I continued on until feeling the push of outside air and resumed man-form again at the mine opening. I was grateful to be controlling my own strong body once more, free of Auric's slow reactions and other defects of mortality. The wolves snuffled at Auric's body but left him alone. Apparently any friend of Strahd's was a friend to them. The cubs were playfully crawling on top of him, tongues lolling as if with laughter.

He didn't once stir at their antics nor when I reclaimed my copper wand and the used up amulet. I would just have to create another. As for how Auric would deal with his too vivid dream and mysterious injuries, he was on his own. Lord Vasili had paid him well for services rendered; he wasn't obliged to hang about to answer questions.

This scouting foray had been all too brief and damaging-at least to Auric-but instructive. I knew what had been killing the hermits and would have to turn my crystal in the direction of Forlorn to try to discover who controlled the goblyns. I needed to know whether the things would be crossing the border in the future and be ready for it. If once the damned creatures got into Barovia, they would infest the mountains like roaches in a pantry and there would be no end of trouble-unless I could find a way to control them myself. But I would rather not have to try as it would take time and effort away from my work with Azalin.

Until I knew more I would send word to the boyars about this possible threat. The peasants were good at locking themselves in at night, but even the best stout door and bolts would not be enough against a determined hoard of goblyns. I would have to tell the Vistani and use them as scouts. Border checkpoints would have to be set up, with people to man them. That would give the boyars something constructive to do with their excess energy.

I would have to attempt another traveling spell to get home. Though my body was unfatigued, the last few hours had been quite exhausting mentally. The charge in the wand was gone, so I would have to summon the magic myself. This would fatigue me more, but not as much as having to physically haul that goblyn's damned stinking body over half of Barovia. With a sigh, I ordered the wolves out of the way and began the casting.

The effort was worth it; I made quite an entrance sweeping into my study-Azalin was there poring over the books-to drop the dead goblyn on the cold hearth stones.

My guest kept a carefully neutral expression on his illusionary face, but he was definitely surprised. Normally nothing could distract him from his researches, but he stopped everything to come over for a look.

"Making a change in your usual diet?" he inquired, nudging its arm with his booted toe.

"Hardly, but there has been a major change in Barovia."

It never occurred to me to keep this information to myself; it was far too important to our mutual goal. He was reluctant to accept the truth of Forlorn's existence at first, but took the inarguable presence of the goblyn's body as very immediate proof. He knew I never tolerated such vermin in Barovia; I had far superior servants to control whose feeding habits weren't in competition with my own. Once past this initial obstacle of disbelief, he settled into full-blown analysis of the situation.

We talked the remains of the night speculating about Forlorn and its implications to our work, but we couldn't get very far for lack of basic information. At dawn Azalin planned to depart for the new border and study it in person in an effort to answer all the questions we raised.

Upon awakening the next night I immediately sought my crystal ball and checked on Azalin's progress-though not too closely. He was barely halfway along and must have returned to his manor house for pack horses, equipment, and supplies for an extended stay.

Next I focused on the border, tearing high overland from one end to the other hoping to find some useful clue. All that came to my notice was the fact that the Misty edge of my existence was still in place, only now it enclosed Forlorn.

I then let my memory dredge up the sight of the grove that I might go there again. It proved to be something of a struggle, like trying to take a reluctant horse over a difficult hurdle. The more I insisted the more I was met with opposition. I began to fear that like my body, my Sight would not be able to cross the boundaries of Barovia.

I kept at it until my eyes blurred and my head swam with the effort. Just as I was about to give up, the breakthrough came. A bright light flared and died in the crystal, and within its depths the grove was visible but rippling as though it lay at the bottom of a stream. It gradually steadied and grew stronger, and I shut my eyes to allow my inner vision to take me there. Rather than a tiny picture, it seemed that I stood in the midst of the grove and could look about me. The view was imperfect, but better than not being there at all.

Nothing had changed much since the previous night. A few goblyn bodies which had managed to escape the consuming flames still littered the ground, though many had been plundered for food by my wolves and other scavengers. Curiosity satisfied, I rose high over the fly-infested pile until I was above the trees and saw the castle Auric had mentioned. It was but a few miles west by a small lake, and his assessment of it as an evil place looked to be accurate. It was nowhere close to the faded grandeur of my own domicile, but it still possessed a distinct gloominess of aspect that belied its smaller size.

The design was of a style strange to me, for though I could pick out towers and walls, their relation to each other seemed to have nothing to do with the art of defense. Archers' windows were placed in the wrong spots to be of any use, and the battlements, such as they were, appeared to be for decorative purposes only. The curtain wall looked strong enough, but it wouldn't last a week against a determined siege. What sort of lord ruled such a careless collection of stones as this?

I soared in my mind's eye over the useless wall and down into the main courtyard, finding a continuance of the odd architecture but no evidence of occupation. Approaching the main entrance to the castle itself I studied the door lintel, discerning a single word carved into the stone: Tristenoira.

Whether that was the name of the castle or the family that raised it or both was impossible to say. I entered, seeming to float through the door, and looked about the inner hall, seeing only shadows and dusty furnishings. Some faded portraits hung from the walls, again in an unfamiliar artistic style, the clothing of the subjects suggestive of a different cultural source than Barovia's.

A quick sweep through the rest of the place turned up more of the same and no occupants, though that meant nothing. Sight is a useful, but limited sense, showing what is before you, but nothing else. Someone or something controlled the goblyns, but it deigned not to reveal itself. Perhaps on some future night I might find it instructive to hypnotize another man, through an amulet around his neck, and visit this Tristenoira by proxy. There were bound to be impressions that one could gather only by being there, but I could wait for Azalin to finish his investigations.

He initially stayed in various spots along the border, methodically sifting through every imaginable detail and a few others besides, conducting test after magical test. I watched without interfering as he questioned countless frightened locals, not gaining any satisfactory answers to judge by the chronically disgruntled look upon his visage.

After a week of preliminary study he finally crossed over to explore Forlorn. Being asleep, I was unable to follow his daytime exploits, but even in my sleep I was aware of whenever he returned to Barovia. It seemed that my link to the land had grown very profound, indeed, to give me this much sensitivity. If there was a ruler controlling Forlorn-which was likely however shy he was about showing himself-then did he also have this ability? Perhaps so, considering the swiftness of the goblyn attack on Auric.