We all stood in a heavy silence for a moment, each of us still processing the overwhelming events that had just unfolded. The weight of Crimson’s transformation—and the truth of her identity—had left us all breathless, the aftermath of the revelations still settling in the room like smoke. We watched as the guards escorted her away, her snarls fading into the distance. The room, though physically unchanged, now felt different. A shift had occurred.
I could feel Théoden’s presence beside me, a steady anchor in the storm, but the tension between us and the Council was palpable. There was still much to address. The lies, the secrecy, the betrayal—there was no escaping the fallout. I knew we would have to answer for what we had hidden, but I just hoped the Council could understand why we had done it. Why we had kept the truth buried for so long.
Finally, Cedric, his brows furrowed and his posture tense, broke the silence. “Maria, I… I understand your reasoning,” he said, his voice uncharacteristically soft, yet filled with the weight of his concerns. “But it doesn’t make it easier. This… all of this—how long have we been deceived?”
I drew in a breath, trying to steady my nerves. "Cedric, Thora, Wulfric, Fredrick," I began, my voice faltering slightly but firm in its resolve. "I do apologize for not telling you sooner about Sybil. But like Théoden said, we had no real evidence. We couldn’t risk revealing it without knowing for certain."
Thora’s gaze softened, but there was a sadness in her eyes as she turned towards the coffin at the far end of the room. She spoke quietly, almost to herself, though her words carried across the space. “It’s understandable, dear. I just wish we would’ve known sooner… so we could’ve properly laid her to rest.”
Her words struck me with a quiet pain. It was clear that she—and the others—had mourned Sybil’s loss in their own ways. They had never known she was out there, never known that their comrade was still fighting in the shadows. The guilt churned in my stomach again, but I swallowed it down, knowing there was nothing more to be done now.
I shifted uncomfortably, the ache in my chest growing. I glanced over at Théoden, who had been standing silently by my side, his expression unreadable. His focus was still sharp, but I could sense the weight of the situation pressing on him as well.
“Perhaps… perhaps a spell would help?” I suggested softly, my eyes lingering on Sybil’s coffin. The Council needed closure. We needed closure. And I knew of a way to give that to them.
Théoden, ever the pragmatist, was already shaking his head as he began to move toward the table, his voice low but careful. “Maria, that spell is…” he began, but I could see where he was headed, and I wouldn’t let him finish.
“Let them say their goodbyes to her,” I interjected, my tone quiet but firm. I had already made up my mind. The scrolls—the ones we had both kept hidden away—were a precious tool, and I had one in my possession, a spell that would allow us to contact Sybil’s spirit. It was a difficult magic, and one not to be taken lightly, but the Council deserved this. They deserved the chance to speak to Sybil and find their own closure.
Théoden paused, his gaze meeting mine. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a concern for the implications of using such a powerful spell. He knew what it could mean. The consequences. But I also knew he understood the necessity of this moment, of giving the Council the final opportunity to say goodbye to their friend.
He sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice soft, but filled with care.
“Yes,” I said, nodding firmly. "I am. They deserve to see her, to speak to her. It’s only fair."
Théoden met my gaze for a long moment before giving a small nod. There was a quiet strength in his acceptance, even though I knew he didn’t fully agree with everything we were doing. But sometimes, there was no choice but to do what was right, even if it wasn’t easy.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
He moved toward the table where several scrolls were spread out, each containing powerful incantations. His fingers brushed over one of them, an ancient, well-worn parchment that he had used before—the very spell that had led us to Sybil’s body. This time, however, it would bring her spirit back, if only for a fleeting moment.
He unfolded the scroll, spreading it across the table with careful hands. The runes were intricate, swirling with ancient magic. He began to recite the words softly, his voice steady and calm despite the weight of the spell he was about to cast.
The air around us seemed to thicken, a heavy presence building in the room. The temperature dropped slightly, and the soft hum of the magical energy began to vibrate in the air. It was as if the very fabric of the world was bending to the power of the incantation.
The spell was reaching into the ether, tugging at the very soul of Sybil. And then, with a flicker, a faint light began to shimmer before us, gathering like mist in the center of the room. The light swirled, taking shape, and before us, the ethereal form of Sybil materialized, her translucent figure glowing with a soft, otherworldly radiance.
She appeared before us, standing in the center of the room, her features delicate but familiar. Her eyes were soft, glowing faintly with the same fire they had once held in life, and though her form was but a wisp, a shadow of what she had been, there was no mistaking who she was.
The entire room seemed to hold its breath.
“Maria…” Her voice was a whisper, barely audible, but still clear. There was gratitude in her tone, but also a deep sadness. “Thank you…”
The words were a balm to my soul. After all this time, all the uncertainty, it was her voice again—her real, living voice. I smiled softly, blinking back the tears that had already started to well up in my eyes.
“You’re welcome,” I whispered back. “But it’s not just me. They wanted to see you.”
I turned and gestured to the rest of the Council, who were all standing behind me, their eyes wide with wonder, grief, and disbelief. They had all lost Sybil in their own way—whether to time, to battle, or to the silent truth that had been kept from them for so long. But now, here she was, a ghost of the past, yet still very much a part of their hearts.
Thora spoke first, “Sybil, my dear, I will miss you. I just hope you can find peace now.”
Sybil’s ghostly form smiled at Thora, “I missed you…. Take care… and don’t hate them…” Spoke the last sentence as if addressing the whole group as she nodded off to them. “They… did right.” She flickered her gaze towards Théoden and I.
Thora smiled softly, “Of course…”
Cedric walked towards Sybil and went to reach his hand out to her but then pulled it back, “Sorry, I… Sybil, I will miss you. I am grateful we get this last moment with you before you are properly laid to rest.”
Sybil smiled gently at Cedric, “Always… a gentleman… I will miss you too…” We watched her ghostly form give him a gentle smile.
Fredrick stepped up next, “I…” he was at a loss of words, “I am sorry for the betrayal… I had no idea…” Fredrick cried as he fell to his knees. I had a feeling that this one would hit the hardest on him since they had been in a secret relationship.
“I… I hold no grudge against you, my love… I will miss you… the most of all…” Sybil spoke as she reached her ghostly hand out and stroked the side of his cheek. “I love you…” she whispered.
“I love you…” Fredrick whispered back. He took a moment longer to collect himself before stepping back allowing Wulfric to have one more final word with Sybil before the spell fades.
“I’ll miss you Sybil.” Wulfric said as he gave her a gentle smile, “I… no I think we all will remember you for a long time.”
Sybil nodded, “I’ll miss you… Wulfric…” She turned to Théoden and I, “Thank you…” She breathed one more time before the spell faded.
With one final, lingering breath, Sybil’s form began to fade, the light around her shimmering as if the very fabric of the spell was unraveling. Her smile was the last thing we saw before she vanished completely, leaving only an empty space in the room where she had once stood.
The room fell silent.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The weight of the emotions we had just shared hung heavily in the air. Thora was the first to turn away, wiping her eyes and pressing her hands against her face, as though trying to hold onto the moment, even if it was fleeting. Cedric was standing with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders had eased slightly. Fredrick remained kneeling, his face still wet with tears, his hands clenched tightly in his lap as he stared at the empty space where Sybil had been. Wulfric stood with his eyes closed, his jaw tight, but the grief in his posture was undeniable.