Chapter Nineteen: The Hunt

  Following the same process as the wraith oil, Ash carefully measured each ingredient for the healing potions. The cura rose petals released a sweet perfume as he crushed them between his fingers, the delicate scent a pleasant change from the foul odors of the previous concoction. The furoian dust shimmered like powdered starlight, catching the glow of the small burner Amalia had provided. He added the pure water slowly, watching as the mixture transformed from a cloudy suspension into a clear solution.

  When the ingredients finally merged completely, the liquid took on a deep crimson hue, emitting a soft, pulsing light that reminded Ash of a beating heart. He carefully decanted the mixture into two small vials, corking them securely before holding one up to examine it in the fading daylight.

  The red liquid swirled gently within the glass, glowing with an inner light that belied its magical nature. It looked almost appetizing, like some exotic fruit juice or fine wine.

  *Especially due to what it's made of,* Ash thought with a grimace as he examined the potion. The cura rose was known to grow only on ancient battlefields, feeding on the blood-soaked soil. The furoian dust was harvested from the crystallized tears of certain cave-dwelling creatures. Not exactly ingredients one would want to consume under normal circumstances.

  Still, if it really can heal us... He tucked the vials safely into his pack. He would happily deal with the taste if it meant the difference between life and death for one of his companions.

  As their small group trekked out toward the beach, the evening sky gradually transformed, soft blues darkening to indigo while streaks of orange and pink faded on the horizon. The tide was coming in, waves washing higher up the shore with each passing minute, leaving trails of foam on the sand. A sense of unease settled over Ash, his mind plagued with concerns about the impending confrontation.

  He had no access to elar, which made him a liability. Unlike his companions, who could draw on that internal power to enhance their abilities, he was functionally mundane. In a fight against a supernatural entity like the night maiden, that put him at a serious disadvantage.

  Dead weight, the thought crept unbidden into his mind, cold and damning.

  The sound of footsteps on sand drew closer, and then Rosalia was beside him, her green eyes reflecting the last glimmers of twilight. She seemed to sense his inner turmoil, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  "Everything will be all right, Ash," she assured him, her voice soft but firm. She offered a reassuring smile that didn't quite hide her own nervousness, but the gesture was genuine nonetheless.

  Light, but she's the one comforting me! Ash realized with a pang of embarrassment. He shook his head, trying to dispel his doubts.

  "Honestly, I'm just worried I won't be able to pull my weight," he admitted, giving voice to the fear that had been shadowing him since they'd begun preparing for this hunt.

  Will fell into step beside them, his bow slung casually over one shoulder. Despite his relaxed demeanor, his eyes were alert, scanning the darkening beach for potential threats.

  "As long as you're ready with one of those potions in case my guts are forcefully removed against my will, I would say there's small chance of that being true," he quipped, his tone light even as he described a gruesome possibility.

  Nick grunted from just ahead of them, adjusting his grip on his shield. The metal gleamed with fresh engravings, courtesy of Amalia's enchantments.

  "Just make sure to prioritize healing me first," the dwarf rumbled, casting a sidelong glance at Will. "Pretty boy over here could use a few scars."

  Will opened his mouth to retort, then closed it, his face shifting into an expression of thoughtful consideration. After a moment, a sly grin spread across his features.

  "I've heard ladies are into scars," he mused, turning toward Rosalia with exaggerated interest. "What do you think, eh Rosalia?" He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

  Rosalia giggled, the sound bright against the somber atmosphere that had been building around them. "They do add a little mystery," she conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind one pointed ear.

  Will nodded sagely, as if she had confirmed some profound truth. "Then I concur. Heal the dwarf first."

  Ash couldn't help the small spark of irritation that flared within him at Will's casual flirtation with Rosalia. Not that he had any claim on her, but something about their interaction needled at him.

  "So you're willing to be maimed and possibly die because some women may or may not think the scars are mysterious?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "I think the ladies also appreciate a little sense, wouldn't you say?"

  Will's eyes widened in surprise, a delighted grin stretching across his face. "Oh ho! Ash Lorcan finally shows a sense of humor!"

  Ash lowered his head, embarrassment replacing his earlier irritation. "I wasn't joking," he muttered, but his words were lost beneath the sound of crashing waves.

  The beach stretched before them, empty and vast under the emerging stars. The moon was rising, casting a silver path across the dark waters. It was beautiful, peaceful even, but Ash knew the tranquility was deceptive. Somewhere out there, a vengeful spirit waited, bound to this place by betrayal and death.

  A few minutes later, they arrived at the spot Amalia had designated for the ritual. The storyteller was already there, her dark silhouette outlined against the twilight sky. She stood motionless, her white staff planted firmly in the sand beside her, violet eyes fixed on the horizon where the last embers of daylight were fading.

  She allowed the final bits of dawn's ember light to die out in the sky before turning to address them. The moonlight illuminated her face, casting deep shadows beneath her cheekbones and eyes, giving her an otherworldly appearance that matched the solemnity of the moment.

  "We have come to it," she said, her voice carrying clearly despite the sound of the waves. "I will burn this locket, and when I do, the night maiden will be drawn to its destruction, and likely attack. Are you ready?"

  Ash tightened his grip on his sword, feeling the wooden handle press into his palm. He had coated the blade with wraith oil earlier, the substance still slightly sticky against the metal. He hoped it would be enough.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  Rosalia stepped forward, making one last desperate attempt. "Must we destroy the locket?" she pleaded, her face twisted with conflict. "Is there truly no other way?"

  Amalia stared at her, expression unchanging, unaffected by the plea. After a long moment, the half-elven girl sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation.

  "Very well," she said, eyes downcast. "Ready yourselves."

  They spread out, forming a loose semicircle around Amalia. Nick positioned himself at the front, shield raised, while Will moved to the rear, arrow already nocked to his bowstring. Rosalia stood between them, blade drawn, while Ash took up position on the opposite side, creating a formation that would allow them to attack from multiple angles.

  Amalia held the locket up in the air, the small brass trinket catching the moonlight. A gentle breeze blew across the beach, rustling their clothes and hair. With a gesture of her free hand, she ignited the locket in a burst of silver-white flame.

  The fire was unlike any Ash had seen before, brilliant yet somehow cold, casting no warmth despite its intensity. It consumed the locket in seconds, the metal blackening and warping before disintegrating into ash that scattered on the wind.

  In that instant, all sound ceased. The crashing of waves, the whisper of the breeze, the distant cry of night birds, all vanished as suddenly as the blink of an eye. The unnatural silence pressed against Ash's ears, setting his nerves on edge.

  Then the night maiden arrived.

  She materialized in the air before them, her form coalescing from wisps of moonlight and sea mist. Ash's breath caught in his throat as he beheld her for the first time.

  *She really is beautiful,* he thought, instinctively taking a step back while tightening his grip on his sword. Around him, his friends did the same, their positions widening as they spread out further.

  The night maiden was indeed elven, with hair that flowed around her like shimmering firelight, each strand seeming to glow with an inner luminescence. Her ethereal green eyes shone with an unearthly light, lacking pupils or whites, just pure emerald radiance. Her face was lovely beyond mortal beauty, with features so perfect they seemed carved from living moonlight.

  She floated just slightly above the ground, her feet never quite touching the sand. Her gown appeared spun from silver light and crushed pearls, flowing around her in impossible patterns that defied the absence of wind.

  Ash would have been in awe had he not felt a slight shiver of fear crawl up his spine. There was something profoundly wrong about her beauty, something that spoke to ancient instincts warning of danger disguised as desire.

  Nick took the initiative, pounding his hammer against his shield, the banging echoing into the night like thunder. "Come on then!" he bellowed, his voice carrying across the silent beach. "Come get some, you light-cursed monster!"

  The sound seemed to break whatever spell had momentarily held the night maiden in check. She lashed out with sudden fury, her delicate hands transforming before their eyes into deadly, ivory claws that gleamed like polished bone in the moonlight.

  Nick braced himself as she swept toward him, her movement more like flowing water than walking. The moment her claws made contact with his shield, there was a pulse of white light and the night maiden was knocked backward, her ethereal form wavering like a reflection in disturbed water.

  She hissed, the sound unnaturally loud in the night, and suddenly Ash no longer found her beautiful. Rather, he felt certain that this was a deadly creature out to kill them, her lovely appearance merely a lure to draw in unsuspecting victims.

  A hiss split the air as one of Will's arrows flew true, slamming into the night maiden's torso with a burst of pale light. Where the arrow struck, pieces of her ethereal form seemed to separate, bits of luminous ether drifting away like torn fabric.

  The night maiden howled, a sound of rage and pain that sent birds scattering from distant trees. Her form rippled violently, and then, to Ash's horror, began to tear itself apart. Where once had stood a single entity, now five identical apparitions hovered, each bearing the same hateful expression, each sporting the same deadly claws.

  "What?" Ash stated dumbly, his mind struggling to process what he was seeing. Amalia had not warned them about this ability. He cast a quick glance around but could no longer see the storyteller. She had blurred away the moment the fight began and was now very far distant, though Ash suspected she was still watching.

  Nick's eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly, banging on his shield again, trying to attract the attention of as many apparitions as possible. "Over here, you spectral bitches!"

  His strategy worked, at least partially. One of the phantom Sallys rushed him, claws extended. The moment she made contact with his enchanted shield, she burst apart into white light with a shrill scream that faded into nothingness.

  Another lunged at Nick from his unprotected side, but Rosalia was there in an instant, her blade flashing silver in the moonlight as she cut into the wraith. This one too exploded into light, dissolving like mist under strong sunlight.

  That left three more, one of which immediately took an arrow through what passed for its head, courtesy of Will's steady aim. The apparition dissolved with a wail that sent shivers down Ash's spine.

  Nick and Rosalia engaged the remaining two apparitions, their weapons glowing faintly where the wraith oil coated them. But as Ash watched their battle, movement from the corner of his eye alerted him to a more immediate threat.

  The original Sally of the Water, distinguishable by a faint but perceptible solidity lacking in her duplicates, had materialized directly in front of Will. The archer yelped in surprise, trying to scramble backward while reaching for another arrow.

  He wasn't fast enough. Sally's claws ripped through his shirt with terrifying ease, slashing open skin like overripe fruit. Will howled in pain, his bow dropping from suddenly nerveless fingers as he clutched at his wounded shoulder.

  Blood welled between his fingers, shockingly red against his pale skin as he stumbled backward. Sally advanced relentlessly, her luminous eyes now orbs of pure nightmare, all pretense of beauty abandoned in her hunger for vengeance.

  "Will!" Rosalia screamed, having just dispatched her own apparition. She whirled toward the archer, but she was too far away to reach him in time.

  Ash was already running, his feet pounding across the sand as he raised his sword high. With no elar to enhance his speed, he relied purely on adrenaline and desperation, pushing his body to its limit.

  Just as Sally was about to deliver a killing blow to the fallen archer, Ash struck at her exposed back. His wraith oil-coated blade cut through her ethereal form, and she flickered like a candle in a breeze, fragments of her essence dissolving where the blade passed through.

  She vanished with a wail of fury, only to reappear moments later, multiplied once again into five more shades of herself that surrounded them in a loose circle.

  Ash knelt quickly beside Will, assessing the damage. It was bad. Very bad. Blood soaked the archer's shirt, turning the fabric a glistening black in the moonlight. The wound gaped open, revealing torn muscle and the white gleam of exposed bone.

  Despite his obvious agony, Will managed a weak smile. "The ladies... like scars," he gasped, his face ashen with pain and blood loss.

  Ash shook his head, equal parts exasperated and concerned. "How can you joke like this?" he demanded, already reaching for one of the healing potions at his belt. "Here. Drink."

  With practiced efficiency, Ash uncorked the red potion and carefully poured it between Will's pale lips, supporting the back of his head to ensure he swallowed properly. The archer grimaced at the taste but managed to consume the liquid without choking.

  The effect was immediate and astonishing. Will's flesh began to move of its own accord, the edges of the wound drawing together like fabric being sewn by invisible hands. Muscle reconnected, skin sealed, and within seconds, the grievous injury was nothing more than a faint pink line that was rapidly fading to match the surrounding flesh.

  "That's pretty awesome," Ash breathed, watching in fascination as Will's shoulder became whole again. The healing was complete, leaving his flesh as good as new, not even a scar remaining to mark where the terrible wound had been.

  Will flexed his repaired shoulder experimentally, then his eyes widened in alarm, focusing on something behind Ash. "That's not," he said urgently, pointing a shaking finger.

  Ash turned, finding himself face to face with a looming Sally, her eyes filled with cold hate. Her claws were already descending toward his unprotected back.

  Ash cursed, instinctively flicking his blade out in a backhanded slash. But the wraith had anticipated his move, and her form flickered like disturbed water, Ash's sword passing through her harmlessly as if she were nothing more than mist.

  He cursed again, whirling around with his blade in a desperate attempt to keep her at bay. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Rosalia and Nick were struggling against their own apparitions, the battle far from won.

  Ash's Sally reappeared directly in front of him, claws outstretched to skewer him. There was no time to dodge, no time to parry. He braced himself for the pain that would surely follow.

  Instead, a familiar twang sounded in the air, and an arrow whizzed by Ash's ear so close he felt the feathered fletching brush his skin. The projectile embedded itself into Sally with a burst of white light, and she evaporated with a final, agonized shriek.

  Ash turned to see Will sitting up behind him, bow in hand, a weak but triumphant grin on his face. "Light, I'm good," the archer declared, and then promptly fell backward, his eyes fluttering closed as he thudded into the sand.

  Alarmed, Ash quickly checked his companion, relieved to find a steady pulse and regular breathing. Will was merely unconscious, likely from the combined effects of blood loss, shock, and the potent healing magic.

  Turning his attention back to the battle, Ash saw Nick and Rosalia delivering final blows to their respective wraiths. Nick's hammer crashed through one apparition with a sound like breaking glass, while Rosalia's blade sliced another cleanly in two, both disappearing in flashes of pale light.

  After the last apparition had vanished, an eerie silence descended on the beach. The three conscious companions shared a wary look, each scanning the area for further threats.

  "I think," Nick said heavily, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of one hand, "the Light-damned thing is dead."

  As if in direct contradiction to his words, a piercing shriek sliced through the night, the air around them vibrating with malevolent energy. Before their disbelieving eyes, Sally of the Water blazed into existence once more, her form more solid than before, claws held out wide in unmistakable threat.

  "Does that look dead to you?" Ash said, irritation overriding fear as he raised his sword high. Sally's form looked faint around the edges, as if she were struggling to maintain her presence. He couldn't be certain, but he felt the wraith was on her last legs. Just a little more damage should do it... he hoped.

  Nick cursed colorfully, raising his shield once more, its inscribed surface gleaming in the moonlight. Rosalia tightened her grip around her blade, determination hardening her delicate features.

  "Let's get this over with," Nick growled, fatigue evident in his voice. "I need a nap."

  The night maiden hovered before them, her hatred almost palpable in the night air. Her beautiful features were now twisted with rage, and as she raised her deadly claws, Ash knew the final confrontation was at hand. Whatever happened next would determine whether they walked away from this beach alive, or joined the night maiden in her eternal vigil of vengeance.