The odd fire torch is the only source of light throughout the village. Even the moon hides behind dark clouds. We seem to be the only ones outside as everyone hides inside their homes, holding their children tight.
In the gloomy expanse of the graveyard, Xander approaches the stranger before him with a purposeful stride. The stranger wears a similar long black trench coat to Xander’s. As their hands meet in a firm shake, Xander utters a single word, 'Rum,' initiating their clandestine exchange. The man, known as Rum, turns his gaze towards us, his eyes dancing with curiosity, and a mischievous grin plays upon his lips.
His countenance reveals the marks of time, with silver threads weaving through his beard and a smooth, bald crown adorning his head. He has a stout figure, his belly jiggles beneath the weight of his experiences, and he stands shorter than most.
Rum's attention shifts from Xander to the three of us, his eyes alight with amusement. 'And who might these divine young women be?' he inquires, his voice carrying a hearty chuckle.
Xander replies, 'Oh, the witches? I've been hired to escort them to Moonshade Forest.'
A playful twinkle gleams in Rum's eyes as he tucks his thumbs through his belt, nudging Xander with his elbow. 'You lucky man, escorting such exquisite creatures indeed,' he mused, his smile radiating warmth. 'I would have done it for free,' he adds with a booming laugh that echoes through the graveyard.
However, a sudden disturbance shatters the tranquillity before the camaraderie can settle. A smoky silhouette emerges from the ground, unleashing a horrifying scream that assaults our ears. Instinctively, we shield our ears with our hands. Rum's appearance shifts, revealing a hint of annoyance. 'The first one of the night had to be a screamer,' he groans, deftly producing a small book from within his jacket.
Hovering his hand over the book, Rum summons a radiant glow illuminating the ancient pages. Intricate sigils, foreign to our eyes, materialise and spin, dancing with ethereal energy: the wraith streaks towards us with alarming speed. Overwhelmed by fear, we recoil and stumble backward, our bodies colliding with the unforgiving ground below whilst Mister Kal climbs the tallest tree.
‘Scaredy cat,’ I mutter under my breath.
The wraith’s long, ethereal grey locks billow through the air and draw closer, hovering ominously above my trembling face. Its mouth opens wide, poised to deliver a bone-chilling scream. Yet, before its otherworldly form could engulf me, an ethereal chain of shadows snake forth from Rum's hand, gripping the wraith tightly, preventing its intended intrusion. In a rage, the wraith screams louder, its fury reverberating through the air.
Rum, his face resolute, tugs at the shadowy chain, slowly but surely drawing the wraith nearer. A dark mist, exuding from the depths of his very being, radiates around him. Panic grips the wraith, desperate to escape its impending fate. With a swift motion of his free hand, Rum summons a mystical portal in the ground's surface, grasping the wraith by its ethereal neck.
As if in a trance, the mist of shadows emitting from Rum envelope the wraith, seeping down its throat and sedating its spectral form. Rum releases the wraith, relinquishing his hold and allowing it to descend into the opened depths. The portal seals shut instantly, bathed in a blinding luminosity that momentarily robs us of our vision.
'Well, that's one down. Hopefully, that's the only screamer I get tonight,' Rum declares, his hands patting together to disperse the spectral residue that clings to his palms.
Rum's gaze sweeps over us, sprawled on the ground, our bodies trembling with residual fear. Rum raises a curious eyebrow, his eyes narrowing with amusement and incredulity. 'Your witches are odd indeed, acting as though they have never encountered a wraith before,' he remarks, his voice laced with a hint of bemusement.
With a helping hand extended, Janie reaches out to me, and together we rise and help Imogen to stand. Doubt and hesitation gnaw at the edges of my consciousness, and I lean in close to Janie and Imogen, my words hushed. 'Maybe Felderia is a bad idea? I was almost possessed, after all,' I confide.
They nod as they look around in caution.
Xander positions himself in front of us. His stance is steadfast. His gaze meets Rums. 'They don't get out much,' Xander explains, his voice tinged with empathy. 'They've spent most of their lives in a secluded coven. It's probably been years since they've seen one,' he continues, convincing Rum we've had a sheltered existence.
A knowing smile plays upon Rum's lips as he absorbs this newfound information.
'Oh, many years,' Janie chimes in, her voice carrying a tinge of vulnerability.
A sense of silent acknowledgement accompanies Rum's nod, his gaze briefly lingering on each of us before he takes a step back. 'Well then, good luck on your travels to Moonshade Forest,' he nods, his voice carrying a note of genuine well-wishing.
As we bid Rum farewell, multiple wraiths ascend from the ground, ‘Spells and hexes,’ Rum curses, ‘I hate when multiple come out at once,’ he sighs.
'Wait,' Janie says, pulling her spell book from her satchel. 'I'm sure I've seen a spell in here somewhere about banishing wraiths,' she says, flicking through the pages.
'That's impossible,' Rum chuckles, 'That spell to banish wraiths has been lost for hundreds of years,' he tells her.
Janie doesn't take in Rum’s words, being too consumed in her book, while Mister Kal jumps down from the tree and purrs as he circles Janie.
Janie's fingers glide delicately along the weathered lines of the ancient text, her touch infusing the faded ink with purpose. As she prepares to banish and seal the wraiths, her voice carries the weight of determination. She whispers the unfamiliar words of a long-lost language, the incantation resonating with great power:
'Sylphrenia paralithia, calithar belmaris,
Zephyra adomelis, vexornis oblivaris.
From ethereal realms and shadowed deep,
Let this incantation, their restless souls keep.
By the essence of forgotten lore,
Seal their fate forevermore.
In sacred ground, their presence contained,
Never to rise, never to be unchained.
As I utter the incantation's last sound,
Let the seal be set, their fate profound.’
As the chant leaves Janie's lips. Moans, wails, and anguishing screams reverberate through the earth. Their haunting symphony intertwines with flashes of crackling electricity that dance across the village graveyards. A flicker of worry glimmers in Janie's eyes— concern her spell might be beyond her control.