Lorelei was petrified, staring at the dark mist coming from between the trees. After all the recent ordeals, and with her body in its current condition, any other woman, especially a noble lady, would have fainted long ago. Unfortunately, for some reason she was denied the mercy of falling unconscious, so she watched, no longer able to keep up with all that was happening. She saw a wall of light being erected around her; witnessed Noah pulling a sword with scarlet patterns crawling along the blade as if they were alive; saw a strange silver radiance engulfing her three binshi retainers as they faced the waves of darkness creeping towards them. As her body and soul grew cold, Lorelei realized that she barely knew anything about the people before her. The truth slowly sank in.

Witchcraft. An evil word that hadn’t been uttered in the Empire for the last three hundred years under fear of punishment. Only legends of the Great Purge and fairytales about child-eating witches had survived in the memory of the people. As the holy scriptures proclaimed, the saints from the Church of the Two Gods had made sure to root out all malevolent magic, bringing peace to Limeria. Indeed, some superstitions and traditions like hanging a horseshoe on a newly-weds’ door, putting a coin under a baby’s pillow, or carrying a blue bead around your wrist against evil eye had survived to this day. But they were just that – a remnant of old protection rituals that had become obsolete. These were peaceful times, with dragons, elves, and magic surviving only as part of folktales. The last saint had died seventy years ago without an heir and no other had been heralded by the Church. There was no need for their holy powers anymore. That was why most people, save the clergy and some old folk, thought of magic as nothing more than a myth. Lorelei was not an exception.

But right at this moment, she had to admit that she had been wrong. “The brightness of the sun too often makes you blind for the shine of the moon” her master always said. There was only one possible explanation for everything that was happening before her.

“White Elves,” she sucked a deep breath. “So, it’s not just malicious rumors and slander. The old magic did survive in Norden. And there are even witches and warlocks serving under the duke. But the sisters from Widow Island, the bishop in Yalda, it can’t be, it’s impossible that they don’t know about this. Are they accomplices too? If the pope on the mainland finds out…”

Hearing her quiet words, her husband turned around. Lorelei could see a deep wrinkle between his brows as he looked at her, his countenance turning grim.

“Now is not the time.” Noah’s tone was dry. “I promise, I’ll explain everything later, so for now…”

A howl shook the air, drowning his words. The sound was so loud that it left Lorelei’s ears ringing. She peered through the glowing barrier and finally saw it – a creature out of nightmares.

Between the dead bushes, a lone figure emerged. At first glance, it looked like a child, lost and so out of place in the woods. Its small, thin figure was completely white, from the tips of its toes to the ends of its hair. It was almost akin to a snow statue, so delicate, beautiful, and seemingly fragile. But then there were the eyes – two gaping black holes in the middle of its face, almost like tunnels to the Nether Realms. With each step the creature took, it left behind a dark footprint, its very touch scorching the earth and sucking the life out of it. From the blackened grass and bushes, whisps of tar-like mist bubbled up and hung around the creature’s body, swirling and moving around like living tendrils.

The wraith opened its mouth and the familiar blood-chilling scream sliced through the air. Lorelei could feel the sound reverberating in her bones, making her sick and dizzy. Beside her, Noah fell on one knee, using his sword to support his body.

“M-my lord! Are you alright?!” Seeing him lose his bearing frightened the young woman more than the closing apparition.

“Don’t you feel it?” Noah huffed as beads of sweat appeared on his brow. “Don’t you hear it talk in your head? All that malice, anger, bloodthirst. It’s seeping even through the barrier.”

Lorelei shook her head confused, fear taking root deeper in her soul. Yes, she was terrified, cold, in pain, but there were at least no ghastly voices in her head. She saw her husband leaning his forehead on the sword’s pommel, his face distorted and pale. Biting her lip, she put a hand on the man’s hunched back. This gesture earned her a side glance from the knight and a wry smile.

“Don’t worry about me. It’s just an echo of the dhrowghost’s power.” He mustered up some strength, setting his body straight. “We are lucky that thing can’t come through the barrier. For now.”

Lorelei followed his gaze that was fixated on the binshi outside the wall of light.

“That child, no, that dhrowghost, if it is that dangerous, will they be alright?”

“We can only pray. If this barrier falls, we don’t stand… Wait. You called it child. Can you see...?”

Before he could even finish speaking, the binshi finally started to move. Graceful and silent like wild cats, the three leapt at the monster.

***

For Gregor, time slowed its pace. He could sense the malicious presence of the dhrowghost trying to infiltrate his mind and corrupt the protection hex. The creature hissed in his head in the long-dead language of the Evil Gods. The young knight didn’t know the words, but it wasn’t necessary. Every phrase turned into a twisted image, a premonition of death and destruction. He saw Saya’s bloody corpse, Soraishu’s tiny body devoured by crows and dogs, Noah’s severed head impaled on a spear. He heard the agonizing scream of his parents; felt the scorching pain of Rish and Rasha as their limbs were torn out and burned by black flames. And then he was alone, surrounded by complete emptiness, his soul shattered piece by piece and ravaged by a monster – a white child with eyes like empty wells and a blood-smeared grin from ear to ear. Needle-like sharp teeth flashed between its lips as a purple tongue licked them hungrily.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Clenching his jaw, the shaman fought the darkness. It was just the monster’s attempt to break him. These were illusions. Deep in his heart, he could feel his connection to the twins like a glowing silver ribbon, bundling their souls and magic and pouring it in the three blades that formed the corners of the barrier. They had to endure. He embraced the connection and nurtured it, giving the twins a bit of his own strength.

It was an uphill struggle. Gregor sucked in some air. The mental attack was vicious enough to give him physical pain. This wraith was strong. Stronger than any dral he had fought before. Yet at the same time, it gave out the feeling of being incomplete. The visions were horrid, but if one was careful, there were flaws. The color of Saya’s hair was off. His parents’ faces were just blank slates. Noah’s scar was on the wrong cheek. These discrepancies jolted the young man’s mind.

“It’s just a fledgling! It hasn’t killed yet! We need to strike. Prevent it from sucking the life from the horses.”

“Y-yes, turgan,” the twins replied shakily and brushed the sweat from their faces.

Pulling one more knife from his belt, Gregor exhaled.

“Go!”

On his mark, all three jumped forward. Four shining knives buzzed through the air and two found their target, burrowing deeply into the ghastly flesh. The dhrowghost howled confused and in pain, facing attacks on multiple sides. It tried jumping back, but another knife pierced its neck.

“My blade, forged in a star’s blood, awaken!” Three voices chanted in unison. “Blood of my blood, connect to thy origin!”

Simultaneously, three silver chains extended from the ends of the knives and landed in the outstretched hands of the binshi.

“PULL!”, shouted Gregor.

With a gurgling screech, the monster was forced to the ground. It thrashed and scratched, pulling the chains so hard that the young knight had to dig his heels into the dirt to hold it. His hands started to bleed as the links bit into his flesh, but he persisted.

“Mother Above,” he started chanting the next hex and soon the twins joined in, “we beseech thee. Give us Light to repel the Darkness. Give us Peace to calm the Tormented. Make our souls flames to cleanse the Impure.”

The chains in their hands started to glow brightly. As the light traveled along reaching the body of the dhrowghost, it burned away the swirling tendrils of black smoke. The creature hissed, pulling its shackles, forcing Rish to curse and slide a few steps before being able to anchor her feet below one of the horses’ bodies. Still, she managed to hold on.

More and more light engulfed the dhrowghost. Its howls became weaker, its limbs dug desperately into the earth. The whisps of black smoke that were escaping from its wounds grew smaller. With its white hair sprawled on the ground and a frail, convulsing body, it did look like a pitiful child. But this pretense didn’t fool the binshi.

Gregor felt his energy draining away along with the silver light. Still, he persisted. He couldn’t allow himself to rest. They were unable to kill it, but if it was weakened enough, there was a chance to temporally seal it. After that, they could run and bring fresh reinforcements to finish the job. Gregor knew that he had to endure a little longer.

Suddenly, the ground shook. Like black geysers, jets of smoke erupted beneath their feet, engulfing all three binshi. The pain was scorching. Everywhere the smoke touched felt as if knives were flailing him alive. Gregor cried and fell on the ground, but despite everything didn’t let go of the chain.

‘You fool!’ he cursed himself, trying to crawl away from the black tentacles wrapping around him. So that’s why the dhrowghost was boring its claws in the dirt. It had managed to avoid the cleansing light and had launched a surprise attack. The shaman’s numb fingers pulled one of his remaining knives and started chopping wildly around. Everywhere the blade went, the miasma disappeared.

“RISH!”

Rasha’s shriek turned his blood to ice. Still cutting at the black tentacles, the shaman frantically looked at where his cousin had been. Rish was nowhere to be seen. Instead, two cocoon-like shapes made of darkness stood erect nearby. One was the size of a human, the other could fit the whole body of a horse. The dhrowghost had found a defenseless prey and now was trying to restore its powers by devouring it and moving next to Rish.

“Rasha! Anchor your chain and come help me!” Gregor desperately slashed the last remaining tendrils binding his feet.

“I… I can’t!”

“You have to!”

Without losing any more time, the shaman grabbed his blade with both hands bringing the chain and knife together and pierced the ground.

“Blade of my blood, link to my soul. Spirits of Green, taketh my toll. Anchor!”

A brilliant radiance erupted, wiping away the rest of the miasma. Many tiny saplings sprouted from the seemingly scorched soil and wrapped around the knife. After the initial flash, the light flowing along the chain dimmed considerably but it remained attached to the apparition. The other end was now firmly implanted in the earth, tying the monster down.

Having sacrificed almost half of his remaining strength, Gregor stumbled. Sudden dizziness almost overcame him, but he nevertheless rushed forward, pulling two new knives from his belt. In the corner of his eye, he saw a feeble sparkle come from Rasha’s direction, but it dimmed almost immediately. Her anchor had failed. Torn inside, Gregor had to make a split-second decision. Rish or Rasha?

He made a sharp turn, sprinting towards the place where the spark was dying out. With a flick of his wrist, two blades flew straight at the squirming tendrils. Several more tentacles erupted from the ground trying to entangle him. The shaman jumped, and dived, and rolled over, slithering past the onslaught. As if having a life of their own, fresh blades appeared in his hands as he cut the rest of his way through the miasma. Black whisps singed his skin. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his side. A spear-like tentacle had nearly impaled him, tearing his mail and grazing his ribs. This killed his momentum and forced him to slow down fatally.

Waiting for this opportunity, the dhrowghost’s tentacles wrapped around Gregor’s limbs. He desperately tried to free himself, the figure of Rasha in his sight only a few meters from him. It was in vain. The more he struggled, the tighter the tendrils bound him. He could see his cousin almost completely covered by the black miasma.

Gregor closed his eyes, feeling his powers and life-force being drained away.

A boom thundered over the clearing. It jolted the binshi’s fading consciousness, only to bring even more anguish. The barrier had been broken.

“I…am…sorry, Noah…” The words escaped his lips with great difficulty.

The blackness engulfed him.