Kayden put the flower in the small vase. Apart from the ragtag bundle of clothes that had been packed for him, the Witherbloom in his possession was the only memento he had brought from his clan. He ought to take proper care of it.
Which meant adding more water to the container.
He smiled. “Ironic.”
“Oh?” The elder of the village of Alderhelm, who had accompanied Kayden to his lodgings, shuffled closer. His cane beat a series of slow taps as he approached. “Would you care to explain the irony, young master?”
Kayden angled the vase and the flower in it a little to the side, so that the spiralling petals patterned in the shape of burgeoning flames faced the old man. “What does the flower look like to you, elder?”
“Hmm. A sunset giving way to the storm.”
Kayden paused. Then laughed in pleasure. “That’s certainly one of the more poetic descriptions I’ve heard.”
The laughter had driven a painful stitch in his chest, and he clutched his chest for a second. He removed his hand quickly, though. The elder’s bushy brows had drawn down in a heavy frown. Despite the years of training to control his bearing and temperament, Kayden found it difficult to control his own reaction to the village elder’s expression.
That look again. He had been seeing that look far too often over the last half-year.
“You’re right!” Kayden said cheerily, dispelling the little moment of negativity. “Sunset in a storm, embers in ashes, whatever you want to call it. The Witherbloom is fiery. Which is why it’s ironic that it’s a glutton for water. For your information, the vibrancy of its petals comes from how much water you feed it.”
The elder tapped his stick appreciatively. “How interesting. I suppose you will be needing more water, then. Please, young master, allow me to retrieve it.”
“Oh no, please, you don’t have to go to so much trouble.”
“Nonsense. Please, allow this one to fill your vase. Meanwhile, you can begin your rest properly. You must be exhausted after your journey. Lunch should be ready soon too. So please, just relax and take it easy.”
Kayden shook his head, adding a touch of firmness to the motion. “Just because I was told to take it easy doesn’t mean I can’t get water for myself.”
The elder bowed before him. His wizened face was directed straight at the ground. “I humbly request that the young master kindly take his rest and grant us the honour of serving him. We at Alderhelm are so far away from the heart of the empire. For a cultivator of your standing to visit us, we must do our utmost to ensure your visit is as perfect as possible.”
Kayden was beginning to feel a teensy bit uncomfortable. “Please, it isn’t—”
“Young master is the second scion of the great Feronil clan, the third-ranked clan in the entire empire. Young master is also a cultivator of great renown—the master of the flowering flame, the youngest cultivator to reach the Nascent Soul realm in centuries, peerless in his entire generation.”
Kayden’s eye twitched. “For such a far-away village, you sure seem to be quite aware of what’s going on out in the rest of the world, aren’t you?”
“Young master—”
Kayden sighed. “Fine, fine.”
Sometimes, he forgot why he bothered trying to be more upstanding when even those who stood to benefit from it refused it. But things were more complicated than that, of course. If the village elder didn’t do his utmost to serve Kayden, he was liable to upset the Feronil clan, even if they were told by their very own scion that Alderhelm had been paradise itself.
Kayden’s musings were cut short by coughs. Heavy, whole-body-wracking coughs that made him feel as though he was intent on hacking his whole lungs out. It went on for half-a-minute straight. Kayden had kept a strict count. He’d had good practice doing so.
“Everything alright, young master?” the village elder asked with that look again. That damnable look.
Kayden waved one hand to indicate it was fine, struggling to speak.
Fortunately, the elder understood. He nodded, then took the vase from the table. “I will return shortly with some water. It’s no trouble at all.” After he had retreated downstairs, when the old man no doubt thought he would go unheard, he continued, “The real trouble is if you die here, young master. We don’t need another ghost haunting Alderhelm, that’s for certain.”
Another ghost? That sounded intriguing. Though, in his condition…
Kayden sighed, settling into the little bed. Nothing in his lodgings really compared to his actual home. When placed next to his clan, Alderhelm was about as wealthy and ostentatious as a pigsty. But he hadn’t come here to enjoy opulence—not that he cared for luxuries and ostentatiousness.
He was here, supposedly, to soothe his spirit and enjoy some fresh, calming air away from the shenanigans in the heart of the empire.
No healer had found the cure to Weeping Shadows. The strange illness that seeped into one’s soul, visible only to the spiritual sight as twisting curls the colour of murky shadows from which it derived its name, confounded everyone. Some could force it to abate for a time, but it always returned, and its effects were almost always irreversible.
Over the six-ish months he had been afflicted, Kayden had lost much of his vitality. The balance of his internal harmony had been shattered. Growths like thorny vines crept under his skin at too many places to count.
His brother had tried to joke that he was turning into a rose bush. Not funny.
The worst bit was the spiritual harm it caused him. He might have been one of the most prodigious and promising cultivators in all of the empire, but that was in the past now. Kayden could barely cultivate any longer without feeling as though he had tied his heart to a horse and then struck its arse with a switch.
“Here you are, young master,” the elder said as he returned, his tapping cane accompanying him as ever.
Kayden nodded in gratitude. “Thank you.”
“Lunch is nearly ready. I will call you as soon as the table has been prepared… unless you wish for the food to be brought to your room, directly?”
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“No, thank you.” As an advanced cultivator, he didn’t even need that much food to begin with. But as already established, the elder of Alderhelm wasn’t going to spare any expense to make sure he was sated. “Downstairs is fine.”
The elder nodded. “I will go check on other matters for the time being, then. Please ring the bell if you need anything.”
“One moment, if you please.”
“Yes?”
“You mentioned something about a haunting?”
The elder stiffened. Kayden met the old man’s eyes, locking their gazes. He wasn’t escaping from Kayden’s query so easily.
“Just fanciful tales,” the elder said. “You understand what superstitious villagers are like, young master. They see something strange and it’s immediately a haunting. Pay them no heed, please.”
“Of course, of course. I’d still like to hear about what’s going on, though.” Kayden carefully picked at his nails. “You see, I need some entertainment to not die of boredom. Would you do me the favour of regaling me with tales of this haunting? Unless you’re busy with something, of course.”
Kayden raised an eyebrow. Surely nothing in this village could be more important than the entertainment of a young prodigious cultivator from the heart of the empire?
He wasn’t that arrogant, but he was also pretty certain that was exactly what was running through the elder’s mind. Proven true a second later, when the old man sighed and placed both his hands on his cane. It was time to hear a spooky story.
“There isn’t a whole lot to tell, young master,” the elder said. “We’ve been spotting some… phenomena that many have attributed to the works of some spirit lurking in our village.”
Kayden was certain his eyes were sparkling. He certainly felt interested enough. “A spirit, you say?”
His path as a cultivator hadn’t involved handling spirits, but he knew of those who could. But cultivators in general were well-known as capable of dealing with ghosts, demons, and other supernatural issues that plagued the empire. No doubt that contributed to the elder’s reluctance. He didn’t want to mention anything that might get Kayden riled up when he was supposed to be resting.
Well, too late now, old man.
“Yes,” the elder said. “The farmhands mentioned seeing a ghostly figure roaming the crop fields. Some of the women have heard strange noises from the well. Some others have spotted a strange figure walking through the streets after dusk. Nothing substantial, but such is often the case with these things.”
Kayden rubbed a hand under his chin. “Interesting.”
The elder bowed his head a little. “I hope young master won’t take too much heed of the ramblings of bored villagers.”
Kayden decided to keep his thoughts to himself for now. Interesting was an understatement. He had every intention of finding out more about this mysterious ghost. There was no need for the elder to know, though. He would prove more hindrance than help, going by what Kayden had seen so far.
“Thank you for the water.” Kayden pointed at the flower on the table. “See, it’s already growing more vibrant.”
The elder glanced briefly at the Witherbloom, smiling at the fiery petals. Then he offered another bow to Kayden. Short and shallow, this time. A bow that had places to be. “I will call young master as soon as lunch is ready. If you need nothing further from me, I will take my leave.”
“I need nothing further.” A sudden thought popped off in his head. “However, the clothes I brought with me took a tumble on my way here. They’re all rather dirty now. Would you please send someone with something local I might wear while my clothes are being washed? I would greatly appreciate it. Not now, but later today before I retire for bed, perhaps?”
If the elder thought anything was odd about that request, he remained silent on it. “Of course, young master. I will send new attire at dusk.”
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“How do I look?” Kayden asked.
After a plaintive lunch that everyone had pretended was the height of gastronomic delight, Kayden had naturally gotten bored of resting for hours on end. His curiosity had made him restless. Evening was approaching. Would this ghost haunting the village be as restless as him?
The boy who had brought the clothes sent by the village elder observed him with a gap-toothed grin. “Like you were born ‘ere, master.”
Kayden checked himself in the mirror one last time. The brown tunic’s wool was a little too rough spun and the baggy trousers were a little warmer and airier than he would have preferred, but they weren’t wholly terrible all in all. He’d live.
Then he coughed, though thankfully only twice this time. “Ironic.”
“What was that, master?” the boy asked.
“Nothing. While I figure out how to put this hat on, why don’t you tell me about the hauntings?”
“The hauntings?” The boy’s voice turned hushed with excitement. He pulled his own woollen cap down and twisted it in his hands. “You wanna know about the ghost?”
“Sure do. Have you seen it yourself?”
“I felt her presence. Just that one time, though. It was… like nothing else. Once my pa took me to the shore and had me standing ‘fore the ocean and it was like that, you know? Step too close and you’re gonna be dragged in.” He paused, his awestruck tone changing to one of doubt. “I thought it was supposed to be a ghost, not some goddess.”
“That powerful, is it?”
“Not just that, master. Lil’ Henlo swore he saw the ghost the same night I caught her too.”
Kayden paused while he was tying his hair up. “You and your friend saw the ghost at the same time in different locations?”
The boy nodded vigorously. “I was at the paddy field, but Henlo saw her near the granary at the same time.”
Kayden resumed and finished up in short order. There, all done. The trick was tying up his long hair before putting the tall hat on, so it looked almost like he had shorn off the majority of his locks. “Alright, I believe I’m ready. Let’s head out.”
The boy put his own hat back on with obvious reluctance. “You sure, master?”
Kayden walked over to the table and pulled the Witherbloom out of the vase. It was positively glowing now that it had drunk so much water over the last few hours. With the roots at the bottom of its stem coalescing together to one point, it was easy to tuck the flower into his cloth belt.
“Absolutely,” he said, smiling at the boy. “Time to meet this ghost of yours.”
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Kayden had to admit the night air added a ghostly feeling to Alderhelm. The village was nothing impressive. A collection of thatch-roofed huts broken up by the occasional bigger buildings here and there, such as the granary and the village hall.
Under the relentless gloom of the night sky, all Kayden saw was dark smudges. The few fitful lights did nothing to relieve the monotonous darkness.
But the air was redolent with spritely spiritual energy. If Kayden relied on his spiritual sight, he could see the air twisting with boundless energy, invisible streams of power flitting this way and that. It was evident even to his mundane senses. He could almost taste it, could nearly feel it dancing on the few places his skin was exposed to the environment.
No wonder a spirit had rooted itself here.
At least the paddy fields were serene. The whole village was, in truth. Something about the rice plants in the lightly glimmering water had a soothing quality to it. They reminded him of putting the Witherbloom in a vase.
“I wish he hadn’t left,” Kayden muttered.
The boy had brought him here, then left. He’d had no intention of sticking around after nightfall.
Him, and the rest of the villagers too. They had all retreated to their homes. The village elder was right. They were a suspicious lot.
Sometimes, when he was alone, he pretended that the Witherbloom could listen to him. The perfect conversationalist. Always available to listen, never interrupting, its silence a constant tacit agreement to whatever Kayden might say. Flowers made perfect companions.
“Alright, then.” Kayden placed his hands on his waist and stared out into the darkness. “Ghost, oh ghost. Where are you?” He peered this way and that. He also whistled. Then he clicked his tongue too. “Come here, ghosty. Come to Kayden. Don’t keep me waiting forever.”
He amused himself to ward of the boredom of doing nothing but standing at the edge of a crop field. Hopefully, not for long. Night’s black cloak was slung over Alderhelm well and truly now. The darkness was rife for ghostly mischief.
Kayden had just begun singing an old spooky song his nurse had crooned to him as a kid when the new lights appeared.
“Woah!” Hands on hips, Kayden leaned forward and peered harder. Oh, hmm. Maybe he ought to rely on his spiritual sight right about now.
He did so. It didn’t help. Curses. The lights were still little more than distant smudges that he judged to be at the far edge of the farmland. They were moving, interestingly. Bobbing up and down a little while traversing the horizon as they headed towards the village.
Well. Since Kayden wasn’t going to be able to assuage his curiosity standing out here, he might as well get started. Stretching a little, he was just about to set off after the distant lights.
But a new presence appeared right behind him.
An impossible, overwhelming presence that drowned out all his other senses except a primal sense of alarm.
Kayden had already whirled around, his hand flinging out the Witherbloom held between his fingers with the tapering point of the stem pointed at—
At the true ghost.
She sniffed. “Do you always talk to your flower when you’re alone?”