@Foxsoxs@BurningDaisies
“Nothing?”
The child wraith stared absently at the living statue. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted as hellish mongrel erupted from the grounds and snarled wildly. Two more creatures, wrapped in thin robes rose behind them. The girl wasn’t frightened. Her pinched face merely had a look of puzzled innocence.
She wordlessly followed Vaettir. Her gait was awkward at first, as if bound by a leash which tugged at her and forced her to keep moving. But quickly she matched his pace. She didn’t talk much, but she watched everything.
Her eyes, still dull and grave, held the slightest spark of curiosity.
~
The hounds and liches made short work of their task, but it was gruesomely obvious none of her family had survived. The father was strewn across a grassy hillock in two pieces. His lower half had been trampled. The savaged earth and deep hoof prints hinted it was intentional.
A broken sword had impaled one of the brigands through the throat and was still pinned to the ground under the weight of the father’s headless torso. A deathly rigor kept his fingers tightly wound around the hilt of the blade.
The brigands weren’t far, and from the bittercries, seemed to be enjoying the spoils of their raid. When the first lich arrived, the hell hounds were set loose, savaging each bandit into a bloody submission. They ripped tendons and snapped bone, but true to their master’s orders, they left them alive. The lich had little to do, except stare impassively at two dead girls. There bodies were in a wretched state, but their souls had already moved on.
Screams of pain blocked out the hellish barks of the hounds. Circling the brigands, they awaited orders from the lich. After a few minutes, they finally stopped their squealing, replacing their screams with angry curses. The lich slowly turned his skull to them. His red eyes piercing through each of their souls. Each hound howled in unison and began to slowly drag the men to their master. The wails began again. The pain of their wounds scraping against the ground renewed their terror. The lich overseer taking another moment to look at the dead children before following, offering of sigh. Not of mercy or pity, but of annoyance.
Vescarim seemed much larger than it was. Most homes were burrows carved out of the rolling hills, and they were spread out over wide pastures. Tall orange stalks of some pervasive weeds blanketed the area for miles around. A trail of gravel and broken cobbles winded through the hills and branched endlessly to meet each residence.
Vaettir followed a dirt path that lead to a guard tower that stood at the north. Now he was flanked by two Skeletons. The undead were clad in silver plate armor. Each carried a sword as big as a man. Resting their blade on their shoulder guards. Their true identity was completely hidden from the human eye. They weren't there for anything else, but for looks. Vaettir wanted to try and appear less of a terror than most would initially assume. Two knightly figures flanking him could make the common folk think twice. At least think long enough before preparing the torch and pitchforks. The wraith followed close behind him. Quietly observing the new lands. It wasn't long after approaching the town that he met their leader.
Heleva was an older woman, bent forward by age, but still young at heart. The lines in her face were countless, but her eyes were bright, energetic, and gleamed mischievously. She seemed like the kind of person that treated everything as a game, probably knew all the rules, when to bluff, and played for infinite stakes. The silver rivulets of her hair fell across her shoulder in a long, intricate braid. She stood politely at the edge of town. The woman greeted Vaettir and his undead entourage with a warm smile. It was as if she knew the precise time of his arrival.
Two other townsfolk flanked her on either side. Both were tall men, chiseled by years of hard labor, and wore permanent scowls.
"Welcome, Herald! Don't mind these two. They're just here to look handsome and keep me company."
They obviously weren't. They leered at Vaettir as if he was some ruffian that needed to be dealt with, but curiously neither of them carried weapons nor did they take any aggressive action.
"If you and your adorable little friend will follow me, we have a nice feast prepared for you. I know the two of you don't eat like the rest of us, but I expect you to indulge me. These bones don't move like they used to, but I'm still the best cook in Norden. You can be sure of that!"
She hooked her arm around Vaettir's, and offered a hand to the innocent-looking shade hiding behind the demon. "Come along, dear. I have something I wish to discuss with both of you."
The air behind Vaettir shimmered with a rush of magic.
"The rest of your pets can stay outside." She said cheerily, but the words seemed to echo from distant, unknowable places. They thrummed with power. She had erected a barrier along the borders of her town, a potent one at that, which acted as a wall to repel undead. Even if she didn't say anything about it, she expected Vaettir knew what it meant.
Vaettir felt a shiver from the power she possessed. It didn't frighten him, but it did warn him. It had been a long while since he had felt another Immortals power. Honestly, it was refreshing to him. To know not everything in this world was weak. To know not everything feared him. The demon statue shook his head in compliance. A sinkhole opened beneath his two Skeletons and the earth absorbed them, before quickly filling back up and disappearing as fast as it appeared. He began to follow her, keeping his eyes open for any other tricks the Sorceress had up her sleeve.
The only thatched longhouse in all of Vescarim belonged to Heleva. It was little more than a glorified feasthall with an adjoining library, but this is where she made her home. The table had been set, but instead of wooden plates and cutlery, crystal dust traced the outline of arcane symbols. Down the length of the table, floating in the air, were pools of raw mana. Ethereal sparks arced around them, and each possessed a difference essence of the land. Some gave off a spicy, earthy scents, another exuded drifts of dank cold air. Heleva had distilled mana especially for them. The undead didn't subsist on normal food. She understood this, but that didn't mean she couldn't feed them.
She sat the child across from her and left the end of the table for Vaettir. "Come, come! Sit!"
"So what brings you this far into the outlands, Herald?" She regard them both with blatant curiosity, and began sipping mead from a small cup with the characteristic pomp of an old noblewoman.
The wraith child stared at her blankly, obviously starstruck and unaccustomed to this kind of hospitality.
The room was impressive, or maybe Vaettir had grown tired of the cave walls he normally inhabited. While the pools of mana were a nice touch, he ignored them. When asked to sit he simply stayed standing, making it clear he wasn't here for the pleasantries. "My name is Vaettir, not Herald, and I only came for her." He gestured at the small ghost child, sitting at the table. Vaettir's voice more hostile than he normally took to talking to Humans, but then again this woman wasn't just any human. "She is still here. Most of your kind passes to... Wherever they think they go. She is an enigma. I brought her to you to figure out why she is still walks the land and if you cannot answer that I want her gone. Let her enjoy whatever she can have with her deceased family." Vaettir paused to look at the little girl. He didn't notice till now, but her essence began to bother him. Making him second guess coming here at all. His fixed smile concealed his thoughts.
Heleva spared a glance at the girl, but kept her attention on Vaettir. "It's not so simple, my dear Herald. The limelight of the afterlife isn't what most think it is. Humans who die are inevitably reclaimed by the earth, both in body and spirit. Sometimes the body goes first, and at other times, the spirit. She'll fade on her own in due time."
She smiled lovingly at the girl, but there was a strange hardness in her eyes. "If you want her gone, you need only to destroy her spirit. The will of the land does the rest."
The little girl's eyes snapped wide as if she hadn't been paying attention until that moment. "No, I don't want that!" She cried, still not fully understanding what was being said.
"Then what do you want, child?" She cooed.
The girl stared back, her mouth opening and closing as if to say something, but the words didn't come.
Heleva turned to Vaettir. "There's more to this than you're telling me. It's a simple task to have her pass on, but there will be no warm reunion with her family. That's just what people want to believe. The truth is a much colder and darker thing."
A hiss of annoyance ringed from Vaettir. His open hand clenched. "What do you know? I have walked this land before your kind even existed and I know nothing, witch." Vaettir's tone changed from a calm presence into a angry beast. His voice boomed like thunder.
"Yes, you've walked it, but did you ever pay attention to the people around you? The way their presence causes tiny ripples in the magic of Norden? You've walked far, Herald, but seen nothing." Her thunderous tone matched Vaettir's. The voice clashed in the air with a resounding thud.
Vaettir began to calm himself back down. The corruption in his soul starting to take control. Although it was no use. "I bring the girl due to my pity for your race and nothing more. Why didn't I consume her soul? Why didn't I raze your town to the ground and consume all the souls of your people? I brought her to figure out what she is. You have seen it. The pillar in the sky. I doubt this is just a coincidence." As each word left his terrifying mouth the room shook. The timbers of the home beginning to creak.
"Oh, I'm certain it's not." She countered testily, not appreciating his casual threats.
She breathed an irritated sigh and nursed her drinking cup. "The course of the Dragon Veins have changed around the Devil's Spine, criss-crossing one another like a web. Or perhaps, more like a wall. The land is protecting itself like a tortoise withdrawing into its shell. The light is dangerous, Herald. It's not of this world. I can feel it."
Her expression softened as her gaze fell back upon the girl. She changed subjects easily. "You can leave her with me, if you like. I will look after her, but I know she won't survive for much longer as she is now."
Vaettir's voice was now calm again. Her words no longer angering him. "Now? What else could she be if not a wraith?" Vaettir asked with curiosity. Ignoring her claims about the light.
"You mean you can't tell?" Her look was one of genuine surprise. "Never has a wraith with the power of an Ódauðlegur existed, yet one sits at my table all the same. Her body is destroyed, but her spirit still holds a measure of power. If she doesn't become stronger, the land will reclaim her, Ódauðlegur or not. It's a miracle she has lasted this long."
If the girl's ethereal face was swollen and pale; tears pricked at her eyes. She still hadn't fully grasped what she was, but she knew one thing: she was going to disappear. Heleva's sharp truths stabbed at her. The roil of emotion began to swell. The deep red glow of supernatural sorrow hummed behind her tightly shut eyes. A few candles, plates, and utensils began to float shakily into the air.
Heleva gave the tiny wraith a sympathetic look. She silently mouthed a few words of power which cascaded through her. Thin blue creases of light traced along her skin and peeled away. The murky streams of light wound and twisted into the outline of a young woman. Each strand of her hair was a lash of ethereal white flames, a smile radiated from her upturned eyes. The ghost floated over and embraced the girl tightly, stroking her hair.
"Velja" The ghost whispered tenderly.
The candles and plates dropped abruptly. The wraith's eyes snapped open at the sound of her name. Jagged cracked had formed at the edges of her eyes, which still glowed with necromantic power.
"It will be alright, my little one." The ghost cooed. "Cry until you can't cry anymore. I promise I won't leave you."
Velja nuzzled into her arms, hugging the ghost tightly. Her quiet sobs slowly turned into a wailing cry.
A circle of runic symbols erupted along the floor, centering on the two. Then another. Two intertwined wards soothed the restless spirit and enclosed her in a protective shell of raw magic. The tense aura around the little girl began to dissipate, and the sound of her crying became distant.
"Her spirit is weakening." Heleva sighed. "A wonder she survived this long, but it will not last. After the Godsfall, the divinity of the old gods was inherited by the land itself. The power of all Ódauðlegur comes from the earth. And to the earth it will return. You know this."
She massaged the bridge of her nose wearily.
"A mystery how that accursed light corrupted her spirit into a wraith. But it matters not. Velja's fate is sealed. I fear no feast of souls will save her. She only remains by the providence of her immortal spark. With no body and a withered soul, the land will claim more and more of her essence each day, until nothing is left."
"It's time to choose, Herald." Heleva eyed the demon intently. "Consume her or let her fade. She is doomed either way."
Vaettir eyes were locked on to the Witch. A deep-seated hatred bled into his aura. No other normal mortal would see any change in his form, but it was there. The wild magic that coursed through his veins were twisting and thrashing in hate. He wasn't angry at the Sorceress, but at the fact that he couldn't do anything else. His pity wasted. It felt like hours before he decided on his next course of action. He could only see one way and it was the only one that was actually possible. The hate inside him scratched at his mind. Begging to be released. Begging for him to make the move. It had been decades since he allowed his inner demon to show, but as it neared he felt an overwhelming rush of bliss.
The Demonic statue simply opened his jaw. His jagged stone like teeth releasing their hold on one another. As his mouth opened wider and wider a dark flame became apparent. The flame had its own separate aura to it. One completely different from the one that emanated from Vaettir. When his mouth finally stopped moving the purple flame unleashed a single whip directed toward Velja, the wraith child. With ease it shattered the protective wards surrounding her. The whip first wrapped it's flame around the Sorceress's summon. Within half a second it bursted into black flame and with a cry of pain it had vanished. It's tendrils then wrapped around the girl and with a brief second of hesitation it dragged her into the maw of Vaettir.
Once her wraith body had been swallowed whole, Vaettir's jaw snapped shut and he returned to his usual self. The sudden aura of hate left the room. With a sigh he began to speak. His tone was abnormal. It had a hint of sadness. No. It was disgust.
"It is done. Another Ódauðlegur lost to the gods. Another one gone due to petty human squabbles. Not even the innocent are safe from your kind and not even an Immortal can be helped by another. Now... What do you want in return for my visit?"
Few humans would bemoan such a loss. Casualties of war were not just common, but part of daily life. That was what made this brooding demon such an amusing sight, she thought. Better still, he knew that entering the village wasn't free. Not for the Ódauðlegur at least.
She smiled cheerfully, a stark contrast to his somber moment. "A favor from the great and powerful Vaettir will suffice. But I have no need of your assistance at the moment, so you are free to do as you please, until I call for you."
As Heleva stood up to leave, the pools of mana lining the table dissolved into an ineffable haze. A candle along the wall lit her path as she headed into her library.
"I trust you know the way out," she said politely. And then the world blinked. One moment Vaettir was in the long house, the next he was standing at the edge of town. No doubt one of Heleva's tricks.
