Fesstry had brought a few new things with him this time. One was a small but efficient flame thrower.
Another was a ghost radio. It made white noise, and somehow, ghosts and such could speak over the noise.
Sherie had brought one friend, a small woman named Sharle Dubois.
Fenrus drove us out to the cliff top that had taken everything away from me. My wife, my future, and our dreams.
Deep within, unadmitted to the rest, I had a hope that Alanna would communicate with me. More of a wish than a hope.
When we reached the land, we stopped the van to just stare.
The castle was... sort.... of there.
Like a mirage, it wavered. The ground beneath it had the burned soot, cinders and rubble expected.
We got out of the van, gathered our supplies, including food and drink for several days. We did not know what to expect.
The one thing I definitely did not expect was for that little ghostly white dog to be waiting on the stoop.
He whined and pawed my leg, though I felt nothing, then further surprised me by turning to face the doors.
How true he claim that nothing is as loyal as a dog. But, whose dog? That old man that searched the halls? Or someone elses?
Fenrus started to open the door, but like a hologram, his hand just passed through the knob.
We entered, to find the entry just as before the burning.
And, once inside, all was solid. Like we had never torched the place.
We looked at each other in shock, then started forward.
There were no changes at all to the place.
We reached the cellar, and the dungeons without incident.
When we opened the door to that mysterious tunnel to the deeps, it was clean.
No soot. No cinders. No slime. Just a square cut tunnel leading into the depths.
It stayed that way all the way down to the lake.
To be continued.............