A little something I’ve had for months but for some reason never uploaded. I didn’t make a Halloween pic this year so I thought, eh, why not now? Anywho, here’s a short story sorta.

It was cold and musty in the crypt. Not that she cared anymore. Having long ago perished, Kaliith wouldn’t normally care about anything really. Usually she’d be pouring over the different runes or inscriptions she’d come across, but not today. She had a party to rescue. Acting as a sorceress for hire, she had been working with a group of adventurers to hunt down a few rare creatures for ingredients to the spells she uses to keep certain… ‘attributes’ from decaying. (She is quite vein in ways.) Recently she had an itch to add to herself a bit more and had finally goaded her companions into getting what she wanted only to come across a name she hadn’t heard since she had last breathed.

Now, her companions had gotten split off from her and she couldn’t just teleport them to her for some reason. “This must be one of Jareth’s old strongholds.” She mused in her echoing, spectral voice. A light scent, barely perceptible among the musty cloak of age caught her attention. Ah, that way! I could recognise Nathaniel’s musk anywhere. She descended further down the stairs, carful to watch for any traps. Her father loved them…