptible twitch disturbed his stoic expression.
Then, as if mentally shaking off the assault of color and whimsy, he refocused. He crossed his arms, his dark cloak rustling, and seemed to expand, his presence making the room feel as cramped as a fairy ring. He loomed over Eris and Otto like a headmaster confronting students who'd just set the library on fire.
"Explain yourselves," his voice was a low thunderclap in the small space. "Why were you in the crypt?"
Eris and Otto exchanged a frantic, silent conversation with their eyes. Otto gave a tiny, helpless shrug. Sarah, meanwhile, drifted lazily around Dáinn's head, making doe eyes at his profile. "Such a commanding presence," she sighed.
"He's from the other side," Otto whispered to Eris, a spark of desperate hope in his eyes. "Maybe… maybe he can help."
Eris, wringing her hands, took a nervous breath. "Well, you see," she began, her words tentative, "I accidentally opened that gate thing in the crypt." Once the dam broke, the explanation flooded out. "See, I was trying to help this… friend… get her dog back, and I was using this old spell book, and well, I did the spell, and well—" she ended with a helpless shrug, "—I opened something instead."
Dáinn's brow furrowed so deeply it could have planted seeds. "You opened the gate."
Eris, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt, nodded.
Dáinn let out a long, slow sigh that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. "That should not have been possible." He narrowed his piercing blue eyes, studying her with a new, unnerving intensity. "What is your name?"
Eris perked up, a reflexive, friendly smile touching her lips. "Eris Sylvie MacDuffie. Again."
Dáinn uncrossed his arms, holding his chin in a gesture of deep reflection. The plastic eyes of a dozen anime figures seemed to watch him think.
Otto, unable to bear the silence, interrupted. "Mr. Dáinn, what is it?"
Dáinn pressed his lips together into a thin line. "There is no way a human should have been able to open a gate. The power required… it is not of your world."
Eris chuckled awkwardly. "Well, I did. And I can assure you, I am very human." She gestured around her room as if the One Piece merch was definitive proof of her mundane humanity.
Dáinn nodded slowly, but his narrowed eyes suggested he was far from assured.
Otto cleared his throat, seizing the moment to adopt a more scholarly tone. "Mr. Dáinn, if I may. The reason we were in the crypt tonight was to close the gate. But…" He glanced at Eris.
Eris looked bashful. "I wasn't able to get the chant right."
"Do you have the spell?" Dáinn asked, a thread of urgency in his voice.
Eris's face lit up. "Yeah! I should have…" She rushed to the coat she'd tossed on her bed, patting down the pockets. Her enthusiasm faded as she turned them inside out, finding only a half-eaten protein bar and some loose change. Her shoulders slumped. "I think… I lost it."
Dáinn sighed again, the sound weary.
"Do you know of another way to close the gate?" Otto asked, his voice hopeful.
"The gate can only be closed by the one who opened it," Dáinn stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It is a problem you are going to have to figure out."
Eris nodded, her expression a mixture of bashfulness and dread. "Really? And if I don't?"
"Then our worlds will be as they once were," Dáinn replied ominously.
Otto cocked his head, his academic curiosity overriding his fear. "And what, precisely, does that mean?"
Dáinn rubbed the back of his neck, a surprisingly human gesture of frustration. "Honestly," he admitted, "I am not entirely sure anymore. The old rules are… fraying."
Eris and Otto shared a confused look. Otto, emboldened, asked the question that had been burning in his mind since the graveyard. "Mr. Dáinn, what exactly are you?"
Dáinn rested his hands on the hilt of his sword, cocking a hip in a stance of innate, ancient authority. The casual power in the movement made the plastic Zorro seem flimsy by comparison. "I am Fae. A direct descendant of the Pantheon. The Horned Huntsman, Lord of Shadows and the Annwn Woodlands of the Otherworld."
Otto and Eris simply blinked at him, trying to process the torrent of titles.
Eris was the first to break the silence with a soft, incredulous chuckle. "Wow. That is… a lot."
But Otto began to beam, his eyes widening behind his glasses as if he'd just found the holy grail of occult research. A small, excited squeak escaped his lips. "Is there magic there?" he asked, his voice trembling with yearning. "Real magic?"