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“This is barbaric, ” he murmured.

Beside him, Theo was staring at the floor. “At least we have dogs. ”

Mrs. S. stopped at the back of the largest group and waited, one foot tapping out an impatient rhythm. As they moved toward the glass, Loki heard someone behind him whisper to her friend, “I’ve been waiting all week to see the living dead. ”

He whipped around. “What did you say? ”

The girl, short and spotty and still young, started at his attention, but then jutted out her chin defiantly. “That’s what they call them in the papers, ” she said. “The ones that’s dead for no reason. ” She poked a finger toward the glass. “She should be living. ”

The words rang inside him, the memory of what his father had seen years ago the last time he looked in the Godseye Mirror. Leading an army of the living dead.

He felt Mrs. S. ’s fingers coil around his arm, pulling him away from the girls. “Take a look, we won’t have long. ”

Theo hung back in the crowd, but Loki followed her to the front of the group until they were nearly pressed up against the glass, staring at the woman’s body laid out before them. She was naked, her long hair uncoiled and hanging in limp threads to cover her breasts. In the icy light through the glass, she didn’t look dead at all: she looked asleep. Her skin hadn’t taken on the clammy, pale quality that other corpses did, and there was no discoloration, no sign of sickness or injury. In spite of how reluctant he was to appear interested in this assignment, Loki found himself stepping so close that his nose brushed the glass.

It was only then that he looked down the row of corpses and realized they were all this way—still as sleep and entirely not-dead-looking. There was no blood, no injury, no visible signs of what had felled them. They had nothing in common but death.

He suddenly understood how Mrs. S. had been so certain that it was magic that had killed these people. There was nothing natural here. Nothing human, nothing native to Midgard.

“How many are there? ” he asked, his breath fogging the glass.

“Two more hallways full, ” Mrs. S. replied. He could see the hard set of her mouth reflected in the glass. “Scotland Yard won’t allow any of them to be buried. They’re keeping them all here for observation. ”

“Observation? ” Loki repeated. “What are they expecting to observe, exactly? ”

“They’re not sure, ” she replied. “But because none of the bodies are decaying, some believe that they’re not actually dead. There’s no heartbeat or breath, but they’re not corpses. The police could prove death or life definitively with an autopsy—an examination of a body to determine how they died—”

“I know what an autopsy is, ” Loki interrupted, though he hadn’t.

“—but none of the families of the dead have granted permission. ”

“Why does it matter if there’s an autopsy? ” Loki asked, trying to say the word with confidence, but it felt strange in his mouth.

If his pronunciation had been questionable, Mrs. S. didn’t comment. “Because of their unusual state, it’s the only way these people can be declared officially dead and then buried. And since there’s still some debate as to whether or not they’re actually dead, the coroner can’t legally perform an autopsy without the family’s consent. But no family wants to be the one to volunteer their darling brother or sister or mother or father to be cut open and taken apart if it turns out there’s a way to revive them. So no autopsy, no burial. The bodies just pile up here on display. Groups like that lot outside”—she jerked her thumb over her shoulder the way they’d come—“have got to all the families and convinced them not to authorize an autopsy, because they think they’re not actually dead. ”

“You mean the protestors? ” Loki asked.

Mrs. S. nodded. “I don’t know how things are done on Asgard, but here it’s preferable not to put a living person in the ground—if they weren’t dead already, they would be then. ”

“Yes, I believe that is universally true across the realms, except for a few subterranean dwellers who bury their dead in the sky. ”

Mrs. S. laughed softly. Loki could still see her faint reflection in the glass separating them from the body. “Each time I think I have learned the strangest things about this universe, something stranger unveils itself. Sky funerals. ” She rubbed a hand over her chin, and he could tell she was picturing it, her mind unspooling.

“How did you find out about all this? ” Loki asked.

“We have a man on the inside of the police force, ” Mrs. S. replied. “He tips us off. And it’s our responsibility to know these things. ”

“Your responsibility by whose authority? ”

“Your father’s. ”

“And what does he give you in return? ” He turned back to the glass. “You’re wasting your time working for aliens, Mrs. S. ”

“Well, will you be wasting it with us a bit longer, Your Majesty? I noticed you’re not back in Asgard. ”

“My travels have been delayed. ” As much as he didn’t want to admit it, to this woman or his father if he was ever allowed back in his realm, he was intrigued. Whatever magic it was that had a hold of these people, he hadn’t seen it before.

“Have they, now? ” Mrs. S. asked, and he ignored the amusement in her voice.

“So I suppose I’ll stay and investigate this with you. ”

Her reflection smiled. “How very generous, Your Majesty. ”

The SHARP Society office was located at Number 3½ Finch Street, like it had been forgotten until the last minute and then squashed into what was meant to be an alley. Hardly large enough to house a vast secret society. It had fewer windows and a narrower front door than the shops on either side. At its back, a factory belched black smoke at intermittent intervals. In the pale light of the early dawn, Loki could see a small hanging sign that read B. A. SHARP, ANTIQUITIES.

Though a bell over the door rang when Theo led Loki in, the shop looked deserted. Glass cases and shelves were bare, their corners collecting dust and cobwebs. The counter had begun to mold where a drop of water from a leaky pipe overhead kept up a steady stream. “Is the shop itself meant to be the antiquity? ” Loki asked.

“What? ” Theo looked up from fumbling to light a lamp. “Oh, no, it was Mr. Sharp’s. We only use the back room now—our office is through here. Come on. ”

Theo led him around the counter, through a musty velvet curtain that smelled like the water had once been dripping on it before taking over the counter.

This was barely an office. Loki was beginning to suspect they were barely a society.

The back room, in contrast to the shop, was packed. Books were stacked to the ceiling. A heavy round table crowded into the center was sagging beneath the weight of papers and crates and one very rusty sword. A workstation had been shoved into one corner, wires and gears littering its top.

As Theo took off his coat, Loki picked up a ring with an obviously fake jewel. The stone was pried away from the setting and propped up to reveal a set of miniature gears.

“Don’t touch that, ” Theo said quickly.

“What does it do? ” Loki asked.

“It shoots darts tipped in a sedative. Or, it will, once it works. It’s temperamental. ”

“Where did all this come from? ” Loki asked.

“Me, mostly. ”

“You made it? ”

“Some of it. I was an engineering student once. I was going to be an engineer as well, but that plan was rather... ruined. ” He shrugged. “It’s probably all silly compared to what you have on Asgard. ”

“Yes. ”

Theo cast Loki a glare from where he was piling kindling into the stove. “You’re not supposed to agree with me. ”

Loki shrugged. “You said it. ”

“Yes, but mostly in the hopes that you’d raise some kind of protest. No, it’s so impressive, worthy of Asgard, and you’re wonderful and brilliant and handsome, Theo. ” He struck a match from a pack on the table and dropped it into the stove. It smoked, struggling to catch the kindling. “Asking too much, I suppose. ”

Loki picked up a set of tarnished gold gauntlets that looked more like something from his homeland than from Earth. “What do these do? ”

Theo glanced up from a second match. “Nothing. They’re antiques Mr. Sharp found on expedition. ”

“Mr. Sharp. The mysterious purveyor of the empty shop. ”

“Not so mysterious, ” Theo replied. “Mrs. S. ’s husband. He was an archeologist—collected Norse artifacts for the British Museum. They both were. Him and Mrs. S. He was the one who first made contact with your father and Asgard, entirely by accident, after he found the fairy ring near Brookwood. ”

“Mr. Sharp, ” Loki repeated. “Your daft society name makes so much more sense now. ” Theo snorted. “You should petition to change it, so you have something less embarrassing to put on your calling card. ”

“Not handing out many calling cards these days. ” Theo blew on the stove, then added, “And it’s not much of a secret society if you go handing it about. ”

“Have you considered putting it to a vote? ” Loki asked, running a finger along the grimy windowsill. “The many, many other members of your clearly enormous secret organization may be more likely to show up to your offices if you had a more fetching name. ”

He glanced at Theo, who was chewing on his lip, staring intently down at his matchbook.

“It’s a tribute, the name, ” Theo said.

“A tribute? ”

“To Mr. Sharp. ”

“I assumed. What happened to him? ”

“He died a few years back, ” Theo replied. “Before I met him. You can’t conjure fire, can you? Now that I’ve taken the cuffs off. ” He tossed the third blackened strike match into the stove. “It’s bloody cold in here, and I can’t get this to catch. ”

Loki considered him. Considered saying no. Theo did a dramatic shiver and chattered his teeth. “Fine. ” Loki crossed to the stove, rubbing his hands together partly for showmanship and, partly because it was indeed frigid in the tiny back room, gathered a flame between his fingers and dropped it into the belly of the stove. The kindling roared to life, bathing him and Theo in a rosy, warm glow. Loki pressed his hands to the top of the stove, then glanced at Theo. “What? ”

“That’s... ” Theo ran a hand over his chin, and Loki suddenly felt strange, the way he always had on Asgard whenever his powers would manifest. But then Theo finished, “That’s brilliant. ”

“It’s a simple spell. ”

“Yes, well, some of us can’t do spells at all. ” Theo hung his cane on the back of a chair at the table and sank down into it, shifting the rusted sword off the stack of papers in front of him.

“Did you make those cuffs as well? ” Loki asked, baiting him, taking the seat across from Theo’s and kicking his heels up against the stove. “The magic-suppressing ones. ”

“No, those came from Asgard, ” Theo replied. “Your father sent them to Mr. Sharp so that any magical beings he detained could stay detained. Apparently, there were a few incidents. ”

It seemed to Loki that if you were enlisting humans to fight powerful magical beings on your behalf, the least you could do was arm them with the proper weaponry from the start, but before he could voice the thought, Theo pulled a stack of papers from the bottom of a tottering pile and began to fan them out over the table between them. “So, here are the police reports—”

“Hold on. ” Loki clamped a hand over the top of the first report just as Theo reached for it, and for a moment their hands were smashed together. It was inelegant and unintentional—the brief feeling of skin on skin startled them both, though only Theo shied away, rubbing his hand like it had been burned.

“You promised to help me contact Asgard if I came with you to the morgue, ” Loki said.

“Did I? ” Theo rubbed the back of his neck.

“I remember it like it was yesterday. ” A pause. “It was, in fact, a few hours ago. ”

“Yes, I recall, thank you. ” Theo heaved himself to his feet and retrieved a ceramic jug and bowl from a shelf by the workbench, then placed it on top of the police reports. He uncorked the jug, then emptied the clear liquid from it into the bowl. “This one is also from Odin. ”

“Aw, he gave you a jug of water? ” Loki pressed a hand to his chest. “He’s thoughtful like that, my father. ”

“No, he gave us a bowl, ” Theo corrected. “It works as a two-way means of communication between here and Asgard. ” Theo stepped back. The surface of the liquid shimmered, and from his angle, Loki could tell an image had formed, but he couldn’t tell what it was. “Would you like some privacy? ” Theo asked.

“Why? Can you hear both sides of the conversation? ”

“Why? ” Theo mimicked. “Are you going to be talking about me? ”

“Possibly. Only disparaging things, I assure you. ”

Theo snagged his cane off the back of the chair, cast a longing gaze at the stove, then called over his shoulder as he pushed through the velvet curtain, “Tell your father I said hello. ”

Loki bent over the bowl, its surface trembling slightly as though the ground below it was wavering. He had expected to see his father’s council room reflected back, or Heimdall’s observatory. Perhaps even the throne room. At the very least, the mapmaker’s offices or the library, the sort of places other dignitaries were shown when they visited or communicated with the Asgardian court.

But instead, he found himself staring at blank stones that it took him a moment to realize made up a ceiling. It was so wholly unremarkable and unadorned that there wasn’t a chance it could be anywhere significant in the palace. Whatever place Odin had decided to accept communications from the SHARP Society, it was no place of honor. Loki felt a stab of anger at his father again for condemning him to this place, this embarrassment. Working with these humans Odin couldn’t even spare a corner of his council room for communications with. He’d never make contact with someone in Asgard in this dark, hidden corner of the palace. He’d be lucky if a boy emptying chamber pots passed.

He straightened up, looking around for Theo. He considered going to fetch him, to ask how it was they ever made contact with Asgard if this was all they had, or if there was some schedule for when a guard on patrol would pass by. Then something flashed on the surface of the water, and Loki dipped back to it, his nose nearly skimming the surface.

“Thor! ”

A long pause, then the shuffle of footsteps, and a shadow fell over his line of vision, blotting out the ceiling. It was Thor, his hair knotted and stringy with sweat and his chest bare.

He let out a shout of surprise. “Loki! ”

“Please tell me you’re wearing pants, ” Loki replied.

“What are you doing in a washbasin? ”

Is that where he was? Worse than expected. Odin had banished all communication with the SHARP Society to the changing rooms off the training arena where soldiers sparred. It was somewhere the king himself never went. “What are you doing answering the call of a talking washbasin? ” Loki returned. “Are you at the training fields? ”

“The changing rooms under them. You can’t just... ” Thor shifted, grabbing a towel from somewhere outside Loki’s line of vision and tossing it over his shoulder like he was trying to cover himself. “What if I had been undressed? ”

“Then I would have been forever scarred, ” Loki replied dryly. “Believe me, this isn’t my first choice of location either. ”

Thor rubbed the towel over his head, then tossed it onto the floor. Had he been present, it would have taken a good deal of effort for Loki not to retrieve it. “That won’t dry if you leave it bunched up like that, ” he said.

“What? ”

“The towel. ”

“Did you appear here just to discuss my... grooming habits? ”

“Could you have picked a more upsetting way to phrase that? ”

Thor let out a huffy sigh, cast his eyes down at the towel, then seemed to make a conscious decision to be contrary and not pick it up. “Where are you? ” he asked.

“On Midgard, ” Loki replied. “Where I was banished. ”

“You weren’t banished, ” Thor replied indignantly. “You’re on an assignment. ”

Loki gave him a saccharine smile. “Aw, that’s precious you believe that. Why aren’t you on Alfheim? ”

“Father’s gone alone, ” Thor replied. “He’s sending me and a brigade to search for the Stones at a smuggling port near Vanaheim. One of our spies there thinks they might have passed into the black market. ”

Loki almost fell forward into the basin in anger—and also a bit in the hope he’d fall straight into Asgard. “Another heroic quest to add to your generous supply. ”

“He thought it would be a better use of my skills—”

“Of course he did, ” Loki interrupted. “And my talents are better used playing detective with humans. ”

“It’s important work for a king—” Thor began, but Loki cut him off.

“No, it’s a waste of time meant to punish me. You have to get me out of here. ”

Thor frowned. “Call for Heimdall. ”

“I did. I think Father has told him not to bring me back. The Bifrost is closed to me. ”

“Then I shouldn’t bring you back either. ”

Loki realized he was gripping the side of the basin without meaning to. “Brother, please. ”

“But your assignment—”

“There is no assignment. Father made up some sham reason to get me off Asgard and to placate these pathetic humans who think what happens to them matters to us. Let me come with you to find the Stones. I’d be so much more valuable to him there. He’s out of the realm, he doesn’t even have to know until I return with you. ”

Thor chewed the inside of his cheek, that familiar vein of consternation popping out in his forehead. “I’m sorry, brother. ”

“Thor, please—”

“I wish you luck with your assignment, and I’ll see you when you return to Asgard. ”

“Thor! ” Loki shouted, but his brother was already gone. Then he came back just long enough to snatch up the towel he had discarded, fold it clumsily, and stalk away again.

Loki fell backward into the chair, pressing his fists against his forehead and allowing himself a groan of frustration. He had, perhaps, exaggerated in saying that there was no reason for him to stay on Earth. Something magical truly was happening to these humans of London, but he didn’t want to be the one to work it out. He wanted to be scouting the realms for the Norn Stones with Thor, not in a room so narrow he could barely spread his arms, surrounded by human approximations of Asgard and air so dry it made him itch. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be given a chance.

Loki stood abruptly and pushed through the curtain, almost smashing into Theo, who was leaning against the counter directly across from it.

“What happened to privacy? ” Loki demanded.

“There was a curtain, ” Theo replied, the apples of his cheeks pink. Then, he asked, almost like he couldn’t help himself, “So we’re pathetic humans that don’t matter to your father, are we? ”

Loki blew a long sigh through his nose. “I’m sure the work you do is very important to your realm and its safety and balance and order and all those diplomatic vocabulary words. But you don’t understand the grand scale of the universe. The biggest thing that happens on Midgard is a blip. A moment. The interdimensional equivalent of a sneeze. My brother is about to leave on an expedition across multiple realms to track down one of the galaxy’s most dangerous magical amplifiers, so forgive me for not dedicating all my energy to the death of a handful of humans in this goiter of a city. ”

Theo’s jaw clenched, and Loki sensed he wanted to say more than he did. “Those people have families. ”

“Everyone has a family. ”

“That doesn’t mean their lives don’t matter. ”

“Oh, please. ” Loki snorted. “Life is the opposite of precious and rare. It’s everywhere. If you wept for every life lost who mattered, you’d weep until the world ended. ”

“They deserve justice, ” Theo pressed on. “And the people here deserve to be safe from whatever it is that’s killing them, as much as your people deserve to be safe from whatever artifacts your brother is searching for. ”

“Are you attempting to move me? ” Loki spread his hands. “Do you expect tears? I’m not the crying sort. ”

“No, I suppose that’s too much to ask of you. ” They were interrupted by the bell over the door, and Theo spun around. “We’re not open—” he started. “Oh, it’s you. ”

It took Loki a moment to recognize Gem away from the dark hallway beneath the British Museum and dressed in a smart blue uniform with a tall domed hat. Even if he hadn’t seen the officers in the morgue the day before, it wouldn’t have taken much understanding of Midgardian fashion to realize Gem was a policeman. Soldiers looked the same everywhere.

Gem was red-faced and out of breath, his enormous shoulders heaving like a mountain upset by an earthquake. “They found another one. ”

Theo’s elbow slipped off the edge of the counter. “What? ”

“Scotland Yard, ” Gem replied between gasps. “One of the constables over in Clapham, behind the Plough. Another body. ”

Theo cursed under his breath. “Does Mrs. S. —” he began, but Gem interrupted him.

“I called on her at the museum. She’ll be on her way by now. You know where it is? The blokes can’t see me with you. ”

“I can find it. I’ll grab the kit. And my coat. ” Theo started for the back room and almost smashed into Loki. “Oh, and you. You’re coming too. ”

“To a murder? ” Loki asked.

“To a crime scene, ” Theo replied.

The crowd surrounding the Plough Inn was nearly as large as the one that had been waiting outside the morgue. Loki wasn’t sure whether he should be impressed or disgusted by humanity’s stalwart dedication to morbidity.

At the back of the crowd, Mrs. S. was waiting for them, a dark cloak thrown over her high-necked bodice. She was wearing trousers with wide legs that flared over her short boots, and her bony arms were crossed over her stomach. It may have been meant to look like she was waiting impatiently, but Loki had a sense she was simply warding off the cold. She had a set of dark spectacles perched on her nose, their frames so small that they were hardly bigger than her eyes. “There you are, ” she said as they approached her. “I’ve been able to get precious little information from those infuriating policemen, but Gem should have more for us later. It’s Ashford and Baines, ” she said to Theo, names that clearly meant something, for his mouth puckered. “Now. ” She turned to Loki. “Just to prepare you a bit for what is about to happen—”

“I’m about to see a dead body? ” he offered.

“Oh. ” She paused. “Yes, but that wasn’t what I was going to prepare you for. The police force here is rather hostile. ”

“To everyone? ”

“Yes, but specifically us. ”

“Now, Mrs. Sharp. ” Loki mirrored her stance, arms crossed over his stomach. “Why would anyone be hostile to you? ”

“My point being, ” she said, “that what precious little time we have to access the crime scene and the body should be used to its fullest extent. You have the kit? ” she asked Theo, and he patted the leather bag slung over his shoulder. “Excellent. The prince is your responsibility. ”

“I’m capable of being my own responsibility, ” Loki interjected.

Mrs. S. raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. “Follow me, now. ”

This crowd was less animated than the one outside the morgue had been. No more than whispers passed between people, like mourners at a funeral trading gossip about the deceased. Loki noticed several people lean into their friends when they saw Mrs. S., their gazes lingering on her peculiar spectacles and wide trousers. None of the other women on Midgard wore pants, Loki realized.

Two policemen were standing at the front of the crowd, their arms locked to keep people back. One of them was Gem, doing a good imitation of not noticing them. The other officer was just as broad as Gem, his hair cut in the same uneven crop. He cast them a derisive sneer as they approached. “What a very expected surprise. ”

“Good afternoon, Paul, ” Mrs. S. replied. “You’re looking well. ”

“You’ve got to call me Officer now, Mrs. Sharp, ” Paul replied.

Mrs. S. clicked her tongue. “Now, I don’t think your mother would appreciate you taking that tone with me. ”

Paul blushed. “She doesn’t want nothing to do with you anymore, and neither do we. ”

“So she’s told me, ” Mrs. S. replied. “May I speak with your commanding officer? ”

“Mum says you went loony after your husband kicked it, ” Paul went on.

Mrs. S. ’s smile went tense. “It’s so kind of your dear mother to speak of me so. And for you to bring it up now. ” She turned to Gem. “Sir, will you please let us pass so I may speak with your commanding officer? Since your brother will not? ”

Loki saw it then, the resemblance between Paul and Gem. It was subtle—he had thought they looked alike in the way all men with large hands and mountain ranges for shoulders looked alike. But they also had the same flat nose and small eyes, foreheads so wide you could have papered them with broadsides.

Gem cast a glance at his brother. “They don’t do no harm, Paul. ”

“Detective Baines doesn’t like—” Paul started, but Gem dropped his arm and said, “You can go on, Mrs. Sharp. ”

“Thank you, Gem, ” she replied, and she, Theo, and Loki passed between the two men. “Tell your mother I am still in possession of my mental faculties in totality, and I hope she’s well. ”

Gem nodded. “Ma’am. ”

The body of the murdered man looked like the others in the morgue, slack features and lifeless limbs, but in the way of sleep and not death. He was dressed in knee-high socks and a rough coat. His hands were black around the knuckles, and a set of long-handled brushes fastened to his back had tumbled into the mud, their strap pulled tight around his neck.

A few men in the same uniform as Gem were meandering around the alley, turning over crates and kicking at the dirt, looking for anything left behind. A man with a spindly-legged tripod was setting up a camera to take photos. Two men were conversing over the body, one with a thick mustache, the other a lanky redhead with a wispy beard, and they looked up as the group approached. The man with the mustache smiled, his face absent of any emotion to accompany it. “Look lads, the ghost gang has arrived. ”

Mrs. S. ’s smile was equally steely. “Good evening, Detective Ashford. ” She turned to the redheaded officer and nodded curtly. “Detective Baines. ”

“Mrs. Sharp. ” Ashford held up a hand to halt their progress. “You’re trespassing on an official Scotland Yard crime scene. Again. ”

“Would you like to go through the usual theatrics where you make protestations requesting I leave and I object? ” Mrs. S. asked.

“I’d rather just arrest you, ” Ashford replied.

“That doesn’t sound like you, Detective. ” Mrs. S. held up her hands, palms flat, and wiggled her fingers. “You generally prefer not to get your hands dirty. ”

Ashford hitched up his pants with a mirthless chuckle. “So what is it that killed him this time? Spooks? A phantom? Was he strangled by a poltergeist? Or did he cross the same witch as every other bleeding corpse in London? ”

“You got a new beau there, Bell? ” Baines called to Theo, before Mrs. S. could answer. “He’s a greasy cat, isn’t he? I thought you liked the intellectuals. ”

It seemed inadvisable to perform any spells in front of these policemen, or even voice the threat to do so, so Loki simply gave the man a look that said as clearly as he could, I will turn you into a toadstool.

“Ignore them, ” Theo murmured to Loki, though his voice was tight.

“What do you think of my trousers? ” Mrs. S. intervened, and Theo nudged Loki’s leg with his cane.

“Come on, we need to take a better look while she has them distracted, ” he said.

“They let me wear these at the museum now, ” Loki heard Mrs. S. say as he followed Theo around the fringes of the crime scene.

“Got to be your own husband now that yours is dead? ” Baines asked with a nasty smile. “Why do you try so hard to look like a man, Mrs. Sharp? ”

“Because, ” Mrs. S. replied without wasting a withering look upon him, “you lads need a good role model. ”

Theo gritted his teeth, then crouched down beside the body, a tight breath of pain escaping his lips as he shifted his weight off his bad leg. Loki bent down beside him.

“Here. ” Theo fished in his bag, pulling out a set of spectacles like the ones Mrs. S. wore.

“What are these for? ” Loki asked as he took them.

“You can see the residue of the spell. ”

“I didn’t know spells left a residue, ” Loki replied.

“Only here on Earth, because the air is so absent of magic. I suspect in Asgard, you’re so thick with it you’d never find a mark. ”

Loki held the glasses up to his eyes. The colors around him turned acidic, the light taking on a sickly quality except for a small sliver of white air that hovered above the dead man, like a fine dusting of snow over his whole body. When he peered over the top of the lenses, the glow was gone. He pushed the glasses up his nose, then looked down at his own hand, bringing a spell to his fingertips without executing it, and to his surprise, his own fingers took on the same ghostly glow.

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