The magic answered Ghent's panic-stricken call immediately. 
	The rush of power was far stronger than any of his previous attempts. The magic felt wild, untamed. Ghent could feel the fabric of his hoodie ripple, his sneakers planted firmly into the ground as he heard the shout of Elayra and the strange, hollow sound the energy made before the mini hurricane was over.
	Hood clinging to the side of his face, Ghent dropped his arms and opened his eyes. The ghost was gone, but so were his companions.
	“Oh no…no, no…” Gripping his head with both hands, Ghent looked from the knight to the princess. The two had been thrown a considerable distance away from him, each unmoving. 
	“Guys?!” Neither answered. Ghent’s mouth went dry as more fear clawed its way into his frantically beating heart. Dozens of unwelcome thoughts invaded his mind, every scenario ending in death.
	While Ghent's brain decided to freeze along with his body, the spirits gathered to identify him. Their jumbled commotion would have been impossible for him to decipher, if not for the same thing being said over and over again.
	[i]Vinifcium.[/i] Ghent swallowed. He was beginning to hate that word. 
	The voices varied in pitch and volume. Ghent turned around and tilted his head back to see where they were coming from, but his efforts to see them were in vain. He covered his ears to block them out, but they sounded closer. Louder. Finally, could no longer bear the comments of his invisible audience. 
	“SHUT UP!” Amazingly, the world went quiet after his latest outburst. The soul crushing silence was filled only by the sound of Ghent’s quick breaths, and some light scuffling from behind him.
	Sensitive to the smallest hint of sound, Ghent spun around and jumped into a rather ridiculous fighting stance, which he quickly abandoned when he saw the source of the noise was Elayra. 
	“Blondie!” The relief was short lived. Ghent intended to help her up, but he considered running in the opposite direction after he saw the dangerous, intense flash of anger in her eyes. 
	"I..." Ghent opened his mouth and closed it again. Rather than defend himself against her insults, he stared, wide eyed at the sight of her. He mentally counted six leaves and half a twig tangled within her blonde locks, and that was just from the front.
	“I’m sorry, okay?” Their voices carried across the clearing with little effort, something Ghent was no longer concerned with. The ghosts were already well aware of their location, he saw no point in whispering. “That [i]thing[/i] was about to take my head off! What else was I supposed to do?!”
	No reply. Baffled by her lack of response, he followed Elayra's gaze. The girl was focused on the bigger issue at hand. [i]Drust.[/i]
	"Oh [i]no[/i]..." Ghent was so caught up in the moment he forgot about their guardian. The knight wasn’t dead, but he was down for the count. This was a big, big problem.
	Equally as pale, Ghent's gaze shifted to Elayra. The only thing scarier than seeing her angry was seeing her worried.  
	“Blondie, whatever you do..." Ghent raised his hands halfway as if she were on the verge of hysterics. "Do. Not. Panic."