The Path is narrow and difficult for only few will ever walk it. Enemies lie in wait on all sides, hellions and Magni alike, lurking to down the Sparrows as Samael’s soldiers continue their war, working in the dark to bring forth the light. The Path is the name given to the mission bore by the Jäger, the Hexensbane, and it is their sworn purpose to protect Midyeden from the threats of the Deceiver and his Hellions of Ünterland.

Hellions enter Midyeden through Conjunctions, an event when Ünterland and Midyeden, the Mundane, are briefly connected, bypassing the prison dimension known as Limbo. Limbo, or Purgatory, exists not as a plane between life and death but rather as a bridge between the worlds of the Mundane and Ünterland. A hostile plane, host to lost souls and the Hellions that feed upon them, Limbo is known as the realm of the damned. Originally a plane of traversal between realms, Limbo was transformed into a prison during the war between the Jäger and the Hexenbrut.

Due to the meddling of the Hexensbane, Limbo exists as a barrier, not only to keep Hellions and the Magni native to Ünterland from crossing over but also to keep the Mundane from entering. As such, it exists as an aid to Samael’s definition of the natural order, an attempt to maintain a balance between the Mundane and Ünterland. When a Magni crosses over from Ünterland to the world of the Mundane, Limbo often attempts to strip them of their extra seele or soul.

Despite acting as a prison for all manner of Hellions, Limbo is not impenetrable and at times Limbo opens, allowing passage where Hellions can escape to either realm. Other times Limbo causes the two realms to overlap and merge, creating a Conjunction which allows for travel and a temporary merger of the two planes.

The living can not remain in Limbo for an extended period, and those that do find their bodies rapidly aging before turning to decay. For this reason, it is understood that Limbo exists outside the normal passage of time making it particularly useful to Jäger who are walking the Path. With experience, one can use Limbo to cross the world in an instant or even defy the natural flow of time.

Sworn to walk the Path, the Jäger live disconnected and nomadic lives often free of attachments and entanglements. While imbued with numerous gifts from Samael, scattered and isolated, they were a target. Thus, the Venari Council was born, truthseekers with power and influence who could offer protection and aid to the Jäger. Men and women of influence who could have charges dismissed and offer housing, food and even comfort to the weary, road-worn souls.

Further still, Samael offered help in the form of his Chosen, virgin maidens elected for their untainted blood to be used to further infuse power and protection upon his Sparrows. Jäger are marked by Samael's Chosen. Their virgin blood inscribed on the Sparrows’ skin in the form of a protection rune through ritual skin stitching that imparts upon the Sparrow safe passage through Limbo.

The problem with power and authority is that it needlessly corrupts and so too it was that the Venari Council slowly began to distance itself from the Path and instead employ the Jäger to protect their fleeting power.

When the Jäger wouldn’t comply, they too were hunted to near extinction. An Inquisition was led and they were seen as no more than witches of another flavour. Like those they had banished, the Jäger were forced to take refuge in Ünterland.

Displeased with the actions of the Council, Samael returned from the void and ventured to Midyeden, the Angel of Death lashing out and so the Venari Council was decimated, free to rebuild as Jäger who had evaded capture ascended to the seats that had once been held over them.

The motorcycle weaved in and out of traffic as Ellara’s hair blew loosely in the wind. Revving the engine beneath her, the bike protested ever so slightly before launching forward, the front tire lifting up from the ground before roughly slamming back down just in time for Ellara to guide the agile vehicle around the rear bumper of a large sedan.

Her head was a mess, images of a different time, a different person’s memories flashed across her mind as her thoughts returned to the murder by her workplace. Why was this hanging over her, why should she care about a random murder in the street? Ellara knew deep down that it was likely only because it was so close to her place of work, but part of her couldn’t help but feel there was something more. Some sort of unspoken connection, and she couldn’t be the only one who thought so either.

The people in the bar, what had they asked her? Something in another language, they had accused her of being something, something that had triggered a memory.

The words echoed around in Ellara’s head as she bit down on her lip, revving the engine of the bike hard, a steady whine echoing over the street as she rode the middle line. What did it mean, why did that word keep repeating itself. A woman’s face appeared before her, suddenly twisting as the skin turned a pale green, the eyes disappearing into her empty sockets as a voice like wind rattling dry bones echoed through Ellara’s skill.


The apparition’s voice haunted Ellara as she merged into a new lane, coming around the left side of the the lined up traffic ahead of her. The bike fought against the road below as Ellara moved over the rumble strip before gripping into the shoulder as Ellara’s own mind tossed around the foreign word.


Her mother’s voice echoed her own as the word began to take on a certain familiarity. Echoes of her parents talking, her Aunt and even her Uncle’s voice began to float through Ellara’s head as tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, the sudden sadness invoking first feelings of regret, then pain, and finally anger. Maxing out the throttle, Ellara jumped back into the lane as she guided the motorcycle onto the next exit ramp. Lost in her thoughts, Ellara failed to notice the whine of another motorcycle behind her as the woman from the bar filled her head again.


The woman had been cryptic and intentionally so. The primary question had to ask was why? Secrecy had plagued her entire life, her father had refused to reveal the cause of her mother’s death, his reasons for leaving Ellara in the care of her Aunt. Her Aunt had refused to comment on the matter as well and Ellara’s Uncle had pulled away from her after her Aunt, like her mother, died under mysterious circumstances.


Ellara couldn’t help but find it maddening as the memories came and went, abstract phrases and words lacking context taunted her like riddles that were never meant to be solved. Pulling under the bridge, Ellara guided her bike towards the tier, the glint of a headlight in her rearview mirror finally catching her eye as she was ripped from the past and placed back firmly in the present as the other rider began to gain on her.

“There will be more if we linger.”

Silence hung over the forest for but a moment as Lorcán tried to calm his racing mind. His heart pounded against his ribs like a thundering bass note. So much had happened in such a short time. They had travelled through the portal, the cut in reality Ellara had made with a knife she referred to as a fragment of Samael’s Scythe.

They had definitely been words that left her mouth, but they were words that bore no meaning to the island-raised young man.

Through the portal they had been drawn into Limbo, a place Lorcán understood to be a prison, a plane between life and death used for torment and suffering. Limbo had threatened to pull him apart, only to spit him out in this cursed place.

Ünterland.

It didn’t seem to take long for everything to go astray as they were immediately separated from Gil. Then the group was attacked before they could reach the village. The village whose tantalizing aromas bore a constant reminder that Lorcán hadn’t eaten since arriving. And now, he was staring at a ball of light that was introduced as his sibling.

His Guardian Sister?

So many questions clouded his mind as he studied the ball of light that radiated the same hues as his own eyes did, or at least as they did on Earth, or wherever home was. Here he was weakened, it was cold and everything felt heavier.

Was this what it meant to be normal?

“They’re getting closer with every second we hesitate, their stench taints the wind.”

Rothschild interrupted Lorcán’s thoughts as he continued to stare at the talking dog and the orb of light. Somehow, it was less surreal when Rothschild was simply the ‘Hyperdog’ on campus. The underbrush quivered and shook when suddenly another horror burst free. A growl escaped from Rothschild’s snapping jaws as the creature suddenly shed its guise. Curling tendrils of shadow spewed towards the ground as wraith-like claws met the attacker with no resistance as it cleaved through flesh, muscle and bone with no effort.

A retaliation from the wendigo passed harmlessly through the phantom form as the shadowy familiar savoured the lesser Hellion’s struggle. Flames of indigo and violet spilled out of both its eyes and mouth eliciting an unnerving cry of anguish from the creature as it vanished into nothing but fleeting ash, carried away on the familiar winds of Ünterland.

“Come, Moonchild,” Rothschild stated, transforming back into the familiar black and white dog that Lorcán thought he knew.

“What are you?”

“I am Ciar of the Stygian Veil, though you may continue to refer to me as Rothschild, others here refer to me as Kieran Cahorsbrut, a name I respect in reverence of my former master.” Ciar answered before raising his snout to point towards the orb of light hovering around Lorcán.

“This is your sister, Bridget, she remembers you well.”

“Little brother,” Bridget teased, her urgent tone softening as she tried to empathize with her brother’s confusion. “Look how grown you are. Almost a man”

“I don’t have a sister.” Lorcán argued softly, reaching towards his weapons as he tried to put several paces between himself, Ciar and Bridget.

“Not a living one.” Ciar replied softly as Bridget glowed in agreement.

“We shared the womb, but the Mundane world was not for me, before I could draw my first breath of look upon our mother I found myself here.” The orb of light suddenly grew, projecting itself into a humanoid shape as Lorcán found himself looking into a set of familiar eyes. He could see his mother’s eyes looking back at him, backed with his father’s fierceness. Long hair spilled down past her shoulders, ending above the waist while she stood only an inch shorter than Lorcán himself. Their nose was the same, though Bridget had her mother’s mouth where Lorcán’s was firmly from Aiden. Ears were the same too.

The twins studied each other, the urgency of the moment lost in the awe as their hands met, palm against palm. For the first time since he stepped foot in Ünterland, Lorcán felt a familiar warmth pulse through his body. Suddenly the world around him felt alive, reaching out through Bridget, Lorcán felt…

Something.

A force, not unlike the Hazies above, but far more raw, far more powerful. Pure, undiluted.

“You can feel the Vis.” Bridget replied with awe as Lorcán opened his eyes to look at his sister again. She pulled her hand back and just as suddenly as he felt the world come alive, it was ripped away and it was like drowning underwater again. Senses deadened, unable to reach out, struggling and sinking.

“I shouldn’t have let you do that, they’ll kill you for that.” Bridget muttered, retreating back into the form of an orb of light. The sky above Lorcán suddenly illuminated like a beacon calling forth and Bridget fled into the forest.

“We have to move.” Ciar urged, “The Vǣrloga will be hunting us now.”

“Nobody is making any sense.” Lorcán called, giving chase after the pair. He looked back over his shoulder, towards the direction he had come from. It worried him that no one had come looking for him during all this time.

Hopefully Aurora was safe with Ellara.