The morning began the same as any other. It had been several days since Catherine had fled to this place, and every one was as relaxing and uneventful as this.

The young conjurer stretched out on a uniquely shaped boulder. Its contours were surprisingly comfortable, making this her most preferred resting spot. With a sigh, she bit into one of the strawberries she had gathered earlier. No matter how often Catherine told herself that they were too sweet for her taste, her tongue disagreed.

The sunlight on her felt warm, but it had yet to burn her skin. Peaceful birdsongs and her lingering conjurer's sense assured her that none of the forest's infamous predators were nearby. Odd that this forest, the cursed Mietha, feared as much as the myst and never seen on a map without warning of instant death, would turn out to be such a paradise.

The Mietha was the most convenient place for her to hide after what happened in Jastria. No one came here, for any reason. Those who did dare to venture in were most often never heard from again. It was a strange place that inspired countless legends, folk tales and general superstitions, and it was filled with bizarre forms of life not seen anywhere else.

Even the myst avoided this place, despite how much of its elevation was below myst-level. It continued down the mountain and into the valley below. Neither the scientific nor the religious minded truly understood much about the Mietha, and it produced a general sense of fear.

However, this day in the forest was uneventful for Catherine, just as every other that came before it. It was good, but one that would blend into a timeless mixture of many. This wasn't the kind of life she dreamed of when running from Misyrea, but there was still a chance that someone sought her for theft, arson or murder. It would be some time yet before she felt safe enough to leave. And there was still the nearby treasure trove of spellbooks to consider.

Catherine knew she was tired because the voices had started up again. Normally, they were little more than a cacophony of nonsensical babble, random words and sounds devoid of meaning.

Today was different. Amidst the jumble of incomprehensible chatter, there seemed to be a purpose hidden within the chaos, though she couldn't decipher it with certainty. At their urging and with nothing else to do after finishing her snack, she slipped from her boulder and trudged uphill toward the edge of the forest.

One of the many mysteries of the Mietha was how it came to an abrupt end. At one point, all plants other than small and stubborn species such as grass and weeds stopped completely. One could draw an exact line between the trees and the world beyond. While the rest of Kaila teemed with diverse flora and fauna, they maintained a cautious distance from the Mietha. There was no mingling, no symbiotic relationship between the ecosystems—only an eerie sense of isolation and disconnection.

When she reached this border, she was once again stricken by the incredible view of the mountains rising from the myst, and the disturbing black orb at their center.

"And why, pray tell, did you bring me here?" she asked her sword. Despite her words, she was not certain that the sword was to blame. "Feeling guided by an invisible force," she mused aloud. "Perhaps, after years of pretending, the temple's indoctrination has begun to take hold."

She took a deep breath and gazed out over the valley. Looking at the Void Reizu always made her feel uneasy, sometimes even a little sick. The mountain tribes disagreed on what it actually was, and it had other names. The Black Moon. The Anti-Sun. Followers of Rea taught that the more people who worshiped the Void's namesake, the more it would grow. If unchecked, it would swallow the world.

Despite the warmth, a chill crept across her skin. Her hand gripped the sheath of her sword in response, and she told herself that even in the face of the Void, on the edge of the Mietha, dangerously close to the myst of the valleys, she had nothing to fear. And she believed it.

That is, until the earthquake began. All she could do was stagger to keep her balance as the ground shook violently. Some of the trees behind her began to snap loudly, threatening to fall. Her feet slipped from under her, and she crashed to the ground.

As she picked herself up, her hand brushed against the sword at her side. From it she felt a jolt similar to static electricity, and in that moment, a vision flashed before her mind's eye: a grotesque, disfigured creature emerging from depths of darkness. Catherine thought to herself that she must be asleep and having a nightmare, but the pain from her fall told her otherwise.

When the ground stopped shaking, she untied Katherine from her belt. She did not trust her ability to reliably unsheathe it in combat, so she did so now. It was her hope that the cursed weapon would never have to be used again, but she had to be prepared to defend herself.

Despite rationalizing that the creature she envisioned was merely a product of her overactive imagination, Catherine found herself unable to shake the vivid image from her mind. It lingered, refusing to fade into the recesses of her thoughts. The suddenness and clarity with which it materialized left her unnerved. It was more akin to a hallucination than a fleeting thought.

An inexplicable certainty gnawed at her, whispering of imminent danger. It defied logic, defied reason, yet Catherine couldn't shake the overwhelming sense of foreboding. Deep within her, a primal instinct stirred, warning her of the impending threat.

The area by her boulder was more familiar, where it would be easier to fight or hide from her imaginary monster. She hurried there at once, and minutes later waited anxiously next to the boulder that marked her campsite.

Over time she calmed down, nearly forgetting what she imagined. The sound of the nearby stream was comforting, washing over her thoughts and fears, wanting to drag them away with the current.

Then the earth beneath Catherine lifted.

As she jumped out of the way, a giant tail erupted from under the ground where she was just standing. She landed on her back, and the tail slammed aggressively near as she rolled out of its way and onto her feet.

A claw flew at her from behind. Almost as a reflex, she spun around and deflected it with her sword. Her blade sliced into flesh when she knocked the claw away, and the creature it belonged to let out a screech as it reared back in pain, allowing Catherine to view it clearly.

The monster was no longer just in her mind. It was a nightmarish amalgamation of lizard and arachnid, its colossal form stretching at least eight meters from head to tail. Two sets of limbs ended in clawed hands, poised to strike again. Spikes adorned its head, forming a menacing crown above its pitch-black eyes. Two teeth were like a tarantula's fangs, the rest that lined its mouth were curved inward. A split tongue hung from its gaping maw, its sinuous movements akin to a whip. Thick, armor-like scales covered its underside and ran along its spine.

The creature lunged forward, its tongue snapping toward her with deadly intent. She dodged the initial strike, but it whipped around once more, sharply slicing through the air. Unable to avoid it this time, she raised her sword, the blade severing the end of the tongue as it slapped the blade, causing foul-smelling blood to spray out.

The blood sizzled as it hit the ground. One droplet hit Catherine's arm and burned into her skin. As the beast drew back the injured tongue, it screeched noisily.

The horrible sound reverberated through the air, disrupting Catherine's sense of balance and causing her to falter momentarily.

The creature seized the opportunity to lash out again, this time with its front claws. She barely managed to come to her senses in time to evade its attack with a quick sidestep. It launched two more strikes in rapid succession, but fueled by adrenaline and panic, Catherine's reflexes proved swift enough to narrowly evade both. The creature's frustration intensified with each miss until it suddenly whipped around and struck her with its tail, sending her hurtling into a nearby tree with bone-jarring force.

The painful impact caused Catherine to drop her sword. She jumped to her feet to retrieve it, but the beast slid into her path. Its arm snapped the tree in two in the same split-second it took her to duck.

With the immense beast blocking her best weapon, Catherine had to fight her own terror to think of a way out of this situation.

Desperate, she screamed and started to swing her arms around frantically while running toward her attacker. The sudden, unexpected outburst caused the confused monster to flinch just long enough for Catherine to dive for the sword and grab it. As she rose to her feet, she felt the Katherine Odachi pulsate with consistent vibrations. A soft ringing seemed to emanate from the blade. It sounded as if the sword was singing.

Reacting to the sound, the creature went berserk. It pinned Catherine down before she could retaliate and hammered its fist into her stomach, then threw her into the air and swat her body to the ground. Catherine was barely able to roll to safety in time just as it tore its claws into the dirt where she landed.

She attempted to stand and run but the creature wrapped its tail around her and lifted her body high into the air. Firmly constricting its victim, the beast slammed her against the hard, rocky surface, and then tossed her into the stream.

The clear water became red.

Several seconds later, Catherine emerged from the opposite side of the stream, still holding the trembling sword in her left hand. Ignoring her injuries, she stood defiantly toward the monster.

The beast had lost sight of her, and was sniffing the air. As Catherine's expression changed from pain to rage, the rhythm of the sword's pulsations became closer and closer to that of her heart.

Crouched like a panther ready to pounce, she growled in a voice that was far from sapien, taking the sword in both hands.

As if reacting to her anger, the sword's blade roared to life as turbulent, physical shadows swept across everything but the handle. The shadows were three-dimensional, not liquid or smoke and yet like both at the same time. They were darker than black, and emitted a chill as cold as the winds of a blizzard.

With a savage cry, Catherine propelled herself into the sky, her body defying gravity as she soared over the stream and hurtled toward her adversary—a feat that would appear utterly impossible for any sapien.

The creature barely had time to register her presence before her enraged strike descended upon it. With a swift and precise motion, the blade tore through it's natural armor, splitting the creature's head in twain with a single, merciless swipe.

The darkness that enveloped the blade seemed to melt effortlessly through, meeting no resistance as it wrought its deadly work.

Its body fell over Catherine's camp with Catherine on top, and she began to slash the corpse wildly until her arms were too tired to continue and the sword's mysterious power extinguished. Then she fell over and wept until pain and exhaustion pulled her into darkness.

There was no dream.

When Catherine woke, the stream had cleansed itself. It hurt to sit up, hurt more to roll off of the corpse and hurt the most as she stumbled over to the water's edge. Half buried in the sand below the surface she found pieces of her torn outfit, yanked at them until they ripped free, and began the task of salvaging whatever material she could.

After piling the pieces next to the water, she hobbled back to pull the sword from the monster's corpse, then stopped and stared. The creature looked as if it had been in the sun far longer than it had been. It was now a dried-out husk.

"I wonder if all that acid blood will give you indigestion," she said.

She turned around and jumped back at the sight of a woman in black clothing standing where she had just been. Catherine exclaimed something unintelligible as she tried to calm down from the sudden shock, then blurted, "Who are you?"

"A passerby, looking for someone else. I haven't seen something like this in a long time," the woman said, looking at the corpse.

"'Tis an odd place to pass by. You've seen these before?" Catherine asked.

"Yes, as they tore apart my home at the behest of their masters. One of the creatures the dregs of the Void used as trackers, an inhabitant of the world they are trapped in. I suspect that a conjurer sent it after another of this forest's occupants. Which raises the question, where is this one's master?" wondered the woman.

Catherine said, "Dregs of the Void? Are you talking about the Void monsters from children's stories?"

Seeing Catherine's doubt, the woman explained, "They're real. Not unlike the glitchen, but condemned to die in the Void. Evidence suggests that a magus has allied himself with at least one that has broken free. The escapees may not be large in number, but they do pose a serious threat. Some of the originals were created from emotions such as bloodlust and hatred, or memories containing similar feelings."

The more Catherine looked at the woman, the more she recognized features similar to her own. If not for the lack of scars, it would be as though Catherine were seeing her own reflection. They could easily be mistaken for sisters. "You said you were looking for someone," Catherine said, "Who else occupies this forest?"

As the woman brushed away hair that had blown over her eyes, she said, "I don't often get to feel the wind anymore. I should visit here more often."

Then the woman looked again at the desiccated corpse, and Catherine followed her gaze. Catherine hoped that this stranger didn't witness the dark magic employed in her fight with the creature. That it was devoid of fluids and crumbling to ash was convenient, as now it would seem as if it had died long ago. She wouldn't want to answer any questions about how she managed to kill such a beast, or why she was out here to begin with. But when she looked back, this woman that was nearly her double was gone.

As the day went on, Catherine became convinced that her stressed and exhausted mind had only imagined her.