The large Alatir rested in its alcove, having just finished the latest in a series of meetings with the rest of the Alatir council.

It was exhausted. The amount of work required to establish the colony in this new world was immense, but just these tasks wouldn’t normally leave the leader so tired. No, this was a result of its low Numbers.

It had been years, decades even, since the Alatir had last been this weak. But that was the price of advancement. The position of the colony on the previous world was established: powerful, to be sure, but nowhere close to the true power that ruling a world could provide. And this new world gave them that opportunity.

The leader took a moment to rest, savoring the short break in the unceasing work. The builders had their orders, the scouts had been sent out, and the hunters prepared the cages. Oh, and the diplomats also were commissioned.

If the Alatir leader had the capacity for laughter, it would have done so. Diplomats. The most useless of the jobs the Alatir had. But their role was one the supreme leaders mandated, and so it would follow.

In their history of the last thirty worlds, less than ten new species had been found that were not hostile, and only two of those were willing to form an alliance. Both of those had been too weak to offer the Alatir anything in return, their alliances rejected. It doubted this world would be any different.

- Alatir Councillor, Inclusion +1 days 01:49 hours

We huddle together, torches held high. The Mind Spirits swirl above and around us in the fog. Occasionally, one will descend and attempt to make a pass through our group, but we quickly learn to reposition the flames in their paths, the spirits swooping away and letting out piercing wails.

Styx is managing to protect us from the worst of the fear with her skill, but she’s visibly struggling. She hasn’t talked much about her skill recently, but I know that when she first got it she struggled to keep it activated for more than a few minutes. Already she’s been using the skill for ten, and in a way I’ve never seen before. She stands in the center of our group, eyes closed, arms hugging her body, and shaking like a leaf.

Although the shaking could be just as much from the cold as from the skill. The temperature has dropped even further now, and I can see each of my breaths when I exhale into the frigid air, the puffs quickly fading into the dark misty backdrop.

“Sam!” I yell, and wait for Sam to scuttle a few feet away from our group, its legs splayed to stay close to the ground. “Can you use your illusions to try and lure them away?” I ask, lifting my torch higher to try and scare back the spirits above us. They scatter, but I can barely make out their amorphous bodies regrouping just a few feet further up in the dead branches overhead.

“I...do not think so,” Sam replies from where it is crouched. “I have been attempting to create illusions to distract them. But there are many of them, and more approach with each passing minute. My illusions are easily seen through when spread across so many minds, especially when a simple pass-through by a spirit reveals them to be illusions.”

“Well, what else can you tell us about them?!” I yell, beginning to be frantic. “Weaknesses, tendencies, anything?!” While I’m speaking, I reach into my pocket and lift out the compass, orienting myself with the small needle. In the confusion following the appearance of the spirits, I got completely turned around. If we are forced to run away, I want to at least be able to point us in the right direction.

Although at this point, I’m not sure what direction might be ‘right.’ Hopefully the spirits are territorial and won’t chase us too far, but if they are willing to pursue us to the edge of the woods, that’s almost two hours of walking distance away. Would it be faster to try and run through to the bridge or out of the forest another way? There’s no telling exactly how much further we’d need to go for either of those options. We’ll have to be truly desperate to make such a risky gamble.

A spirit swoops down for Sam while I’m distracted with the compass, and Pallas steps forward to wave it away with his torch. Sam scuttles back to my side and responds once again with images.

I see a horde of spirits harassing an Alatir at the mouth of a cave. In the distance a sun rises over the horizon, larger and brighter than the sun on earth. Instantly, the Mind Spirits turn and flee into the cave, those that are too slow fading away with screeches.

The scene changes. Now an Alatir is inside the cave, running from the spirits. This time, there is no sun to eradicate them. But the Alatir scrambles into a chamber where a waterfall rages and ducks into a small cavity behind the waterfall. The spirits don’t pursue. They float at the edge of the pool the waterfall empties into -- not defeated, but unable to pursue the Alatir further.

“To the river!” I shout, and our group starts to move. Slowly, so as to stay within range of Styx’s skill and be able to protect each others’ backs with the torches. I lead the way, compass held in my off-hand to ensure we don’t get turned around in the fog. Melete leads Styx by the hand, who still has her eyes closed and is sweating despite the near-freezing cold. Pallas watches our backs, and Sam crawls around our feet, I presume using its illusions to distract the spirits, little use though it may be.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, we make our way through the forest, until finally I don’t see any more trees ahead of us. I look down and am excited to notice the bank of the river only a few feet away, barely visible through the thick fog. With only a slight hesitation I step into the water, wading away from the shore until I feel the current begin to pull at my shoes, the water up to my knees.

My companions follow me, Pallas awkwardly carrying Sam with his off-hand. Styx once again has her eyes open, and when she sees me looking at her gives a small nod.

“It’s gone,” she says with a tired voice.

For a moment I wonder what she’s talking about, but then come to a realization. While Styx’s skill has been blocking out the majority of the fear and confusion the Mind Spirits have been creating, there still was an undercurrent of terror, an unreasonable inkling of panic that gnawed at the corners of my mind.

But now that I’m in the water, it’s gone. And now that it’s gone, I can recognize it as something external and artificial. Sure, I’m still terrified. But this situation is no more scary than any of the other monsters we’ve faced. The other monsters we’ve faced -- and killed.

And looking at Styx’s face, it doesn’t look like she’s using her skill anymore either. It truly seems that, whatever ability the spirits were using to mess with our minds, it isn’t able to affect us while we’re in the water.

The spirits, too, are unwilling to chase us over the water. They float in the fog along the bank, their wails fading as my friends join me ten feet into the water.

Now that I’m able to think a little more clearly, I reevaluate our situation. While Styx and I still have our packs slung over our shoulders, Melete and Pallas’s backs are bare, Pallas missing both his pack and his gun. The water soaks uncomfortably through my shoes and pants, and I shiver. But I’m relieved to notice that the water, while still cold, isn’t nearly as cold as the surrounding air. I glance behind us, unable to see the opposite bank of the river. But I’m surprised to find I can see a lot farther than I had expected. I look back to the bank and realize the fog is actually coming from the forest and floating over the water rather than the other way around. It must be the product of some other ability the Mind Spirits possess, generating the fog to protect themselves from the sun.

“So, do we have a plan now that we are in the water?” Sam asks from where it is weirdly perched on Pallas’ shoulder, its legs wrapped around his chest like some kind of parasite.

I shrug. “First, is there anything else you can tell us about these Mind Spirits? Anything at all, no matter whether or not you think it may be useful?” I want to take advantage of any knowledge Sam has to offer, now that it’s once again able to communicate directly with us.

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“They are incorporeal beings, unaffected by any physical attacks. They travel in large groups, passing through other beings to eventually kill them. They can be killed by heat and radiation, and are still susceptible to my illusions and other mental attacks -- although apparently not Melete’s skill. They typically live in caves or other permanently dark areas, and a population of spirits will inhabit some sort of phylactery when not active. Destroying the phylactery will not kill the spirits, but it will force them to find a replacement phylactery. I am not sure what the requirements of a phylactery are.” Sam pauses before continuing. “I assume they have made a home of this forest, using the fog to protect themselves in the evenings and mornings, and hiding in their phylactery when the sun is high.”

“So the phylactery should be right in the middle, assuming the edges of the haunted forest are as far as they’re willing to travel each night,” I say to myself.

“What good does that do us, though?” Melete asks, her typical grin gone. Her hair hangs loosely around her face and, like Styx, she shivers in the cold water.

I make a decision. As much as I want to kill off these monsters that attacked us, both for their Numbers as well as out of some sense of justified anger, we’re in no shape to go hunting.

“No good, not for right now at least. Let’s get moving.” I turn and walk through the water, parallel to the riverbank with the current. My friends start at my abrupt statement, but quickly move to follow.

As much as it pains me to move backwards...this is our only option. I’m not willing to risk attempting to cross the river, not when we can’t even see the other side. Even if we successfully make it across, the odds of us being able to stay together through the rushing current are minuscule. We might end up separated by miles.

Similarly, moving upstream for the bridge isn’t an option either. Our pace moving downstream is already slow enough, pulling our feet from the muddy riverbed and carefully placing them again, struggling to maintain our balance in the slow current. Moving upstream would be even worse.

Our only option is to retreat. Back out of the forest to where we were just a few hours ago. Once we get out, we can reevaluate. Maybe we’ll be able to make it through the forest if we start at noon. Maybe we’ll have to hike the hundred miles to the other bridge. But that’s a question for later. For now, we just need to get safe.

Minutes pass as we continue our plodding pace through the water. At first, I hold out hope that the spirits will leave and we’ll be able to return to land, but after fifteen minutes in the river I give up on that notion. They follow us along the shore, unable to attack us but unwilling to leave. Pallas and I join Melete and Styx in shivering, everything below my knees completely numb.

Thirty minutes after entering the water, it finally happens. I’m lifting my foot to take my next careful step when I hear a squeal from behind me, followed by a large splash. I turn to see a dripping Melete under the water, struggling to lift herself back to her feet.

Pallas raises his torch as if in preparation of a fight, but after a second it becomes clear that it isn’t a monster attack, and he moves to help Melete stand up again. Her shirt and hair drip water, and she shivers even harder than before. Each of us is wearing a light jacket -- suitable for a warm spring day, but now woefully inadequate. And the rest of our blankets and other supplies are still with the wheelbarrow miles behind us, my pack only holding the map, food, and other miscellaneous supplies. Melete’s hands come up from the water empty, her knife turned torch gone. I glance to the torches Pallas and I are holding, noticing for the first time how low they’re burning. I’d guess they only have a half-hour left before they go out completely, and we still have an hour and a half left, at least, before escaping these woods. Our pace in the water hasn’t exactly been quick.

Pallas takes off his jacket and hands it to Melete, who unashamedly strips her own sodden jacket and shirt. I look away as she pulls Pallas’ comically oversized jacket over her head while Styx squeezes out as much water as she can from Melete’s clothes before stowing them in her pack. In under a minute my friends are ready to move again, all without speaking a word.

It’s the silence, especially from Melete, which most worries me.

Her lips are blue around chattering teeth. And although her eyes are determined, there’s none of her usual levity and casual irreverence. But what else can we do? The Mind Spirits swirl in the fog along the bank, waiting for our approach.

We continue to walk.

Five minutes later, I hear another splash. Worriedly I turn, expecting to see another one of my friends dripping in the water. But instead, I meet Styx’s worried gaze, while Pallas holds his torch high, staring behind him into the fog and darkness.

“What was that?” I ask, my voice a quiet whisper.

“Not sure,” Pallas replies, his voice barely more than a grunt.

We stand quietly for another thirty seconds, looking into the surrounding flowing water.

“Do you think we should--” Styx starts, but I feel something grip my leg from outside of my pants, and suddenly I’m horizontal and being dragged through the water.

Somehow I’ve managed to drop my machete, and I claw my fingers into the muddy riverbed, my sideways movement slowing to a stop. In response, the something constricts tighter around my leg, and I start to move again, being pulled into the deeper section of the river.

I can just faintly hear the splashing of my friends and the singing of Melete, but it’s overwhelmed by my own frantic attempts to escape. I try to pull my leg forward out of whatever is holding it, but the grip only tightens. I’m wearing a pair of jeans gifted to me from Fort Carscott, a half-size too large for my skinny frame, and the pants slide an inch down my body from the force of the pull.

In desperation, I reach with my left hand to my belt, frantically undoing the buckle with numb fingers. My other hand stays stuck in the mud, resisting the pull as much as I am able. Finally, I undo my belt, and my pants slide down to my thighs -- but whatever was wrapped around my calf now is stuck on my boot, and I’m still being pulled backward.

In desperation, I activate my skill. The weakness is still there, the skill still not recovered from the strain of the fight with the hive queen, but luckily the change I’m making isn’t major. The smaller modifications have always been easiest to make, changes in the composition of my body and removing features easier than adding. With a grunt of effort, bubbles of the dwindling air in my lungs escapes into the water and my foot and ankle slims, my boot and sock quickly sliding off.

At the sudden lack of resistance, I pull myself above the water, heaving a great gasp of air, only to be pulled right back under. The other leg of my pants! It’s caught on my left boot. I bare my teeth underwater, dismiss the modification to my right foot and do the same to my left, my second boot quickly following the first.

Finally free, I pull myself out of the water. I’m only about ten feet from my friends, but that ten feet feels like a mile in the deeper water that’s almost to my waist. I fight through the increased current to rejoin them.

While I was escaping, it seems my friends had their own troubles to deal with. Pallas’ torch is now out as well, so it’s hard to see in the fog and darkness, but there looks to be what’s left of a tentacle curled around Styx’s arm, and all of them are soaking wet. Melete is still singing, and I wince from the sound, lifting my fingers to my ears, too tired to use my skill.

But before I can block off my hearing, I hear splashes behind me and glance back to see a few more tentacles drifting forward along the top of the water. “To the shore!” I yell, startling my friends. In the commotion of fighting their own battle, it seems they didn’t notice my reemergence ten feet away.

As a group we make our way to the banks, where the water washes against the muddy edge of the forest, stopping only inches from the land. The spirits begin wailing once again, swooping closer to us but still hesitating to actually fly over the water, shallow though it is. Once again, I feel the unnatural fear press down on me, difficult to distinguish from my own emotions.

There’s an even louder splash from the river behind us, and I see a thing emerge from the water, nearing the shore. A single eye, larger even than Sam’s eye, glints in the dim light on the side of the massive body, and tentacles whip through the air around its torso.

My hands are empty, and the only weapons between the four of us are Pallas’ axe and Melete’s voice. I pat down my jacket and feel a small lump in my left pocket, excitedly pulling out the tiny lighter.

I shake the wet lighter, hoping it will still work. I flick my thumb and breathe a sigh of relief when a small flame appears.

Meanwhile, the tentacled abomination slowly moves closer, more and more of its humongous bulk revealed above the water. The spirits swirl above our heads, waiting for us to flee the shallows.

I make up my mind. I take three quick steps onto land, wincing as a Mind Spirit immediately flies through my chest, the small flame too little of a deterrent to scare it away. For a moment the fear consumes me and I fight the urge to just start running, but in a second it fades again, Styx and my friends following me with her skill.

We don't have any good choices left. But that doesn't mean we don't have any choices.

I bend over to the ground and hold the lighter to the forest floor, carpeted with millions and millions of dead leaves.

S: 149 (+1)

D:144

W: 321

I: 102

C: 101

0

Skills: Adjust:Self, Bond:Mental