Kelvy ran towards a promising-looking Ghost House, feeling vulnerable and utterly thrilled. It was like leaping into a dark mountain lake without knowing what dwelled within. The Ellouarch magic would conceal him in the Madlands, but abandoning trees for grass was nonetheless crossing a threshold. The deep and dancing shadow magic of Emerlyr grew weaker, replaced by a humming sensation that shivered Kelvy’s skin. Was the feeling fear or magic?
Kelvy’s elf-shaped shadow flitted around the side of the Ghost House and peeped in a window. The little gargoyle Flyndyng flapped softly nearby. Through the window, Kelvy saw a fat Ghost sprawled, asleep, in front of a huge Black Box busily blazing light across the room. Kelvy was suprised that the Ghost’s body looked so solid. According to the Ancient Lore, Kelvy should be able to see right through the human. Ghosts, Kelvy had been taught, were no more solid than sunbeams. This Ghost seemed as firm as a tree.
“Do not linger here,” Flyndyng warned from his perch on the
windowsill. “If you watch the ill-magic light for too long,
you will be bewitched every bit as much as the Ghosts.”
“Where in the Ghost House can we find food? And maps?”
“Ghost Houses always have several doors. Often they are unlocked. And if they are not…” Flyndyng waggled his deft little lock-picking fingers.
The front of the Ghost House gaped open in a large cave.
