Zita hurries to open his eyes, scrambling to see what just leaped onto his stomach. What he sees makes Zita regret waking up. On the surface level, the thing straddling the prone Zita resembles the wooden statue of the former student, yet it cannot be. it is an abomination. The monster has the framework of the boy that the statue was made to resemble, but deformed in uncanny ways that Zita's mind could not process. The wood is now grey and dying, rotting with festering mold growing upon it. Strings of Green veins are across the statue's body, transparent and circulating a dark blue goo across the enigmatic effigy. The statues blank, dead eye's remain, apathetically staring at its victim with a blank and uncanny expression, the absence of emotion other than a calm smile befitting that of a statue, but the eyes of apathy speak to that of a murderer.
This creature clambers atop Zita's abdomen, Zita screaming his lungs out and slapping the creature in a fruitless effort, the strikes not even leaving a mark. The statue is unhindered, staring down on the boy with a cruel apathy that only a mask could express. After a prolonged stare, The creature slowly begins picking up a rock near Zita...
"WAIT!- WAIT!- NO!-" Zita desperately pleads to the creature as it slowly raises the stone like an executioner raising his axe. Zita cries as he continues trying to wrestle the thing off of him, but the statue is as unmoving as a boulder.
The rock slowly rises overhead whilst Zita begins putting his hands up, open hand and dreading the coming meteor.
"NO! NO!" Zita struggles on the ground as his arms flail uselessly against the animated statue, noticing a black-blue liquid drip out its blank, uncaring eyes as if it was weeping, the things smile as mellow as ever despite this. The rock is directly over the mannequin's head.
*I-I'm going to die! S-Someone, please, anyone, help! I don't want to die, I DON'T WANT TO DIE!*
Just as Zita thinks that, a pair of fists make a circular motion around the creature's head. The movement might remind him of a hitman wrapping wire around a target's neck. As this happens, the monster atop Zita stops and shudders, not moving the rock anymore when the figure finishes this wrapping motion empty-handed, they pull their fists away from each other and stretch their wingspan, the wooden creature's head spontaneously explodes in a spout of dark blue. The creature holds the stone aloft whilst headless for a second, stump neck producing a deluge of the dark blue fluid that was weeped. After 5 seconds of this, the body finally sways to the left and falls to the ground, a cloud of light blue particles floating off the body like fireflies migrating. The smell is like that of synthetic slime.
The fall of the demon allows Zita to see his savour. By providence, it's the figure in the black robe, staring at him with disbelief visible from their slightly open mouth. Zita is able to see up the hood from his angle, a pair of contemptful eyes and raven black hair visible underneath. The cloaked person stands there, more statue-like than the monster, whilst Zita lies on the ground whilst sniffling, hyperventilating and with tears streaming down his face as he stares back at the figure. Then he notices the dead monster's leg is still on him, the corpse rotting at a rapid pace and more blue particles floating off it. Zita screams again and kicks the leg off him, proceeding to tuck in his knees as the tears become even more plentiful. After a 10 second pause of Zita wailing, the cloaked person speaks:
"... You... You can really see them, can't you?" From the voice, Zita can tell the person in the cloak is a she. They have a feminine but deep voice with a large amount of disappointment in her tone as she stares down at the sobbing boy. Zita chooses not to speak, pausing a second as he shakes. Finally, he responds to the woman's question with a singular shy nod. The woman looks at the ground and sighs, slowly putting a hand to her face...
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Slowly the figure brings both her hands in front of her and readies her fists by putting them together in a way Zita doesn't quite see through his blurred vision, eyes going red from tears. She then holds her fists opposite to each other after separating them, putting them by the side of Zita's head. As she does this, Zita abruptly feels something invisible and stretchy be pushed against his entire face, like a pillow or plastic wrap. Something that won't let him breath. He tries to reach out for her, fight back. he struggles and kicks, he tries to breath, he tries to resist. All 3 of these efforts fail.
*WHAT?! WHAT DID I DO?! THIS ISN'T FAIR! PLEASE, STOP, NO-*
He attempts to plead but is silenced by the substance, his voice simply not escaping the invisible sheet as it slowly suffocates him. The cloaked figure stares at him in the eyes whilst doing this, teeth gritted behind sealed lips from what he can make out of the view of her mouth. Her eyes are filled with not fury, but irritation if he could presume. His vision blurs and tunnels as he struggles for breath, face turning blue as his fists uselessly flails at her arms in a hopeless attempt to make her free him. Eventually he feels all his strength dwindle as;
*...no...no...*
his arms go limp. He can't find the energy to move his legs. His body slowly descends into the leaf-shrouded dirt of the forest as Zita's eyes roll into the back of his head. He is blacking out.
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After what Zita can only guess to be a second, his eyes slowly begin to open again.
*... ur... what happened? Was... was that a dream?-*
As he wakes up, he can make out through his blurred vision that he is in a grey room, a colour that most certainly does not match his bedroom. He wipes his eyes and opens them again, heart sinking.
To his horror, it was not a dream.
Where he finds himself, Zita can only be described as a prison cell. A plank strung up by a chain on each side for a bed, a cinderblock wall and concrete floor. To the left is prison bars, trapping him inside the small room. It smells musty, fresh air not having been here for a while. Then, he hears from the bar's, someone.
"Yo! Good mornin'!" A woman's voice casually calls to him from beyond the cell. Zita scrambles up and quickly turns to her. The person on the other side of the bars seems... unusual. She is young, mid 20's at most and has a slight tan complexion. Her fashion consists of a green sleeveless crop top and brown shorts. Her body is rather muscular and well toned, a visible six pack and muscles across her body. Their hair is short, brown, unkept and oddly has a twig in the shape of a wishbone nested inside of the locks, sticking out as an accessory. She's slightly hidden in shadows due to light radiating from behind her, but mostly visible from the cell.
"Hey! Sorry if it was rough-" the woman asks before Zita rushes up, grabs the bars and wildly shakes them, visibly in a state.
"PLEASE MISS I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING WRONG! I JUST WANTED TO KNOW WHAT THE CLOAKED FIGURE WAS DOING, THEN THERE WAS A BUNKER, AND A STATUE-" Zita cries whilst fruitlessly shaking the prison bars, tears streaming from his eyes.
"Woah, woah, easy little guy! You're not in trouble, I swear! Just don't panic and try to listen, ok?" The woman responds, sympathetic in tone as she responds in a casual and kind voice. Zita takes a few deep breaths, sniffles as he stops shaking the bars and nods, still clutching the bars.
"Good, that's better... I'm Sylvie, allow me to give you a quick rundown of what you saw and what happened. After that, we'll give ya a decision. Then, we'll get you out of here to where you'll want to be. That sounds ok with you?"
Zita sniffles, wipes the tears from his eye's and after a second, nods. "... y- yeah..."
"Alright, let's begin with what you saw; it all starts with a little physics. You know the law that energy cannot simply be deleted from the universe, but instead is converted into something else? I heard you were a smart kid, so I doubt you won't know."
Zita nods whilst cleaning his face of tears and marks, still red from stress and face scrunched.
"Now, apply that principles to emotions and the brain. What happens to emotions once they exit the body, or the soul when the vessel dies? Surely it doesn't disappear?" She asks the boy rhetorically, who stares at her curiosity filled red eyes. After a pause, she continues.
'It all goes into the earth, in the form of energy. We call this energy "aetherplasm." After that, the aetherplasm may gather other puddles of aetherplasm that were generated from similar stresses. Still with me?' She asks, raising a finger as she explains. Zita nods in response, prompting Sylvie to give a little clap.
'Good! Now, if given enough time, aetherplasm will rise from the earth and assume the identity of the stress that produced it. Then, it will cause havoc, manipulating aetherplasm to do feats we consider impossible. We call these entities ``ghosts." The creature that assaulted you- the statue thing, not the girl- was a ghost. Normal people can't typically see them, but~... well, complications happened with you.'
"S- so... g... ghosts are... real? A- and, complications?" Zita asks, eyes widening out of confusion upon hearing this.
"Yup! And, the complication... Well, in places known to cause stress, such as schools and courts, we set up runes. They are pools of aetherplasm designed to attract other pieces of aetherplasm so we can safely dispose of it before forming a serious ghost. That was what was in that bunker, and the disposal of it was what you interrupted."
"... O-... Oh... I-I see..." Zita nods, nervous, figuring that's what was inside the bunker.
"So, you got blasted with aetherplasm and now that awakened something. But don't worry, it's nothing that can't be lived with." Sylvie iterates, gesticulating with her hands.
"... o-oh... T-that's relieving to hear... I suppose..." Zita says with a shaky voice.
'So, whatcha are; when something like this happens to someone, or you are born into a family of people who already knew how to do this, you awaken "aether." In short, it's aetherplasm that the user has control over That can be used in some... pretty impressive feats, I must say. There are factions of us, working behind the scenes to exorcise ghosts and try not to strangle each other. We are known as "druids." Did you get all that?'
Zita stares at her a second and nods cautiously, eyes still red and cracked.
"Ok, now I'm going to have to ask you to make a decision. I'm sorry to ask you this now of all times, but... it's important. If you answer, you can go home or pursue an opportunity. Your choice. Take your time before answering."
Zita nods in response and prepares to listen.
"... So. Option 1 is to go home. Live with the images of ghosts and nothing more. You'll know nothing of them, only have to see them floating around, not able to act on them. Option 2 is staying with our organisation, and allowing me to teach you about these ghosts and what they do, as well as how to exorcise them. Those are your choices. Now think.”