This was a terrible idea. Maren was doing it anyway. She gripped her oaken wand—the deep grain familiar against her skin—and stared into the Between’s billowing fog. A cool breeze touched her cheeks and forehead, and she gasped at the biting chill. All scents disappeared. The misty clouds shifted with the shapes of spirits. The spirits looked just as they had in life, though now they were almost colorless, and their bodies emitted a pale, blue-white glow, the details of lips and eyelashes a shade darker. They talked quietly to one another and walked in clusters, some disappearing at the borders of the Between as new ones grew visible. This place existed between the Underworld and the land of the living. Maren cleared her throat. “I call the Shadow King, Ruler of the Underworld.”
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