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“Does he really still require this be done?” The man who had given his name as Jack asked with a sound of weary annoyance, though it was clear from his smile and the underlying tone that he was not truly irritated, or at least not significantly bothered by it. 

“You still have your patterns and I still have mine. True his are a bit more antiquated but they are easy to handle.” The soft voice held a strange resonance and an accent that was nearly impossible to place as it always did as the raven haired beauty with half a frozen face replied. “He hasn’t truly risen in far too long.”

“So how much are we getting Helen? Is this going to be enough? I thought you had spoken with him.” Jack seemed displeased, his heavy and weathered face holding something more of a scowl then it had held mere moments ago. 

“Oh come on now. He’s always been annoying but he’s not that far gone. I spoke to the caretaker before I left. He passed it on.” The woman’s frozen half of her face actually matched the rest for a moment as a slightly amused smile spread. “Besides he’s not the worst.”

Jack merely gave a wordless grunt in reply as he turned away from her before replying again. “Then you do it. Today is not one of the days.”

“And you call him old fashioned. You don’t bend any more than he does.” She teased as a faint moan came from a canvas sack that was spread across a large ornate box of some kind behind the two of them. “Oh all right.” She continued in a softer voice as she put a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take care of it this time.”

Helen picked up a weapon that could only be described as evil. The hilt seemed to be made from polished bone, and a close examination would reveal that the bones were human and not those of any sort of animal. She slid the long dagger’s blade through the canvas sack and then pulled apart the fabric to unveil what truly stood at the back of the room. 

It was indeed a box, but it was a very unusual one. The box itself appeared to be made from wood of uncertain age, it was clear though that the box was very old. Ancient writing in a script that few would recognize wound around the edges, and carved upon the lid was something that some scholars might be able to place, though it was not quite the same as other accounts would have led one to believe. A giant of a creature, with two upraised and outstretched arms was shown, the hands having holes cut in the wood in the midst of them as a network of crevices and channels were cut into the wood that led towards them. The figure seemed to be skeletal, a deathly face that was little more than a skull carved into the wood, but from the head rose two horns, much like those of a bull. 

It was a very strange box, perhaps it wasn’t really a box, but what would attract attention was the struggling child who had been bound atop it between the outstretched arms. Helen leaned over the child, the long knife still clutched in her hand, though the hand had slipped behind her back. “Shhh little one. Do not fear.” Her other hand gently caressed the girl’s cheek.

The whimpers of alarm and panic slowly began to fade as she spoke soothingly to the child. Then the half of her face that could move contorted into a far more terrible expression of hatred and malice that barely seemed fit for such a beautiful face. It was an expression that held an anger that seemed as vast and ancient as time itself, but clearly that was just the sheer hatred. 

There was a beginning of a cry of renewed fear before her hand whipped out from behind her back and the bone bladed knife sank deep into the child’s chest. The heart was struck and death was virtually instantaneous as blood poured forth from the wound. Blood which trickled down into the cracks and grooves, filling them and flowing into the holes carved into the hands. 

While the bound body still twitched Helen’s right hand ignited in a more natural fire. She pressed it to the child and the flames took the corpse, smoke filling the room as the flames somehow failed to touch the ancient wood. Then she bent over the ‘box’ and whispered words that could not be easily made out. “----- rise ---- m--och -----“ 

From within came the sounds of movement, a clattering and noisy movement as the pooled blood continued to flow down into it. She drew back and smiled at her companion who kept his expression neutral. A few moments later the lid of the box seemed to split along a seam that had been invisible before and a foul smelling smoke billowed forth. It was the stink of burning flesh and rancid meat, an odor that spoke of death and unspeakable acts.

Skeletal hands followed the stench, reaching up from within to grip the edges of the box and rise. A humanoid head, fleshless and horrible in its bony glory rose next, great horns of bone rising from the sides, and in much the same way a skeletal body continued to rise. The empty eye sockets pointed at Helen and it seemed as if the being was seeing something very different from the woman who stood there, then the head turned to look at Jack in a similar fashion before moving back to the woman. “Ashe-“ a voice that should not have been possible began before being interrupted.

“Helen” The woman’s voice cut off the voice from the skeletal creature. “And Jack.” Her hand pointed to her compatriot. “Or Soul Fire and Nightmare. Remember? Oh, and you should lose the horns and put some flesh on for now, they don’t react the same way anymore.”

The skeletal being seemed to consider these words for a long moment before it nodded slowly. But there was no change in its appearance and the voice was still that of the grave. “Where are the others?” Fleshless bones ground against each other and every motion filled the air with terrible sounds.

“Check the other room.” Came the voice of the man who had given his name as Jack. “There should be enough for you.” And the creature of bones moved into the other room, and moments later screams of agony and pain sounded, along with the sound of cracking bones and loud chewing.

“That could have been worse.” The man finally admitted and Helen nodded.