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“We best get moving,” said Harlin.
“Shouldn’t we at least bury her or say a few words?” asked Daemona.
“Can’t bury anyone on the spirit path. It’s probably etherium. Feel it, it’s like a sponge but there is no penetrating it, no cutting or digging. It’s not like matter back in the realms,” said Ghul Lykos.
“It doesn’t seem right to leave her here.”
“You heard her. This where she belongs,” said Harlin as he stood and secured his sword belt. “We don’t know what lies ahead or how long it will take us, so we best hurry along.”
Ghul Lykos agreed and started down the tunnel. Daemona frowned but didn’t move. Harlin looked at her and gestured with his thumb to follow Ghul Lykos. She reluctantly went after him.
The shimmering dark blue and black swirled about eerily, but they didn’t hear anything except their own breathing and soft footsteps for hours.
Finally, Harlin broke the stillness. He turned to Daemona, “So, how did you know that witches were attacking?”
“Maybe I poked my head out a little, to listen.”
“I doubt you were that curious about an ogre ritual.”
Daemona huffed in acknowledgment. “I wasn’t, but when I looked out in the clearing, the witch coven was coming and started shooting arrows and spells at us. There wasn’t any time to think. I guess I just sensed that they were out there, and I had to look,” she said, hoping that sounded reasonable.
Harlin grunted but didn’t appear convinced.
“Maybe there aren’t any dangers here and we’ll have an easy time of it,” said Daemona, trying to change the subject.
Harlin shrugged and said, “That’s what worries me.”
“Why?”
“If I let my guard down and start thinking that way, that’s when it happens.”
“You don’t have to be paranoid.”
“I’m not. I’m being practical.”
Ghul Lykos turned and shushed them with a silent finger to his lips.
“What is it?”
“Something is coming, and we have nowhere to hide,” he whispered.
They waited a ponderous moment until a pale, shuffling figure came into view. It was semi-transparent, a great toad-like ghost of an ogre. It looked them over and moved a pale, frosty tongue over its lips.
“Never have I feasted as I shall now,” it bellowed.
“I think not!” growled Harlin, sending his ax through the ghost. The handle and iron head went through the ghostly mist and the ogre came closer.
“I hunger,” it boomed as it reached for them with long icicle-like talons on the tips of its fingers.
They dodged back and nearly tumbled over each other in the gloom.
The ghost laughed at them and came closer, waddling like a grotesque toad.
Ghul Lykos drew his whip and lashed out, but the ogre ghost came on all the swifter, opening its mouth with a long tongue that swept out like a flailing serpent.
Daemona ported behind it and tried to stab with her twin daggers but caught nothing. The specter noticed her, turned, and raked its claws toward her. She ported out of the way just in time to avoid the looming death.
Harlin swung his sword, but it passed through the monster as if it wasn’t there. Worried at what might happen if it touched him, he sprinted back before the ghost could get him.
