The Ministry has been the same since I can remember, with the clerks being the only exception. However, the atmosphere of overwhelming busyness and that terrible sense of unease when stepping into this pompous building remain exactly the same.
One of the gargoyles perched on a column shot me a menacing glare and began reaching out its repulsive claws toward me but suddenly stopped, apparently recognizing me.
"Welcome to the Ministry, Keeper," it rasped in its otherworldly voice. "You are expected in the Hall of the Sun."
"Thank you, Henry," I said, forcing a strained smile.
As you may be aware, gargoyles are far from pleasant beings, and dealing with them is never enjoyable. But it's hard to deny that they are excellent guards. Their omnipresent gaze follows you from every respectable piece of architecture. They can remain motionless for centuries, observing everything and reporting back to the authorities. However, as the Chief Guardian once told me in confidence—having heard it from someone else—the services of this security force cost the Ministerium a pretty penny.
My footsteps echoed loudly against the polished marble floor. I had been to the Hall of the Sun many times before, and it was my favorite room in this vast and magnificent structure. The hall was circular, with a golden sun mosaic at its center, its rays stretching out in all directions. The windows faced west, overlooking a breathtaking, fragrant garden. At sunset, the entire hall was bathed in a pink-orange haze.
A heavy oak door swung open silently, inviting me inside. The High Minister stood with his back to the entrance, gazing at the setting sun and inhaling the scent of roses.
"Greetings, my friend," he said without turning around. "I am pleased that you arrived so quickly. How is Todeus? Is everything calm at the borders?"
"Good evening, Seer. Todeus is doing well, and the borders remain stable."
I didn’t need to tell him this—he already knew. His messengers, spies, and guards were everywhere, in every world. Their primary mission was to know everything about everyone.
At first glance, the Seer appeared to be an ancient old man, with a long silver beard reaching his waist and bushy eyebrows that nearly covered his eyes. His head was completely bald, gleaming in the fading sunlight like a polished kettle. He leaned on an elegantly carved cane made of light wood, and his hands trembled slightly. But do not be deceived by this masquerade—there was more life in this man than in some twenty-year-old youths, and in terms of strength, he could probably rival an enraged bull.
"You know, my dear friend," the Minister continued, "I did not call you all this way for nothing."
He gestured toward a tea table in the middle of the garden and waved his hand, inviting me to follow him.
"I would like to discuss a certain matter over a cup of tea."
"As always, I am at your service," I replied with a respectful nod.
As he poured tea into delicate porcelain cups, the Minister began his story. A few years ago, they had discovered an abandoned planet. There were houses and all the necessary infrastructure for life, yet no inhabitants were found, despite careful observation over time.
Rumors about this place spread quickly, and, of course, there were those eager to settle into a fully equipped world. At first, everything was peaceful, and the population on the planet began to grow rapidly. However, a couple of weeks ago, troubling reports started coming in—new settlers were mysteriously disappearing.
The Minister sent his people to investigate, but no traces were found. It was as if those inhabitants had simply vanished. Then, last week, one of his scouts disappeared as well.
"You haven't fully completed your transformation yet, have you?" the Minister asked.
"My form is nearly stable, and I rarely lose control anymore. But why do you ask?"
"The thing is, many people know what a Keeper looks like. But that brief moment after a transition, when your form is still unstable, could be quite useful to us now. If I’m not mistaken, your vessel this time was a woman?"
"Yes, that’s correct."
"Then could you, for now, halt your transformation and take on this mission as a lady?"
"With all due respect, Seer, that form is not the most convenient. It limits many of my abilities. I don't think I would be of much use in that state."
"My assistant will provide you with all the necessary materials so you can make an informed decision yourself. I would like you to depart in a couple of days. In the meantime, while you review the details, you will be a guest of the Ministry."
Bowing slightly, I went to the room I always occupied when preparing for another mission. At this rate, with the increasing number of assignments, I might have to move from the Borderlands to the Ministry permanently—something I would rather avoid. After all, I still considered the Warden’s residence my home whenever I was away from Waterhall.
On the desk in my room, a thick folder filled with documents and photographs was already waiting for me—everything the Seer’s trackers had managed to gather. As I went through the materials, nothing particularly suspicious stood out. Just another planet with peculiar flora and fauna. It had been named Kreida due to the overwhelming presence of white. The plants were mostly white as well, though some carried subtle shades of blue or violet. No large animals or dangerous predators had been discovered.
The first recorded disappearances had occurred a month ago, starting with a trader named Sam. His daughter had reported him missing. Sam had promised to visit her in the inner planetary network but had suddenly stopped responding.
I thought that pretending to be Sam's daughter and arriving on the planet under the pretext of searching for my father wasn’t such a bad idea—it would help avoid unnecessary questions. I couldn't say that the thought of halting my transformation thrilled me, but I had to admit—it made sense. The young woman who had become my current vessel was fragile and delicate. Besides, she came from a blue planet in a remote corner of the universe.
Closing the curtains, I sat down on the bed and turned my gaze inward. In an instant of darkness, all my past incarnations appeared before me. I had almost forgotten how many there had been and how long I had lived. It took me a while to wander through the halls of my soul before I found that delicate being—one who turned out to be far stronger than I had expected.
"Child, I need another favor from you", I spoke with my inner voice to the girl from the blue planet.
She looked at me with confusion. Of course, she could not speak. A vessel loses the ability to speak the moment the merging process occurs. It becomes a silent ghost of its former self, surrendering everything it once had to me. But there is no need to pity them—this process is entirely voluntary. By becoming part of me, the vessel gains an incredibly long life through countless reincarnations.
"I am going to halt my transformation now, and your form will take precedence over all the others. Do not be afraid—I will not let any harm come to you. I will always be here.”
She nodded and reached out her porcelain hand to me. Her skin seemed to glow from within. Holding her delicate fingers, I guided her upward along the invisible steps of consciousness.
I opened my eyes from the persistent knocking on the door.
"Keeper, forgive the intrusion," a voice called from outside. "I have been ordered to invite you to breakfast. The Seer is expecting you in his quarters."
"Tell him I will be there in an hour," I replied—but this time, with a woman’s voice.
"As you wish, Keeper" came the response, followed by retreating footsteps.
Getting up from the bed, I approached the mirror. A green-eyed beauty with fiery red hair stared back at me.
"Well," I thought, "the problem is that I don’t have anything suitable to wear for breakfast. I didn’t plan on halting my transformation. But what can I do? I’ll just go as I am."
An hour later, the minister found himself facing a slender girl dressed in oversized men's clothes, a couple of sizes too big for her.
"Charming look, Keeper," the Seer smirked.
I didn’t feel like responding, so I simply took my seat at the table. We discussed the mission details, I listed the supplies I would need, and it was settled that my shuttle would depart the next morning.
The journey to Kreida took much longer than I had expected, as I had to travel as a regular passenger. But it had its perks: I fully enjoyed the landscapes through the porthole and made a few pleasant acquaintances.
One of the Ministry's scouts, disguised in civilian clothes, picked me up from the transport hub. He drove me to the house of "my missing father." It’s worth noting that Sam lived in a typical house for this planet—just as white as everything else. But unlike the others, its windows were barred. That made me uneasy.
"What’s this for?" I asked the scout.
"Sorry, but I don’t know, sir," the scout said, then quickly corrected himself. "Ma’am."
"Alright, we’ll figure it out. Be a dear and help me with the luggage. And by the way, it’s ‘Miss,’" I added, winking at him as I stepped out of the car.
"Of course, Miss," the scout stammered, his face flushing crimson as he hurriedly grabbed my suitcases and hauled them toward the house.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The first few days, I dedicated myself to visiting all the places where a worried daughter might search for her missing father. I tried to attract as much attention as possible, but, as expected, I didn't learn anything beyond what was already in the scouts’ reports. A week passed, and I had gathered exactly nothing new.
So, I decided to change my strategy. I began loudly declaring everywhere that since my "dear father" had vanished, as his rightful heir, I would stay on this planet and build a new life in search of happiness. Another week went by. The bars on the windows started to irritate me—I felt like I was in a prison. Stepping outside, I examined how I could dismantle that eyesore. As I was inspecting the windows, I noticed something peculiar: the street was filled with grotesque plaster statues. Almost every house had one. Some sat on the steps, others stood in flower beds, and some even perched on rooftops. That caught my attention. Had the settlers brought them here? No, it didn’t seem likely. The statues all depicted members of a single race, yet the current inhabitants of Kreida were from various species. It was too early to draw conclusions, but the mystery intrigued me.
The next morning, I explored the city, and my observations were confirmed. Nearly every home had similar statues. They depicted creatures about half my height, with elongated faces, needle-sharp teeth protruding outward, large ears, webbed fingers, and bushy tails. The craftsmanship was astonishing—each wrinkle of skin, and each strand of fur was carved with lifelike precision. I couldn’t shake the feeling that these beings had once been alive. At one point, I stepped closer to a statue positioned near a home's steps. Its face bore an expression that was anything but kind.
My intuition told me these weren’t mere decorations. Determined to dig deeper, I headed to the local archives, hoping to find any mention of their origins. The archives were in a state of utter neglect—records in every conceivable language, scattered without order. Hours of searching led me to an old newspaper article. It told of an ancient legend about these creatures, known as the Ghells. The article claimed that long ago, Kreida had been home to these nocturnal hunters, who possessed the ability to turn their victims to stone. Their queen, enraged by her subjects’ disobedience, had cursed them all—trapping them in stone forever, so they would never hunt or bring harm again.
Gathering my thoughts, I decided to seek out locals who might know more. That evening, at a small bar, I struck up a conversation with an elderly man named Harry. He had lived on Kreida longer than most and confirmed that the legend of the Ghells was well known in certain circles. According to him, people had always considered the statues part of the planet’s cultural heritage and never paid them much mind. However, when I asked him about the bars on the windows, Harry frowned.
"These statues, they say, aren’t just here for decoration. The grilles appeared after the first disappearances. People started to fear that the Gellas might return and take them."
Harry’s words made me think. Could the missing people somehow be connected to these ancient beings? And what if the statues are not just remnants of the past, but something far more significant?
The next morning, an unexpected find awaited me at the door: a beautiful box tied with a golden ribbon. Inside, I found an invitation to a formal dinner hosted by a local aristocrat. Upon opening it, I discovered a magnificent red dress made of fine silk, along with exquisite jewelry—sparkling earrings and a ruby-encrusted necklace. An interesting turn of events, I thought, smiling. When I tried on the dress, I was surprised at how perfectly it fit, as if it had been tailor-made just for me. As night fell, an elegant black car silently pulled up to my house, just as stated in the invitation. Stepping closer, I peered inside and was surprised to find that the driver's seat was empty. Despite a creeping sense of unease, I decided to take the risk and got into the car. The moment I settled into the soft leather seat, the door clicked shut on its own, and the vehicle smoothly pulled away, carrying me toward an unknown destination. I watched intently out the window as the familiar city streets gradually gave way to increasingly deserted and darkened areas. The night swallowed the road, and I could no longer tell where we were headed.
Suddenly, the car came to a sharp stop on a deserted road outside the city. Before I could make sense of what was happening, the necklace around my neck began to tighten as if an invisible hand was trying to strangle me. The stones grew scorching hot, burning my skin, and it felt as if they were about to sear straight through me. I gasped for air, feeling the gems dig into my flesh. But I was ready for such surprises. Keeping my resolve, I grabbed my purse and felt for the knife I had brought just in case of an unexpected situation. Focusing, I began to cut through the restraints. The necklace resisted but soon yielded to the sharp blade. With one final effort, I severed it, and with a sigh of relief, took a deep breath as the last stone fell to the floor of the car, leaving burned marks on my neck. Sitting in the back seat, I tried to catch my breath and process what had just happened. The car remained motionless in the darkness, surrounded by the silence of the night.
The quiet didn’t last long. Soon, the vehicle smoothly began moving again, heading toward an unknown destination. I stayed alert, knowing that the danger was far from over. After some time, we arrived at a large, well-lit house, and the car pulled into the back courtyard before coming to a stop once more.
I realized I needed to be cunning. Feigning unconsciousness, I let my body go limp. The car doors opened, and I heard muffled footsteps. Peering through barely opened eyelids, I saw several figures. They grabbed me with rough, cold hands and dragged me out of the vehicle. In the glow of the courtyard lights, I finally got a good look at my captors. The creatures were grotesque and unnatural, their skin glistening in the moonlight, their movements sharp yet eerily silent. They couldn’t be ordinary people. My heart pounded faster. I observed them carefully through my barely opened eyes. Chattering in their strange, incomprehensible language, the creatures carried me across the yard to a deep pit filled with a thick, viscous substance resembling plaster or liquefied clay. Without hesitation, they tossed me in. My body landed with a sickening squelch, and I felt the heavy mass envelop me, slowly pulling me down and squeezing me into a suffocating embrace.
Then, it finally dawned on me. These creatures were the very Gellas I had seen in the form of statues all over the city. Now, they had come to life. Struggling in the slowly engulfing clay, I focused on my breathing and determination to break free. Crawling toward a gentle slope, I managed to crawl out of the muck and onto the shore. After catching my breath and regaining my composure, I noticed that in the dim light of the stars, dozens of white columns of varying heights were scattered across the shore in a random arrangement. Before inspecting them, I decided to get rid of the clothes that had become very heavy and were hindering my movement. Carefully approaching the nearest column, I started to examine it and nearly gasped aloud when I realized that it wasn’t a column at all, but another unfortunate victim, entombed in clay, who, in time, was meant to become just like me. How many others like this are there? What is going on here? I needed to find out. I decided to break into the house, but first, I needed to get some clothes. It wasn’t proper to wander around in just my underwear.
In the distance, I noticed a rope with some rags hanging from it. I was lucky — it was clothing. Probably, it belonged to the people who lived in the house. I grabbed some shorts and a shirt that happened to be nearby. It was very loose but quite comfortable. Quickly wiping the sticky muck off of me, I released the hand of my last vessel in my mind — there was no longer any need to hold the transformation. After getting dressed, I moved toward the windows of the building and peeked inside. It was a kitchen, with Gellas scurrying about, preparing food. Very strange, but now they didn’t seem so terrifying to me, just repulsive. I waited until the last of the Gellas grabbed a plate and carried it somewhere deeper into the house. Pulling myself up with my arms, I slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a couple of knives from the table, and followed the Gella who had disappeared into the depths of the house. On the way, I passed several doors, but there was no light visible underneath them, and no sound coming from behind them, so I moved on as silently as I could, my bare feet making barely a sound. And then, light flickered ahead. I found myself in front of a slightly open door. Peering through the gap, I saw a large table set for one person. The light from the candles around the table illuminated the Gellas gathered inside, but it obscured the one sitting at the head of the table. The hidden creature spoke in the Gella language, but it was larger and taller than the others. It waved its hand toward one of the clay columns I had seen by the shore. The Gellas rushed at it, breaking through the outer layer of clay. Within moments, I heard another command, and the previously sealed creature was placed on the table in front of the leader of the ceremony. The hidden leader splashed something from a glass into the face of the creature lying on the table, and to my surprise, it began to move slightly. The Gellas immediately sprang into action, screeching and bustling around. The leader barked at them, and they fell silent.
"Well, Meriel," the leader spoke in a faintly familiar, rasping, rustling voice, in the language of the inner worlds. "Now you don't seem so bold. So, what about my stones?"
"Morvidus, I told you, I don't know. They were taken by the scouts," rasped the creature on the table, coughing.
"Then I have no more use for you," Morvidus said, and, waving his hand at the Gellas, stood up from the table.
At that moment, the Gellas pounced on the creature that had just been extracted from the clay and sank their needle-like teeth into it. Blood sprayed everywhere, the creature screamed, and the Gellas began fighting amongst themselves for the right to the next bite. I glanced away from this horrifying sight for just a moment, but that was enough for Morvidus to disappear from the room.
Taking advantage of the fact that the Gellas were engrossed in their feast, I cracked the door open and tried to see where the orchestrator of this gruesome execution had gone. At the far end of the room, there was a door — I needed to somehow make my way there. I could no longer help the poor soul who was being devoured alive, but I could prevent further deaths if I stopped the one commanding the Gellas. I tried to move in the shadows, making not a sound, knives ready in my hands. When these bloodthirsty creatures eat, they don’t notice anything around them.
Reaching the far end, I slipped through the door and quickly closed it behind me. I found myself in a small corridor. From the nearest door, I could hear voices: one was the one that had been bothering me for some time and sounded so familiar, and the other was new. They were arguing, and it was clear that the familiar voice was very displeased. An uncomfortable feeling gnawed at me and I knew this voice for sure. And then it hit me. That Shadow from the world where Charoit had been — there was no doubt, it was her! I had to catch her, I had to open the door immediately to confirm my suspicions. Every second of delay could give the bastard a chance to escape. But barging into the room without knowing the situation was reckless and foolish. I pressed my ear to the keyhole, and a familiar swampy smell wafted out from the room. Suddenly, the voices fell silent.
"Keeper, I know you're out there. Come in, don't be shy," rasped the shadow, like a broken radio. "I was wondering when you'd find me."
I don't know how he knew it was me, but hiding was no longer necessary. I opened the door, ready to defend myself against any sudden attack, and took a step inside.
"How do you like my little performance? I hope the Gells didn’t scare you too much. You know, I didn’t recognize you right away in female form. You're clever," — Morvidus burst into a disgusting laugh.
The room seemed empty, the voice came from the darkest corner, and a vague, tall shadow loomed there. But who was he talking to? I needed to capture him, but if he knew I was here, then he was likely armed as well. I had to be cautious.
"So your name is Morvidus?" I asked casually.
"Oh, you're not in female form anymore?" he replied with a question. "What a pity, you were a hot chick. How do you do that? Is it your thing?"
"Something like that," I replied, continuing to survey the room as I slowly prepared to spring, ready to grab my opponent.
Morvidus suddenly raised his hand to his face, as though looking at a watch.
"Oh, I’ve been chatting too long with you. Did you like the show? My business here is done. See you soon, buddy!"
Another snap, another cloud of smoke, and I was left alone in the room. That bastard was mocking me, he set this up on purpose, and he wanted me to see him. I was so angry with myself that for a few minutes, I lost my composure from rage and threw the knife right at the spot where that scoundrel had just been. The knife hit the board and lodged firmly in it. I stood alone in the empty room, tricked once again. Where Morvidus had just been, there was a small table, and on it — a little box, the same as the one with the dress and the jewelry, no bigger than a matchbox. Next to the box was a note: "To the Keeper." There was no point in searching the house — they were expecting me, so everything that might have helped me had been removed. I took the box and left the building. In the courtyard, I got into the car that had brought me here, took the driver's seat, and drove in the direction where the full moon was rising. I needed to get to the nearest settlement and find a transport hub; the rest would be taken care of by the Seers' scouts.
The journey to the hub took me about two hours. I found the first Guard I came across and requested a connection with the Ministry. After reporting everything to the Seer, I headed to the nearest hotel. I needed to think everything over and see what Morvidus had left for me. Inside the box was a small gray feather and a note: "Find me." There was no doubt about it — he was playing a game of cat and mouse with me.
From the Ministry's report:
The white substance was not clay or gypsum, but a natural element of this planet that could induce a state of suspended animation in living beings. All those I had seen by the pit's edge were successfully brought back to life, simply by being extracted from the "cocoon." The Gellas turned out not to be so frightening after all. This race was completely disorganized and did not pose a significant threat. They mostly fed on small animals, which they stored for later by preserving them using the natural preservative of their planet, which I had previously mistaken for clay. The Gellas were only dangerous when controlled by someone, as under such influence, they could attack not only animals but creatures much larger than themselves.
