"Nearly, very nearly. Just give it one last try."

"I... I can't do it."

"Yes you can, concentrate now."

The cold, crisp days that followed Wynter's return from the other-world went by like dreams; fast and impossible. Reality and imagination had overlapped somewhere along the way and the world seemed changed in her eyes. Magic was everywhere; in the falling snow, the mountains, the sea. It pulsed through the icy air in a shimmering haze of colour that fluttered and followed Wynter as she trained and practised alongside Eiran day after day.

They were sitting in one of the ancient and dirty rooms within the mountain ruin. Her arm was stretched out in front of her body, her hand open. It shook slightly from the pressure.
Wynter breathed.

'I call upon the spirits of the other-world to come forward and speak to me. Is anyone there?'

Beads of sweat glistened upon her forehead and trickled down her temple as she concentrated once again on the flame, yet still nothing happened.

'I call upon the spirits of the other-world to come forward and speak to me. Is anyone there?'

She said the words again in her mind and kept her eyes on the candle. Keeping a clear mind had always been the hardest part, another stray thought seemed to fly into her head with every passing second. Still the flame flickered, and she sat unanswered. Wynter felt her eyes water and she blinked, letting her hand fall.

Eiran tutted beside her.

"You're not giving them enough time," he said for the umpteenth time. "Anyhow, they will only come when the flame grows still."

"And how am I supposed to still a flame?"

"It will happen when you are relaxed."

Wynter muttered under her breath. Necromancy was proving difficult, she had begun to wonder if she would ever be able to contact a spirit. It came so naturally to Eiran, but then, he had been doing it his whole life.

"Shall we stop and take a walk?" Eiran asked breaking her reverie.

He crouched to extinguish the candle before ambling out of the room. Wynter got to her feet and stretched before following Eiran outside.

The sun was beginning to fade behind veils of darkness that swept across the sky like curtains upon a stage to end another scene, another day. Snowflakes fell soundlessly and danced upon a gentle breeze that ran through Wynter's hair and pushed it out behind her as she walked. The tiny crystals melted against her skin and brought a small rush of coldness with each impact. After spending much of the day indoors Wynter found the outside chill to be quite refreshing.

Eiran came into view as she neared the serene mountain edge. He stood dark against the snowy lands that surrounded him as his cloak fluttered in the wind. He was turned to face the town beneath, but Wynter knew his eyes were on the sea beyond. Eiran had told her before that the sea calmed him, and she could understand why. The sea had always been so therapeutic and tranquil, much unlike the rest of their world. It had always been her favourite place to visit while growing up in Journeys End.
Wynter felt that she and Eiran had grown somewhat close in the past number of days. Trust had been established, even friendship perhaps, and still she couldn't shake that odd feeling that somehow she had known Eiran before now. He was like a distant memory or dream that she couldn't quite remember.
She came to stand beside him.

Eiran's face glowed with the orange light of the evening sky. The beams ignited his eyes so that they blazed like fire; strong and bright.

"It seems so peaceful," he had said as she approached. "The world is terribly oblivious to the danger that consumes it."

Wynter nodded in agreement. She felt a strange sort of sadness for the people who knew nothing of the Midnight Guard or magic, some lived unaware and confused lives, especially those in Journeys End who blindly followed rules for reasons they would never understand. Likewise she felt that same sadness for herself and Eiran.
It was equally hard to live with the burden of secrets.

"We'll stop it though," she insisted earnestly.

Her training had been tough on both of them, and Wynter had to admit, she probably wasn't the best student. She could be impatient and irritable but Eiran had been good enough to see through this, he knew she was dedicated to the cause.

"It will all be worth it in the end," he would say.

Once the time machine was fixed, it would require two people to activate it. Those two needed to have magical knowledge and ability within the same field and therefore, it was necromancy that Wynter practised.

"Where is it we're going once the machine is fixed?" she asked.

Eiran had turned and was beginning to walk as the last rays of sunshine faded away. Wynter fell into step beside him.

"We are going to Iporia," Eiran replied.

"Long ago it was a great city that thrived on peace and prosperity, a truly beautiful place. Over time however its citizens became unhappy. The leaders of Iporia believed that if individuals were free to make their own choices without rules and regulations, happiness could forever be maintained, but they were wrong of course. Opinions clashed, riots lit up the streets as rebellions ran wild. We need rules to have peace, but the leaders turned a blind eye to their mistakes and instead of fixing them fled the city. Divisions were then made as some sought power and fell into the practise of dark magic."

Eiran shook his head sadly.

"Dark magic of that nature should have been forbidden. They planned to take the city but this backfired terribly. They could not contain the dark magic for they did not understand it. It ripped the world apart and created a rift within Iporia; the other-world. Those who had studied the dark magic were pulled apart, their souls dragged inside. Iporia was destroyed during the chaos, the city crumbled and was left to rot beneath years of snow and ice. In later days the place where Iporia once stood became known by another name."

"Journeys End," Wynter concluded in surprise.

"Well done."

They had reached the ruin once again. Eiran stood aside to let Wynter pass, she clamboured through and entered the building.

"Were you ever in Iporia?" Wynter inquired casually once they were both inside.

Eiran was oddly hesitant in answering.

"Yes," he said slowly. "A long time ago."

In the silence that followed Wynter set about the room lighting candles and waited for Eiran to speak of his time spent in Iporia. She was confused when he remained quiet, his secrets only brought him pain and she wished he would share his past with her. Surely he trusted her by now, as she trusted him. Wynter wondered if she had upset him, she stole a glance in his direction. Eiran was sat cross legged upon the floor, staring into nothing with glazed eyes.

"Was it horrible?"

The question had burst from her lips before she could stop it. He didn't seem annoyed however, just unsure.

"Well, yes and no. Not when there was peace." Eiran paused while pushing the hair from his eyes. He inhaled sharply.

"I'm sorry, talking about Iporia just reminds me of..." Something like a smile crossed Eiran's face then as he paused. He shook his head. "Someone I once knew."

Wynter felt herself blush.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Eiran shook his head and got to his feet.

"Don't be," he said looking into her eyes. As he stood before her, Wynter saw that his lip trembled as though he wanted to say more, but no words came. For a second his grey eyes shone with some urgency that screamed out to her, but Eiran remained voiceless. Then his eyes dropped suddenly and he turned and walked away to the corner of the room.

Wynter stared after him.

"It just reminds me of someone I once knew."

'Who could that have been?'

Had it been family? A friend? Perhaps someone from within his clan. Something bad must have happened to them if her questions had drawn such an unusual reaction.
Wynter shook her head, surprised by her nosiness. It was none of her business who Eiran used to know, and she would not ask about it again.

'Maybe it had been a girl -'

"Wynter?"

She looked up to see Eiran watching her with amusement. He had been speaking this whole time and she had not heard a single word.

"What?" she asked, reddening.

"The machine," he smiled. "Would you get it for me?"

*

The machine began to tick.

The iridescent glass plate spun softly within the two golden arms of the ancient mechanism. Sound raised like melodious music high into the heavens above and brought a smile to the pale faced boy who had sat for hours with the machine.
It worked.

Finally.

Wynter lay asleep on the floor with strands of hair strung across her face, an open book trailed from her hand. Eiran had gone to wake her but upon seeing her face he had stopped.
She looked peaceful.

Eiran looked at her face, so familiar. It seemed only yesterday that he had been that young, lonely boy in Iporia.
The one who had seen the future.

Iporia had almost been his home once upon a time, it had been a city of greatness. The streets had been energetic and alive with bustling crowds both day and night, the air vibrant with noise; voices, music, workers. All throughout the city one could hear the clanging of metal as goldsmiths worked and sent sparks flying as a new creation came to life. Marble buildings of Roman influence stood tall and exquisite, structures of cream-coloured stone injected with shimmering golden flecks. The city lay in a rectangular formation with four main streets of ceramic tiles that joined together in the centre. There, one would find a splendid glass fountain glistening in the sunlight within a pond of clear water and exotic flowers.

And then one day, the end had come.

Eiran had lamented his lost sanctuary long enough, how odd it would be to return after all these years.
He stood up, stretched his limbs and glanced outside. The night had truly set in, all was dark and quiet. Eiran yawned widely, he could sleep now. With a small puff of breath the last candle was blown out and Eiran lay down upon the floor beside Wynter.

*

Silence. That was all that was left in this world.
Though it was not a peaceful silence, but more a pause as though the planet itself was holding its breath, waiting as humanity lingered on the edge and waited for the inevitable.
Wynter glided onwards through the dark and deafening silence, seeking the light.

There.

A fluttering breath called out to her. It came from within one of those lights.

A soul.

The orb of silvery light grew still as it noticed her, she too glowed but she was unfamiliar, not of the other-world; an entity from another land.

The soul bobbled forward.

Its bell-like whispers reached her ears and filled her mind with words. They were soft, curious. The soul did not know what she was, not yet. It was her turn to speak.

'Do not be afraid, spirit. I come peacefully from the world outside only in search of a friend. I invite you to speak, and I will listen.'

Tiny tendrils of light sprang from the soul and moved toward her. She remained still, calm.

'Focus.'

The tendrils touched her forehead.

A rush of images and voices exploded within her mind; men, women, children lying on burning streets bloody and bruised. Every eye in the crowd was upon her, each hand reached out for her. She could feel their anguish as it became her own. They cried for help.

They cried her name.

"Wynter!"

Wynter's eyes snapped open as she inhaled with sharp gasps of air. She was on her back, her whole body shaking with the illusion of pain. Her white-knuckled hands gripped Eiran's cloak with such force that they felt numb.
He held her hands within his own.

"You did it," he told her. "You contacted a soul, Wynter."

She shoved him away and scrambled to her feet.

"We have to help them!" she cried hysterically. "Eiran, I saw Iporia. It was horrible what they did to those poor people, they were defenceless and dying on the streets."
Wynter's heartbeat was fast, too fast.
"How could they?"

"Wynter, that was just a memory," Eiran tried in a calming voice. "It was a very old soul's memory, those people you seen are all long dead."

Her heart raced on with adrenaline fueled by rage.
And guilt.

"They called me," she whispered. "They called my name."

She saw Eiran's eyes flash with surprise.

"Oh, well, that can sometimes happen." he replied rather shakily.
Wynter's brow furrowed.

Was he lying?

"This is what we are trying to prevent, Wynter," he went on quickly. "We can go back to Iporia and stop all of those horrible things from ever happening."

"And what about when we arrive? Did you expect the people to listen to us? Why would they stop this for us?"

"I..."

Eiran came up short. He didn't know.
With a wave of a hand he disregarded her sudden pessimisim.

"We'll talk about that when we get there."

Wynter felt calmer now, if not a little irritated. The mind experience had been frightening, but she had done it, she had accomplished necromancy and now a new wave of determination had come over her.
She would save those souls.

"So now that the machine is fixed," she said, "and I was able to talk to one of the dead, when will we be going?"

Eiran considered her for a second. She had come a long way, and she looked ready.

"How would you feel if I said tomorrow?"

"Really?"

He nodded.

"Okay then," Wynter confirmed. "Tomorrow."

"You better get some rest then," Eiran grinned. "Tomorrow, we go to Iporia!"