The barriers between life and death are thin within Elanthia, all too-porous walls that allow the spirits of the dead to break through with dark jealousy and greed for all they have left behind. The living races take advantage of this, thanks to Lanival's redemption, and we return again and again by grace of favors and clerical help. I think it is the void upon the other side, that momentary sense of utter absence we bring back with us, that gives the rest of the day an almost frantic quality. Starved for life, we consume what we can until we are sated and sleep takes us. At least, that is death's effect upon me.

Since being raised with Sarrgon the night before, I have been restless and wandering the streets of Riverhaven. Damaria was as yet unawake, and I stood upon the western watch tower to watch the sun rise above the city below. I stared at Hodernia's glory and wondered, not for the first time, why I had proven false to her...no, Good Reader, not the Elven muse who heals my heart now, but the Goddess's most worthy disciple...and how she had known it would happen this way.

Hodernia had let her wishes be known so many years ago. Foolishly I had thought myself brave enough to abide by such rules, willing to flaunt the prophecy of pain the Dawn Goddess had pronounced against her servant and me. How well now I grieve for not having the courage to obey...but even in retrospect I would do nothing differently.

Hodernia is the goddess of new hope, and she had sought to spare two the pain she knew would come. I do not regret the moments from one to the other, not by far. It was a long night beneath the sweet jewel-like stars until this particular dawn over Riverhaven.

Forgive me good Reader: I still yet speak in riddles of this, the very cause of the journey upon which I have found myself. Let me continue with the Quest that compels.

From the Western watch tower I descended, and in the early morning light I decided to deal with some of the lesser nuisance threats of Riverhaven, the Giant Salt Crab and the Wildland Goblins, which are foes worthy to measure a novice warrior's skills but pose little danger to those of greater ability.

From the Gate of Nobles, head northward, and you will find the goblins. Like raccoons or other scavengers, they make their living preying on the trash and cast-offs of Riverhaven's populace. Their normal stomping ground is slowly being pushed back by the houses of the many who come to Riverhaven for peace from Crossing's noise. Rather ironic when you consider the Wildland Goblins to be perfect examples of the Farmland goblins out the western gate of the latter city. They are skinnable and carry the few coins they discover in our trash, but I suspect the greatest danger they pose is as advance scouts to the better-armed and -trained goblin hordes.

Saltwater Crabs are large crustaceans that subsist not only upon the salt pulled from the brackish waters around Riverhaven, but upon the fleshy bits of those who hunt it for bounty. Their claws are oft claimed for quite a profitable bounty, but their meat is a bit bitter from all the salt they eat. It takes an excellent cook to turn such into a meal even passingly edible. The Crab has a bit more endurance and resistance to pain than a goblin, and it is that much more fearless of danger. Saltwater Crabs are also a bit more plentiful than those goblins outside the Noble Gate.

By the time I had faced these two creatures, it was now noon. Still my heart had that hollow feel, and I made my way toward the Peirless Inn. Not far from its doors, I ran again into Sarrgon. This time we would both agree to face the Death Spirits beneath the Dunshade Manor's floors so as to be done with the dark house. The house does seem to draw one to it, does it not? Perhaps I just have swirling vortexes of shadows on the mind.

The way to the basement is somewhat hidden, so I will not tempt those too young to venture within by revealing the way. Here Sarrgon is in his greatest element. A cast of Harm Evil against such pure anti-life would dispel the shadowy Death Spirits with a stark white flash. His arm was strengthened by Truffenyi's might as well as powered by Gor'tog muscles. While Sarrgon kept the Dark Fiends and extra Death Spirits away, I advanced upon one who drifted into the room.

I suspect Death Spirits are equal to the limit of my ability. The creature's malignant will drove it toward me relentlessly, striking at me again and again. Our defenses were near the match of each other, for I could not reach past the shadows it used as a shield, but I was able to dodge or deflect the worse of its attacks.

I called upon Everild to Smite the Shield of my foe, while sustaining a good hit that raked across my outstretched hands. With its defenses halved, my blows began to land with greater frequency. We traded taps, a light hit here, a hard hit there, but the blessed edge of the axe was beginning to take toll against its substance. A creature so intent upon the destruction of another has little thought to its own preservation, and I was fortunate to at last find an opening. With a heavy strike, I sunk the axe deep into its chest, slicing through where a collarbone would be in any of the Living Races.

A search of the Spirit's tattered robes caused all its garb and form to dissipate into the lesser shadows of the basement. There were gems and coins left within as the only proof of it having ever existed. A bit anti-climatic? Perhaps. I give thanks to Peri'el, Damaris, and Eluned for the victory regardless.

Sarrgon and I managed to extract ourselves from the basement, but neither of us were untouched. Our bodies were bruised though our souls were buoyed. I was still missing something, however; the restlessness from the moment of death the day before still clutched at me. Its cause was eluding me until we saw Damaria climbing up the steps of the Manor in search of us. Her presence alone calmed the internal pacing.

Together we three explored a bit deeper into the Dunshade Manor. Damaria had knowledge of a secret passageway through which we managed to discover several old storage areas. Even here, with all the old and dangerous treasures long looted from their shelves, the echoes of the horror the house had witnessed would repeat for passing witnesses. We bore these as long as we could, but when I saw the vision of the little girl appear to me and whisper "But I loved you, Daddy?", I had had enough. Such sadness is hard to face constantly.

We quit the Manor, taking our leave of shadowy evil and grieving ghosts. Sarrgon parted from us as we stood before the gates, and Damaria and I had moments at last alone. It was good to feel whole once again...

Riverhaven is complete, and only a trip northward to deal with Kelpies remains before Therengia is also finished. It has been nearly a year, and we have so far yet to go. If it were not for good companionship, the task would loom impossible before me. May your tasks be like wise shared by those who care for you, Good Reader...