The story of how I met the Witches of the Night is long and complex. To tell it in a way that everyone understands, I must explain the world that exists parallel to ours, which most people don't know exists. As such, I will start with what, for me, was the beginning: the event that made me aware of this world.

From a young age, I have been interested in urban exploration. At the age of thirteen, I joined the Braga urban explorers group and, over the years that followed, I explored the ruins of warehouses, factories, monasteries, and many other interesting buildings. But it was only in my thirties that I dared to do a solo exploration.

It was of a house in the parish of Palmeira, on the outskirts of Braga, that I had discovered during one of the many visits to the Dona Chica Palace that the group had organized. Although I drew attention to the house, no one else showed interest in exploring it. It was a small home, with just a ground floor, and with nothing to distinguish it from those that surrounded it. But something about it drew my interest. Perhaps because it reminded me of my great-grandmother's house, or because it was old enough to contain artifacts of the life of yore, not found in any modern house.

Whatever the reason, on a morose Sunday afternoon, when my wife went to visit her parents with our daughter, I drove to the old house. Taking care that the neighbors did not see me, I entered through a window whose glass and shutters had been broken by vandals.

On the other side, I found what was to be expected: a room full of broken glass, syringes and destroyed furniture. Anything of value had long been plundered. Still, I didn't give up. Carefully, fearing to find some squatter, I continued exploring the house.

I entered the corridor, which gave access to two more rooms. Passing over the remains of broken doors, I entered the bedroom, which didn't look any better than the living room. In the window, agitated by the wind, danced the remaining rags of crochet curtains. Clothes, from black dresses to felt hats, covered almost all the floor, clearly torn from the rotting closet and discarded for being worthless. Oddly enough, and despite the interest that antiquaries nowadays have in such furniture, an iron bed, with its white paint almost entirely replaced by rust, was still in the room, but upside down and tossed into a corner. The mattress had been removed and laid flat against the wall. It was covered in red, yellow, and white stains, and a shiver went up my spine as I thought of all that could have happened on it.

Then I went into the last room, the kitchen. The floor was littered with smashed crockery, and the cabinets were broken into and emptied. Everything else had been taken away.

Discouraged, I prepared to go back home. Unfortunately, there was nothing of interest in that house. The other urban explorers were right.

I was about to leave the kitchen when a metallic glow in the tiny pantry caught my eye. There, between broken shelves and nauseous remnants of rotten food, I found a door. The glow belonged to a primitive latch, which I opened immediately. On the other side, I found a stone staircase that descended into darkness. As I did when I explored a structure, I had a flashlight with me. Its light revealed a basement at the bottom of the stairs, apparently untouched by the vandals. Maybe the lack of daylight in there had kept them away.

Step by step, since I didn't know what awaited for me down there nor how robust were the stairs, I descended. At the bottom, I found a veritable time capsule from mid-century Portugal.

In one corner, I saw an old manual sewing machine, still with the cast iron pedal and the belt that transmitted the movement to the needle. In a table next to it, there was a charcoal iron. I could almost see smoke coming out of his little chimney.

On the other side of the basement, next to a rotting fabric sofa, I found a cabinet containing a tube radio, its yellowish plastic testament of its antiquity.

On top of all surfaces, there were testimonies of past times: oil lamps, slabs of slate, jars of ink, ink pens, etc. However, my gaze fell mainly on a wooden chest that lay on the floor beside the stairs. Curious, I opened it. It wasn't locked. Inside, I found albums with photographs, some of them certainly more than a hundred years old. It was sad to see those pictures of lively groups, couples dancing and dinner parties and thinking that most, if not all, of those people were gone.

Among the albums, however, I found a small notebook. I opened it and found that it was a diary. Normally, I never take anything from the places I explore, nor do I think that any urban explorer should do it, but having an account of the life of yesteryear was too tempting, and my curiosity got the better of me, as usual.

I left the house with the book in my pocket. I wanted to read it right there in the car, but dinner time was approaching.

When I got home, I put the book down and went to prepare the meal with the rest of my family. Despite being somewhat curious about its content, I dined calmly and even helped my daughter with her homework.

At last, I sat down at my desk and started reading. The stories in the diary were, in fact, interesting, fantastic, even, but in a way I didn't expect. They mentioned hidden places in cities, mountains, and even the sea, and encounters with fairies, vampires, witches, goblins and innumerable other mythological and imaginary beings.

Was it a work of fiction, or the reverie of a madman? At the time, I couldn't consider another hypothesis. But I also couldn't stop reading, because many of the stories were in or near places I knew.

When I finally went to bed, it was almost two in the morning, and I only did it because I had to work the next day. Still, with much effort, I was able to push the book away from my mind long enough to fall asleep.

2: Chapter 2 - The Faerie Bar

The day after I found the diary, the stories it contained were always on my mind. After getting off work, my curiosity got the better of me, as usual, and I decided to visit a place called Faerie Bar in the book, which wasn't too far from my office. According to what I had read, it was located near the Arco da Porta Nova, in Braga, under a shop that had already been home to several businesses and which was now a pastry shop. At first glance, it looked like any other businesses of its kind, with a small terrace on the street, a front window full of cakes and other confectionery, and a counter with a coffee machine and other coffee shop paraphernalia. I went in, sat down at one of the tables, among three other customers, and ordered tea and cake. I wanted to buy some time to study the place more closely and see if there was any truth in what I had read in the diary. Actually, the door that supposedly gave access to the Faerie Bar was in the expected place, but it could have been just a coincidence or an inspiration. During the time I sat there, nothing extraordinary happened. It seemed, in every respect, an ordinary pastry shop. Finally, impatient, I paid and went to the bathroom, which was just after the mysterious door. But as I passed the later, I ignored the red sign that said "Restricted Access" and opened it. On the other side, I found a staircase that descended into darkness. I didn't go in right away. I was waiting for someone to scold me, to tell me that I couldn't be there. But no one did, and I started descending. About ten steps later, the door closed behind me, leaving me in the dark. I hadn't planned that visit, so I didn't have my faithful flashlight with me. I had to make do with my cell phone. I went down for what seemed several minutes. Finally, I reached the bottom, where I found a second door. It was little different from the first. It even had a red sign saying "Restricted Access." Again, I ignored it and opened the door. That was the most important moment of my life. At the time I didn't know it, but my world, my all universe, would never be the same again, for it was then that I realized that everything written in the notebook I had found was true. On the other side of the door was a bar, as I had read. The decor was modern with metal and glass chairs and tables and white, smooth and clean walls. However, that's where the similarities with surface bars ended. Its clientele was wholly formed by strange beings, some of whom I hadn't imagined even in my weirdest dreams. Many were humanoids, though the smaller ones didn't even reach my knees, and the taller ones had twice my height, with skin tones that ranged from pale white to dark black, through gray and purple. Claws, horns, and spikes were also common. Then there were those that were almost impossible to describe. Masses of tentacles with small spherical bodies amongst them; hybrids of various animals; long bodies with multiple legs. In groups, the patrons chatted and drank the contents of teardrop shaped cups, which consisted exclusively of a clear liquid that looked like water. The name Faerie Bar has been probably created by the author of the diary since most of these creatures didn't fit the popular image of fairies (though there were some tiny humanoid beings with insect-like wings in the bar). From what I had read, my predecessor didn't stay in the bar long or tried to talk with the patrons. But my curiosity was stronger than his. Fearfully, I went to the counter. Like the other furniture, it was made of metal and glass, but behind it, there were no shelves with rows of bottles, as I was accustomed to seeing in bars. In fact, the drinks seemed to have only one origin: from the ceiling, water trickled down to a stone pipe on the counter, which carried it to the barista. I sat down on a high bench and looked around again. No one seemed to have noticed me, or at least they didn't care. The clerk put a glass in front of me, filled with the strange water. He didn't say anything; he didn't even ask what I wanted. Not that there was much of a choice. Although he was an intimidating creature, with small horns crowning his head and incisors that didn't quite fit in his mouth, I tried to chat with him: "Is the bar always this full?" He didn't answer me. He simply turned his back and went to another customer. "Miguel isn't very talkative," said a female voice beside me. I turned and saw a very pale woman with white hair and several silver rings on her ears and face. She had a long neck, double or triple the size of a human, decorated with a golden torc. Her eyes were big and feline, but she had a small, discreet nose. "Miguel?" I asked. "Is that his name?" "What were you expecting?" She replied. "Gorash, or some other of those ridiculous names you give us in your stories?" I confess I didn't know how to answer. I even felt a little embarrassed. Fortunately, she changed the subject. "I don't see many of your race around here." "I didn't know. This is my first time here." She placed a hand on my forearm. "You know, I've always been curious about your race." "And I'm curious about yours." "I can answer any question you have," she purred in my ear. Her intentions were clear, yet I didn't want to squander that opportunity to learn about the world I had just discovered. "My name's Alice, by the way." I told her my name. "I find it curious that no one has made a big deal of my presence here. If my race is so rare around here..." She smiled. "Not many of you come here, but some do. At least we see more of you than you see of us." "Why? For what reason do you hide? Why don't you live openly with us?" "To be honest, I have no idea. I think it's a cultural thing. We have always kept away from humans. And that Organization of yours doesn't help either." "Organization?" "Yes. Whenever one of us shows up in your world, by accident or not, or whenever a human who knows about us tries to reveal our existence, the Organization covers everything up. I swear that sometimes it seems they are more afraid that humans find out about us than we do." It was an interesting revelation. There was an organization dedicated to keeping the general public from becoming aware of the world I had just discovered. However, its existence also revealed that there were more intersections between the two worlds and more human beings that knew of these creatures than I had at first imagined. "Don't you drink?" She asked, pointing to the glass filled with the strange water in front of me. Distracted by the conversation, I had completely forgotten my drink. Carefully, I took a sip. It didn't taste particularly good. It tasted like water, lighter than the one I was accustomed to drinking, but still just water. Fearing that I was missing something, I drank the rest of the glass, but the taste remained the same, and I felt no further effects. Alice noticed my disappointment. "I think you have to be one of us to feel the effects of the water. It comes from a timeworn spring with special properties. A sip is enough to make us feel calmer and uninhibited. That's why you can find me here every day. If you want." Once more, she touched my arm. "How about if we went to a more private place to clarify my curiosities about your race? I don't live very far." I confess that I felt tempted, but not for the most obvious reasons. I wanted to know more about those beings and the society in which they lived. Besides, during the conversation, I noticed several other doors beside the one I had used, each of which seemed to give access to a tunnel. It must be in them that those creatures lived, and the urban explorer in me desperately wanted to explore them. Yet, I had to think that I was a married man with a daughter. It was better not to put myself in the way of temptation. Besides, I had already discovered much that day and I didn't know if I could handle any more. Letting my feelings about the discovery of that world settle and then coming back seemed a better idea. After all, the mere fact that I was surrounded by beings that shouldn't exist was enough to make me question everything I believed and knew about the World and life. To Alice's surprise, I excused myself saying that it was getting late and that my wife was waiting. At first, she insisted that I went with her, but she eventually let me go. I went back to the pastry shop and to the streets of Braga. I didn't go home immediately. I was too enthused about what I had just discovered. For more than an hour, I wandered around the city thinking about that new world, all the questions that its existence raised, and of future explorations to other places mentioned in the notebook. Today, I regret that I wasn't able to control myself, to simply forget what I had seen and just stuck with my normal life. 3: Chapter 3 - The Procession of Souls

After my discovery of the Faerie Bar, and having confirmed that the account on the diary I had found was not only fiction, I couldn't stop thinking about it. My wife, my friends, even my co-workers noticed that I became distracted. But I had decided not to tell anyone. At that time, I wasn't sure how that knowledge could affect us, and I feared it might endanger them. As such, I had to wait some time until I had an opportunity to embark on another expedition without arousing suspicions. This opportunity came when my mother-in-law got sick and my wife, along with our daughter, went to take care of her. After my meeting with Alice, I wanted to let some time pass before returning to the Faerie Bar, so I decided to explore another place. After re-reading some of the diary entries, I decided to travel to Gerês and visit an old abandoned village in the mountains where, supposedly, during the night, the dead rose from their graves and left in a procession along the slopes and valleys. When I left my house, it was still day time, but when I entered the road up the mountain, the sun had already set. Although Gerês' highest slopes didn't have many trees, darkness made it difficult to find the village, even with the help of a GPS. Finally, I decided to stop on a small space at the side of the road, near the point where the village was supposed to be. I got out of the car and started looking around. With the help of my most powerful flashlight, I found the ruins I was looking for just below where I had parked. The roofs had already collapsed, as had many walls and wooden floors. Everywhere, fallen beams rose in the night sky, like the ribs of gigantic animals. With my flashlight's help, I looked for the best way to down. There wasn't really a path, but between boulders and brambles, I managed to find a passage. After stumbling and slipping, narrowly avoiding some spectacular falls, I arrived at the abandoned village. Its narrow streets, by themselves already narrow and clogged with rocks, were covered with debris, brambles, and weeds, making them quite difficult to walk through. The silence of the night was only broken by the sound of animals crawling away and the hooting of the owls taking refuge in the ruins. Finally, I got to what was left of the local church. The top of the bell tower had already fallen, as had the roof, yet the facade seemed intact, though an empty alcove above the door made me suspect that there had been a statue of a saint, now missing. It had probably been stolen by someone to sell to collectors. Beside the church, surrounded by a low wall of loose stones, I found the place I was looking for: the cemetery. According to the diary, it was from there that the spirits of the dead departed for their nightly procession. Tombstones, broken and worn, filled the place, along with pieces of rotting wood that once must have been crosses. I sat on the outside, leaning against the wall, and waited for midnight, the hour my predecessor recorded he had started seeing the ghosts. It was late autumn, so it was already cold in the mountains. In part, I was thankful for it, since it was the only thing that prevented me from falling asleep. When the hour finally arrived, I was not disappointed. Just as the clock on my cell phone struck midnight, I looked at the graves. Over these, shapes began to appear. At first, they were practically invisible, but gradually they began to take on translucent white forms. These were people wearing ghostly versions of the clothing, hats, and scarves typical of that region until very recently. As they took their final shapes, the spirits left the cemetery and began descending the slope, while above the graves new forms appeared. I let them all join in the procession, before beginning to follow them. I went down a path, crossed an old stone bridge, and even walked through a Roman road. The ghosts traversed miles of ground for almost two hours. Suddenly, to the north, I saw a white line descending another slope like a gigantic albino serpent. It didn't take me long to realize that it was another procession of souls. Three more appeared shortly after, coming from valleys and mountains, and, one by one, joined the first one and continued advancing towards the east. More than a procession, they now resembled a military column. Then, to my surprise, the dead began returning to the ground. Little by little, they disappeared through the soil, until none remained on the surface. I was alone again, in the darkness of the mountains, with my flashlight. I approached the place where the ghosts had disappeared and searched, without much hope, for some way to follow them. After almost half an hour, I found a hole in the ground big enough for me to get through. I pointed the flashlight to it. It wasn't particularly deep, it was only about five meters, and I thought I saw a cave from it to the west. I didn't have any climbing equipment with me, but the wall of the hole had enough hand and foot holds for me to get down without much difficulty. In a few minutes, I reached the bottom and confirmed that there really was a cave. I pointed my flashlight at it and saw that it stretched for a hundred meters, then it changed direction. Carefully, for I didn't know how the dead would react if they found me there, I entered the cave. I reached the bend without any problem, but as soon as I turned it, I found two ghosts. Despite my precautions, they spotted me immediately. After all, without the light of my lantern, I couldn't see anything there, but it denounced me clearly. I looked back, thinking of running away, but I would never be able to reach the surface before they caught up with me. The ghosts approached slowly and carefully, as if they didn't want to frighten me. Although I was suspicious, I waited for them. They didn't seem aggressive. One of them held a candle, which he stretched out toward me he reached me. Fearfully, I grabbed it. At that instant, it turned into a human leg bone. Startled, I dropped it and took a few steps back. The two ghosts burst out laughing. "His face," said one of the spirits. For a moment, I stared at them, astonished. "I'm sorry, my friend, but I couldn't resist," said the ghost who had handed me the candle. "Who are you?" I asked. "The spirits of the dead, of course. Not everyone is lucky enough to rest in peace." They seemed friendly, so I decided to keep asking questions: "Why do you come here? Why don't you stay in your graveyards?" "Because at the end of this tunnel lies our city. We only stayed behind because we saw you following us and decided to have some fun, "said the ghost of the candle, smiling. "City?!" I said with amazement. "The dead have a city?" "Of course," replied the other ghost. "We'll be around forever. We need a place to enjoy ourselves. Come on, we'll show you, as compensation for the scare we gave you." I followed them through the tunnel for about five hundred meters, past several bends. At last, we came to a gigantic cave, larger than any I had seen before. We were on a ledge on one of the walls, but the cave went down for several hundred meters, its bottom being only visible thanks to the pale glow of the ghosts. There were many more ledges on the walls beyond that where I stood. On the larger ones, there were buildings of all of Portugal's historical periods. Awed, I saw Iron Age roundhouses, Roman villas, medieval huts, country houses, Pombaline buildings, and even a large multi-storey condominium, among others. Nothing connected the ledges to each other, for ghosts just floated between them. Contrary to what had happened in the Faerie Bar, my presence in the City of the Dead did not go unnoticed. All the ghosts passing by looked at me with a mixture of curiosity and surprise. "It's been a long time since someone alive set foot in here," said the creature that had given me the candle. "I never even heard of that happening before," said the other. Suddenly, from the depths of the cave, another spirit appeared, looking angry. "What have you idiots done? You bring a living one here, especially now, with all these disappearances?" "Sorry, Mr. President," said the two ghosts in unison, staring at the floor like two admonished children. "Disappearances?" I asked curiously. "Yes, some ghosts have disappeared in the last few months," said the spirit that had given me the candle. "It never happened before," added the other. "The dead have always increased, never declined." "Can't you keep your mouths shut?!" Shouted the president. He turned to me. "And as for you, get out of here while you can. And don't even think about coming back. We will move the entrance." The president's tone left no room for discussion, and I did as he said. On the way back to the car, and after, as I drove home, a question never left my head: how could the dead be disappearing? After my visit to the Faerie Bar and a closer reading of the diary I found, the existence of ghosts, or even of their incredible city, didn't particularly surprise me, but this issue sent shivers up my spine. At the time, I didn't quite understand why, but I would eventually find out. 4: Chapter 4 - The King of the Islets

As was tradition, at Christmas time, me, my wife and my daughter spent a week's vacation at my grandparents' house in Viana do Castelo. Some of the entries in the diary I had found occurred in or near this town, so I took the opportunity to investigate them. One evening, after dinner, with the excuse that I was going to see an old friend, I left and headed for the Lima riverbank. That excuse wasn't even an absolute lie. In the afternoon, I had phoned a childhood friend and asked him to lend me his boat, and when I went to get it, we talked for half an hour before I got on board and started rowing. I was there to investigate peculiar shadows and silhouettes and strange movements in the reeds that the author of the diary found in the islets near the mouth of the river. As usual, my predecessor hadn't investigated the matter in depth, hadn't even left the river bank, but I was determined to find out what was happening. So, I rowed to the largest of the islets, popularly known as Camalhão, which was situated just over a hundred meters from the anchorage where my friend had his boat. As soon as I got to the islet, I disembarked, attached the anchor to one of the huge clods, and entered a nearby gully. As the tide was very low, the banks of this gully, plus the long reeds, rose above my head so I couldn't see anything around me. But having spent a part of my childhood in those islets, I knew that gully would lead me to the heart of the Camalhão more quickly than crossing through the reeds. Just beyond the first turn, I came upon a bad omen. From a puddle in the almost dry gully, the severed head of a man looked at me. It was swollen and showed signs of putrefaction and animal attacks. In fact, the part still submerged was, at that moment, serving as food for several river prawns. After the initial shock, I came to the conclusion that I didn't have any reason to worry. It was not uncommon to find bodies and body parts in the river, victims of shipwrecks brought in and left behind by the tide. That head probably had nothing to do with the silhouettes I had gone there to investigate. I kept advancing, taking a mental note to later warn the authorities about that head. I had walked a few tens of meters when a tiny black figure jumped over the gully right in front of me. I immediately climbed the bank. When I reached the top, I couldn’t see the figure, but the movements of the reeds denounced it, and I was able to follow. I ran after it for several hundred yards, the reeds' tips piercing my pants and injuring my legs. Finally, we reached a clearer area, covered only by low grass, located under the so-called New Bridge. It was only then that I saw what I was following: a small humanoid being, a little more than ten centimeters high. He disappeared behind a huge pile of tree branches and plastic containers, flotsam brought by the current and tides. I kept following him, however, as soon as I reached the trash heap, I heard a low, slow voice coming from a nearby gully. "Who are you? What are you doing in my kingdom, and why were you chasing one of my subjects?" I was going to reply, but the creature who had spoken rose and left me speechless. It was a huge being almost twice my size. He couldn't be called fat, though he was anything but skinny, and in the moonlight, he looked as pale as ivory. He wore a crown made of interwoven reeds, which, coupled with the fact that he had mentioned his subjects seconds before, led me to conclude that he was the king of the creatures whose silhouettes my predecessor had seen. The huge being came out of the gully and approached the pile of garbage. I stepped aside to give him passage, but I didn't dare try to run away. To my surprise, he sat on the flotsam, and only then did I realize that it was a rough throne. "Tell me what you're doing here," the creature insisted. I told him about the silhouettes and how I went there to find out what they were. "It seems that some of my subjects need to be more careful," he said at last. "Especially now. “Why especially now?" "My subjects are disappearing. We don't know how or why. Which makes me distrust you. How do I know that you aren't a kidnapper? I saw you chase one of us." I tried to justify my curiosity. I even told him about my trips to the city of the dead and to the fairy bar. As I spoke, a bizarre creature emerged from the reeds. He walked on all fours, though his body was slender and contorted like a serpent’s, and it had a vaguely human face. He approached the king, stood up on his back legs and whispered something in the king's ear. Then he disappeared again into the reeds. The king let me finish my explanation. "I think I believe you," he said at last. "If you were responsible for the disappearances, you wouldn't have let my sentries see you." He nodded toward the place where the serpentine creature had disappeared. Now that I was calmer, it occurred to me that the disappearances in the islets could be related to those of the dead, and I told the King what I had discovered in Gerês. "Curious," he replied. "You need to go now. I'm gathering my people here and talk to them." I didn't wait for him to tell me a second time. I went into the reeds and headed for my boat. As I traversed the Camalhão, I saw several small shadows in the river, in the space between the islets. After looking more closely, I realized that they were trunks and even small leaves carrying several of the creatures that I now knew to live there. I saw the first land on the Camalhão but soon resumed the walk back to my boat, fearing that the king of the islets would expel me. Or worse. I rowed back to shore and, after returning the boat, returned to my grandparents' house. As I drove, I couldn't stop thinking about the disappearances. Was there really a collection between those of the islets and those of the dead? I still didn't know enough about that parallel world to answer those questions, but I would keep to investigating. My curiosity would never let me stop. 5: Chapter 5 - The Cult

Taking advantage of the fact that I was spending the Christmas holidays with my wife and daughter at my grandparents' house in Viana do Castelo, I decided to explore another of the diary entries I had found. This time, my curiosity focused on an important place of my childhood. Since I was a little boy, I heard my father and grandfather tell stories about the ruins of the San Francisco convent. Among them, was an old rumor that the place was used for strange rituals popularly known as Macumba. I had never found any evidence of it, until, reading the diary, I came upon an entry about a cult that met in the convent. As usual, the timidity of my predecessor hadn't allowed him to watch the whole ritual, and he only saw a small part through the gate rails. Using again the excuse that I was going to visit an old friend, on the night of the first Monday after Christmas, the day of the week in which the diary said the cult gathered, I went up to the convent. When I was a kid, it was situated in the middle of a forested hill, and it took a long walk to get there, so I was surprised to see that now there were urbanizations almost to the first gate. I parked behind one of these new houses, turned on my lantern, and headed for the forest. After passing a muddy area, certainly a remnant of the construction of the urbanization, I arrived at the gate that, long ago, protected the road that went up to the convent. Of it, only part of the portal remained, for one of the columns had fallen or been knocked over. As soon as I crossed it, I found myself surrounded by eucalyptus, acacias, and the occasional pine tree. The forest now started there. I began to climb the path. The rough paving, made up of large, irregular stones, was not easy to walk on, even with the help of the flashlight. I stumbled several times. Luckily, it hadn't rained for some time, or the smooth stones would be impossibly slippery. Halfway up, just before a tight turn, I found an old Calvary. It showed signs of ashes and smoke. If these were due to the cult that I was there to investigate or to a more mundane cause, I can't say. Finally, after the turn, I reached the final slope. Shortly after, my flashlight illuminated the main gate of the convent. An arch supporting the statues of three saints housed it, and a wall more than two meters high branched from it. To a casual visitor, there would seem to be no way to get in, because a lock and chain kept the gate shut, but I wasn't a casual visitor. Beside the gate was a very steep, almost vertical, climb where someone had heaped stones and excavated steps. I climbed it without great difficulty and entered a narrow path that penetrated the dense vegetation. I advanced for a few tens of meters, the wall of the convent on my right. Here and there, there were minor gaps, but none big enough for me to enter. Finally, I arrived at the place I was looking for; a second entrance opened to a staircase that led down to the convent's yard. Long ago, there must have been a gate there, but it preceded my first visits. I entered and finally was in the convent itself. With my lantern, I swept the buildings around. Embedded in the wall that separated the yard from the raised terrain and the path, were two small chapels. They had no doors and were empty except for creepers and weeds. Their stone roofs were broken and full of holes. On the opposite side stood the ruins of the main buildings: the church and the housing and working areas. But I didn't go in right away. First, I went to the base of a cavalry in the center of the yard. The cross itself was no longer there, but the vaguely pyramidal base formed by four layers of stone was. According to my predecessor, it was there that the cult performed its rituals. In fact, the signs were everywhere. There were dark red spots all over. Here and there, I saw feathers, certainly belonging to chickens used in sacrifices. With such clear evidence that something was really happening there, I entered the ruins of the buildings in search of a place to hide and wait for the appearance of the cultists. According to the diary, they only showed up after one in the morning, so there was still plenty of time. I used it to visit the site and see what had changed since my previous visit, more than twenty years before. The first thing that struck me was that the remnants of the upstairs floor, which I had still seen as a child, had completely rotted away. In fact, the only sign that there ever was an upper floor was the stairs that led to nowhere and the partially ruined but abnormally high for a ground-floor building walls. After visiting the old kitchen, with its huge fireplace and decorated limestone sink, I went to the church. It had long ago lost its roof, though the rusty chandelier, attached to the walls by equally corroded metal cables, still held its place. There was nothing left of the altar or of any other decorative element. I had a hard time crossing to the main entrance. The tomb slabs that, when I was a kid, covered the ground had been torn away, leaving huge holes difficult to cross. When I arrived at the small dirt churchyard, I found the slabs heaped in a corner, some whole, others broken, in which the buried's names and dates of death and birth could still be seen. I then entered the cloister. As the wooden upper floor had already disappeared, it was completely uncovered. In its center, the small space reserved for the monks' garden was now filled with weeds and brambles. Some of the columns that bounded it and that once held the ceiling had fallen, if by the action of the elements or by vandalism, I can not say. It was then that I saw the perfect place to hide: the old bell tower. From the ruins, there was no way to reach it, since the door was on the second floor, that didn't exist anymore. I went out to the back of the convent, where there was access to the hill and the fields, some small support buildings and, of course, the base of the tower. After circling the later, I found a small secondary entrance less than one meter high. I almost had to drag myself through the ground, but I managed to get inside. As had happened to the upper floors, the stairs had disintegrated. Fortunately, the tower was narrow, so by pressing my back, feet, and arms against the walls, I was able to reach the top with just some effort. I now had a privileged view of the entire convent, especially of the yard where the cult was supposed to meet, and I doubted anyone would see me there. I turned off my flashlight. It wasn't even midnight yet, but I feared that the cultists would appear sooner than expected or see my light in the distance. I had been waiting for almost two hours when I began to hear a song coming from the end of the path that had taken me there. A moment later, behind the curve, an orange light appeared. I fixed my gaze there, for I knew I was about to see what I had come for. From behind the curve came a line of people, all holding lamps. Some also brought cloth bags, inside of which something moved. I confess I was surprised and even disappointed. Perhaps because of movies and television shows, I expected figures in long black hooded robes. However, these were normal people in everyday clothes. The cultists went up to the gate and then took the same narrow path I had used to come in. After a short while, they were all in the yard, around the base of the Calvary. Nothing could be heard but the hymns and the clucking of the chickens in the bags. Suddenly the voices became quiet. One of the cultists, a man with long, disheveled hair, went up to the improvised altar and began to chant a new song, this time at the top of his lungs. After a few minutes, one of the other cultists opened the bag and passed him a chicken. With a small knife that he produced from his belt, he cut the throat of the animal and let the blood drip on the stones. These steps were repeated for a half hour until all the bags were empty. Then the cultists uttered a cry in unison. The ground started to tremble. Gradually, a crack opened on the floor in front of the makeshift altar. An orange-red glow projected out from it. It was as if it were a passage to Hell itself. The cultists stared at it as if hypnotized, for a few moments, until a gigantic red fist, larger than a person, came out of it. Under the expectant gaze of the cult, the hand opened, releasing about a dozen strange humanoid beings. These were small, about half a meter high, and covered with a short black fur. Two tiny horns crowned their heads, which also had sharp snouts and pointed teeth. With great enthusiasm, the cultists ran after these imps, picking them up and stuffing them into the bags where they had brought the chickens. At the same time, the hand disappeared, returning to the abyss, and, as soon as the last imp was caught, the crack closed. Satisfied, the cultists returned the same way they had come, this time in complete silence. Not even the imps, stuck in their bags, made any noise. I let the light from the lamps disappear behind the curve and waited about half an hour before descending from my hiding place and going back to my car. Although it was the first journal entry I investigated involving humans, it was probably the one that left me with more questions. Who was in that cult? What were they going to do with the imps? To whom belong the hand that brought them? I went home thinking about it and even lost that night's sleep. The possibilities made me shiver. I would only get the answers much later, but they would surpass everything I could imagine. 6: Chapter 6 - The Cat of Campanhã

As a fan of urban exploration, I'm also a connoisseur of street art. Over the years, I had the opportunity to meet several artists, with whom I kept in touch. One day, during a web chat with one of them, I found out something strange. Those who know Campanhã Station, in the city of Porto, know that it is surrounded by a huge cement infrastructure. What most people don't know is that it hides a huge network of service tunnels, part of which I had already had the opportunity to explore. As might be expected, street artists were able to enter some of these tunnels and took advantage of their walls to practice their art. It was during one of these visits that my friend and a few other colleagues came upon something very strange. In one of the tunnels, they found a cat. This would be nothing exceptional, were it not for the fact that the animal didn't leave the same spot in months and constantly repeated the same movements. After all I had seen since l found the diary, I couldn't help it but check it out. I arranged a time with my friend and took the train from Braga to Campanhã. When I got there, he led me directly into the tunnel. The metal door was next to the rail, some three hundred meters from the station, and it was wide open, giving easy access to the interior. Inside, the walls and even the ceiling were covered with multiple styles of graffiti. From simple "tags" to elaborate murals, one could see everything there. We walked in the tunnel for several tens of meters, until we reached an area opened to the right. In that direction, there was a large well, the purpose of which no one seemed to know. "That's where the cat is," my friend said. I pointed my flashlight at its bottom, about eight meters below, and then I saw the animal. As I had been told, it looked like an ordinary grey and white cat. I watched him for a few minutes. During this time he remained almost motionless, sitting on the ground, moving only occasionally at intervals which seemed more or less regular to lick one of his front paws, always the same. Behind the animal, I found an iron door, but it was rusty and didn't seem to be used in years. In fact, I doubted it would even be possible to open it, at least not without destroying it. "Since we discovered him four months ago, he's always there doing the same thing," my friend said. "A normal cat would have died of starvation. I had to agree with him. That cat might not be in the diary I had found, but it deserved to be. "I brought a rope," I said, pointing at my backpack. "We can go down to look closer at it." "Sounds good to me." At that moment, two other artists who were painting next to us approached and one of them said "Can we go with you? We're also curious about the cat." "If you like," replied my friend. I took the rope from my backpack and attached it to a concrete beam almost directly over the well. I let each of my companions test the knot, and as soon as they were satisfied, we began the descent. The artist who called me there was the first down, followed by me and only then by the two who approached us. During all this, the cat remained undisturbed, only licking its paw a few times. He wasn't just indifferent to our presence, it was as if we weren't there. We walked around it, watching closely, but physically nothing distinguished it from an ordinary cat. Had it not been for its strange behavior and the fact that it had been in that well for so long, no one would have paid it any attention. I also inspected the rusty door and confirmed that it was so stuck it was impossible to move. Finally, curiosity got the better of one of the artists who had joined us, and he tried to touch the animal. To our surprise, his hand went through the cat as if there was nothing there, while it remained motionless like nothing had happened. We took several steps back. We didn't know what that creature was or what it could do. However, after all I had seen before, I was the least alarmed of the four. My companions looked terrified. "It's a ghost!" Said one of the men who had joined us. As I could attest, it was a good possibility. But I said nothing. They had already had a great shock, there was no need to aggravate it. "What do we do now?" asked my friend. "Should we tell someone?" Before anyone could answer, the man who had tried to touch the cat started screaming desperately. "What is it?" his companion asked, but he just kept screaming. His screams were so loud they made my ears ache. He started to circle the well as if he was trying to run away from something but didn't know where to go. Finally, he tried to climb up the rope, but fell after little more than a meter, sitting on the floor and leaning against the wall. We gathered around him to try to calm him down and figure out what was going on, but he kept screaming. "Look ?!" said my friend suddenly, pointing to the hand of the fallen. Part of it no longer had skin, showing the muscles underneath. Before our eyes, they disappeared, leaving only bones. Finally, even these vanished. The man, at last, stopped screaming. "Are you alright?" asked his friend. When he didn't get an answer, he tried to touch him, but he withdrew his hand when the body of the fallen emptied itself like a balloon. Finally, it disappeared completely. Whatever had consumed him, it did so both from the outside in and from the inside out. In a panic, my two remaining companions climbed the rope back into the tunnel and ran outside. Calmly, I followed them, taking one last look at the cat, which still looked like as if nothing had happened. I only talked again with my friend days later, through web chat. He was still somewhat shaken by what we had seen, so I only gave him some comfort and didn't tell him about the equally strange things I had seen before and the myriad described in the diary I had found. However, he told me something very interesting. After our visit, he had tried to go back to the tunnel but discovered that the entrance had been sealed with cement. Who had done it? Was it the organization that Alice had told me about during my first visit to the Faerie Bar? And how had they discovered the cat's existence? As always, one of my explorations had brought more questions to torment me. Unfortunately, these only increased my insatiable curiosity, drawing me deeper into knowledge that no human being should have. 7: Chapter 7 - The Cerqueiras

One day after work, a few months since my first visit to the Faerie Bar, I decided to go back there. Due to work and family commitments, I hadn't had the opportunity to investigate one of the diary entries for some time, but my curiosity was beginning to become unbearable. The Faerie Bar was close to the office where I worked, so it was an ideal place for a quick visit. Who knows, maybe I would find someone who could answer some of my questions or even have the opportunity to visit the tunnels hidden under Braga. As before, I accessed the bar via the stairs behind a door in the back of a pastry shop near the Arco da Porta Nova. When I got there, I came across a scene similar to that of my first visit. There was only one significant difference. A man was seated at the counter. Alice had told me that it was rare to see anyone of my race there, so I approached slowly, watching him closely to make sure it wasn't just another human-like creature. As soon as I became sure that I wasn't mistaken, I sat down beside him. He looked as surprised as me to see another human there. His name was Henrique Cerqueira, and although he had known about that other world for some time, he didn't seem to know much more than I did. Still, we exchanged tales as we drank a glass of the water that was the only drink served at that bar. He didn't usually leave Braga, so he didn't know all I had found out, but he told me about another place similar to the Faerie Bar on the other side of town, although he had warned me that it wasn't so well frequented. There was no mention of it in the notebook I had found, so I made a mental note to visit it later. Our conversation was interrupted, after just over an hour, by a phone call from my wife. I had to go home, but not before Henrique gave me his cell phone number and invited me to come have lunch at his house one day. Maybe because I finally found someone I could talk to about that world that most people were unaware of, I was looking forward to my visit. Unfortunately, I was only able to accept the invitation almost three weeks later, when my wife had to go out of the country because of work and my daughter went to spend a few days at a friend's house. I drove to the old parish of Dadim, where the Henrique's house was located. It wasn't hard to find. Following the path he had indicated, I immediately ran into an isolated house, just above the base of a forest-covered hill. In front of it lay a valley that I never realized existed, for it was in a depression that was not visible from the road. A granite wall enclosed it and the house, telling me that it belonged to the Cerqueiras’. I drove to the entrance and rang the bell. A voice asked through the intercom who I was, and as soon as I answered, the gate opened. Even by car, it still took me about five minutes to traverse the dirt road, which meandered through terraces covered with vineyards. After one last turn, I got to the house. Up close, it was truly impressive. It had only one floor, with the exception of the tower on its right side, which rose two stories high, although the attic also appeared to be spacious. The whole front of the house was occupied by a huge porch, whose ceiling rested on several cast iron columns. Behind it, windows, also made of cast iron and decorated with various shapes, occupied almost the entirety of the wall. I stopped the car in front of the steps that led up to the main door where Henrique and the rest of the Cerqueira family awaited me. "Welcome to Vila Marta," said Henrique with a smile when I reached the top of the stairs. Then he introduced me to his family. Between children and adults, there were about twenty people there. From the entrance, we passed to the vestibule, where I left my coat, and from there to the dining room. There was a huge table with ten chairs on each side. As a guest, they gave me a seat near the end of the table, in front of Henrique. To our right, at the head of the table, sat Henrique's mother, the family's matriarch, while the rest of the family sat in the other places on our left. After a short while, an elderly maid, older than any of the diners, began to bring platters from the kitchen. The conversation started with the usual trivialities about job, family, and even the weather. Then it finally went into that world parallel to ours, of which the whole family was aware. "How did you find the Faerie Bar and all the other places Henry told me you visited?" the matriarch finally asked. I told her the story of how I found the notebook that had brought me to those discoveries. "In our case, it's a family heirloom," Henrique explained. "No one knows for sure for how many generations we have this knowledge." The conversation then became about strange creatures and places hidden from the sight of most men. Everyone contributed something, and I found out things that weren't even in the notebook. Lunch lasted almost until four o'clock, when the diners began to rise. Henrique led me into the living room, where we sat down to drink a whiskey older than me. Through the wide windows, one could see the vineyards in front of the house. Amidst the drinks, Henrique told me how that vineyard was the source of the family wealth since time immemorial. That's when I noticed something peculiar. "Where are the workers?" I asked, noting the lack of movement in the fields. "You must need a lot of manpower to keep a vineyard so big." "Here, most work is done at night," he explained. "At night?" I asked confused. "Come," he said, rising from his chair. Henrique led me into the corridor and through it to the ground floor of the tower. There he turned aside a bookcase full of books, revealing a narrow tunnel containing a stairway that curved downward until it disappeared from view. Led by my host, I descended to the bottom, where we came upon a wood and iron door that seemed decades, if not centuries, old. Despite its age, Henrique opened it without any difficulty, giving access to a huge cellar that probably occupied the whole area of ​​the house. We crossed the narrow corridors opened between fertilizer sacks, wine barrels, empty and full bottles, and farm implements until we reached the far side of the basement opposite the one we entered. There, we found a wall interrupted only by a bar door. Henrique took me to it. When I peeked through the bars, I didn't know what to say. On the other side was a small room with a pungent smell. In the middle of the ground, almost in darkness, dozens of small creatures, no more than a meter high, were pilled. Their skin was blue-grey, and long, matted black hair cascaded down their backs. Claws ended their feet and hands. "You can't find cheaper labor," said Henrique, clearly proud. "A bucket of cooked meat every night and they are ready to work." I didn't know how to respond. Those creatures weren't human, I knew that, and I didn't know how intelligent they were, but even then, what the Cerqueiras were doing seemed wrong to me. Henrique noticed my discomfort and led me back into the living room to finish our drinks. I stayed there for almost another hour, but we didn't speak much. Finally, excusing myself that it was getting late, I left Vila Marta. On the way home, I couldn't forget my disappointment. I had found someone with whom I could talk about that world hidden from most humans, but he used it for his own benefit. During that night, I hardly slept, because I couldn't take the image of those creatures jailed in that basement. Even the next day, during work, I couldn't forget. As such, and despite having a lot of urgent work, after office hours I went to the Faerie Bar. I hoped to find Alice there to tell her what I had seen. I opened the door that gave access to the bar slowly. I didn't want to come across Henrique Cerqueira. Fortunately, there was no sign of him. On the other hand, Alice was sitting at the counter almost in the same place where I had first seen her. I approached and sat down on the barstool next to her. "Hello," I said. "Hi," she said sarcastically. She clearly hadn't forgotten my sudden departure last time. I began to tell her what I had seen in the Cerqueiras house. Although she didn't appear very interested at first, I ended up getting her attention. "From what you say, they use troll slaves to work the fields. They aren't the most intelligent of creatures, nor the most agreeable ones, but they don't deserve to be treated like that. Come back here tonight. I'll see if I can find someone to help us." I agreed. After dinner, I told my wife and daughter that I had to go back to the office to work so I could leave without raising much suspicion. In fact, it wasn't totally a lie. I should have gone to work that night, but I couldn't let the Cerqueiras continue to exploit those poor creatures. When I returned to the Faerie Bar, it was almost empty. In addition to one or two lone clients, there was a group of five creatures, of which Alice was a part. She called me and asked me to tell the others what I had seen. As I told, once more, what I had seen in the Cerqueiras house, I observed my new companions. One of them, a man, seemed to be the same race as Alice, for he had the same white hair, long neck, and feline eyes as she. Another was small, barely reaching my waist, and had yellow and orange skin. In contrast, beside him was a very tall, slender woman with blue skin and large eyes, and several black lines on her face that I couldn't tell if they were natural or tattoos. Finally, at a nearby table, sat a tiny creature that closely resembled the popular idea of ​​a fairy. On her back grew dragonfly-like wings, and small multi-colored scales covered the back of her neck and arms. When I finished my story, everyone readily agreed to help free the trolls. Then Alice led us to one of the doors to the tunnels where their races lived. Ever since I'd discovered the bar, I have wanted to visit them. I just wished the circumstances had been different. The door, after a short walk, opened into a wide, high tunnel with a cobbled floor, granite walls, and arched ceiling. Blue flames, which seemed to emit no heat, burned in niches on the walls and gave as much or more light than modern light bulbs. There was a myriad of other doors on both walls. During our journey, we went through several curves and bifurcations. The further we went, the bigger the tunnels became, and the greater the crowd that walked through them. On the surface, only during the summer did I see so many people. And never with that diversity. I lost count of the number of different races I came across. Finally, we descended a staircase to a huge rectangular chamber. It was traversed in its center by a ditch that connected at both ends to tunnels larger than any we had passed. Together with other creatures, we waited on that platform. About ten minutes later, a light appeared in of one of the tunnels. Shortly thereafter, a gigantic creature emerged from it. It was as high as the trench and long enough to occupy the entire length of the chamber. It looked vaguely like a centipede, with a red-brown body and a myriad of thin legs. However, it had no antennae, and its face was vaguely human. On the creature's back lined up six wooden carriages. Using a boarding plank, we climbed to one of these carriages and settled on the wood and iron benches. A little later, we set off, entering the other tunnel leading into the chamber. Braga had a subway after all. The surface inhabitants simply didn't know about it. We disembarked about fifteen minutes later, in a chamber very similar to the one in which we had boarded that strange train. We climbed stairs and returned to a tunnel system. That one was much smaller than the one next to the Faerie Bar, with much fewer doors and bifurcations. Finally, we came to a metal door guarded by a tall, muscular creature, who let us out. We were now in a narrow natural cave, through which I could only walk sideways. A few moments later, a silver light appeared ahead. After passing a thicket, which disguised the entrance, we reached the outside. It was with some surprise that, in the moonlight, I realized that we were in the valley of the Cerqueiras, near the border between it and the hill, not far from one of the farm's walls. Was that the way Henrique used to enter the world hidden under Braga? Without wasting time, the little fairy flew over the wall. She returned about five minutes later. "The trolls are already working," she told us. "And they're not alone. The Cerqueiras use Ogrons as foremen." "How many?" Alice asked. "I'm not sure, but not many." "So let's go." "Wait," I said. "What's the plan?" "We go in there and distract the foremen while the trolls escape," Alice answered, not even stopping. "Come on." The wall that surrounded Vila Marta and its fields was more than two meters high. If we were all human, it would have been a hard obstacle to cross. Luckily, one of my companions had retractable claws, so it reached the top with relative ease. Then he helped us to the other side. There was no lighting on those terraces, and it was one of the last nights of a waning moon, so it was dark. I could see nothing beyond the diffuse silhouettes of the vineyards and the poles that supported them. "I can't see anything," I said to my companions. "We do," said the fairy and the creature who had helped almost in unison. "Come on," Alice said. With me following the others blindly, we climbed to the first terrace. We hid behind a circular wall, which must have belonged to a well, and we looked up. On the next terrace, I could see several silhouettes among the vineyards, most of them small, but one exceptionally large, probably the foreman. Alice put a hand on my arm. "You don't see well in the dark, so you're going to help me with that foreman. The others will take care of the terraces above." I readily agreed. Crouched, we climbed the dirt ramp that led to the next terrace. Then Alice and I broke away from the others. We tried to approach without being seen, using the poles as hiding places, but the foreman's night vision seemed to also be better than mine, for he promptly emitted a fearful howl and advanced toward us. Alice pulled me, and, together, we threw ourselves against him. At first, the being resisted our onslaught, but we ended up managing to push it to the ground. As we pinned down the foreman, Alice shouted to the goblins, "Run! Get out of here!' The creatures hesitated for a moment, but soon fled, crawling down the wall that supported the terrace like cats. The ogron continued to struggle and shout. Alice punched him and, when that didn't work, again and again, and again still. The creature kept moving, so he hadn't lost consciousness, but he no longer struggled. "I think we can go," Alice said. When we reached the ramp through which we had climbed, we saw the silhouettes of our companions running from the higher terraces, accompanied by small shapes that could only be trolls. Behind them, I heard Henrique's voice and heavy footsteps. We had been discovered, and reinforcements were coming. We ran back to the wall, and the trolls, in their craving for freedom, overtaking us and getting outside before we even began climbing. After leaving the Cerqueiras land, we saw and heard no further signs of pursuit. Still, we just stopped running when we entered the tunnels that led to the living train. To where the trolls had fled, we didn't know, nor if we had succeeded in freeing them all. There was no point in thinking about it, though. After that night, the Cerqueiras would be on their guard. We were never going to be able to save anyone from that farm again. 8: Chapter 8 - The Organization

After my discovery of the diary, I had virtually abandoned urban exploration. However, a report in a Minho's daily newspaper woke once more that interest of mine. A vessel bound to the port of Viana do Castelo had sunk at the mouth of the river Lima. Interestingly, it sunk bow first, leaving its stern and back half almost vertically out of the water. The obvious opportunity for exploration was not lost in me. In the next weekend, I went to Viana. To my relief, this time I didn't have to lie or hide the truth from my wife. She was well aware of my interest in urban exploration. I didn't like to deceive her, and she had surely started to suspect something. I met an old friend who lent me a boat (the same I had used to explore the islets and find their king), and when night fell, I rowed to the wreck. It occurred to me then that I could have invited the rest of Braga's urban exploration group. I was so used to going on the expeditions based on the diary alone that this time I didn't even think of them. And just as well, as I was about to find out. Close to the ship, with the help of my flashlight, I looked for an entrance. It didn't take me long to find a porthole situated just above the waterline. I approached and, with the flashlight handle, I broke the glass. I had some difficulty passing through the narrow porthole, but I eventually managed it. As soon as my feet touched the metal floor, I pointed the flashlight around me. It was a cabin. The first thing I noticed was that it didn't have any furniture. However, that wasn't the strangest thing about that room. To my surprise, the door was in a vertical position. As the ship had sunk bow first, I should be standing on one of the walls. As such, it was as if that cabin was made to rotate ninety degrees. I approached the door and cautiously opened a slit. On the other side, I found nothing but darkness, so I opened the door a little more and pointed the flashlight to the outside. I then saw a corridor lined with several other doors. I went out and began opening them. Behind every one, I only found empty cabins that differed little from that through which I had entered. Finally, after a bend in the corridor, I saw a glow in the distance. I approached it and found a watertight door ajar. The light came from behind it. I opened it expecting to reveal another corridor, but what I found was something I had never imagined. In front of me was now a huge open space, which occupied much of the submerged half of the ship. Metal stairs led down to a network of platforms and passageways, and finally, to the ground. This consisted of muddy earth which, at that depth, could only be the riverbed. On it, and on the platforms, men, cranes and back loaders opened a huge hole. After seeing the gigantic hinges and hydraulic pistons attached to the inside of the hull, I realized that that ship was not only prepared to rotate ninety degrees, but it could also open the bow to explore the river and sea bed. Immediately, I wondered what they were looking for, but a blow to the head made me lose consciousness and stopped me from going immediately in search of the answer. When I came to, I found myself in one of the small and empty cabins of the upper levels. It, however, didn't have a porthole and was scarcely illuminated. Indeed, the only light came from the small gap between the door and the floor. I looked in my pockets, but all I had in them (phone, flashlight, pocket knife, wallet, keys) had disappeared. I don't know how long I was kept there before I heard the door being unlocked. Then it opened, revealing four men. Three of them wore dark gray uniforms, including boots and berets, and wielded assault rifles. They were clearly military but had no insignia to identify their country or service. The fourth man, however, wore a suit, a black tie, and a white shirt. His short hair was neatly combed, with traces of gel, and he couldn't be much older than me. He was probably in his early forties. In fact, he seemed like one of the businessmen that I come across every day at work. Motioning to the soldiers to stay in the corridor, the man in suit entered the cabin and approached me. "My name is Almeida, and I'm in charge of this investigation," he said, extending his hand. By mere habit, I greeted him. He, then, sliced his hands into his trousers’ pockets. "I'm..." I started to say. "I know who you are," Almeida interrupted me. "You know, your blog didn't go unnoticed." That statement caught me by surprise. In fact, I had a scarcely read blog where I wrote about my expeditions (you can find it in Portuguese at www.terceirarealidade.wordpress.com, but as you will soon realize, it isn't a very reliable source). However, no one had identified me as the author. "No need to look so surprised. Your activities are of great interest to us." "Why?" it was the only thing I managed to say. "Blogs like yours can be a good tool to discredit the events that are our responsibility hide. The more apparently crazy people write about them, the less the public believes them." I didn't need to hear any more to realize who those men were. They certainly belonged to the organization that Alice had told me about charged with hiding the world that exists parallel to ours. "By the way, I have a proposal for you," continued Almeida. "If you agree to add articles to your blog and change some of the already written according to our instructions, I'm willing to show you what we find here. If not, remember that we can easily make your blog disappear and hinder your life and that of your family." Looking at the soldiers behind him and thinking about all the resources I had seen digging the river bed, not to mention the ship itself, I didn't doubt that he was able to fulfill his threat. Also, I wrote the blog more to pass the time than to be read, so the veracity of what was written in it wasn't very important to me. I ended up accepting the Almeida's proposal. "Excellent!" he replied. "Come with me, then. We're about to find what we came here looking for." He took me back to the corridors and, through them, to the huge chamber where the excavation was taking course. From a platform, we observed the work. At our side, a screen showed what I guessed was an image of the subsoil obtained by some kind of sensor. It clearly showed a huge white spot that could only be what those men sought. Almeida didn't tell me what it was, and I didn't ask. After all, judging by that image, I would soon find out. Minutes later, something appeared. Among the dark mud, we now saw a white spot. The machines stopped and moved away, and the excavation was resumed by men with shovels. Gradually, they revealed the mysterious object. Every second that passed it appeared larger. From the distance I was at, it was hard to be sure, but the white material it was made of had a strange texture, similar to skin. In fact, whenever one of the diggers touched it, it appeared elastic. When, after more than an hour, the object became completely uncovered, I wasn't sure what I was looking at. On the one hand, it looked like an animal with the size of a whale, its skin covered with a viscous substance that was clearly organic. On the other, it had a triangular shape with rounded corners so regular that it didn't seem of natural origin. Almeida's men patiently dug beneath the object and passed straps, made of what I think was Kevlar, through the gaps from one side to other. Then they attached them to a crane, which, slowly and carefully, began to lift the strange object in the direction of a platform not far from where we stood. As it passed near us, however, its "skin" began to move, first slightly, then violently. It looked like something was trying to get out from it. The soldiers pointed their weapons to it. "Don't shoot," ordered Almeida. Our suspicion was confirmed seconds later when a hand terminated by claws ruptured the surface. Before anyone could react, from inside the object emerged a vaguely humanoid creature covered with black fur. It was bigger than most men, about two meters tall, and had long arms that would touch the floor even if upright. It looked at us with his yellow eyes and then jumped toward us. "Shoot!" shouted Almeida. Bullets whizzed toward the creature, flying disconcertingly close to us, but none seemed to hit home. Propelled by his powerful legs, the creature reached our platform, pushing me and throwing me to the floor. I must confess that lying there at the feet of that being was one of the scariest moments of my life, at least until then. Those claws and fangs could rip me apart in an instant. Fortunately, the creature did not linger and ran up the stairs. "After him!" ordered Almeida. "Don't let it get off the ship." The soldiers did so. Almeida followed close behind. When I got back up and recovered, they had already disappeared behind the watertight door leading to the upper levels. I ran after them. Following the sounds of boots on the iron passes, I crossed corridors and climbed stairs until I got outside. I found them in what I can only call deck located on the back of the ship's bridge. They were leaning over the side, pointing their guns at the water. I joined them. "He jumped into the river," Almeida said. I helped them look for the creature in the water. It reappeared moments later, in the tall concrete riverbank. With the city library just above it, the Organization's men didn't dare to shoot, and the creature disappeared into an alley. "We'll have to chase him into the town," Almeida said, more to himself than to those around him. "Lower the motorboat." Then he turned towards me, "Do you know Viana?" "I grew up here," I answered. "Then you'll have to come with us." The soldiers went back in through the same door from which I came. Shortly afterward, the wall started to move. An entire section slid aside, revealing a basement containing several big inflatable boats. The soldiers grabbed one and took it to the rail. With a press of a button, the rail lowered itself and rotated, forming a ramp through which the motorboat was taken to the water. After we embarked, it took us just over one minute to get to the bank. We landed at approximately the same place where the creature had climbed to shore and followed it into the alley. As expected, it no longer there was. The soldiers pointed their flashlights at the other three alleys that intercepted that one but found no sign of our target. They seemed quite experienced in those situations because, without waiting for an order from Almeida, they started looking for clues that would tell us where the creature could have gone. They soon found some marks in the half-fallen plaster of a nearby house. They were huge holes located more or less at regular intervals. "He climbed to the rooftops," Almeida said, voicing the obvious. We all looked up, but of course, the creature was no longer there. However, we knew now what to look for. In an adjacent alley, we found tiles fragments that didn't seem freshly fallen. In another, parallel to the latter, we found the same. In still another, we saw claw marks near the top of a wall. Following these clues, we ended up spotting a shadow that moved through the city's rooftops. When we were passing in front of the Main Church, it even jumped over us, landing inside the bell tower. However, it didn't remain there long, as it promptly jumped to the roof of the church and then to the building behind it. Almeida and his men started down the street, certainly in search of a passage through which they could follow in the same direction of the creature, but I called them, "Through here." Taking a narrow, hidden alley next to the church, we ran parallel to the creature. When we emerged to a larger street, we were ahead of our quarry. Finally, we reached the square located next to the old market in the center of which was the Chapel of Souls. In an attempt to prepare for the creature's every possible movement, we moved to halfway between the street and the chapel. From there, we could follow it quickly wherever it went. Luckily, the being jumped straight to the roof of the chapel. With military quickness and precision, the Organization soldiers surrounded the building before the creature had time to move to the next. "Put it down," ordered Almeida when the being started gaining momentum for a new leap. Automatic rifles opened fire. Despite having some interest in weapons, I had no idea what model they were. There was almost no noise when they shoot. Not that many people lived in that part of town to hear it. When it was hit by the first bullet, the creature interrupted its jump and tried to find refuge, but the soldiers covered all the angles of the roof. Bullets and more bullets lodged in its body until it finally fell off. However, it wasn't finished yet. It stood up and, with a growl, advanced in the direction of one of the soldiers. Almeida pulled a pistol from an inner pocket of his jacket and joined his men, surrounding the creature. Caught in the crossfire, it couldn't resist anymore and finally fell, becoming still on the ground. In an almost mechanical movement, without hesitation or even thought, one of the soldiers took out a black plastic sheet from his backpack, approached the body and covered it. "You can go," Almeida said to me, putting away his gun and shoving his hands in his trouser pockets. "We will be cleaning up, now. We will contact you to tell you what we want you to change on your blog." Obviously, I had a lot of questions. What was that creature? What was it doing on the river bottom? What was it inside of? And the Organization had been raised by whom? Who did it respond to? Who financed it? However, it was clear that Almeida wasn't going to give me any answers, so I left and went to retrieve my friend's boat. Again, on the way back home, I became lost with the possible explanations for what I had seen. I got home almost without noticing, and only when the garage door began to open did I realize I had been away much longer than expected. What excuse would I tell my wife? 9: Chapter 9 - City Trolls

Once again, a story in a local paper piqued my curiosity. It reported a series of strange car accidents that were taking place in the city of Braga. They all happened near where the cars were parked overnight and there were signs of sabotage, usually cut brakes. The deaths already exceeded a dozen. According to the story, the police believed that the culprits were one or more serial vandals, but hadn't yet found any clues or witnesses that would help identify them. In the past, I would have readily agreed with the authorities, but after all I had seen in the previous months, I wondered if there wasn't another cause, something associated with the hidden world I had discovered. As such, one night I stayed working late, I decided to look around the city. On foot, I visited all the streets where cars used to be parked overnight, looking for any movement beneath them. During the first hour, I didn't see more than one or two stray animals. However, near midnight, I saw a strange black shape under a Ford Fiesta. If I hadn't seen bizarre creatures before, I could have thought that it was another cat, but there was something about that shadow's shape that didn't seem animal-like. I approached. Slowly, I lowered myself, and turning the flashlight on quickly, peered under the car. What I found wasn't a cat, but a troll, like the ones I helped to free from the Cerqueiras' house. It was clearly trying to rupture some of the pipes and cables on the underside of the car. Alarmed, the being tried to escape. I grabbed it by the arm. If I could capture him, I might find someone who could communicate with him and understand why he was doing what he was doing. However, the troll promptly bit my hand, forcing me to release him. Still I ran after him, but, using his four members, he was much faster than me. I lost him, finally, when he climbed the wall of the terrain adjacent to one of the city's medieval towers. Besides being too high for me to climb, it was inhabited private property, which I didn't dare to invade. The encounter, however, wasn't fruitless. When I grabbed the creature's arm, I realized that he had a mark consisting of a circle with an inverted C burned into his skin. So I decided to go to the Fairy Bar to look for Alice in the hope that she knew what it was and also give me some clue about the origin and objectives of that troll. As I expected, and as in almost all of my visits to the Fairy Bar, I found Alice sitting at the counter. I sat beside her. After our adventure in the Cerqueiras' house, she no longer seemed so resentful about our first meeting, so I had no difficulty starting the conversation. After the initial greetings, I told her about the accidents, the deaths, my checking of the streets and my meeting with the troll. "I've heard of these accidents," she said. "Almost all of the cars crashed into places inhabited by some of our smaller races. The one that brought down the wall of the Biscainhos Palace destroyed an entire community of fairies who made their home in the hollow interior. Marta, the fairy who went with us to the Cerqueiras' vineyard, lost her whole family. That a troll is behind these accidents can be an important revelation." I stayed silent for a moment, trying to process what I had just heard. The deaths could have been just collateral damage from someone trying to disguise attacks on fairies as accidents. However, it didn't reduce my will to find the culprit. On the contrary. I then told Alice about the branding I saw in the troll's arm. She looked at me with a grave expression. "I've seen that mark before," she said. "It was on the trolls we released from the Cerqueiras' vineyard." At that moment, I became white. One, or perhaps more, of the creatures I helped release could be responsible for more than a dozen deaths. It was hard not to feel that their blood was on my hands. "Are you sure?" I asked, looking for a way through which to escape my guilt. She just nodded silently. I got up immediately and returned to the streets of Braga, more determined than ever to find out the reason for all those deaths. I went back to the street where I had found the troll. Hopefully, I had stopped him before he had completed his sabotage and he would return to finish the job. I waited, motionless, under the shade of a tree, hoping that the darkness would hide me. I was there almost an hour before the troll came back, out of a nearby alley. I assumed it was the same, as it headed for the same car. This time, I didn't interrupt his work. I wanted him to finish, so I could follow him and see where he went afterward. There was something else happening there, it had to be, and I would find out what it was, or the blame would be mine... Later I would leave a message in the car windshield to warn the driver. The creature was less than five minutes under the vehicle. He ran to the alley from which he had emerged and, this time, I managed to follow. I made an effort not to lose him, like last time. Fortunately, the chase wasn't long. I saw him climb the back wall of an abandoned house in the Carvalheiras - a square located at the other end of the alley - and disappear into the darkness behind the iron bars that lined the garden, built over the garage. I knew that house, I had already visited it with my urban exploration group, so I knew how to get in. I didn't have the troll's agility nor its claws, however, climbing on top of an electrical service box, I managed to reach a space between the bars wide enough for me to pass. As is usual in long-abandoned houses, it had been vandalized. The back door had been broken into. I entered. I took my flashlight but didn't dare to turn it on. I didn't want to scare who or what was inside, at least not before I found out what was happening. Yet the light of the moon, the stars, and even the street lighting coming through the broken windows illuminated the interior enough for me to see what surrounded me. The lobby floor was littered with leaves, probably brought by the wind through the door. Fortunately, it was also covered with dust, on which I could distinctly see several small footprints, which I assumed were from the troll. I followed them to the staircase leading to the upper floor, ignoring two doors open to rooms that, judging by the scarce and dusty remaining furniture, were living and dining areas. The creaking wooden stairs led me to the upstairs hallway. Several open or broke into doors lined both walls. The light coming out from them was enough for me to see what surrounded me. Just like downstairs, the hall was covered in dust, and on it, I could still see troll's footprints. I followed them into one of the rooms. As soon as I reached the door, I saw small figures, certainly trolls, running and disappearing through the door leading to the balcony. This door, however, framed a large figure, perhaps even taller than me. It didn't t seem particularly bothered with my presence since it didn't even move a muscle when I entered the room. A cloak covered its entire body, and with the poor lighting, it was impossible for me to see what lay beneath. "Who are you?" I asked. "What do you want?" It had to be the figure that controlled the trolls, so it was time for me to get some answers about the accidents and the deaths. "Go away," answered the creature with a female, husky voice. "This has nothing to do with you or with those of your race. Forget everything you saw." "But..." I started, but she turned her back to me and walked to the balcony. I ran after her, ready to fight if need be, to get answers. However, as soon as she got outside, she began to hover. The surprise made me hesitate long enough for the creature to rise in the night sky, high above the house. I then saw her fly westward, disappearing shortly after behind the buildings that hid the horizon. Frustrated, I left the house and made my way back to the Fairy Bar. Maybe Alice knew who or what was that cloaked being. She was still there, sitting at the counter, in the same place. I sat beside her, and before she had time to say anything, I told her what I had just discovered. When I told her about the cloaked figure and how it took flight, a terrified expression appeared on her face. - Night Witches - she whispered, as if afraid to say the name aloud. - Who are the Witches of the Night? - I asked, alarmed by her reaction. - The legend of the Night Witches is very old. It tells that they are mysterious creatures that attack some of our races. As is usual with these things, there are several stories of sightings, although lately, I have been hearing more. I never gave them much importance. But now, with what you tell me... We kept talking about the Night Witches for some time. Unfortunately, the stories she knew weren't very helpful. Often, they contradicted each other. But that's the nature of legends. I left the Fairy Bar decided to find and do what I could to stop the Night Witches. When I got home, my wife was already asleep. I had called her saying that I was going to work late. I didn't join her immediately. I sat at the desk with the diary I found, looking for all entries about witches. My next expeditions would focus on them. 10: Chapter 10 - The Witches of Montalegre

As you would expect, one of the first references to witches in the diary I found was associated with the Portuguese town most famous for its witches: Montalegre. Actually, every Friday the thirteenth, the town organizes an event called "The Witches Night" to celebrate this same tradition. On a rainy Saturday afternoon, when neither my wife nor my daughter wanted to leave home, I went there. There was no highway leading to Montalegre, so I had to use the local roads. For much of the way, they were wide and well-maintained, but a few dozen kilometers before reaching the town they became narrow and winding. Slowly and carefully I drove up and down hills covered with pine and eucalyptus trees. Finally, after a last climb, I saw Montalegre. Built on a hill that towered over a vast, empty and sparsely wooded plateau, it was an impressive sight, especially on a greyish day like that. At its highest point, above a mixture of new and old buildings, rose the medieval castle, its massive keep looking like it could weather the Apocalypse itself. According to the diary, the witches of the region only came out after dark. It was almost winter, so I didn't have long to wait and then decided to pass the time at a local pub. I took the opportunity to ask for more information about the place where the diary said the witches gathered and more accurate directions to it. The employee told me how to get there without asking question. However, a customer sitting at a nearby table, a somewhat old man with a hat and a walking stick resting on the chair beside him, heard the conversation and said, "Don't go there! That's where the witches gather at night. When they find someone near there, they cast a spell on the person. If they are in a good mood, they will only give you the runs, if not, they'll give you a disease that will weaken and kill you. That's how a neighbor of mine died. He got curious and... The warning didn't dissuade me from going to look for witches. On the contrary, it only confirmed that I was on the right track. I paid and went back to the car. I left the town, driving through the road that crossed the east side of the plateau. There, on a grey day like that, it wasn't hard to see why the region gained its supernatural reputation. A moor flanked the road. Here and there grew a tree and occasionally you could see a pond, but it mostly contained rocks and undergrowth, among which rose small elevations. According to the diary, the meeting point of the witches hid behind one of those. I parked the car at the beginning of a path which, according to the pub employee, would take me there, and I started to follow it. Almost immediately, I became glad I had brought my best mountain boots. The road was bumpy, rocky and muddy. With any other footwear, my feet would have been quickly soaked and sore. It took me just over an hour to get to the small rise I sought. Behind it, I encountered a small grove with half a dozen trees and some bushes. In the vaguely circular space between them, I found the recent ashes of a fire. There was no doubt I was in the right place. The sun had already disappeared under the horizon, so it shouldn't take long for the witches to come to that night's meeting. I hid behind a thick bush, opposite the path, and waited. About an hour later, I started hearing someone coming. The night had, by then, fully fallen, and the sky was overcast, so, away from any street lighting, I saw little more than darkness. I heard the person entering the clearing from the trail, and shortly after, the sound of wood logs being thrown to the ground. Suddenly, a small flame lighted up and moments later, a fire was burning strongly. Next to it, I could now see a woman of some age. She was all dressed in black, including a scarf covering her head. For a few minutes, she stood there, waiting. Then a second woman, younger but wearing similar clothes, appeared coming from the trail. They had barely time to greet each other when a third and then a fourth joined them. The last two members of the group took a little longer, but once they arrived, the six formed a circle around the fire. Then they took off their clothes, and I saw them more clearly. The youngest was little more than twenty years old, while the oldest had long passed her eightieth birthday. Contrary to what some legends say, I saw no unusual marks on their bodies. Naked, they started dancing around the fire, singing something in a language I didn't recognize. The dance lasted about half an hour, their bodies writhing in a chaotic, but at the same time beautiful, almost mesmerizing, way. Even the older witches showed remarkable, supernatural, even, agility and flexibility. When they finished, they fell down, facing the fire. Suddenly, from the flames, jumped a small creature with bright red skin. It had pointed ears, between which grew two tiny horns, and a sharp snout full of teeth-like needles. Small wings, clearly unable to support his body in a constant flight, protruded from his back. He was followed in quick succession by five others. Promptly, they all joined the witches and dance resumed. What was the purpose of that ritual, I couldn't even imagine. There was an obvious similarity between those beings and the ones summoned by the cult I had found in the convent of San Francisco, in Viana do Castelo. However, at the time, I didn't realize that. I was too concerned to find out if those were the Night Witches or not. If I had realized that, perhaps some of the deaths that occurred later could have been avoided. Suddenly, one of the creatures left the dance circle and began to sniff the air. After a few seconds, he turned to his companions and said, “We are not alone." A chill went down my spine. He was clearly talking about me. The witches and the other imps stopped dancing and singing. I got ready to run, but it was too late. "Get out of there!" said the first imp, with a shrill voice, towards the bush behind which I was hiding. “And don't even think about running away. I and my brothers see very well in the dark and we are faster than we seem. We'll catch you for sure. And you won't like what we'll do after that." The creature laughed cruelly. With a mixture of fear and curiosity, I stepped out from behind the bush and approached the fire. "It's dangerous to come here after dark," said one of the witches, one of the youngest, with a grin. "And even more if you peek at our rituals." "Are you the Witches of the Night?" I asked, going straight to the point. After all, what else could I say. Hearing that name, the imps snarled and the witches spat into the fire. "Don't mistake us for those bitches," said one of the older witches. "We are devotees of the horned one, Beelzebub, the devil. It's him that gives us our powers," said a middle-aged witch. "The Witches of the Night came out of nowhere and nobody knows where their power originates or who they serve. But they aren't like us." "Bitches!" shouted an older witch. "They appear out of nowhere and think they are better than us. They don't go to the Great Coven, don't respect our master, and don't even recognize us as sisters." "What is your interest in them?" asked one of the imps. Even though I was already used to speaking with strange creatures, I hesitated for a second. There was something disturbing about those creatures. However, I ended up telling the story about the deaths, the goblins, and the black figure in the abandoned house. For a moment, no one said anything. They didn't know how to react. Finally, the imp that interrogated me said, "Get out of here. But, remember; we are only letting you go because you want to interfere with the plans of the Witches of the Night. Don't come back." Without another word, I did so. On the trail, about midway back to my car, I heard the witches and the imps resume their song. For much of the drive back home, contrary to what was usual, I couldn't think about what I had just discovered. The narrow roads with dozens of bends required all my attention, especially at night. But once I got to better roads, my mind began to wander. Those weren't the Night Witches, that was clear, but the contempt they have shown them and the fact that they consider them a sect apart was an important discovery. Unfortunately, this didn't answer the mystery of who the Night Witches were, what they wanted, and where to find them. It just thickened it. When I arrived at Braga, it was almost dinner time. I called my wife and my daughter to see if they wanted takeout from Burger King. I wanted to compensate them for my absence. 11: Chapter 11 - Urban Witches

When I looked in the diary I'd found for entries about witches, one in particular caught my attention. When we think of witches, at least in Portugal, what comes to mind are images of women around bonfires in abandoned fields or in the woods, or folk healers and diviners who attend to their customers in basements or small barns. This entry, however, told of a group of witches from Porto who gathered in a tea room in the heart of this city, which is the second largest in Portugal. Small wonder, then, that after the most obvious entry, about the witches of Montalegre, I decided to investigate this one. One day I was alone in Porto on business, I took advantage of a big gap between my meetings in the morning and those in the afternoon to visit the tea room. With the help of my phone's GPS, I found the place. I then found a problem. The diary entry was several years old, and the tea room no longer existed. In its place now stood a small shopping center. I parked in a nearby carpark and went in. Maybe I could find some clue that could tell me where the witches' new meeting place was. As soon as I entered, I realized that that wasn't an ordinary shopping center. Instead of stores selling clothing, jewelry, sporting goods, and technology, as in most malls, this one had esotericism, natural makeup, organic food and cultural items shops. I walked through the corridors and up the stairs to the second floor. It was then that I came across what I what was looking for: a tea lounge with the same name as that where the witches met. They must have reopened in the mall after it replaced the original lounge. I went in and sat at a table. The decor was quite modern: white oval chairs, leather sofas, single stem tables. Even the orders were made through tablet PCs embedded in columns or through any smartphone using the QR codes printed on the wooden napkin boxes. I ordered a tea and grilled cheese, which I consumed slowly as I watched the customers coming and going. Their age seemed to vary between twenty and fifty years old, and judging by their clothes, they were all from the middle/upper class and above. The majority were women, though not by much. During the half an hour that I sat there, I noticed something that, if I didn't know what I was looking for, I wouldn't have. Alone or in pairs, seven women in their thirties wearing high heels, expensive looking dresses, fine makeup and meticulously maintained hair, entered and, without hesitation, went to the top floor. Fortunately, the sign indicating the bathroom pointed there, so I had the perfect excuse to go up and confirm my suspicions. I climbed the wood and iron stairs. At the top, I came upon a room at all similar to the downstairs one. Of the seven women, however, there was no sign of them. Carefully, trying not to draw too much attention, not knowing if I was being filmed, I tried to figure out where they could have gone. In the corridor leading to the bathroom, I found a third door with the usual sign saying "Restricted Access." It was the only apparent place where the witches could have hidden. Silently, I put my ear to the door but heard nothing. Slowly, I opened a small crack and peeked inside. Once the light dispelled the darkness on the other side, I saw a staircase leading to another door, above. I closed the first behind me and turned on my flashlight. Being careful not to make any noise, I started to climb. Just a few steps later, I heard a chant. The more I climbed, the further it intensified. When I put my ear to the second door, I realized it was coming from behind it. There was no doubt that the witches had gathered there. After about fifteen minutes, the chant came to an end. A few moments of silence went by, and then a distant, high-pitched voice asked: "What do you want from me?" It certainly belonged to a spirit or creature that the ritual invoked. "You see more than any of us. We called you here to answer our questions," said a female voice, surely belonging to one of the witches. One by one, the women put their questions. I admit I was disappointed. With all the mysteries of history and the universe that they could try to unravel, their questions were of the most basic of natures. Who was Joana betraying her husband with? Where did Paulo get the money to buy a new Mercedes? How did Miguel manage to win over his wife when he was so ugly? Gossip! People like that couldn't possibly be the Witches of the Night. I was about to leave when I heard the high-pitched, distant voice say: "Would you like to know who is behind the door?" I turned to run, but I had only descended three steps when the door opened behind me, and someone pushed me. I fell down the stairs, crashing against the lower door. Dazed and sore, I felt several hands grab me and drag me up the stairs. After recovering for a few minutes, the dizziness and the mist before my eyes dissipated. I was now in a small windowless room, lit by more than a dozen candles. There was a strange mixture of the modern and the old. Tablets computers, in the screens of which could be seen pages with texts written in strange characters, rested on a worn carpet full of burn marks. At its center burned a small brazier, whose flames were stirred by the air conditioning. Modern chairs, similar to the ones used in the tea room, rested among cabinets that looked like something out of an antique store and contained a multitude of ancient paraphernalia. Sitting on the carpet, the seven women surrounded me. All of them now had, around their necks, huge amulets with an old and worn look, contrasting markedly with their modern dresses and high heels. "Who are you?" one of the witches asked me. "And why were you eavesdropping?" "I'm looking for the Witches of the Night. Do you know them?" "Who are they?" asked another witch. "Some hillbillies who fly around on brooms?" Her companions laughed. "We don't get along with riffraffs like that," added a third witch. "Only if it's really necessary." "Now we have to decide what to do with you." "Let him go," said the witch that spoke first. "And what if he tells someone?" asked the woman who had raised the issue. "Look at his clothes," said her companion. "Do you think anyone will put the word of a nobody like him above ours? Getting rid of him would give us more trouble." "You're right," said another witch. "Get out of here. But don't come back!" I did so without delay. Those were clearly not the Witches of Night, so they had no interest to me. I went to the bathroom of a cafe near the shopping center to wash my suit and my wounds from the fall, and I made my way to my afternoon meeting. Contrary to what had occurred after my previous explorations, this one raised no thought or question. Those witches were useless in the unraveling of the mystery that haunted me. 12: Chapter 12 - The Tavern of the Enchanted

My first searches for the Witches of the Night had been fruitless. Although I still had other entries about witches in the diary to explore, one day, during lunch break, I remembered another place where I could find more information. In my first meeting with Henrique Cerqueira, he had told me of another place where the strange creatures that dwell beneath our feet in Braga meet. Its location was probably the only good thing that came from having met the man. As such, a few days later, after work, I went to the Chinese store, one of the city's largest, under which the place was supposed to be. I parked the car in the underground park and immediately started looking for the drain grate that would take me to the tunnels below. I found it hidden behind a column, exactly where Henrique told me it would be. In fact, there was no mistaking it. It was the only one through which an adult man could pass, at least if he wasn't obese. I had come prepared with a crowbar and, using it, I managed to remove the heavy iron grate with relative ease. Then I lowered myself into the drainage tunnel. Dragging myself, I started down the narrow, steep pass. Initially, it was coated with cement, but it quickly gave way to dirt and mud. Fortunately, I had changed into casual clothes before I left work. The tunnel followed in the same direction for its entire length and had no forks, so, with the help of my flashlight, it wasn't difficult to get to the other end. When I exited the passage, I found myself in a new tunnel, this one much bigger. It was about two and a half meters high and as many wide, so I could walk through it comfortably. Unlike the passages around the Fairy Bar, the floor, the ceiling, and the walls were made of earth, mud, and stone, with wooden beams here and there to strengthen the most critical points. I pointed my flashlight at both directions of the tunnel, but I couldn't see any of its ends. Following the directions of Henrique Cerqueira, I made my way to the east. For nearly ten minutes, I didn't see anything more than the walls and the darkness beyond the light of my flashlight, until I finally found the door I sought. It was rough, made of tree trunks nailed together, and ropes bounded it to a beam playing the role hinges. Carefully, I pushed it open and entered. What I found on the other side couldn't be more different from the Fairy Bar. Like the tunnel behind me, it was an open space underground reinforced here and there. The furniture was as rough as the door, and the same could be said of the clientele. Misshapen, dirty, and dumb looking creatures drank from poorly cleaned clay mugs. Most of them were bigger and more muscled than I, although a few creatures with green skin barely reached my waist. I had never seen any of those races in the Faerie Bar. Henrique had called the place the Tavern of the Enchanted, but I now understood that it was a facetious nickname because there was no enchantment there. Contrary to what had happened in my visits to the Faerie Bar, my entrance didn't go unnoticed. All eyes landed on me. Weren't they accustomed to humans or strangers in general? Trying to show confidence, I approached the counter. - What do you want? - asked the innkeeper, a huge, brown-skinned creature with a deformed face. - What do you have? He pointed to the wormed shelves in the wall behind him, where there were several dirty bottles with strangely colored contents. I chose what seemed less unpalatable, and the creature served it to me in a mug. After I drank, with a shrug, the repellent concoction, I moved on to the subject that had brought me there: - Has anyone here ever heard anything about the Witches of the Night? Or know something about the trolls who are causing car crashes? I was never accused of being subtle. As soon as I said that, one of the little green creatures left the tavern through a door other than the one from which I had entered. - Man - said a customer sitting at a table behind me - if I were you, I would leave. I turned. All eyes were on me, but now there was hatred in them. - Didn't you hear me? - insisted the creature, getting up. He was huge, well over two meters high and twice my width, and had four muscled arms. He picked me up like it was nothing and threw me back into the tunnel from which I had come. - Get out! - He shouted. I didn't dare do anything else. I started walking away. Shortly after, I heard the other tavern door opening. I looked over my shoulder and saw the green creature returning accompanied by several other much larger and muscular beings. I started running, just in case they decided to chase me. I only relaxed when I got back to the car park. I doubted they would follow me to the surface. Still, as soon I got in the car, I drove off towards home. A few hundred meters later, when I had already left my fears behind, a massive figure appeared in front of me in the middle of the road. It was the creature that had driven me from the tavern. He had a hand extended in front of him, asking me to stop. I confess that my first instinct was to run him over, but I wasn't capable of doing it. I braked and stopped half a meter in front of him. He came up and tapped lightly on the glass on the driver's side. Cautiously, I opened it. - Hey, man - said the creature, - sorry for that little thing back there, but if you had stayed, you wouldn't have lasted long. I was so surprised that I gaped. - Park the car and let's talk. I think I can help you with your questions. Curious but careful, I did so. We went to the garden of a nearby apartment building and sat on a bench where he could be in the darker half, hidden, and I on the lit side, where I felt safer. - Oh well, where do I start? After a moment of silence, he continued: - It's like this, the trolls aren't killing your people on purpose. The Witches of the Night, who have been bossing them around, don't care about humans at all. The accidents are just a way to destroy their targets without arousing much suspicion. After my conversations with Alice, I had already come to that conclusion. - Who are these Witches of the Night? What do they want? - Sorry man, can't help you there. Me and the rest of the guys in the tavern work for them, but we only saw them once, with hoods. I think there are five of them, though. They have been attacking fairies and other such races, and are recruiting for an army. And I'm part of it. What will they do with it and why, I don't have the faintest idea. I was immediately alarmed to hear that the Night Witches were gathering an army. What would they use it for? - Do you know where I can find them? - I asked, without hopping much. - Man, I don't know. I only saw them once in the Square. I didn't ask him where was this square since it was obviously a reference to a part of the tunnels near the Tavern of the Enchanted. - Now I have to go - he said, standing up. - I already told you everything I know. - Hang on! - I said. - Why are you helping me? - Hey man, I don't think that your people should suffer for no reason. I thought that, at least, you deserved an explanation. As he finished the sentence, the creature entered the darkness of that winter's end afternoon, and soon after, disappeared behind a building. I returned to the car and went home. Along the way, the conversation didn't leave my mind. The Witches of the Night were trying to weaken their enemies while preparing for war. I wondered if the disappearances of the subjects of the King of the Islets and in the city of the dead in Gerês were related to it. But what terrified me most was that no one seemed to know their ultimate goal. It would be something big, that was now clear, but exactly what was a mystery even to their soldiers. The possibilities robbed me of my sleep for several nights. But what I would finally discover surpassed anything I imagined. 13: Chapter 13 - The Sea Witches

After all I had discovered during my visit to the Tavern of the Enchanted, I wanted more than ever to find the Witches of the Night. As such, in the very next weekend, I decided to investigate another of the diary entries that seemed to be related to witches. On that Saturday afternoon, when my wife and daughter went to a bookstore for a book presentation, I drove to Barcelos. The diary entry spoke of several disappearances next to a village in the outskirts of that city, involving a sea eye on the Neiva River near a rock known as the "Penedo da Moira." Supposedly, on certain nights, women came out of the water and dragged any man they found into the sea eye, never to be seen again. After all I had witnessed, I had no difficulty in believing in moiras, but as they weren't mentioned in any other part of the diary, I assumed that they were witches. I arrived at the site in the early afternoon. There were several small ponds where people used to swim in the summer; however, being a cold winter day, there was no one around. I searched immediately for the supposed sea eye. I investigated all the rocks in the area, looking for the "Penedo da Moira" that would tell me which one was the right pond. It took me a while, but I finally found a rock on top of which there was a small hole filled with water, the so-called "Moira's Footprint." It was partly within one of the ponds, clearly indicating me that that was the one I was looking for. Years ago, during a vacation in Greece, I took a diving course to be able to visit some underwater ruins. I had even bought the complete equipment, hoping to use it later to investigate other similar places (which unfortunately never happened). That day, I took it with me and, next to the car, I put it on. Carefully, I entered the pond, and as soon as the water reached my waist, I dived. The water was clear, so, even in the deeper parts, I could clearly see the bottom. This was made of pebbles and some sand. Unfortunately, after a long search, I found no sign of the sea eye. The pool's bottom seemed well defined. However, a small depression at its deepest point caught my attention. It seemed out of place because there was no clear current that could originate it, and it was almost four meters below the surface, so it was doubtful it could have been created by swimmers. I approached it. I took aside a few pebbles and waved away the sand. Once it settled, I found one of the strangest things I'd ever seen. Under the depression, there was only darkness, a darkness that not even the light of my diving flashlight could penetrate. It could only be the sea eye. Slowly, I dipped my hand in that darkness. To my surprise, it disappeared, but I could move it down there. After a few moments, I realized that there was a tunnel there. Suddenly, I felt the water moving around me, at first slowly, but accelerating rapidly. I realized then that it was a vortex centered on the dark spot I had just discovered. Instinctively, I tried to fight it; however, seeing that it was stronger than me, I just let it take me. After all, I was there to find out what was on the other side. I confess that it wasn't my smartest decision. Shortly after entering the tunnel, I hit my head and lost consciousness. When I came to, I was in a dark place, but out of the water. I was hurting all over, and I didn't need to see to know that I had several injuries. Fortunately, nothing seemed to be broken. I swept the floor with my hands in search of my diving torch, however, when I found it, I discovered that it was completely destroyed. Luckily, my smaller flashlight, that was always with me and that I had put in my shorts' pocket, underneath the wetsuit, still worked. Once I turned on the light, I confirmed my suspicions. The wetsuit was torn in few places, and I was bleeding from several cuts. Then, I directed the light to the darkness around me. The first thing I found was a small circular pond beside me, certainly the exit of the sea eye. Immediately after, I spotted walls. Made of huge granite blocks, they stood behind and in front of me, until they disappeared into the darkness. They were so high that my small flashlight could not reach the ceiling. With nothing else I could do, I got up and started to explore the place. I had walked only a few steps when I found what I feared most, but had already expected: a human skeleton. It certainly belonged to someone like me, who got there through the sea eye but couldn't get out. I took a deep breath, trying to calm me down, and forced myself to continue moving forward. More and more skeletons appeared, some wrapped in clothes and wearing jewelry so old that must have been there since the Middle Ages and even the hillfort era. I tried to cheer myself with the thought that I might be able to find something that my predecessors didn't. After all, among the piles of bones and rags, there wasn't a single flashlight. Occasionally, I came across statues and bas-reliefs engraved on the walls representing what I could only describe as demons. They had sharp horns and snouts, long teeth, fins and some even had wings. Their representations varied widely in size, but if that was their true scale or only artistic license, I had no way of knowing. Finally, I spotted a faint light in the distance. I approached carefully, not knowing what to expect, but a few meters further on, I realized that it was the end of the long structure where I was. For a moment, I felt relieved, thinking that I had found the exit. However, I soon discovered that it wasn't the case. The structure was, in fact, open in that direction. However, instead of a way out, there stood the ocean itself. I approached and discovered that an invisible barrier, certainly magical in origin, prevented the Atlantic waters from entering. And me from leaving. Not that it made much of a difference. Even if I could cross the barrier, I could hardly reach the surface alive. From there, I could see the surface, more than a hundred meters above. Moreover, the likelihood of being found and saved in the ocean when no one was looking for me was minimal. In desperation, I hit the invisible barrier with my fists and then let myself slide to the floor. For long minutes, I stayed there, resigned to die. Then I remembered my family and decided to go see what was on the other end of the building. I didn't have much hope, but there could be a way out around there. I was about to get up when I heard a knock in the invisible barrier. I looked up, and amidst a passing shoal, I saw a young woman in her twenties. She didn't wear any diving equipment, just a pair of jeans and a blouse that seemed not to affect her buoyancy. I backed off two steps, not knowing what to expect. Soon after, the woman crossed the magical barrier and came into the building. To my surprise, her clothes looked completely dry. "Don't be afraid," she said. "I came to get you out." "Who are you? Are you one of the Witches of the Night?" Her face contorted in pain when she heard that name. "No," she replied. "But do you know them? Do you know where I can find them?" "I don't know where they are, but I know them, yes. Unfortunately." The sadness in her voice made me curious, but I didn't dare ask. Fortunately, she realized all that and continued: "My mother and the other Sea Witches died because of them. They came to us for help to destroy a community of sea creatures, a few kilometers off Castelo do Neiva, promising us magic items and other rewards. But once we did what they asked, they attacked us. I only survived because my mother insisted I stay behind. The others are all dead." With my curiosity satisfied, my thoughts returned to the place I was in, to how I would get out, and especially to the bones I had found. That woman might not be one of the Witches of the Night, but it seemed that her intentions weren't exactly benevolent. "What is this place?" I asked. "An old temple built by my ancestors, nobody knows exactly when. For centuries, we used the sea eye and illusions to bring human sacrifices here. It was believed that they helped draw the Devil's and its demons attention and facilitated the casting of spells and curses. My grandmother put an end to it. The disappearances were attracting too much attention. Now, tell me, what is your interest in the Witches of the Night?" I told her all about my search and the "accidents" that started it. "If you want to stop them, you can count on my help. Come, I'll get you out of here." I approached. She grabbed me and pulled me through the invisible barrier to the ocean. After a moment of panic, I realized I could breathe underwater. Through a propulsion method beyond my ken, probably of magical origin, we quickly reached a beach. As soon as I looked up, I saw the towers of Ofir. We were in Esposende. "Keep looking for the Witches of the Night. If you need help, call me." The witch told me her phone number, which I repeated in my mind until I memorized it. Then she returned to the sea and soon disappeared beneath the waves. I had found another witch enemy of the Witches of the Night. However, at the time, I had more pressing matters to think about. I was alone and more than fifteen kilometers from my car. How would I explain the situation to my wife without revealing the dangerous and frightening parallel world that I had discovered? And my wounds? I was thinking about all this as I left the beach and stepped into the nearby town. 14: Chapter 14 - The Demonologist

The idea for this investigation came quite unexpectedly. On a Halloween night, my daughter convinced me and her mother of going to an annual event at the Palace of the Dukes, in Guimarães. There, a troupe had transformed the place into a haunted house full of monsters, ghosts, and spooks. It was the end of the show, however, that most captured my attention. It was the staging of an exorcism allegedly ministered to a duchess who lived there. When I got home, I did some research and found that not only was it based on historical facts, but that it was also rumored that strange events kept occurring in the palace even after the exorcism. My previous encounters with witches had revealed a clear relationship between them and demons, so I had to investigate this alleged possession in the hope of finally finding the Night Witches. One weeknight in November, I told my wife I was going to work late and headed to Guimarães and the Palace of the Dukes. Of course, the monument was closed, and there was no one around. I parked and started looking for a way in. As you would expect, in addition to the guards inside, the place was protected by an alarm system. One of my comrades in Braga's urban exploration group that called himself "the greatest urban explorer," as he liked to visit not only abandoned buildings but also some in use and even inhabited, taught me a few ways to get around alarms. I only hoped that my meager knowledge was enough to do it. However, I ended up not having to use it. Turning the corner to the back of the palace, hidden by trees and greenery, I found that someone had beaten me to it. A woman who wasn't more than thirty years old had disabled the alarm and now reached towards a small window almost two meters above the ground. Realizing her difficulty, I approached and said, with a smile: “Need a hand?” She looked at me with a mixture of surprise and fear. She was relatively short, just over a meter and a half, and lean. She wore black metal glasses, and her hair was tied in a ponytail. For a moment, her eyes darted in all directions. Finally, realizing that I wasn't a policeman or a security guard, she decided not to run away and asked: “Who are you?” “I should be the one asking that. Who are you? Why are you trying to break into a national monument? Give me a reason why I shouldn't call the police.” “I could give you a reason, but then you wouldn't sleep soundly ever again. There is more here than what a normal person can imagine.” “Like demons?” She stared at me, surprised. That told me that she knew what I was talking about and that, probably, was there for the same reason as I. After a few moments, she asked: “Tell me what you know.” I told her all about the diary, my previous explorations, the Witches of the Night and what took me there. “One day, I'd like to see this diary “ she said when I finished. “I've heard of these creatures that you call Witches of the Night, but I usually focus on demons, and they don't seem to use them as other witches do. From what you say, maybe I should start taking an interest in them too. It's my responsibility.” “Your responsibility? Why?” “I'm part of an ancient tradition that protects people from demons and their agents. My master and I were responsible for all of northern Portugal.” She looked sadly at the ground “But he passed away, and now I'm alone.” “Can't you get help from the Organization?” I asked, for it seemed to me that they had common goals. “This Organization you speak about only appeared in the last century. Moreover, they are more concerned with hiding the truth than helping people. They have nothing in common with us.” After a short pause, she continued “If we are here for the same reason, maybe you could help me. I've opened the window and confirmed that I turned off the alarm. Now I have to start bringing my equipment inside, and I could use a hand.” I accepted immediately, and she took me to the front of the monument and toward the nearby street. Halfway, after some short introductions, it occurred me to ask: “How did you learn about this demon? Did you also come here on Halloween?” “No, I didn't even know about the event until you told me about it. I have a small cluster that uses data mining techniques to find patterns in the news and other databases that I have access to that might indicate the presence of demons. I found that many of those who visited this palace were then involved in violent crimes. That's a clear sign of demonic influence.” We continued walking until she stopped behind a white Ford transit from the late 90s. It had seen better days, since, at various places, the paint had given way to rust, and the lock on the back door was gone and had been replaced by a simple padlock and chain. The demonologist ran one of the side doors, revealing a cargo space containing an odd mixture of ancient and modern items. Several wooden shelves lined the walls, containing clearly ancient books, religious artifacts of various religions and electronic machines with their components exposed, clearly improvised from various sources. On the floor, there were some larger objects such as a rug with a mandala, a huge menorah and what appeared to be one or more computers connected to a battery. The demonologist gave me two tall, slim speakers, while she picked up a flat screen and a small tablet that, if my scarce knowledge of electronics doesn't deceive me, had been built from a raspberry pi. Once we returned to the rear of the palace, I helped her up the window. Then I gave her all the equipment and finally entered the palace. As I expected given the small size of the window, we were inside a small room. At the moment, it was empty, but in the past, it was probably used as a cupboard, because there was no room for anything else. Cautiously, Susana, the demonologist, put her ear to the single door, making sure that there were no guards on the other side. When she was satisfied, she opened it. The huge room we encountered beyond looked familiar to me. It was there that during the Halloween show, the possessed Countess laid in her bed and where a priest executed the exorcism. Once I told her that, the demonologist began to inspect every centimeter of the room, using her tablet and an instrument that she took from one of the bags on her waist. It was a lengthy process during which I kept nervously vigilant to avoid being discovered. Once Susana finished, she shook her head, and we decided to proceed. Thanks to my last visit, I knew that the only other door opened into the central courtyard, where we would be easily seen by the guards, so we decided to go to the upper floor. Through a narrow staircase with two flights, we reached a corridor with some doors on the right and a room on the other end. Behind the first door, was a collection of assembled armor, while the others housed other medieval artifacts such as books, furniture, and figurines. The demonologist inspected each room but again found nothing. The same can't be said of the room at the end of the corridor, however. As soon as we entered, LEDs in Susana's electronic instrument lit up. “That's more like it” she said. We found ourselves in an empty room with a fireplace built-in on one wall. It could be the real quarters of the Countess. The demonologist followed the demon's trail to a second door. Always following the makeshift instrument indications, we crossed bedrooms, foyers, hallways and even a huge dining room. Finally, when we reached the palace chapel, Susana said, pointing with her chin towards the fully lit LEDs on the machine in her hand and a graphic in the tablet screen: “It's here. We have to install the speakers.” “The guards won't hear it when we turn it on?” I asked. “Almost certainly, but we don't have a choice. We have to cast this demon from here.” We positioned the columns between the chapel's benches, facing the altar. Due to an demonologist adaptation, they were powered by batteries, so all it took was one press of a button on her tablet for a cacophony of voices and languages to invade the room. “It's a mixture of various Christian, Muslim, Jewish, Hindu and Taoist prayers used to exorcise demons” explained Susana. For long moments we stayed there, hoping that the demon would be cast out before one of the guards heard us. Despite my nervousness, I couldn't help but admire the chapel. The Halloween show hadn't included it, so I didn't get a chance to visit it. Varnished wooden beams held the roof, and huge stained-glass windows filled almost the entire wall behind the small altar. But what impressed me most were the two side podiums, as their distinctly medieval look made me travel back in time. Suddenly they began to tremble, as did the altar and the seats around me. Seconds later, from the ground, emerged a creature almost as big as me with red skin, two horns, and a sharp nose and chin. Almost simultaneously, the door behind us opened, giving way to a guard holding a flashlight. The sight of the creature, however, maybe combined with the cacophony coming from the speakers, were too much for him, and the man collapsed onto the last row of seats. Unlike me, Susana had paid no attention to the guard and advanced toward the demon with the tablet screen turned towards it. At a glance, I saw several images passing through: various religious symbols, excerpts of sacred texts, images of saints and gods. The creature stopped and started screaming. Slowly the demonologist side-stepped, trying to put the tablet between the demon and the door while taking something from her backpack. However, before she could do it, the creature gave a fearsome roar and jumped through the benches almost to the door. Instinctively, I tried to bar its passage, but it threw me to the ground like I was nothing and left. “He's stronger than I was hoping” Susana said, helping me up ”Let's go.” We ran out of the chapel and down the stairs to the palace cloister, and from there, we followed the demon outside. We passed several guards along the way, but them, stunned by the sight of the devil or our presence there, didn't react. We pursued the creature up the hill on top of which stood the Guimarães Castle. However, midway, next to a small chapel built there, Susana grabbed me by the arm. “Wait. This demon is very strong. Usually, they can't escape like it did. I'll get some stuff from the van and prepare to ambush and trap it in this chapel. Take my tablet, go after him and try to drive it here.” Before I could answer, she put the tablet in my hands and turned around. On the screen, still passed all kinds of religious images. Taking a deep breath, I started running through the dirt road leading to the top of the hill and the ruins of the castle, where the demon had entered. Being the most famous fortress in Portugal, I had already visited it more than once, so I knew it well and could concentrate on finding the creature. The keep, which had been restored, was the only building still standing, but it was closed, so there weren't many places where the demon could hide. Unless it had some tricks I didn't know about, of course. Trying to hold at the same time my pocket flashlight and tablet in front of me, I started looking into every corner, from behind the rubble mounds to the fireplaces and the broken chimneys that went up from them. After a few moments, I saw something move through the corner of my eye. But when I pointed the light there, I found nothing. It could have been just a cat, but for some reason, I sensed it was something more, so I chased it. Finally, when I came to a dead end, I saw the demon and held the tablet in its direction. Since I blocked the only escape route, a narrow passage between the wall and the keep, the creature tried in desperation to use its claws to climb the wall. But, realizing that it couldn't, it charged me, screaming with a mixture of pain and hatred. Again, I was unable to stop it, and he passed me, throwing me to the ground. Fortunately, I recovered quickly and pursued it. Running as fast as I could, I tried to keep close to it and, with the tablet, lead him to where Susana was waiting. Although it deviated once or twice from the most direct path, I was able to lead it to the small chapel. Next to the building's door, waited the demonologist holding another tablet and, who, in the meantime, had built a passage delimited by speakers emitting her prayers mix and a huge monitor that led into the interior. Realizing her intention, I tried to drive the demon into the trap. It tried to escape, but with the demonologist's help, I was able to take it to the passage and into the chapel. As soon as the creature passed the door, Susana sealed it with the huge monitor which showed images similar to the ones on the tablet. Then, she activated the speakers she had placed inside the sacred building. The demon started to scream. First, it threw itself against the walls, as if trying to smash through them then charged toward the door. Behind the screen, the demonologist took from her backpack a curious object that looked like a water gun, like the ones used by kids, but painted silver and covered with sacred symbols. When the being got within reach, she fired the gun. Various jets of liquid flew toward the demon. As soon as they hit it, it began to scream even more violently. Susana, however, kept shooting. I noticed then that the creature started melting, as if it had been hit with acid. It gradually disappeared, until all that was left of it was a red puddle on the floor, most of which seeped through the cracks between the funerary slabs that covered the chapel's floor. “What do you have in that gun?” I asked, surprised and curious. “Holy water, anointing oil, water from sacred rivers, water from the Zamzam well, things like that” she explained. “Now we better get out of here before the palace guards recover and come after us.” And that's what we did. I helped her carry her stuff to the van and got back to my car, but not before she gave me her contact. This investigation might not have given me new information about the Witches of the Night, but it brought me a new ally in my mission to find and stop them. 15: Chapter 15 - The Warlock

After several investigations without finding any clue as to the hiding place and intentions of the Witches of the Night, I decided to reread all entries about witches in the journal that introduced me to this world parallel to ours. I finally decided to investigate one that had me curious for a long while. It spoke of a witch doctor and diviner that attended to his clients in an annex close to his home, in the village of Perre, in Viana do Castelo. It was a story that I knew since I was a child. In fact, for a few years, I passed by his "cabinet" every day on the way to school and saw the rows of cars parked next to it. At the time, neither my family nor I had a lot of faith in his abilities, but after all that I had recently seen and read, I thought I should reconsider. One weekend, I told my wife I was going to Viana do Castelo to visit my grandparents. Actually, I did go by their house but didn't stay long, and after, I headed to Perre. When I reached the warlock's house, I had a strong sense of déjà vu. The annex, across the road from his home, looked the same, as did the adjacent field. Even the rows of cars on both sides of the road were as I remembered. I parked behind one of them and headed to the annex. There, people gathered in groups of families and friends, waiting for their turn. These seemed to have varied backgrounds since suits mingled with overalls and farming clothes. The warlock's fame reached everybody. I joined them and waited. Gradually, the groups went in and left. Everybody, without exception, emerged from the annex much happier than they had entered. Finally, it was my turn. On the outside, the building looked like a small shed for agricultural tools. Nevertheless, when I went in, I felt like I had traveled back in time to the study of some Renaissance mystic. One wall was covered by a shelf full of books, all of them looking very old. On the opposite wall, shelves contained bottles of potions with a huge variety of colors. The others, meanwhile, were almost entirely covered by tapestries with strange and mystical representations of the human body. Esoteric carpets, a brass telescope, and a mechanical planetary completed the decor. Behind a desk littered with books and strange instruments I didn't recognize, sat the warlock. Going with the rest of the room, he was dressed in long robes and had a metal tiara. "You may sit down," he said. I sat in a chair across from him. "Tell me, then, what brings you here?" I confess I had forgotten to create a story to test the warlock. Then I remembered that that could be the story. "I came here to test your capabilities, for my paranormal blog." It wasn't really a lie. "If you pay, like everyone else, test me as you will. Where do you want to begin?" We started with the basics. Without delay, he told me my wife and daughter's name and birthday. Then he made a short summary of my professional life. Finally, he predicted my daughter's academic achievements, but I would only be able to confirm them years later. "Now I'd like to see your healing skills." With a small knife I had with me, I made a small cut on my arm. "That scratch isn't really a challenge," he said, stepping out from behind his desk and approaching. Asking for permission, he put a hand on my wound. Then he closed his eyes and remained silent for a few seconds. When he let go, the wound had disappeared without a trace. It was obvious that the man was what he claimed to be: a wizard. Perhaps he knew something about the Witches of the Night or perhaps he might even be one of its members. "I hope you write good things about me... on your blog." He stared at me with a frightened look for a moment. Then anger came over his face, and he shouted, "Get out of here! Now!" His tone left no room for argument and so I left, wondering what had happened. Had his powers allowed him to see the nature of the blog I wrote at the time? (The most curious can find it in terceirarealidade.wordpress.com (Portuguese only)) Of course, I left the annex but didn't abandon the investigation. I was determined to find out if the warlock could give me some clue about the Witches of the Night. I hid the car in a nearby dirt road and waited for nightfall. Then I hid in a shadow and waited for the warlock to leave his study and go back home. With the number of customers he had that day, this only occurred around eleven at night. Once he closed the house gate behind him, I ran to the annex. Using some tools I had brought and a few things I learned from the Braga urban exploration group, I opened the lock. As soon as I entered, I shut the door behind me, turned on the lights and started looking for evidence of a relationship between this warlock and the Witches of the Night. I looked in the shelves, the desk drawers and behind the tapestries. I even tried to find any secret compartment. However, I soon realized that there was nothing there. The books were just for show, completely unrelated to the warlock practices. And there was nothing hidden, either. Determined to get to the bottom of all that, I went to the rear of the warlock's house and, taking care that there was no one around, I jumped the wall into the yard. At first glance, the only light came from a window on the top floor. I started circling the house looking for a way to see into the interior. However, while searching, I noticed a faint orange light shining behind one of the basement windows. I approached carefully and peeked inside. I found an almost empty room, except for a circle full of mystical symbols similar to those found in occult books and a wooden tripod on which rested a distinctly old book. Behind it, the warlock, now wearing ordinary clothes instead of the garments he wore earlier, seemed to recite what he read, although from the outside I couldn't hear him. The basement must have been soundproof. For about fifteen minutes I stood there, watching the man flipping through and read the book. Suddenly smoke appeared in the center of the circle drawn on the floor. Gradually it grew, taking shape and gaining consistency until a bizarre creature appeared before my eyes. It had a humanoid form, with long black hair, while a row of horns lined up in the middle of its head and long, pointed ears rose from its mane. It goes without saying that its skin was bright red. In one hand, it carried a crow, and it was mounted on a crocodile. The demon and the warlock spoke for a few minutes, but once again, I couldn't hear a thing. Eventually, the creature began to draw mystical symbols in the air, toward the man. When it finished, it redissolved into a cloud of black smoke, which disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared. It should be the ritual that gave the warlock its powers, or at least part of them. The man closed his book and prepared to leave the basement. But I wanted to talk to him, so I decided to draw his attention and show him I knew his secret by hitting the glass. He looked at me with a mixture of surprise and terror, but his expression quickly changed to one of resignation when he realized that there was nothing he could do. Through gestures, I told him I wanted to speak with him, and he asked me to wait. Less than five minutes later, the front door opened and the warlock came out. "Okay, you know my secret," he said. "What are you going to do about it?" "You are one of the Witches of the Night? Or know anything about them?" The man looked at me genuinely confused. "Can't you see I'm a man?" he protested at last. So I decided to tell him everything I had discovered about the Witches of the Night. "I don't know anything about it. I just learned to summon certain demons and bind them to give the powers I need, nothing more. I don't even harm anyone. I just help people. And I don't know anything about those fairies and other strange creatures you spoke of." The fear in his eyes told me he was telling the truth. Moreover, despite its relationship with demons, he really seemed to be helping people, even if he was making money from it. I told him I was going to leave him alone, but that I would keep an eye on him. He thanked me and let me out of the yard through the main gate. Once again, I returned home without unveiling anything more about the Witches of the Night. My only consolation was that I had found out that the reputation of the warlock I heard about since I was a kid was justified. 16: Chapter 16 - Lights in the Sky

As part of my exploration of the world parallel to ours the diary I had found revealed, I usually followed national blogs and Internet forums about the paranormal and UFOs, in case something showed up that deserved my attention. It was one of these readings that led to this investigation. In all ufology forums, there was great excitement about strange lights which were appearing above the hill called Monte do Pilar, on the outskirts of Póvoa de Lanhoso. Of course, that by itself wouldn't be enough to arouse my curiosity, since reports of unidentified lights in the sky were a usual occurrence. What really made this case special were the rumors of men that blocked the road to the top of the hill during such occurrences. I immediately thought of the Organization, and if the Organization was present, something was really happening. Forgetting my search for the Witches of the Night for a while, a Saturday night, when the sightings usually occurred, I went to Póvoa de Lanhoso. That night, my wife was at her mother's house, who had fallen ill again, and my daughter had gone to spend the weekend with a friend, so I didn't need to make up an excuse. I left the car near the church built at the foot of Monte do Pilar hill, beside the road leading to the summit, to investigate the alleged roadblock. In fact, as soon as I turned the first corner, I saw two cars parked across the road blocking the way. Behind them, five men stood guard. Contrary to what I had assumed, they didn't seem to be from the Organization. They were armed with baseball bats, and instead of suits or military uniforms, they wore casual clothes. I approached them to try to understand what was happening. I was still a couple of meters from the car when one of the men shouted, "You can't pass!" "Why?" I asked, taking two steps forward. "None of your concern. Go back." "By what authority do you deny me passage through a public road?" I asked, trying to force them to reveal who they were. "Are you going to give us trouble?" said another man, putting his baseball bat across his hand. His companions raised their weapons. "Go away before you hurt yourself." I did so, but I wouldn't give up on that investigation so easily. I knew that hill, I had visited it several times, and knew there was an old medieval road that also climbed to the summit. As soon as I disappeared from the men's viewing angle, behind the corner, I climbed through the vegetation to the old road. As I had expected, it didn't seem to be watched. The way up wasn't easy. The pavement stones, exposed to the elements and without maintenance for centuries, were irregular, and grass grew between them. At some points, the pavement disappeared completely. Nevertheless, the final stretch was even worse. Monte do Pilar was crowned by a colossal rock, one of the largest in Europe, on which stood the castle of Lanhoso and a small shrine. The new road bypassed most of it and reached the top through the less steep West hillside. The old medieval road, however, led to the East entrance. I think that once a ladder connected it to the old road, however, now only a few holes dug into the bare rock helped on the way up. Although urban exploration had given me some experience in climbing, it was with great difficulty that I reached the entrance. It gave access to a small terrace covered with trees and stone tables located a few meters below the main sanctuary area. Fortunately, no one was there, so I could take a break to recover some energy. As soon as I felt able, I climbed, step by step, the stairs to the upper level and took a peek. On the rock, halfway between the small church and the castle, stood a group of about twenty people. They were gathered around what appeared to be a priest holding a large wooden cross with both hands. He recited, loudly, a song in Latin, drowning out all the other sounds of the night. For twenty minutes I stood there, listening to him and watching the group, but nothing remarkable happened. I started thinking that it was only some random cult, with no relation to the lights in the sky. Only the roadblock and the link between it and the lights in the ufology forums kept me there. Fifteen minutes later, I was glad I stayed. The group started to get excited and pointing at the sky. I followed their gaze and saw several points of light, high above the hill. The priest started singing even louder, and the lights began to descend. Shortly after, they looked like small suns shining on the sanctuary. Their intensity was such that, at first, I could hardly look directly at them. However, they gradually faded, until at last, I was able to see what they were. They were perhaps the most bizarre creatures I had ever seen. Some seemed to have human form but had six white wings similar to those of doves. They used the top ones to cover their faces, the lower ones to cover their feet and legs, and only the middle ones to fly. Others were vaguely humanoid, however, they had four heads, one of a man, one of an eagle, one of an ox and one of a lion, and four eye-covered wings. Nevertheless, and despite how strange these beings looked, the third type of creature was even stranger. They were formed by various concentric wheels with eye-covered hoops. How they flew, I can't say. As a teenager, I had a keen interest in mythology, and although Christian angelology was not one of my favorites, I recognized those beings as angels from the first sphere, the ones closer to God. Slowly, the beings flew in circles over the assembled people, while they raised their hands skyward and screamed pleas. After a few minutes, the angels began to fly away. Gradually, their light became weaker, until it disappeared. With smiles on their lips, the priest and his following began to disperse and return to their cars. What was the result of that ritual, I can't say, but at least I found out that it wasn't just demons this kind of cults invoked. I stayed where I was and waited for them to leave the sanctuary. Then I gave them more time to unblock the road and only then started down the hill, this time through the main route. As always, several questions raced through my mind on the way back home. What was the purpose of that ritual? Why would angels of the highest orders come down to earth? If angels were real, did that mean God is also real? Fortunately, my mind was still preoccupied with finding the Witches of the Night and find out their endgame, otherwise, if I had had time to think about the implications of that night, my world could have collapsed. 17: Chapter 17 - Will-o-Wisps

Like the previous one, this investigation started with an online forum post that told of a sighting of strange lights, this time at the Citânia of Briteiros. However, it was also associated with witches and the diary I had found, as one of its entries gathered several second-hand stories that told of powerful witches living, hidden, among the ruins. My predecessor, shy as he was, never tried to confirm these stories, but their existence and that of the lights seemed a strange coincidence, and I decided to investigate. One evening after work, I called my wife to tell her I was going to work late and then made my way to the ruins of citânia. It wasn't far from my job, but part of the road was very narrow, with many poor visibility turns, and required careful driving. As such, it took me more than half an hour to get there. I parked on a dirt space by the roadside in front of the entrance to the citânia's ruins. Although it wasn't yet night, the sky had begun to darken, and the place was closed. I decided to make use of the little light left in the day to look for another way in. I walked almost the entire edge of the ruins facing the road. Finally, a hundred meters below where I'd left my car, I found a space between the fence and the ground large enough for me to pass. Dragging myself along the ground, I managed to get in. I was now near the ruins of a public bath located in one of the lowest points of the citadel. Despite the growing darkness and my eagerness to find the lights' origins, I couldn't help but admire the so-called "Beautiful Stone" of the baths, engraved with Celtic motifs. I started up an ancestral street, the same that the Iron Age inhabitants used in their day-to-day lives, flanked by a conduit that took water to the bath. The climb wasn't easy as the pavement was uneven and quite steep but finally I reached the area where most of the ruins of houses were concentrated. After resting a bit, I decided to continue to walk to the top of the Acropolis. Being the highest point in the hillfort, it was the ideal place to keep watch and spot the lights I was looking for. I went up another of the original paths. It snaked through the ruins of the various family complexes in which circular houses were built around a central yard and surrounded by a wall taller than I. I also passed by the innermost wall and its northern gate. Although in the dark, I couldn't see them, I knew, thanks to my previous visit, that there were two other walls beyond it. Finally, I reached the top of the Acropolis. In addition to two reconstructed houses, there were ruins of a huge round building with stone benches embedded in the wall. According to the reading I did before my previous visit to the citânia, archaeologists thought that that building was where the rulers or the elders gathered to discuss and solve the town's problems. From the top of the Acropolis, I could see the whole ruins, however, there was no sign of the lights the rumors spoke of. However, it was still early, so I leaned against one of the reconstructed houses and waited. I just wished that that wasn't one of the few nights without occurrences that month. The first sign that something was going to happen, however, wasn't the appearance of lights, but of shapes that moved further down, in the dark. These came from a point almost opposite that from which I had entered, so I wondered how they had circumvented the fence. Slowly they approached a small yard located amongst the family complexes below, and then, by the light of the moon and the stars, I realized that they were five women dressed in black. The idea that they could be the Witches of the Night crossed my mind, but I soon discarded it. These women didn't have the covered faces or the size of the creatures I was looking for. Then the lights that made me go there appeared. I saw them first as three small greenish flames in a small grove near the outer perimeter of the citânia. However, they quickly approached, their size and intensity increasing. Seeing them, the five women immediately sought refuge among the ruins. They waited for the will-o-wisps to approach a bit more, and then began to recite a strange and elaborate chant. To my surprise, moments later, a torrent of hail fell upon the living flames, although the sky was clear. In mere seconds, they and the ground around them were covered by a mound of ice. Up to that moment, I hadn't seen such a demonstration of power by any witch, so, for a moment, I wondered if those five women really weren't the Witches of the Night. The attackers waited a few seconds to make sure that they had really neutralized their target. The mound of ice didn't move, and they then left their hiding places. "We did it" said one of them. "We're now the most powerful witches in Northern Portugal." "It seems so" another agreed, with a smile. "Are you sure?" asked a third, looking, suspicious and frightened, to the hail mound. They've survived worse. "I'm sure" said the first. "We found their weakness." In that instant, the ice began to tremble. A second later, with an explosion, the will-o-wisps emerged from the hail. The invaders rushed back to their shelters and started a new chant. This time, however, their opponents went into action. With incredible speed, one crashed into one of the witches, projecting her several meters back. Another shot a strange greenish lightning that bypassed the cover and hit the attacker behind it. Then, the three got together and began to move quickly in a circle. A rain of small balls of green flames fell, then, on the three invaders still in combat. As they touched their clothes, they set them on fire. Strangely, though, when they missed and hit the ground, they went off instantly without even burning the vegetation. The attackers rolled on the ground to extinguish the flames. When they got up, they decided that they had had enough and, after picking up their two unconscious (or maybe even dead) friends, they fled, disappearing into the darkness from which they had emerged. The will-o-wisps remained motionless for a few more minutes. I stayed where I was, watching them, hoping that when they left, they would take me to something that would reveal their origin. After all, the women they had faced were clearly witches. Could they be somewhat related to the Witches of the Night? The truth promptly revealed itself and it caught me completely by surprise. The flames of the will-o-wisps started stirring and growing. Suddenly they disappeared completely, revealing three persons: two women and one man. "I hope this is the last of these attacks" said the man. "Fighting these second-rate witches is becoming tiresome." "It's the price of fame" said one of the women. "But what do they think they can achieve?" asked the other woman. "Occupy our place? They think that by defeating us, they will get our powers?" Clearly, those people were powerful witches. However, they didn't have the size or the garments of the Witches of the Night, so I assumed they weren't them. Moreover, the latter could hardly be called famous. But perhaps these three knew something that could help me. I took a deep breath to gather some courage before, once again, addressing a group of witches. I got up and called for them. Without a word, they again turned into will-o-wisps, flew up to the Acropolis and surrounded me. Then they returned to their human forms. "Who are you?" asked the man. "Don't tell me you're another wizard who wants to face us." "No, no" I answered promptly. I then told them about my search for the Witches of the Night and what had brought me there. "You know, we're also very interested in the Witches of the Night. No one knows who they are, what they want or where they came from. This makes them dangerous to us." "Do you know where I can find them?" "Unfortunately, no" said the other woman. "If we knew, we would have already talked to them. We always try to convince all witches in the North to join our Great Covenant." "Come with us" said the first woman. "Let us show you what we have on the Witches of the Night. Perhaps if we combine our knowledge, we can figure something out." "Do you think we should show him our hiding place?" asked the man. "He has dealt with witches before. He knows that if he says something to someone, we'll put a curse on him and everyone he loves" said the first woman. "Besides, everyone knows that we are here in the citânia and that our hiding place isn't very far." They took me, then, to one of the rebuilt citânia houses. The man took a key from his pocket, which he used to open the door, and we entered. Inside it was dark. The only light was the pale luminescence of the moon and the stars that came through the door, however, it was enough for me to realize that the place was empty. As I wondered why they had brought me there, one of the women pulled away some of the straw that covered the floor and lifted a small stone slab. To my surprise, underneath it, there was a small backlit keypad. The witch introduced a numeric code, and the ground began to tremble. "Step back a bit" the man said, pulling me gently by the shoulder. A part of the floor lowered and slid aside, revealing metal stairs leading down vertically to a concrete tunnel. The woman who opened the trap door went down first, followed by the man. I was the third, while the last witch stayed back to close the trapdoor. The tunnel was well lit and short, ending up less than two meters ahead in a room considerably more spacious than the rebuilt house above. It was a strange place. Like the tunnel, it had concrete walls, giving it a bunker-like look. Desks with computers and tablet PCs mingled with counters filled with mortars, knives, scythes, bottles, and vials filled with multiple liquids of different colors. Bunches of different herbs hanged by strings from the ceiling, as well as chicken paws and net bags filled with bones. The walls were partially covered with newspaper clippings and pictures of people, some of whom I recognized as being involved in national and international politics. Exactly what these witches did there, I don't know, but it was obvious they were more powerful and influential than any other covenant I had met before. One of the women turned on one of the computers and started showing me videos on which the Witches of the Night appeared. I confess I was surprised, scared even, with all the places where those witches had eyes. I saw images of the Witches of the Night in the Gerês Mountains, in the streets of Porto, flying over the river Lima, in the tunnels hidden under Braga. They even showed me a video of my encounter with one of the Witches of the Night, when I pursued one of the trolls under its command. These were images from outside the abandoned house where I found the creature, certainly taken by a drone. Unfortunately, the machine wasn't fast enough to follow the cloaked witch to its hiding place. Although the videos revealed several places where the Witches of the Night had been, even with the knowledge I had gained during my search, they didn't help uncover the creatures' motives or whereabouts. In fact, they only brought more questions. With nothing more to do there, I said goodbye to the witches. After reiterating their threats of what would happen to me if I revealed their hiding place to anyone, they let me go. On the drive back home, I couldn't help thinking that I was increasingly confused. The more I learned about the Witches of the Night, the least I understood. Would I ever be able to find them and make them answer for the deaths they had caused? 18: Chapter 18 - The Goat of Tibães

Some say that we only find things when we are not looking for them. Although I have never believed this, it doesn't mean that it sometimes can't true. It all started when, on a winter afternoon, I read in a local paper that a goat was terrorising the inhabitants of Mire de Tibães. The case was remarkably similar to stories told about the goat of Cabanelas in the 1930s, which is often referred to in books on Northern Portuguese legends. The news said that a black goat appeared at dusk on the Mire de Tibães' graveyard. Meowing like a cat, it made flybys over the visitors until they left. Curious about the reappearance of this old legend, I decided to take another break from my quest for the Witches of the Night and, one day after work, I went to that cemetery. Although the days were already getting bigger, dusk still came early. So, when I got there, the sun was about to disappear behind the horizon. As soon as I entered the graveyard, I realized that I wasn't the only one there hoping to see the goat. Except for two people who were quickly putting new flowers on a grave, no one paid any attention to the dead. Indeed, almost all eyes were on the sky, as well as mobile phones and cameras. I leaned against one wall and waited. Gradually, it grew dark. The two people taking care of the grave left almost running. Only I and about twenty other spectators stayed behind. The minutes passed. It kept getting darker. Suddenly, we heard a strange mewing from above. Atop the wall opposite the one I was leaning against, there was a goat. To my surprise, it had a quite usual look. It had brown and black fur of varying shades, two small horns on the top of its head, and a goatee on its chin. Then, it meowed again, and with a jump, left the wall. However, instead of landing on the ground, it began running mid-air. Camera flashes fired everywhere as the other watchers tried to document the strange phenomenon. It was then that the goat made its first flyby. Men and women threw themselves to the ground, trying to avoid the creature that flew just above the crosses and tombstones at an incredible speed. At first, everyone kept watching the goat as it did flyby after flyby until everyone started to crawl toward the exit. Meanwhile, I hid under a stone bench embedded in the wall of the mortuary chapel and waited. A few minutes later, I was the only one still in the cemetery, since the others had entered their cars and fled away. Then, the goat withdrew, disappearing behind the north wall. In that moment, I left my hiding place and followed it. Overcoming the wall wasn't easy, but climbing on a nearby tombstone (at the time I thought nothing of it given how intent I was in following the flying goat, but I confess that now it seems disrespectful), I managed to cross to the other side. The Tibães' cemetery was built adjacent to the medieval monastery of Tibães, one of the best-known monuments in the municipality of Braga, and I found myself in its extensive gardens. I spotted the goat flying just over the crops, so as soon I touched the ground, I immediately started to follow it. The journey wasn't easy, since the roads were all made out of dirt. Besides, the night had finally arrived fully and I didn't dare turn on the flashlight I always had with me, fearing that it would reveal my presence. Shortly after, the goat took me to the forest that edged the monastery grounds to the south. Thanks to one of my previous visits, I knew exactly where it was going - to the artificial lake that had been created in a nearby clearing. Although I knew the narrow trail that would take me there, something told me not to use it, so I decided to approach under the cover of vegetation. As soon as I saw the lake, my caution proved justified. To my surprise, by the decorated wall from which emerged the water that filled the lake, burned a huge bonfire that was probably taller than me. Around it were five cloaked figures, all of them exactly like the creature I had encountered in that abandoned house. I had finally found the Witches of the Night! And while investigating something apparently unrelated to them. It was obvious that the goat was their creation, probably to keep people from the area, but I couldn't understand why. I took several deep breathes. Once again, I was about to confront a group of witches. However, these weren't common witches or mere suspects of being the Witches of the Night. These were them and they had killed people before, albeit indirectly. On the other hand, the idea that they had let me go unharmed after our last meeting brought me some comfort. I was going to leave my hiding place and go down to the lake when I heard a noise behind me. I immediately took refuge in a small thicket that hid me from every direction. Seconds later, a huge creature, more than three meters high, passed by me. Overall, it looked human, though I couldn't see its face in the dark. Its legs looked like tree trunks and its body was extremely broad, but it walked with a bent back. After seeing it, I began to hear noises all around me. Figures of all shapes and sizes started appearing among the vegetation, some even bigger than the initial ogre. Where they had come from, I had no idea, but they were all bound for the artificial lake. When the first creatures reached the margin, the witches started chanting rhythmically and moving their arms above their heads. For about a minute, nothing happened. Then, the lake's water began to stir. Shortly after, it rose above the bank, but didn't overflow. It was as if it was being contained by an invisible barrier. Every moment that went by, the water rose higher and higher until, to my astonishment, it formed a huge bubble about ten meters above the lake which was now empty and its bed exposed. The creatures then began to descend the muddy surface, disappearing under the brim. During the next half hour, more creatures emerged from the trees and into the now empty lake. However, the Witches of the Night continued their song, probably to keep the water hovering mid-air. Finally, when the last of the creatures disappeared, the witches stopped. With a crash, the water fell, once again filling the artificial lake. At this time, the fire near the Witches of the Night went out and, once my eyes got accustomed to the darkness, they were gone. After that, I still spent several minutes in my hiding place, stunned, trying to figure out what was happening. The Witches of the Night were gathering an army. If every night that the goat appeared had happened the same as that night, they could already have hundreds of soldiers. But what would be their purpose? Had the attacks on fairy houses with fake auto accidents (the events that led me to investigate the Witches of the Night) just been attempts to weaken the enemy before the final onslaught? Could it be all connected with the mysterious disappearances of ghosts in the City of the Dead and among the King of the Islets' subjects? Finally, the cold made me leave my hiding place, and, crossing the graveyard wall again, I went back outside and into my car. No one else was around. The goat had fulfilled its purpose and scared everyone from the monastery and surrounding area. After what I had just seen, I returned home worried - frightened, even. The Witches of the Night had an army. Although, until that moment, all the human deaths they had caused appeared to have been collateral damage. That could now change, and even if they didn't attack humans, their main target would certainly be some of the creatures that lived in that world hidden from ours, and I had already walked among them and knew enough for that to affect me emotionally. That night, I was unable to sleep, wondering what I was going to do about it all… if I could do anything. 19: Chapter 19 - The First Attack

As you can imagine, after I found the Witches of the Night in the gardens of Tibães Monastery and saw the army that they were assembling, I was eager to discuss it with someone. Since I didn't want to expose my family and friends to the existence of that world parallel to ours along with the dangers that could arise from that knowledge, the first person who came to mind was Alice. After all, her race seemed to be one of the targets of the Witches of the Night. Although it was a time of much work, the next day, I left my office as soon as my working hours ended and went to the Faerie Bar. What I had discovered seemed to me too important to wait. To my surprise, when I reached the pastry shop that served as a link between the surface world and the underground bar, I found it closed. I peeked inside and saw no signs that it had even been opened that day and the mail was piled up behind the door. Still I tried knocking on the door, but no one answered. The main entrance to the world that existed beneath Braga was closed. After what I had seen the night before, I started to get worried. I tried to calm down by telling myself that the pastry shop could be closed for several more mundane reasons. Fortunately, I knew of another entrance, so I didn't have to torture myself by just imagining what could have happened. I went to my car, parked near my office, and headed for the Bom Jesus hill. As I got closer to my destination, I began to feel some trepidation. The other entrance was near Vila Marta, the home of the Cerqueira family. I didn't know to what extent Henrique Cerqueira knew of my involvement in the escape of the trolls that were used as slaves in the family vineyard, but I didn't want to be seen all the same. Fortunately, I came to the thicket that hid the second entry without encountering anyone. After penetrating the vegetation, I found the narrow cave which would lead me into the hidden world beneath Braga. A few yards ahead, where the passage began to widen, I expected to find a guard just as I did on my last visit; however, there was no one there. I confess that I found it strange, even alarming, but I kept going, albeit more carefully. Had the Witches of the Night already been there? I headed to the nearest station of the “subway” that connected the different parts of the underground city. When I got there, once again, I saw no one. I waited. For more than half an hour, I stayed on the platform but saw no sign of other passengers or of the creature tasked with the transportation. I considered walking to the Faerie Bar, but because I didn't knew the way through the pedestrian tunnels, I kept waiting. After twenty minutes, I still hadn't seen any movement, so I decided to risk it and took the only way that I knew: the tunnel of the living train. With the help of the small flashlight that I always carried with me, given that the huge passage had no light sources, I made my way northwest. As I progressed, I kept alert to any noise, just in case the "train" was about to pass by and run me over. For over an hour, I passed through several other stations but didn't see or hear anything of note. My fear that the Witches of the Night and their army had gotten there increased, but there was no sign of them. It seemed that the creatures that inhabited those tunnels had simply vanished. Finally, the lantern lit something that blocked the tunnel. I approached it carefully. Shortly after, I saw that it was reddish brown in color and realized that it wasn't a rock slide. However, it was only when I reached it that I found out what it was: the creature that served as the "train" dead. Its hundreds of thin legs were folded along its body, and its huge, human-like face was frozen in an expression of terror and pain. Around him lay pieces of broken wood and glass, debris of the cabins that it once carried on its back as carriages. I was now sure that something had happened, certainly an attack by the Witches of the Night. I had arrived too late to warn the inhabitants of those tunnels, but maybe I could might still provide some help. Regardless, I didn't want to go back. The creature occupied the entire width of the tunnel and more than half its height, so I had to climb over it to get to the other side. As soon as my feet touched the ground again, I lit the new section of the tunnel. The scene was now completely different. Bodies of creatures of various sizes and shapes littered the floor, many of which belonging to races I had previously seen in the Faerie Bar. Some had burn marks, showing that they had been killed by flames or spells, but most appeared to have been felled by blunt weapons. After seeing that, I considered leaving the tunnels, but changed my mind because I still thought that I could help someone and decided to keep going. That scene repeated itself along the tunnel until I reached the next station. Then, the first bodies of ogres, goblins, ogrons, and other creatures that I knew were in the service of the Witches of the Night appeared, though in much smaller numbers than the locals. It seemed that the latter had become trapped in the tunnel due to the "train's" body and been massacred. That was the station I knew was nearest to the Faerie Bar, so I left the ditch where the "train" used to move and climbed up to the platform and into the pedestrian tunnels. In the passages, there weren't many bodies, but all the houses, rooms, and dead-end tunnels were full of dead locals. Finally, I arrived at the Faerie Bar. The door was on the floor, so what I found inside came as no surprise. There were bodies everywhere mixed with broken tables, chairs, and cups. The counter had been destroyed, and with it, the conduct that channelled the water customers used to drink. Consequently, the liquid dripped from the ceiling directly to the floor, soaking it. The bar only wasn't only flooded because the water flowed through a hole in the base of one of the walls. Admirably, the door which led to the pastry shop upstairs and through it, to the surface world was closed. Despite being trapped and facing certain death, the bar customers didn't reveal their existence to the outside world. I searched among the bodies for anyone I knew. Two of the people who had helped me release the trolls from the Cerqueira's farm were among the victims, but Alice, my main contact and the person of that world I knew best, was not. I hoped that she had escaped, though it was more likely that she was dead in some other place. I thought about exploring more to look for survivors or even the Witches of the Night and their soldiers, but I quickly gave that idea up since nothing I saw indicated that there were any survivors in those tunnels, and if there were, they would have been hidden so that a simple visitor like me could never find them. On the other hand, those deaths appeared to have taken place some time before and I hadn't seen or heard any sign that the killers were still there. I made my way back to the outside and to the car. I just hoped that there were survivors to bury the dead. When I got home, I had a huge argument with my wife. I had forgotten to tell her that I was going to be late for dinner and since I had no mobile service in the tunnels, she couldn't contact me. I had to make up an excuse as I didn't want to expose her to the strange world I was exploring. She was not entirely convinced, but at least she calmed down. After eating my already cold dinner and helping my daughter with her homework, I went to bed. I got little sleep that night as I couldn't help thinking what other places the Witches of the Night would attack and what I could do about it without raising my wife's suspicions. 20: Chapter 20 - The Battle of the Islets

After spending a sleepless night wondering who I should warn next about the Witches of the Night and their army's attack, I decided to go and talk with the King of the Islets. In our last (and only) conversation, he had told me that his subjects were disappearing, which I now suspect was an attempt by the Witches of the Night to weaken them before the final attack. Besides, I could always tell my wife I was going to visit my grandparents in Viana do Castelo without further increasing her suspicions. The day after my discovery of the macabre scene in the tunnels beneath Braga, I told my wife that I was going to dine at my grandparents' home and, after work, I drove to Viana. Actually, I didn't lie because I did, in fact, visit my grandparents, and my grandmother forced me to stay for dinner. However, I soon I left their home and contacted an old friend, asking if he could lend me his boat once again. We met at the river in the usual place, and after a short conversation about what was new in our lives (and me making up an answer to the question, "Why do you only need my boat at night?"), I boarded the boat and started paddling toward Camalhão, the largest of the Islets in the Lima river and the place where the throne of the King of Islets stood. I was halfway there when, in the shadowy and uninhabited north river bank, I saw a huge figure. I stopped to look more closely and realized that it was a humanoid creature, probably one of the giants who served the Witches of the Night. Thanks to its prodigious size, it forded the river since the water barely reached its knee, and reached Camalhão in mere seconds. I started rowing again. I had to try to warn the inhabitants of the islets. Then, I saw more figures in the margin, all of varying sizes. The largest went straight into the water, pulling ropes tied to what looked like rafts, which carried the smaller ones. At the same time, I began to hear noises in Camalhão; the inhabitants were vigilant and had detected the enemy as soon as he appeared. The first giant seemed to be the target of veritable items in a rain of tiny projectiles, while the reeds around his feet moved, possibly agitated by small creatures attacking at close quarters. However, the attacker didn't fall, and his companions readily reached Camalhão. The battle had begun. There was no one to warn. I thought about joining the inhabitants of the islets and fight, but what could I do? I had no weapons and even if I had, I couldn't fight those kinds of enemies. Instead, I ended up simply dropping anchor and watch the events unfold. Although I couldn't see the tiny creatures of the islets, only their projectiles, the reeds’ movements, and their enemies' reactions. They seemed to be fighting well. I saw several of the smaller monsters at the service of the Witches of the Night fall. Then, the first giant to reach Camalhão brought to his knees, although he kept fighting. Despite all of their efforts, however, the attackers kept coming. I couldn't see how many casualties the Witches of the Night's army had caused, but I had to assume the number was significant. Although slow, their victory seemed certain until the reeds around them started moving. Within seconds, they grew and weaved together, forming ropes and nets that held the invaders. Soon after, a shape about thirteen feet tall appeared on Camalhão, probably from one of the many gullies that crossed that islet. Armed with a huge club, he attacked the kneeling giant, crushing his head. It could only be the King of the Islets. With the enemy paralyzed and their monarch at their side, the inhabitants of the Islets redoubled their efforts, and many of the invaders fell. More continued to arrive from the shore, but as soon as they put their feet on Camalhão, they were immediately trapped by the reeds. The victory of the islets' inhabitants now seemed not only a possibility but a near certainty. Then, something flew over my head. I looked up and saw five cloaked figures heading toward Camalhão; the winds carried their voices to me, singing the words that casted their spells. The first made the reeds in the combat area and around it rot and fall, freeing the soldiers of the Witches of the Night, while the following ones threw a veritable torrent of flaming spheres onto the King of the Islets. The King used his own spells to defend himself, raising invisible barriers to block the enemy's attacks. However, because he was attacked from several directions, he didn't resist for long. After a few minutes, I saw him fall. After that, the attacking creatures quickly spread across Camalhão. Small boats, carrying groups of tiny creatures began to leave the islet, trying to escape to one of the other several islets. However, they weren't many, and they could hardly build up any resistance if the Witches of the Night chose to conquer the rest of their kingdom. For all intents and purposes, the battle was over. I rowed back to shore. In a few places, including the bridge that crossed the river and passed over Camalhão, I saw people trying to figure out what was happening on the Islet. I doubt they understood what they were seeing, and even if they did, it wasn't enough to reveal that world hidden from ours. Still, I'm sure Almeida and the rest of the Organization weren't going to be very happy. On the trip back home, I couldn't help but think that the Night Witches had obtained another victory. Whatever their goal was, they were closer to achieving it. And once again, I had arrived late too warn their victims. 21: Chapter 21 - The War of the Dead

After a sleepless night thinking about what I was going to do next about the Witches of the Night's attacks, I ended up deciding to try to warn the spirits of the dead in Gerês. In fact, I didn't know where to find any more of their enemies. I knew that the dead only went to their city after midnight, but I wanted to get there early. I didn't want my warning to be late again. As such, although I had a lot of work, I took the afternoon off work without telling my wife, and I went to Gerês. I left the car in a dirt space next to the road, above the same ruined village as in my previous visit. I went down to the village, and from there, I made my way to the only entrance to the city of the dead I knew. Despite the ghost leader's threat after my last visit, it was still in the same place. Before entering, however, I called my wife to tell her I was going to work late. I didn't want to have another fight with her. Finally, I went down the hole in the ground to the tunnel leading to the city proper. Midnight was still a while away, so, as I expected, there were no guards. With the help of the small flashlight that I always carried with me, I navigated the passages until I reach the broad, deep pit where the city stood. There wasn't yet any spirit, as I expected, but I confess that I was surprised when I realized that the ethereal buildings I had seen on my last visit also weren't there. I sat against the wall, on a rock, and waited. My watch was clearly early, for three minutes before midnight the buildings began to appear in the ledges along the pit's wall. From circular Iron Age houses to apartment buildings with several floors, there were houses of all types and ages. I got up. I took the appearance of the buildings as a sign that the spirits of the dead were leaving their tombs and forming the processions that every night lead to their city. The first ghosts showed up ten minutes later. Like the last time, my presence didn't go unnoticed. Every one of them that went by stared at me. However, none spoke to me, only kept going forward, floating toward their ethereal dwellings. Then one appeared that I had met, the one called The President. When he saw me, he came over and said: - Didn't I tell you not to come back here? I then explained why I was there and told him about the previous attacks of the Witches of the Night. He didn't seem very surprised. - Their attack is already here - he answered. - Some of us saw their army coming towards here. We just came to get our weapons. I looked again at the pit and saw that several ghosts were returning wielding ethereal hand to hand weapons. As the buildings, they came from all of mankind's historical eras. I saw swords, war hammers, and maces; wooden clubs and axes with a stone head; knives and even brass knuckles. The President left me and went to get his weapons. I followed the column of armed ghosts back outside. I had some trouble climbing the entrance, but I ended up getting to the valley above. While it was already night-time, the sky was clear, and the moon and the stars radiated enough light for me to see what surrounded me. The phantoms were lining not far from the entrance, forming blocks similar to those used by the armies of Antiquity and the Middle Ages. At first, I didn't see their opponents, but a dark line quickly appeared about the horizon. Gradually, it approached, until I could see some dark spots flying over it, probably the Witches of the Night. It took about half an hour until I could clearly see the soldiers that formed it. To my surprise, they were all of the same race of creatures, one that I had never seen before. They walked on four legs, but there was intelligence in their eyes. Hair covered their bodies, and a long, slender tail moved behind and above them. But their nose was the feature that stood out the most. Long and tapered, it resembled those of anteaters, but it was longer and ended in a much wider mouth. The army kept advancing, but the Witches of the Night stayed behind. I wondered how those creatures could hurt the intangible ghosts at my side, especially without the help of their master's spells. Eventually, the two armies met face to face. The spirits lined up in well-formed blocks. Their enemies, in turn, resembled less an army and more a pack ready to descend on their prey as soon as their master gave the order. - Get out of here - The President told me, approaching. - Take shelter. - I want to help - I protested. - Look around. You think that one man will make a difference? Hide yourself. If we are defeated, at least someone will know what happened. I didn't argue with him. He was right. Among those hundreds of ghosts, my help would hardly be felt. If I stayed away and survived, at least I could continue the fight against the Witches of the Night (although at the time I had no idea how I would do it). I got a few hundred yards away from the two armies and hid behind one of the many boulders in the area. Just an instant later, without warning, the creatures charged against the ghosts. The latter, not knowing exactly what their enemies were capable, decided to wait. Only a few volunteer scouts advanced against the creatures. Within seconds, the two forces met. It was then that the Witches of the Night's soldiers revealed their terrible ability. About three feet before they got within the ghosts' weapons reach, they opened their mouths. Immediately, with an irresistible force, the spirits were sucked into their stomachs. It was thus explained the disappearances the dead had told me about on my first visit. The army of the dead immediately reacted to the gruesome sight. Ghosts, beings who thought they wouldn't have to fear anything ever again, panicked. Some tried to escape, while others lowered their arms and simply waited. Even The President seemed not to know what to do. After mere seconds, the army of the dead's organized blocks were gone. When the creatures of the Witches of the Night reached the main concentration of ghosts, they no longer seemed to be fighting a battle, but hunting powerless prey. I saw spirits being sucked by the dozen. The stomachs of their captors were apparently impossible to fill. The dead desperately tried to flee, some back to their graves, others to the underground city, but none reached their destination. The Witches of Night's creatures were too fast. Gradually the ghosts disappeared from the battlefield. The few who remained tried in desperation to face the enemy, but were sucked well before they could use their weapons. Finally, the Witches of the Night approached, flying over their victorious army. There was no longer any trace of the dead. It was as if they had never been there. I remained in my hiding place. I didn't know what the Night Witches would do to me if they found me. Fortunately, they didn't remain on the battlefield long. Surprisingly quickly, they reorganized their army and disappeared in the same direction from which they had come. The valley was now completely empty. There were no bodies or blood. Even the grass seemed almost untouched. If that had been my first contact with that hidden world parallel to ours, I might have thought that everything had been a dream or a hallucination. However, I knew that it wasn't the case. And the Witches of the Night had obtained another victory. I was no closer to discovering their goal than when I started investigating them, but judging by their methods, it could only be something nefarious. Since there was no reason to remain there, I returned to my car and drove back home. I arrived at almost four in the morning. My wife and my daughter were obviously already asleep. I went to bed but could not sleep. That victory had eliminated the last Witches of the Night's enemies I knew, or at least that I knew where to find. What would I do now to stop them and make them accountable for the deaths they had already caused? 22: Chapter 22 - The Great Covenant

In the days following the defeat of the Gerês' ghosts by the Witches of the Night, everyone told me that I looked distracted and tired. I had to agree with them. Since that night, I could barely sleep and only thought about what I could do about the Witches of the Night. I contacted everyone I remembered, hoping that someone could give me an indication of what to do next, but I didn't have any luck. Finally, the Sea Witch that I had met in Esposende called me a few days after to tell me about a Great Covenant that would happen the next Saturday night to discuss the Witches of the Night. I immediately decided that I would attend for what I had learned until that moment could prove useful. As such, I told my wife that I was going with my urban exploration group to visit the ruins of a factory in Guimarães. It wasn't entirely a lie as the Great Covenant was, in fact, going to be in Guimarães, but on the top of Monte da Penha, near the Catholic shrine. When time came, I got into my car and drove to Guimarães. Through the motorway, it took me about twenty minutes to reach the city; however, the climb to the top of the hill took a while longer. Finally, I came to the sanctuary area. It was winter, so the shops, cafes, and even the hotel were closed at that time of night. I parked in the main parking lot, which was completely empty, and got out to look for the location of the Covenant. It was then that I remembered why I had loved that place since my first visit – it was like a playground for adults. A false castle wall separated the hill slope from the parking lot. To its right, an earth ramp led to the traditional taverns built below, and on the left rose a pile of boulders on which a chapel had been built. However, the real attraction was under this building. Passages created by the overlap of the boulders led to caves and niches under the rocks that had been adapted as chapels and taverns. It was like something out of a fantasy novel. The Covenant, however, would happen in opposite direction. I crossed the road, passed by the relatively modern sanctuary, and entered a network of passages that lead south. Some of them went through small tunnels and caves formed by boulders. Finally, I emerged in a large clearing. In the middle of it burned a huge bonfire, around which gathered several groups of people, mostly women. Among them, I could recognize some of the witches I found in Montalegre, Porto, and, to my surprise, those who had attacked the Citânia of Briteiros as well as the warlock and healer of my home town. The leaders of the Great Covenant, the witches I first met as will-o-wisps, were, as expected, in the center, by the fire. I sought the Sea Witch, who had called me there, and found her alone, along the edge of the clearing. "You came," she said when I approached. "Of course. The Witches of the Night's enemies are falling like flies. I had to come find out if anyone can stand against them." "The Witches of Briteiros seem to have a plan," she said, pointing towards the Covenant leaders. "We'll just have to wait until we're all here." With nothing else to say, we waited in silence, though it didn't last long. A hand grabbed my shoulder from behind. "You're also here!" Said a voice. I turned and found Susana, Northern Portugal's demonologist. The small girl held one of her homemade tablets on the other hand. I introduced her to the Sea Witch and explained to her why I was there. "And you – what are you doing here?" I asked. "I like to keep tabs on all kind of witches. They use demons. Besides that, this Great Covenant is about the Witches of the Night and, from what I hear, I should be keeping tabs on them as well. Some rumours say that they are demons in disguise." Although that hypothesis didn't seem probable to me, the truth is that, at the time, it was as valid as any other considering that the nature of the Witches of the Night's was still a mystery. We didn't have time to say anything more, because the Witches of Briteiros called for everyone's attention. Once everyone gathered around them, one of Witches of Briteiros said, "Thank you all for coming. It's good to know that the Witches of the Night aren't a concern only to us." Another of the Witches of Briteiros, the male one, continued, "I don't know if you're all aware, but the Witches of the Night have attacked several communities of magical creatures in the past few months. We don't know who will be next. It can be any one of us." "We have to unite and do something about the Witches of the Night," said one of the Witches of Briteiros who hadn't yet spoken. "They are a threat to us all." Although there were many witches with reasons to dislike and even hate the Witches, I got the feeling that the Great Covenant had been summoned because the Witches of Briteiros felt threatened by the newcomers. "What do you suggest we do?" Asked a witch on the audience. "First, we must combine our scrying abilities to locate the Witches of the Night," said the first witch of Briteiros. I knew where they could start looking, but hesitated to tell them, as I had trouble trusting those witches. Perhaps because I grew up in a Catholic country, I somewhat feared those who dealt with magic and demons. On the other hand, the Witches of the Night and their servants had already killed several people as well as magical creatures. They had an army at their service and had made me partially responsible for some of these deaths by using trolls that I had released from the Cerqueira's vineyard to do their dirty work. Taking everything into account, I couldn't help but think that the witches of that Covenant were a lesser evil. I stepped forward and got ready to announce what I knew. Suddenly, the ground began to shake. Shortly after, I heard trees breaking and thundering footsteps. The witches started looking around, but I didn't. I had been through that before, in Tibães. I knew what was coming. From the trees around the clearing emerged a variety of creatures including giants, ogres, goblins, trolls, and others whose name’s I didn't know. The next moment, hooded figures with long, black robes appeared in the sky above our heads. The Witches of the Night had arrived. Completely surrounded, the witches of the Great Covenant prepared to fight. The Witches of Briteiros transformed into will-o-wisps and took flight, while others started the long process that was necessary to cast spells. The demonologist, the Sea Witch and I were very close to the tree line, so the monsters were almost upon us. We turned to face them. Susana stood, immobile, looking at them, probably wondering if she had any weapon that would be effective against those creatures while the Sea Witch imitated the other witches and began casting a spell. Meanwhile, I picked up a fallen branch and prepared to defend myself. This time, I was going to face the Witches of the Night's soldiers. An ogre and several goblins came straight at us. I waited until the former was within reach of my improvised weapon and tried to hit it. However, the creature grabbed the other end of the club and tore it from my hand. Terrified, I got ready to be crushed by the enormous mallet that the creature carried. It, however, threw me to the ground with one hand and kept going forward. Then, it did the same to the demonologist. The goblins, who followed close behind, ignored us and, along with the ogre, advanced toward the Sea Witch. However, before they reached her, she finished her spell. Water covered the ground under the creatures feet and quickly infiltrated into the soil, forming a mud puddle that buried the ogre almost to its knees and the goblins to their chests, immobilizing them. Susana and I gathered up and prepared to re-join the Sea Witch. However, between realized that one of the Witches of the Night was heading towards her. Fortunately, my ally had time to cast another spell. A water jet shot out of her hitting her attacker. However, the Witch of the Night kept going, cutting the water almost without slowing down. Shortly before she reached the Sea Witch, huge claws, over a foot long, grew on her hands. Susana and I still tried going around the mud puddle to help my ally, but we didn't reach her in time. With a brutal blow, the Witch of the Night struck the head of the Sea Witch, her claws slashing flesh, bone, and, fatally, reaching the brain underneath. Terrified by that bloody vision, Susana and I halted, convinced that we would be the next victims. However, the creature flew away toward another witch without paying us any attention. I then took a moment to look around and see how the fight was going. The warlock from my homeland lay on the ground, dead, as did some of the witches from Montalegre and Porto and many others that I didn't knew. However, some had managed to invoke imps and alongside them, fought with some success against the enemy soldiers. However, whenever a Witch of the Night attacked the enemy on the ground, nothing could prevent her from causing death. Fortunately, three of the Witches of the Night were busy in the air, facing the will-o-wisps while the latter threw small fireballs constantly at them. Now, while these didn't seem to cause them any injury, they clearly bothered them and prevented them from casting spells. Gradually, the fight spread beyond the Great Covenant's clearing. After a while, imps faced trolls and goblins in passages built under boulders, while witches cast spells from concrete bridges designed to imitate trees and other natural shapes. Though it was the most balanced battle against the Witches of the Night I had seen, their forces were gradually gaining ground. Susana and I killed the creatures trapped in the mud of the Sea Witch with small knives, but we were unprepared for battle and dared do little else than attack wounded and dying enemies. Finally, the witches of Great Covenant suffered a fatal blow. With the situation on the ground under control in their favour, the Witches of the Night focused entirely on the Witches of Briteiros. Outnumbered, they were unable to keep their opponents occupied and spells began coming at them from all directions. Lightning, energy balls, ice spheres and many other magical projectiles hammered at them. One by one, the will-o-wisps turned back to their human forms and fell to the ground, dead before they reach it. Without the constant barrage of spells from the Witches of Briteiros, the Witches of the Night could now devote all of their attention to the witches who fought against their soldiers. While the latter were already losing the battle, their defeat now became inevitable. Susana and I continued to help as we could, but it made little difference. Within minutes, the few surviving witches fled as fast as they could to wherever they could, while their invoked demons all lay on the floor, dead. To our surprise (and relief), the Witches of the Night didn't pay us any attention, and their soldiers only interacted with us if they had to and only to take us out of the way. However, the reason for it was a mystery that we would solve only latter. We didn't want to tempt fate and, together, we returned to the parking lot where I left my car. As the sounds of fight and persecution disappeared behind us, I commented, “Another victory for the Witches of the Night." "What is their goal?" The demonologist asked, rhetorically. I didn't know how to answer, so I said nothing. "I will keep tabs on their activities. Something is happening, and it isn't good," she said, returning to her old Ford Transit. I got into my car and headed towards Braga, rebuking myself for my inability to help stop the Night Witches, or even just find out what they wanted every step of the way. However, one thing had become clear that night: they were trying to avoid engaging me and Susana in their struggle. Why, was another mystery to solve, though I didn't know how I was ever going to do it . I had no clues to follow, especially now that I had lost another ally. 23: Chapter 23 - The Organization and the Witches of the Night

In the days following the Great Covenant, I didn't sleep much as I wondered what more I could do about the Witches of the Night. I didn't know where they were going to attack next since all of their enemies I knew about had already been defeated. I constantly looked in the newspapers for signs of their activities, but never found anything. Someone must have been cleaning the locations of their attacks. Then I remembered - The Organization! They must have been the ones who were hiding the Witches of the Night activities. If they were, they would certainly also be frustrated by the highly visible nature of the attacks. I didn't have direct contact with the Organization, but I knew that they monitored my old blog - terceirarealidade.wordpress.com - because they would occasionally send me articles or changes that they wanted me to publish through untraceable messages. As such, I wrote an article about the Witches of the Night, hoping the Organization's frustration with them would make them contact me directly. The very next day, my plan bore fruit. At the end of the day, after I left work, Almeida was waiting for me next to my car. "So, you're also investigating the Witches of the Night," he said as soon as I approached, getting straight to the point. I started to tell him what I knew, but he then interrupted me. "Not here," he said. He then took me to a black car with tinted windows that was parked nearby. "Now we can talk." For over an hour, I told him all that I had discovered about the Witches of the Night. Halfway through, I had to call my wife to tell her I would be late. Almeida was very interested in everything that I had to say, and even asked a few question to clarify some points. "I wonder what’s at the bottom of that lake in Tibães," he wondered when I finished. "The Witches of the Night's soldiers surely went somewhere." I didn't know what to say, so I just shrugged. "I hope you're not busy tonight. We're going to drain the lake." Almeida’s tone showed that it was more of an order than an invitation. So, while he phoned for the equipment and manpower to drain the lake, I called my wife to tell her I was going to be even later than I thought. She wasn't very happy as I had been coming home late too often, but she ended up agreeing. Once Almeida finished his calls, he ordered the driver to take us to the Tibães Monastery. As expected, we arrived there long before the draining equipment, and Almeida took advantage of this time to (again) hear what I knew about the Witches of the Night in case he had missed something the first time. We only left the car when the rest of his men arrived. Contrary to what happened on my previous visit, we didn't have to jump any walls to enter the monastery fields since the Organization contacted someone to open the door for us. Almeida and I quickly went through the paths beneath the vines and in-between other cultures before reaching the lake. It wasn't very different from when I saw it last time - it was only missing the cloaked figures of the Witches of the Night next to the stone from which flowed the water that filled it. While their mates assembled the equipment to drain the lake, some of Organization's men searched the forest for signs of the creatures that had been summoned by the Witches of the Night. Although weeks had passed, they still found faded footprints and broken branches, confirming my story. Gradually, the lake bed became exposed. At first, there seemed to be no place where the Witches of the Night's army could have gone, but soon, a tunnel appeared under the Eastern shore. However, we couldn't investigate it immediately since the pump still took about an hour to drain enough water to clear a path to it. After putting on tall rain boots, myself, Almeida, and some of his men stepped into the lake's mud. Advancing was difficult because, with every step, we'd get buried halfway to the shins, but we finally reach the tunnel 's mouth. We pointed the lanterns into the interior. The floor, the ceiling, and the walls were made of earth. Ahead, on the edge of the area illuminated by the lanterns, there was a sharp bent in the tunnel, so we entered, curious about what was beyond. The Organization's men, armed with automatic rifles, went up front with Almeida and I behind. A connection to the tunnels under the city of Braga, a cave that the army of the Witches of the Night could use as barracks and many other possibilities went through my mind as to what we would find around the bend. However, we found was the only thing I didn't expect: nothing. About three dozen meters after the bend, the tunnel simply ended. Frustration immediately appeared on Almeida's face. Incredulous, I advanced till I reached the end of the tunnel. Perhaps there were signs of a collapse and that it hid the rest of the passage. But before I got to the wall of earth, it vanished. Stunned, I pointed my flashlight back and realized that Almeida and his men were no longer there. It was only when a cool breeze led me to look further did I realized what had happened. Nothing and no one had disappeared. I was no longer in the tunnel, but in a huge clearing surrounded by distant trees. Here and there, I could see the huge, dark silhouettes of mountains covering the stars. Moments later, Almeida appeared behind me. At first, he seemed as confused as I was, but he soon realized what had happened. "Teleport" he said, surprised. "The Witches of the Night are even more powerful than I thought." We quickly inspected the site and immediately found campfire remains and makeshift shelters. This was a campground for the Witches of the Night's army, or at least it had been. "How do we get back?" I asked. "Let's see if we can get back by taking the reverse path. If not, I'll have to call a helicopter. But, before we do that, let me first mark the coordinates of this location on my phone." When he finished, we tried to go back to the same place where we appeared in that clearing. As Almeida predicted, we found ourselves in the tunnel again in the blink of an eye. We no longer had anything to do there, and since the investigation of the Witches of the Night camp would have to wait for daylight to be thorough, Almeida took me back to my car in the City. When I opened the door to leave, he told me, "We'll keep in touch. Your experience and knowledge about the Witches of the Night might prove useful again." As soon as I got into my car, the Organization's departed. So, for the first time in awhile, I went home satisfied after an investigation. We didn't discover the intentions of the Witches of the Night or their whereabouts, but we found their army's camp which would certainly lead to new discoveries. I just hoped that Almeida was being sincere when he said that he would keep in touch. 24: Chapter 24 - The First Witch

The very next day, Almeida came through on his promise to keep in touch. When I left work for my lunch break, he was, once again, waiting next to my car. "We need you again," he said as I approached. He then led me to a car that was waiting for us. As soon as we entered, he started to explain what was going on. "We found more portals in the Witches of the Night's camp. A lot more… and I want you to come with us to explore them." The drive took us to the outskirts of Braga, where a helicopter was waiting for us. It took us to the camp we had discovered the night before, situated between Gerês' forests. This was the first of many similar trips I made in the weeks that followed. Using its influence, the Organization got me temporary leave from work for me to explore the new portals with their agents. Many of these portals led to inconsequential places where we found nothing useful about the Witches of the Night, so here I will describe only the most important expeditions. The first of these took place five days after we discovered the camp. As we had done several times before, Almeida and I entered one of the portals, accompanied by a dozen men armed with automatic rifles. A fraction of a second later, we found ourselves in a corridor. Plaster fell from its ceiling and walls. Behind us, there was an old door that had been kicked in, and in front, there was a window protected on the outside by a metal grate. Several doors lined up on both sides, all in very poor condition. The place seemed familiar to me, and I went up to the window to take a peek outside. I immediately confirmed my suspicion: we were in Vila do Conde. More exactly, we were in the abandoned and vandalized Convent of Santa Clara which I had visited with my urban exploration group years earlier. While Almeida and I waited, the other men looked behind each of that corridor's doors. They found nothing, so they expanded the search to the other ground floor corridors. The result was the same: no sign of the Witches of the Night or the creatures under their command. That changed when we reached the second floor. When we came out of the staircase, we came across a group of five goblins a few yards ahead. Almeida's men pointed their weapons at the creatures, but they fled, disappearing around the corner just behind them. With the soldiers in front, we chased them, but once we turned the corner, we didn't see them. Instead, we saw a humanoid creature more than two meters tall with white skin, covered only by a loin cloth, and completely bald. Unlike the goblins, it didn't run away. In fact, it charged us. Almeida’s men started firing, but the creature didn't even slow down. At the last moment, me, Almeida, and some of the soldiers managed to escape by jumping to the section of corridor before the corner. Some of the others weren't so lucky as the creature's mass and momentum pushed them through a wall. The being rose from the rubble quickly, as if nothing had happened and charged us. The Organization's soldiers shot at it while they retreated with me and Almeida, but we were all well aware that we would never escape. Miraculously (or at least that was how it looked like to me), the rotten wooden floor gave way under the creature's weight, and it fell to the floor below. We ran to the hole to confirm that it was out of the fight, but it was no longer there. It was a hardy creature - it certainly had got up again. At least we would be free from it for a while. We immediately ran to help the soldiers who had suffered the charge and found that two were dead, and the others had multiple fractures. Almeida called someone on the phone to come and get them but didn't stop the expedition. Again, the armed men searched all the rooms on that floor while I and Almeida waited. We heard some shots, but before we got to their origin, two soldiers appeared and told us that it had been just a few goblins. Besides them, we found no other creature on that floor. Nevertheless, the soldiers found a small, partially hidden door behind a half-broken bookcase. Behind it was a narrow staircase that rose into darkness. Almeida smiled. Then, ignoring the stairs leading to the next floor, he decided we should go up the hidden staircase. Again, the armed men went in front. We climbed for several minutes. It quickly became obvious that those stairs skipped the top two floors of the convent and led directly into its attic. Finally, we reached a narrow door. Light emerged from the gap between it and the floor, showing that someone or something was behind it. Wasting no time, Almeida's men broke in. We then entered the extensive attic, which had no rooms. Numerous boxes, chests, and antique furniture were scattered everywhere. Among them, we found only one creature. One of the cloaked figures sat behind a desk covered with books, ink bottles, paper, and pens. The soldiers surrounded it, their weapons ready to shoot at the slightest move, but me and Almeida froze. This was our first encounter with one of the Witches of the Night. I had been looking for them for so long that I doubted my eyes. "Come close," said the creature calmly, with a deep, dry voice to Almeida, correctly identifying the leader of our group. "I need to talk to you." Tentatively, Almeida approached her, leaving the desk between them. I followed close behind. "Why are you getting involved in our affairs?" asked the creature. "They have nothing to do with your race." "And the deaths in Braga because of the accidents caused by your trolls?!" I cried more than said. "Collateral damage." I was going to answer, but Almeida raised his hand, stopping me. "I'm part of an organization whose mission is to hide your world from ordinary humans" he explained to the Witch of the Night. "As you may have noticed, some of your actions are highly visible and have caused us some problems. Could you..." "That doesn't concern us. We'll do what we need to do to achieve our goal." "And we, ours" answered Almeida. There was a long, uncomfortable silence. "Think about what I told you" said the Witch of the Night at last. "If you keep interfering in our affairs, there will be consequences." Before Almeida could respond, the Witch of the Night made a slight gesture with her hand, and in the next moment, we were back in the corridor where we had started that exploration. Almeida immediately ordered his men to inspect the convent again, especially the attic, but the Witch of the Night was no longer there, nor were any of her creatures. The place was, once again, completely abandoned. With nothing else to do there, we crossed the portal back to camp. From there, a helicopter took me back to Braga. On the way home, my feelings were torn between satisfaction and fear. We had finally found one of the Witches of the Night! However, their motives and objectives were still a mystery. In fact, all the secrecy that the Witch of Night kept around the subject and their clear determination to achieve whatever it was they wanted scared me even more, despite her assurances that it had nothing to do with humans. Nevertheless, it was an important achievement, and I was sure that the mystery around the Witches of Night would eventually be solved. After all, I doubted the Witch of the Night's words would be enough to make Almeida and the Organization give up. Unfortunately, I was right. 25: Chapter 25 - The Second Witch

As I expected, the attempt of the Witch of the Night we found in the Santa Clara Convent to discourage the Organization from interfering in their affairs had no effect. The very next day, Almeida called me to investigate another portal. Across the portals that we tried in the days that followed, we didn't find anything significant. Why the Witches of the Night had created those portals, we had no way of knowing. Maybe they were related to aborted attacks or were just for reconnaissance. Only one proved remotely interesting since it took us to a place near the river Lima's bank, on the outskirts of Viana do Castelo. It was undoubtedly through it that the Witches of the Night had launched their attack against the King of Islets' kingdom, but, at that moment, it didn't help us much. Finally, one of the portals led us to a completely dark location. We immediately lit our lanterns and realized we were in a tunnel. The walls, the floor, and the ceiling consisted of blocks and slabs of granite. We were too deep for any GPS to function, and without an opening through which we could peek, we had no way of knowing what part of the country (or perhaps the world) we were in. The tunnel followed in two directions, so Almeida chose one at random to start our exploration. Knowing of our encounter with goblins and worse creatures and the death of their comrades in Vila do Conde, the Organization's soldiers strapped their lanterns to their automatic rifles and moved with these at the ready. We had advanced just a few hundred yards when we found the tunnel's first inhabitants. They didn't look like trolls, goblins, or any of the other creatures we had found before. After the mission, we named them troglodytes, as they were vaguely similar to humans, but had flat heads without eyes and ashen skin. Apparently, they had detected our presence before we realized they were there, as they were charging towards us wielding wood and flint weapons. As they approached, they threw spears and sharp stones at us, however, these primitive weapons could do nothing against the helmets, and other protective equipments we started using after our mission in Vila do Conde. The Organization's soldiers' automatic weapons, however, had no difficulty in slaughtering the troglodytes. It only took a few bursts to kill them all. We passed over their bodies and continued our exploration. The tunnel changed direction shortly afterwards. Also, it seemed to decline, albeit with a very subtle gradient. We walked for more than fifteen minutes, always in a straight line, before we reached the end of the tunnel. It seemed to lead to a natural cavern, but only when we got there did we realize how big it was. Its ceiling was seventy feet above our heads, and the cavern stretched hundreds of yards ahead and to the sides. Stalactites and stalagmites jutted in various places, and, between them, snaked dirt roads tramped by hundreds of feet. Although at first we couldn't see any, it was obvious that the troglodytes frequented that place in large numbers. The Organization's soldiers formed a perimeter around me and Almeida, and, carefully, we started exploring the cave. We soon found the first troglodytes. A group of six gathered behind a stalagmite, talking. Their tongue felt strange and primitive to our ears, but, judging by the way they spoke, they seemed to be having a trivial conversation. Suddenly, the troglodytes became silent. At first, we didn't realize why, but when they started moving away from us, we realized that we had been detected. Since they had no eyes, it was hard to tell when they noticed our presence. I and the Organization's soldiers looked at Almeida, waiting for him to say how we should react. The decision, however, turned out not to be his. Sharp stones started falling on the soldiers in the rear. They answered with shots from their automatic rifles, while their companions attacked the troglodytes we had seen first. However, only then, with our most immediate opponents defeated, did we realize the situation we were in. All around us, gathered a mass of troglodytes that stretched as far as the light of our flashlights could reach. And they were all coming at us. The Organization's soldiers started shooting, but not even their automatic guns could deter all attackers. Eventually, the creatures reached the soldiers and attacked them in melee. Although Almeida's men protective equipment offered a substantial defense against the troglodytes' primitive weapons, the sheer quantity of attacks meant that it was almost impossible that some didn't find a joint or vulnerable gap. We were about to be crushed by the troglodytes when a cry made the creatures stop. Once these moved away, we started looking around in search of our savior. On the wall of the cave, about ten meters from the ground, we found a smaller cave. Cut by the light emerging from the inside, we saw the cloaked form of a Witch of the Night. She gestured for us to come closer. The crowd of troglodytes opened a passage, and we slowly and constantly looking around, crossed it until we reached the wall. "Come up," said the Witch of the Night. "I want to talk to you." Then it disappeared inside the cave. One by one, we climbed using the various handholds carved into the wall. As might be expected, the soldiers took the lead and the tail. When we reached the top, the creature waited for us, sitting behind a desk full of books and instruments I didn't recognize. The walls were lined with bookcases, and there were also several closed chests. The similarities with our previous encounter with a Witch of the Night were obvious. In fact, we couldn't be sure that this wasn't the same creature. As before, the surrounding soldiers pointed their weapons at the creature. Only then did I and Almeida approach it. The Witch of the Night, which hadn't moved or showed any reaction since our arrival to the cave, waited until we reached the desk and then said, "You have been told that we don't care about your stupid race. Why do you keep continue interfering in our affairs?" "And you have been told that your actions risk revealing to the public a world that it isn't ready to know," answered Almeida. "It's not in our interest that all men learn about our existence, but we can't compromise our goals because of that. They are too important." "In that case, we will keep interfering in your affairs and fight you if necessary," Almeida said. "We don't need more enemies, but don't think that we won't respond. Talk to your superiors, tell them what we discussed, and try to avoid unnecessary bloodshed." "I don't think that talking to my superiors will make any difference." The Witch of the Night fell silent for a few minutes. Finally, it said, "In that case, there's no point in delaying your deaths." The creature began to move its hands to cast a spell. Almeida's men, realizing what it was doing, didn't hesitate and opened fire. The bullets, however, didn't seem to have any effect on the creature besides slowing its gestures. After what I had seen in previous battles against the Witches of the Night, their invulnerability to bullets didn't surprise me. Almeida, if he was surprised, didn't show, and immediately shouted, "Run!" And when we reached the mouth of the cave, he instructed, "Jump on the troglodytes." We did so. Fortunately, the blind creatures had no time to ready their weapons, and their bodies, along with our armor, were enough to cushion our high fall. Sore, we got up and headed to the tunnel through which we had entered. At first, the troglodytes didn't try to stop or chase us, but the Witch of the Night soon appeared at the entrance of its cave and shouted something in a language I didn't understand. We had to fight our way through the last rows of troglodytes, and the others pursued us even after we entered the tunnel. The Organization's soldiers constantly fired back against the horde that pursued us while we ran towards the portal that had transported us to that tunnel. Fortunately, there were no forks, so there was no risk of us getting lost in the confusion during the escape. We finally reached the bodies of the first troglodytes that we had found, showing that we were almost at the portal. The horde still chased us, despite the dozens of creatures that the soldiers had shot down while we ran. As we approached the location on which we emerged from the portal, we became more and more relieved. That relief, however, gradually turned into desperation as we crossed more and more of the tunnel without the portal taking us back to the camp. Finally, we reached a corner, showing that we had gone through all that section of the tunnel. Somehow, the Witch of the Night had closed the portal, trapping us there. "Keep running!" shouted Almeida, with a touch of fear in his voice. "Keep running!" "We're running out of ammo," said one of the soldiers, inserting his last magazine in his gun. We kept going hoping to find another way out, but, around the corner, there was just another dark tunnel, and then another, and another... The soldiers started saving their bullets, firing single shots instead of burst, but this allowed the troglodytes to get closer, and closer. And there was no sign that their chase was weakening. The situation was quickly becoming desperate when I saw what seemed to be a small ray of light coming out of a wall. I pointed my flashlight towards it and revealed what appeared to be an arch sealed with small granite rocks and ancient mortar. It was very different from the stone blocks that surrounded the rest of the tunnel. The light seemed to come out of a small hole between the rocks. "It may be a way out," said Almeida when he realized what I had found. "Tear down the wall under the arch," he then ordered his men. The soldiers quickly executed the order. Those who had less ammo used their rifles' butts to knock down the wall, while the remaining fired at the troglodytes to keep them at bay. "Hurry up!" shouted Almeida. The first stone eventually fell to the outside, quickly followed by the others. As soon as the hole became large enough for a man to go through, we, one by one, emerged into a public park. Several passers-by stopped to see what was happening. Certainly no one expected to see armed men appear from an arc sealed for who knows how long. "Get out of here! Run!" Almeida shouted to the nearby civilians while his soldiers lined up in front of the hole, ready to receive the troglodytes. Almeida's warning didn't work. In fact, his cries attracted even more curious people. Fortunately, seconds passed and turned into minutes without there being any signs of our pursuers. Fifteen minutes later, Almeida ordered his men to check on what had happened to the troglodytes. Carefully, one of the soldiers stuck his flashlight and gun, followed by his head, into the hole. After looking in all directions, he turned towards us and said, "I don't see them." "Maybe they're afraid of sunlight?" said Almeida. "They looked blind, but perhaps the sun affects them in some other way," I replied. After determining where we were with the help of a GPS, Almeida called reinforcements through his phone. But I didn't need electronic instruments to realize where we were. The wall, the cannons, the narrow, ancient streets, and the steel bridge over the river, all those elements left no room for doubt: we were in Valença, more precisely in the old part of the town. An hour later, a helicopter arrived, followed shortly by several trucks full of soldiers. Under Almeida's orders, they sealed off the entrance to the tunnel and started exploring it in search of the Witch of the Night and its troglodytes. The helicopter took me to Braga, so I didn't stay to see what happened next, but Almeida later told me that his men found neither the Witch of the Night or any troglodyte. Even the bodies of the creatures that we killed had disappeared. They found, however, a complex of tunnels that seemed to extend throughout Northern Portugal and Galicia and perhaps even beyond. According to Almeida, exploring it would take years. Again, the Witches of the Night told and showed us that they didn't want us involved in their affairs. After chasing us out of the tunnels, the Witch of the Night disappeared along with the creatures under its command and any sign of their presence there — all to hide their goals. Of course, this effort only increased my curiosity and the determination of the Organization in finding out what was going on. Although we hadn't yet made much progress, I hoped that everything would be revealed soon. If I knew then what I know now, I would have taken that opportunity to walk away. 26: Chapter 26 - The Third Witch

Despite the attempts of the Witches of the Night to scare us off, the Organization and I kept exploring the portals in the abandoned camp in Gerês. After a few more fruitless expeditions, we found another place of interest. As soon as we crossed the portal, we found ourselves on a paved road. I realized immediately where we were: the lookout atop Mount of Madalena, with its unmistakable view over the Lima River and the town of Ponte de Lima. As a child, I had been there many times with my parents to dine at the restaurant built there. This restaurant, to my chagrin, was abandoned and had been vandalized. Its windows were all broken, and the doors burst open. Plastic chairs and tables piled up under the archway on its north side and graffiti covered most of its walls, both interior and exterior. We decided to start exploring the restaurant because it seemed the most likely place for one of the Witches of the Night to hide. We entered the ground floor through one of the huge broken windows that formed one of the walls of the restaurant's bar. The mirrors behind the counter were broken, and bottles lay everywhere, along with destroyed wicker chairs and tables. There was nothing there of interest to us, so we went through the door behind the counter, which we promptly found led to what seemed to be the kitchen. We entered just in time to see a little shadow disappear into the food elevator shaft. What it was exactly, we couldn't see, and when Almeida's soldiers peered into the elevator shaft, they didn't find anything. But one thing was clear: it was one of the Witches of the Night's creatures. There were dishes, pots, and pans strewn across the floor. After a quick search to see if we could find something of interest to us, we climbed the service stairs. Upstairs, we found a small room, even smaller than the kitchen, where the waiters probably readied the dishes before taking them to the dining room. When we got there, we still saw the door closing, so we crossed it immediately in pursuit. But as soon we left the room, we froze. In front of us, scattered around the dining room between broken tables and chairs, there were more than a hundred creatures, each eating raw meat from animals native to those mountains, like hares, squirrels, birds, foxes, and even bats. Among those beings, there were trolls and goblins, as well as two members of the same race of the creature that attacked us in the Convent of Santa Clara. However, the majority consisted of small humanoid creatures, less than one meter tall, with the body covered by black hair. They had a muzzle that mixed traits from that of a dog with that a cat, which led the Organization to name them (without much imagination, we must admit) dats. Once the creatures became aware of our presence, they left their grotesque meals and turned towards us. Almeida pulled me back, and his men, not taking any chances, opened fire immediately. The soldiers' automatic weapons fell several of the beings, but they charged us and were too many for the bullets to stop them all. We retreated to the service room, hoping that the door would create a bottleneck that would allow the soldiers to deal with fewer creatures at a time. At first, the plan worked, with goblins, trolls, and dats being slaughtered as soon as they entered the room. However, when one of the largest creatures arrived (I named them ogrons in honor of the monsters from the Doctor Who TV show), the situation changed. Despite the torrent of bullets that hit it, the creature kept advancing towards us, barely slowing. It only fell less than three feet from us, when one of Almeida's soldiers fired a burst right into its eyes, reaching its brain and killing it. Although the ogron was dead, the time it took to kill it was enough for many other creatures to enter the room. These were too many, and they were too close for the soldiers to kill them all before they overwhelmed us. As such, Almeida ordered us to fall back towards the other door, and with his soldiers constantly firing to, at least, gain us some time, we did so. We were only a few steps from it when the second door opened, giving way to more creatures, headed by another ogron. With the most obvious escape route closed, Almeida ordered his men to form a semicircle around the nearest window. One of them used his gun butt to break what remained of its glass and frame. Then, he asked a comrade to hold one end of his assault rifle and used it to climb down to a height from which it was safe to jump to the ground. While some of the soldiers kept shooting to slow the creatures approach, two others managed to escape through the window. But it was obvious that we couldn't all get out that way before the minions of the Witches of the Night reached us. "Get out of here!" Almeida said to me. "Quickly!" Without hesitation, I went out the window, and, clinging to the railing to lower myself as much as possible, I let go. The soldiers who escaped before caught me. Then, they ran to the other side of the building to attack the creatures that threatened their companions from the rear. I was unarmed, so I ran to the front of the restaurant, from which I would have a direct route of escape to the portal, and waited. For several minutes, I heard shots, shouts, and screams coming from inside. Then silence returned. The fight was over. And I could only wait to see who had won. After a while, I saw something move in the shadows beyond the kitchen door. When a figure emerged, I sighed with relief. It was one of the Organization's soldiers. Several of his comrades came close behind, along with Almeida. "We cleared the inside," he said as he approached. "It seems that there is no Witch of the Night here." "We still haven't searched everywhere," I replied. I took Almeida and his men toward the small chapel built just below the restaurant. It wasn't very visible from the lookout because trees covered its rear side. I only knew of its existence because I had been present in two marriages celebrated in it when the restaurant was at its peak. The most direct route, which involved going down some stairs and through a wild path was impassable due to the growth of vegetation, so we had to use the main access. We returned almost to the place where the portal was and then entered the paved road that passed directly below the lookout and went straight to the small chapel. Unlike the restaurant, it wasn't vandalized. In fact, a coat of paint would make it as good as new. We climbed the steps up to its small forecourt and tried to peer inside through the two narrow front windows but saw only darkness. Something on the other side blocked the view. "Break down the door" ordered Almeida. With several kicks, Almeida's men quickly threw the door open. Like the exterior, the interior looked intact. Wooden benches still lined both sides of a narrow corridor that led to the altar. Behind the altar, a cross with an image of Jesus Christ hung on the wall. The only foreign element was a wooden table positioned to the right of the altar, at which the hooded figure of a Witch of the Night sat. "I see you still haven't learned to listen to us," said the creature in a deep and dry voice. "Maybe I can teach you." Almeida tried to answer, but the Witch of the Night started casting a spell and ignored him. "Get back! Get out of here!" shouted Almeida. We all ran to the door, but none of us managed to escape. The spell of the Witch of the Night took substantially less time to cast than that of her comrade we had found in the tunnels under Valença. A gust of wind blew from the altar and closed the door. The first of the Organization soldiers to reach it tried to open it but couldn't. They were going to start trying to destroy it with their guns, when a second gust, this one much more powerful than the first, hit us and threw us against the wall. Then, benches and some of the decorations hit us and pilled on top of us. Were it not for our protective gear, we would have died or at least been seriously injured. The wind kept blowing and crushing us against the wall. It was so strong that it kept us pined a few feet above the ground. I had increasingly more difficulty breathing. Finally, when I was about to lose consciousness, the wind died down, and we fell to the ground among all the pieces of furniture that had been thrown at us. As it was to be expected, the Witch of the Night had disappeared. Almeida called reinforcements and searched every inch of the chapel, restaurant, and surrounding woods. Again, all signs that the Witch of the Night and its creatures had ever been there were gone. And we still had no clue as to what their objectives were. 27: Chapter 27 – The Fourth Witch

After a few a other expeditions where we found little sign of the Witches of the Night. Finally, a portal took us to another of the creatures.

Unlike the previous ones, which left us somewhat far from the Witches of the Night and their henchmen, this one transported us directly to their camp. It was similar to the one where all the portals started, in Gerês, with several makeshift shelters built in a grove, but it looked substantially smaller. Furthermore, it wasn’t abandoned. There were goblins, trolls, ogrons, ogres, and even giants everywhere.

For a moment, I looked away from the camp, trying to figure out where we were. I quickly spotted two familiar structures through the trees: the Bridge and the Church of São Gonçalo. We were in Amarante, more precisely on the larger of the two islands in the middle of the Tâmega River.

As was to be expected, there were some people on the river bank and on the old São Gonçalo Bridge. A few cars passed through the new bridge, which crossed the river right over the island, but no one seemed to notice or care about the presence of the Witches of the Night’s creatures. Something was probably hiding the island’s occupants from the town’s inhabitants.

Unfortunately, nothing hid us from monsters. Before we could find cover, a goblin saw us and raised the alarm. All the creatures’ attention turned towards us, and some began to approach with their weapons raised.

Almeida’s soldiers readied their automatic rifles. Even though, after every encounter with the Witches of the Night, our contingent of soldiers had been increased, I still doubted there were enough of them to defeat the horde in front of us.

The creatures were beginning to pick up speed when a howl came from behind them and stopped them. The horde then split, making way towards a huge tent, the only shelter in the camp that hadn’t been improvised with local materials. In front of it, there was the hooded figure of a Witch of the Night.

In silence, dragging its long black robes along the ground, it approached, hovering. As soon as it overtook the creatures’ ranks, it stopped.

For an instant, it stood there, still and silent as a statue. We looked at it without knowing what to do. Almeida opened his mouth several times. Whether to give orders or speak to the Witch of the Night, I can’t say, but he ended up saying nothing.

Finally, the Witch of the Night gave a piercing screech, and the creatures behind her charged us. Almeida’s indecision disappeared immediately.

“Fall back!” he shouted.

We ran back to the portal, located just a couple of meters behind us. However, when we got there, we weren’t transported back to Gerês. Like its companion (or was it the same creature?) in Valença, the Witch of the Night had made the portal disappear.

At first, we were flabbergasted, unsure of what to do, but soon the soldiers started shooting at the attackers. As I had predicted, even with all the automatic rifles and Almeida’s pistol firing, the horde kept approaching, not least because it included several large monsters that could only be killed by a massive torrent of bullets.

Almeida looked around, searching for a way to get us out of that situation. Reluctantly, he ended up opting for the only possible solution.

“Retreat to the town,” he shouted.

With the soldiers firing constantly, we retreated to the water. The river flow was low, so it wouldn’t be difficult to cross the ford that led to the bank near the town’s marketplace. Curiously (or maybe not), we stopped seeing and hearing our pursuers as soon as we left the island. It was undoubtedly the effect of the spell that hid their presence from the town’s inhabitants.

When we got to the town, we simply waited. We had some hope that the Witch of the Night’s creatures wouldn’t follow us out of their camp, but they entered the water without even slowing down. The Organization’s soldiers immediately opened fire on them once more.

The gunshots’ noise then began to attract the attention of passers-by. Fortunately, as it was mid-afternoon on a weekday, the streets were almost empty. Still, as expected, the few who saw the monsters that chased us, after a moment of disbelief, fled in panic. They would certainly not be long in calling family and friends or even the media. The situation could become the Organization’s worst nightmare. However, at the moment, we had bigger concerns.

Even with the water slowing our attackers’ advance, the bullets couldn’t shoot down enough to prevent them from getting closer and closer.

“Fall back to the historical center,” ordered Almeida.

We did so. Even to me, a layman when it comes to tactics, Almeida’s plan was obvious. He hoped that downtown Amarante’s narrow streets and constant climbs would help offset the creatures’ substantial numerical advantage.

With the soldiers firing constantly, we retreated towards the narrow passage that separated the São Gonçalo Church from the old bridge. It was a dozen meters beyond it, in the middle of the Praça da República square, that Almeida’s men formed a firing line. They immediately started shooting at the creatures that tried to cross the passage, counting on it to let only a few enemies pass at a time and thus help compensate our disadvantage.

At first, the tactic worked. Goblins, trolls, and even ogrons crossed the passage and were immediately slaughtered by a rain of bullets from the soldiers, never having a chance to get close. However, as soon as the first giants and ogres arrived, the situation changed. These creatures were large enough to go over the bridge’s parapet, which bordered one side of the passage, and forced the soldiers to split their shooting.

One of the giants even tore off one of the bridge’s stone blocks and threw it at us, killing three of the Organizations’ men.

After these casualties and seeing that the enemy was getting closer and closer, Almeida ordered a new retreat.

This time, we entered the narrow street that led to the top of the historical center. With the soldiers constantly shooting, we went up to the small square in front of the Senhor dos Aflitos’ Church. From there, Almeida’s men could shoot all the creatures that had invaded the Praça da República, including the giants, from an elevated position.

The creatures, of course, went after us, but like the passage between the convent and the bridge, the narrow street limited the number of enemies that could reach the square at the same time. And now, there was no obvious shortcut for the bigger monsters.

During the minutes that followed, the soldiers slaughtered several creatures with impunity. Even one of the giants fell.

However, our enemy soon realized that they had to change their approach. The creatures began to enter the streets adjacent to Praça da República in search of another way to reach us.

I knew that town well enough to know that, although it would take some time, they would eventually find the way to our rear.

I was about to inform Almeida of that fact when he shouted, “Fall back!”

I suppose he came to the same conclusion.

We went up the street that led from the square to the old Santa Clara Monastery, with the soldiers, once again, constantly shooting behind them. When we arrived at the next junction, we could already see, in the distance, the force sent to surround us.

Part of what was once the monastery had been transformed, centuries later, into a residential house, which now served as the Municipal Library. The librarian, when she saw us running in front of the glass that formed the walls of the ground floor, got up from her desk. But when she saw the creatures that were chasing us, she hid under it. Fortunately, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in the building to see what the public shouldn’t even know existed.

We crossed the narrow passage between the library and the ruins of a chapel that had once belonged to the monastery and climbed to the top of the walls revealed by a recent archaeological excavation, looking for a high point that would give us some tactical advantage.

Almeida’s men kept firing at the creatures, trying to stop them from climbing up to our positions. The giants and the larger ogres were the only ones that could reach us without having to climb, and they provoked some casualties. Still, there weren’t many of them, and the soldiers’ concentrated fire, mainly when aimed at their heads, managed to kill them.

One or other projectile thrown by the smaller creatures managed to hit a weak point in the protective equipment that the Organization’s men and I wore, but they had little influence in the fight.

Finally, for the first time since our arrival in Amarante, the situation seemed to be under control. My only fear was that the soldiers would run out of ammunition. After all, they had been firing almost constantly for more than fifteen minutes.

Fortunately, the monsters’ attack began to weaken before that happened. New creatures stopped joining the fight, and the rest ended up retreating.

Carefully, fearing a possible ambush, we went back down to the river. Apart from a few bodies (most seemed to have been taken by their retreating comrades), we saw no sign of the enemy. As such, we crossed to the island where the camp was. The creatures had disappeared completely. Only their abandoned shelters showed that it hadn’t all been an illusion.

Almeida used his cell phone and called a helicopter to pick me up and reinforcements to help him hide what had happened in Amarante.

When it arrived, I got on the helicopter. It took off just in time for me to see the reinforcements’ trucks arriving at the São Gonçalo Bridge.

Unfortunately, we didn’t get any closer to discovering the Witches of the Night objectives, and the camp at Gerês was running out of portals to explore.

28: Chapter 28 – The Fifth Witch

Thanks to our expeditions through the portals in Gerês’ abandoned camp, we have already found the lair of four of the Witches of the Night. Unfortunately, that didn’t take us closer to stopping them or even understanding what their goals were. The only thing we knew was that they didn’t want to involve us or for us to involve ourselves.

However, we still needed to find the fifth witch, so there was still a chance of getting the answers we were searching for, even though we were getting to the last portals in the abandoned camp.

Eventually, we got lucky, if that word can be used to describe what happened next.

Like many other times before, we crossed one of the portals and, in an instant, found ourselves in a completely different place. We were among the ruins of what looked like a castle, on top of a small plateau. A low wall, which had clearly been reduced over the years, surrounded the large space where we were standing, which was littered with what was left of the foundations of long-vanished buildings. I immediately recognized that that was Castro Laboreiro’s castle, as I had already visited it several times.

As always, we immediately began to investigate the site, looking for any sign of the Witches of the Night or their servants.

About five minutes after our arrival, suddenly, we heard a thunder-like crash at a distance. However, the sky was clear, so we immediately ruled out the possibility of a thunderstorm.

Then, a shout from one of the soldiers who had accompanied us alerted us to an approaching point in the sky. This quickly transformed into five black hooded figures.

At an order from Almeida, the soldiers pointed their rifles at them, but that didn’t make much difference. Before they came within gun range, each Witch of the Night launched a high-speed ball of flame at us. We barely had time to crouch behind the crumbling ramparts and walls before they reached the plateau.

Explosions erupted around us, spewing flames and hurling dirt and rocks in all directions. Some soldiers fell, either consumed by fire or hit by shrapnel. And the bombardment continued, with the Witches of the Night unleashing an overwhelming torrent of explosive spells, giving the soldiers no chance to respond. There was only one thing Almeida could do:

“Retreat!” he shouted.

Doing our best to avoid the explosions around us, Almeida, I, and the surviving soldiers ran towards the portal, hoping it was still there. Such was the intensity of the bombardment, that we had no chance of retrieving the wounded, and whoever tried immediately fell.

With great relief, I managed to reach the portal unharmed and instantly found myself in the abandoned camp, far from what had clearly been a trap from the Witches of the Night. Almeida appeared soon after, limping, probably hit by shrapnel.

Of the fifteen soldiers who had accompanied us, only two returned. Unfortunately, they didn’t cross the portal alone. On their heels, one by one, appeared the Witches of the Night.

They immediately rose above the Organization’s men guarding and studying the abandoned camp and began shooting their fireballs again. The soldiers responded with their automatic rifles, but the creatures were flying too high and too fast for any bullet to hit them.

Men and equipment were engulfed and destroyed by flaming explosions.

Unable to do anything else, I took cover behind the tree with the widest trunk I could find and desperately hoped I wouldn’t get hit.

Although it seemed longer, my watch showed that the attack didn’t even last ten minutes. When it was over, all of the Organization’s infrastructure — tents, computers, vehicles, etc. — had been destroyed, and more than two-thirds of its troops lay dead.

Almeida had survived, although one of his arms was severely burned. Only me and two other people were lucky enough to escape unscathed.

After their intensive raid, the Witches of the Night had disappeared through the portal, and no one had dared to pursue them. It was obvious that this attack had been a response to our meddling in their affairs.

Almeida, despite his injuries, immediately began to restore order. He called in helicopters to evacuate the wounded and then one to take me back to Braga.

I spent the trip thinking about what that attack meant for the Organization’s investigation of the Witches of the Night. Almeida didn’t comment on the matter and, given the situation, I didn’t ask him. I also doubt he had an answer for me then and there. Only time would bring it.

29: Chapter 29 - The Wolf of Perre

A lot has changed since my last entry on this blog. Since the attack on the Gerês camp, I no longer have contact with the Organization. Without their influence, the friction caused in the company where I worked by my long and unjustified absences led to me being fired. For my wife, who was already suspicious, my dismissal and its supposed causes were the last straw. What she suspected was happening was obvious, but I couldn't tell her the truth. I refused to burden her with my knowledge of everything hidden in this world. Though I doubt she would have even believed me. Consequently, she kicked me out of the house and started the divorce procedures.

 

With nothing to keep me in Braga, I went back to my grandparents' house, in Viana do Castelo, and to the room of my youth.

 

I also stopped my investigations. After the way they had destroyed my life, I couldn't go on. I also had no motivation to do anything else, including finding a new job. I spent my days in front of the computer reading articles and watching videos to distract myself from everything that had happened and the state my life was in. I rarely left the house, and when I did, it was only to do some errands for my grandparents.

 

However, after several weeks, an event compelled me to go out. The fact that I finally felt a little better also helped. In fact, at the time, I felt it could be a turning point for me. I took it as a message from the heavens, even though it wasn't exclusively for me.

 

The phenomenon I'm referring to was a rare fall of multiple meteors, all of which were expected to land in northwestern Portugal. Fortunately, projections showed they wouldn’t hit any inhabited area, although there was always the possibility of errors and/or collateral damage.

 

On the night in question, I left home and joined a group of local amateur astronomers who had set up public telescopes on a nearby isolated hilltop. There, between casual conversations and discussions about astronomy and telescopy, we waited.

 

The first sign of the meteors appeared shortly after 1AM in the form of a distant point of light. One of the amateur astronomers gave the alert, and we ran to the telescopes. These weren’t enough for everyone, however, one of the amateur astronomers had brought one telescope equipped with a camera and was able to share the captured image using a tablet computer. It wasn't the same, but it would have to do until I had the opportunity to look through an eyepiece.

 

The points of light were surprisingly large, much larger than I expected. Some fell closer, others farther, but they, unexpectedly, all seemed to reach the ground. The media had announced that most meteors would disintegrate a few miles in the air. Fortunately, they all appeared to be hitting uninhabited forested areas. Furthermore, given their size, their impacts weren’t that big.

 

As the telescope connected to the tablet, using the electric motors on its tripod, followed one of the meteors, the bolide began to increase in size, until it became a huge ball of fire. This, of course, meant it was getting closer. For a moment, we feared it was going to crash on top of us, but we soon relaxed when we realized that wouldn't be the case. The celestial object ended up falling onto a hill in front of us. Like the previous ones, the impact wasn’t as big as we expected. It also didn't create much noise, at least much less than an object of its size should have.

 

As soon as the excitement of such a close call subsided, I and the other amateur astronomers looked at each other. Then, almost in unison, we headed to our cars. Everyone wanted to go see the meteorite and the impact site. The meteorite fell in the middle of a hill, which would normally be hard to reach, but it seemed to be close to a huge hollow rock commonly known as "The Hollow Boulder". It is well known to most of Viana's residents, as is the route to get there.

The crossing from the place where the telescopes were mounted to the dirt road that led to The Hollow Boulder took about fifteen minutes. Some decided to leave their cars there and continue on foot, but those who were more curious, or less fond of their cars, like me, kept going until the end of the forest path. Progress wasn’t easy. My car shook violently while going over holes and rocks, and I scratched the paint in several places. Even then, the path ended before reaching either The Hollow Boulder or the impact site, so I and the other onlookers had to walk the last few hundred meters. Fortunately, I had a flashlight in the glove compartment, left there from my days of urban exploration.

 

When I finally saw the crater, three other people were already there. I immediately realized, from their confused expressions, that something wasn’t right. Even then, what I saw at the bottom of the crater when I reached its threshold took me by surprise. The object that had fallen from the sky wasn’t a rock, as expected, but a huge triangular object with rounded corners made of strange whitish matter. It appeared malleable, like skin, and was covered in a viscous substance that had probably protected it and allowed it to enter the Earth's atmosphere without being damaged by the intense heat.

 

The other people didn't seem to have any idea what it was, but I did. It was similar in every way to the "cocoon" that the Organization had found at the mouth of the Lima River some time ago. And I remembered well the creature that came out of it. To my horror, the cocoon at the bottom of the crater had a huge hole in one side, revealing that whatever it was carrying had already emerged.

 

“We have to get out of here,” I shouted, without thinking. “Now!”

 

The other onlookers stared at me, alarmed. However, before they had the opportunity to ask me anything, a scream of profound terror drew our attention elsewhere. Reflexively, I grabbed a fallen tree branch as an improvised weapon and ran to the scream's source. Some of the onlookers did the same. Not that improvised clubs would be of much use against the creatures that cocoons like those carried.

 

Fortunately, when we reached the man who had screamed, there was no sign of the being from beyond space. However, at his feet, lay the violently mutilated body of a woman. Claws had torn her torso apart, while her limbs were ripped off and scattered around. For a few seconds, we all stared at the body, in shock. Some of the onlookers vomited. Then, in unison, we all ran back to our cars.

 

As soon as I got behind the wheel, I drove out of that place. Fear rushed me, so I was even less careful than before. More than once, I felt like I had done mechanical damage to the car, which I confirmed as soon as I returned to my grandparents' house. However, the overwhelming revelations of that night and their implications completely occupied my mind.

 

The cocoon previously found by the Organization had been there for a long time. What did this new arrival mean? What was the purpose of the creature it contained? Where was it? And, even more terrifying, were all the meteors that had fallen that night cocoons with similar creatures? The reduced impacts of their falls seemed to indicate that they were less dense than would be expected if they were solid rocks, so it was very likely. And would the Organization, after its defeat in Gerês, have the resources to look for and stop them? After all, they had already caused one death. But Almeida and his men seemed to have disappeared.

 

With these thoughts running through my head, I went to bed and futilely tried to fall asleep. Finally, I realized that I wasn’t going to find answers to my questions just by lying there. I had abandoned that world that exists hidden from ours, but my intense curiosity and concern got the better of me. In the morning, I would return to Braga, to the usual places, in search of someone who could give me some answers. With this decision made, I managed to fall asleep, although it was filled with nightmares.