Flames blazed as they flew through the open air. The world passed by in an amalgamation of colours that sparkled and danced like those within far away galaxies.

Time was moving faster.

Sound burst and exploded from everywhere yet it was gone too soon. The wind whistled and beat against her skin like the clamorous wings of crows too unnatural to be of this world.

Tiny crystals of ice kissed her skin, her arms and face, so cold that it burned.

Or maybe it was the raging inferno that trickled through her body and threatened to drown her.

She could hear a voice calling her name.

It sounded urgent, concerned.

Her eyelids flickered -

She awoke.

"Wynter?"

Wynter blinked. She was lying on her back in a room that was oddly familiar. Her throat felt raw, her body bruised and sore. Above her was Eiran, his face lined with distress. She sat up slowly. Eiran had been kneeling beside her, the floor was dotted with waxy candles that added a rather gloomy atmosphere to the already decrepit room. She remembered then.
They were back in the mountain ruin.

And she was alive.

Wynter pushed stands of hair away from her face and went to speak. Immediately a searing pain pulled at her throat like a noose, choking her. Eiran hushed her startled gasps.

"You're going to be okay," he reassured her. "Stay still for me now."

Wynter sat motionless as Eiran plucked from the ground a thick, leather bound book. He flicked through it.

"Just as you reached the rift," he explained gently, "one of the Guards tried to stop you. It nearly had you Wynter, I had to reach through and cause a distraction but it still managed to graze your neck with a weapon." Eiran had stopped on a page.

"The weapon, whatever it was, carried a poison. I managed to get you out and start work here before it spread. I'm afraid you will experience some discomfort for a little while but apart from that it will heal." Eiran turned his eyes to watch her from beneath long dark lashes. "For now it would be best if you rested."

Wynter searched her neck with careful fingertips. She trailed the scars that burned as she touched them and a small tear seeped down her cheek.
She turned away embarrassed and wiped her eyes. A hand gripped her shoulder.

"It's okay to be afraid," said Eiran softly. "Everyone feels fear every once in a while, we're only human."

Wynter coughed.

"It hurts," she remarked hoarsely.

"So try not to speak."

The room glowed around them. Wynter watched Eiran as he read beside her. His eyelashes cast shadows across his pointed face as his grey eyes explored the written words before him. Upon his neck was a long, thin scar that Wynter had never noticed before now; it glistened in the yellow light that surrounded them and lay just as Wynter's did. The book was held within long elegant fingers that appeared even whiter than his face, though Eiran's hands looked different somehow. Wynter frowned. Perhaps it was the flickering shadows playing mind games with her.

Suddenly the book fell from Eiran's grasp and hit the floor with a thud.

"Are you okay?" Wynter spluttered in shock.

He had followed her line of vision with his own wide eyes.

"My hands," he marvelled as though seeing them for the first time. "Usually I wear gloves to cover them up but..."

He trailed off and let his hands fall to rest on crossed legs. Wynter was sure it was no illusion of the light; Eiran's fingers were changing, stained, and it seemed to be spreading across his hands and up his arms as though a network of ink raced through his veins.

It was just as she had appeared while in the other-world; dull and lifeless.

"Just like any other damned soul."

"Eiran," she said fearfully, "what's happening to you?"

He sighed. A vein pulsed in his neck as though he was angry, but maybe he was just afraid, as she was.

"It's difficult to explain, I don't know if I can," he chuckled dryly. "You know, I've never really had someone to talk to before now, and I know we've only met, Wynter, but somehow I feel as though I've known you forever."

Wynter had felt that too somehow, but she didn't say it out loud.

"You can tell me what's wrong," she said instead.

Again she could see that same pain in his eyes, the battle that stormed within his mind as he watched her indecisively. He tugged down the sleeves of his cloak and cleared his throat.

"Okay," he breathed. "Perhaps it would be best to explain my past first, that would help you to understand..."

Wynter waited as Eiran searched for the right words. A gentle breeze crept through the cracks in the ruin walls and circled the room. It brushed wisps of Eiran's ebony coloured hair into his eyes and stroked his alabaster skin.

"I'm becoming one of them," he sighed finally.

Eiran watched closely for a reaction. The words had brought with them a new wave of horror that crashed and plunged her into deep despair. Wynter felt a chill run down her spine and found she was unable to speak, the shock had taken her by surprise.

Eiran's jaw clenched.

"You're afraid of me, aren't you?"

"No!" Wynter exclaimed. She looked into his saddened grey eyes and felt a pang in her heart. Her response had come across weak and unconvincing to him, that much was obvious, but Wynter had meant it.

It wasn't him she feared, it was how long he had left.

"How did this happen to you?"

Eiran appeared crestfallen, but still he spoke to her.

"I was careless in my youth," he whispered. "I'm much older than I look and yet I appear only to be roughly the same age as you. Once you have made contact with the other-world it has an odd effect on your body and soul; you begin to age very slowly. If one manages to somehow escape the other-world they can go on with life here in our own world, but over time they will change," - he held up his hands, - "as I have. Our bodies will not last forever but our souls do. I am bound to the other-world now, it is where I should be."

"And what about me?" Wynter asked shakily as realisation dawned upon her. "Will the same happen to me now?"

Eiran nodded gravely.

"Unless we can stop it," he muttered. "That is why I could not accompany you to the other-world, the closer I am to it the faster I will change." He stood then and began to walk about the room before going on.

"Long ago when I first arrived in Journeys End I was on a mission to save the souls that had been taken by the Midnight Guard. I had grown up knowing the truth of this town and was sworn to a life of secrecy. Many would have disapprove of our methods had they been aware, but we did try our best," Eiran's tone became bitter suddenly, "until I ruined everything."

Eiran had come to stand within a ring of candles that burnt around him like tiny stars. His eyes met Wynter's, darker than ever before.

"We were a clan of necromancers that came from the south. We practised witchcraft - or black magic as some call it, but we only used it to do good, if you can believe that. We reached out to the dead souls that were lost in the other-world and we tried to bring them back to the light, but the Guards were not stupid. I underestimated their intelligence even when I was warned not to. My clan continued on in an attempt to connect with those in the other-world from the outside, but I grew impatient. One night I entered through the rift alone." Eiran spoke in a hushed voice, his eyes were wide as the memories flooded back to fill his mind's eye.

"It was unlike anything we had ever imagined," he whispered. "Bloody, decayed, and crawling with souls. They rushed towards me in their hundreds and I, - a fool, - felt I was their saviour. The light of my soul drew forth the Guards and before I knew it the street was in chaos. Knives pinned me to the earth, claws tore at my clothes, my skin. I was helpless, dying, but thankfully we necromancers are linked."

Eiran said this with a sharp smile full of sarcasm. He tapped a finger to his temple.

"One of them came for me then, the man who had been like a father to me. He pulled me out, took my place, and I could do nothing but watch. He died because of me. I was alive but I had brought disgrace to our clan. The Guards now knew that necromancers were working against them and so we were in danger, all because of me. The rift was guarded more closely after that and any connection we had made to the souls within ceased to exist, they were lost again. My clan saw no hope for them and so they abandoned the mission and Journeys End. I was left behind as punishment for being incapable of following orders. I was bound to the town for the rest of my existence by a very powerful spell that would lift only if I could save those souls and end the Midnight Guard. Yet that was many years ago, my clan have never since returned."

Eiran had finished speaking and now stood with his arms crossed, his eyes were vacant, dark and full of ghostly memories. Wynter was stunned, she sat upon the floor in silence. Eiran's past was darker than she could have ever imagined. He was a necromancer, an evil entity that people feared and hated even still to this day.

He came to kneel beside her.

"Are you afraid of me now?"

Their faces were mere inches apart, Wynter's gaze was steady as she looked at Eiran.

She shook her head.

"You're still my only hope."

Eiran nodded slowly, a small smile on his face.

Outside a new dawn was rising among the ice and snow. The sun glistened above Journeys End which was now visible in the morning light. Wynter coughed again though the pain she had felt was slowly ebbing away, she could talk again. At least the pain had been worth it, her voyage to the other-world had been a success, she had found the symbol.

The symbol!

Wynter was amazed she had forgotten.

"The symbol," she gasped. "Where is the box?"

Eiran chuckled with new found joy. "I thought you would never ask."

She waited impatiently as Eiran thudded upstairs to retrieve the box. She remained among the candles, and soon Eiran returned. He joined her and rested the heavy chest on the floorboards between them. With his now gloved hands, Eiran pulled the lid open. A cloud of dust rose into the musty air before clearing to reveal a strange looking device.

"What is it?" Wynter asked puzzled.

"This," said Eiran with a grin, "is a time machine."

The object was golden beneath its many layers of dust, thin and delicate too. It sat upon a bed of satin and glowed with light, pulsed with a heartbeat that was as steady as a clocks ticking. Wynter reached out to touch it. She could feel the power surge beneath her fingertips as she held it. Wynter placed the object on the ground so that it stood much like a tall, slender candle holder. Jewel encrusted arms extended from each side of the gadget and met above as though holding something up to the sky.

"It's missing a part," said Eiran suddenly pointing to where the arms met. Wynter felt her heart drop as she turned to face him, but Eiran was still smiling.

'How could he smile?' she wondered.

'Unless...'

Eiran leaned closer to her with eyes full of glee.

"I have it here."

From beneath his cloak he pulled another object; a shimmering, circular plate of coloured glass.

"It will take some time to assemble," he murmured placing the glass into the arms. "But until then we have much to do."

Eiran began to walk about the room extinguishing the candles one by one as the sun spilled through the ruin windows.

"What are we going to do?"

"Well," Eiran said mischievously, "you have some learning to do."

He turned to look her straight in the eye with an air of excitement.

"I'm going to teach you some magic, Wynter," he said. "And then we're going to take a journey into the past."