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“Is dead,” Natharius interrupts. “That thing you saw was not your mother.”
“It . . . wasn’t?” I don’t like how my voice raises a pitch as I speak that final word, exposing my vulnerability to the demon.
“No,” he says softly, “it was not.”
That’s right. My mother died years ago, long before the fall of Nolderan. Her soul was scattered into aether and returned to the world when Father destroyed the wraith Heston warped her into. How could I have possibly seen my mother’s spirit?
“It sounded just like her,” I say, my voice small. I keep my head lowered, not looking up at Natharius. As if by averting my gaze, I can hide the emotions churning within me. “If it wasn’t my mother, then what exactly was it?”
“A wisp,” Natharius says.
Taria and Caya come to a stop beside us. It’s the priestess who offers me a proper explanation.
“A wisp is a type of undead,” she says, her golden eyes gazing past me and into the dark trees ahead, where the blue light disappeared. “They are formed from the souls of the deceased, much like wraiths. The difference is that wisps are tiny fragments of souls, whereas wraiths are formed from an entire one. They are as mindless as ghouls and as hungry to consume the living. Except since they lack teeth, they seek to siphon away your energy and turn the fragments of your soul into one of them.”
I swallow, staring into the shadowy trees ahead. If Natharius didn’t stop me, I might be moments away from turning into one of them. “How long does that take? To be turned into one of them?”
“It depends on how many wisps are feasting on your soul,” Natharius says. “If it’s only one, it might take days. If it’s dozens of them, your soul could be siphoned away within minutes. Usually it is the latter, since they lure mortals toward their lairs by conjuring illusions of those their victim has lost.”
I shudder. The illusion of my mother felt so real. Maybe the enchantment the wisp cast over me confused my senses. Even my vision became blurred.
A sudden, horrible thought strikes me.
“Do you think that Juron might have also seen a wisp?” I say each word slowly, worried how Taria and Caya will take the suggestion. “Maybe it lured him farther into the forest?” After all, the footprints leading us here looked hurried. Maybe he was chasing after an illusion of someone he lost?
Caya’s throat bobs, but she doesn’t argue with my suggestion. The priestess’s expression falls solemn, and she offers me a grave nod.
“I fear you might be right,” Taria replies. “If you are, then perhaps the wisps have led him to their lair.”
Which, according to Natharius, could mean he’s dead already. His soul siphoned, and the fragments warped into more wisps to fill their ranks.
Though I’ve only known Juron for a matter of days, this isn’t a fate I want to imagine anyone succumbing to.
Caya’s fists tighten. “Then we must hurry.”
I avert my gaze, worrying that my expression will reveal my suspicions and crush Caya’s hope. But perhaps that would be kinder than allowing her to believe her brother is alive. That he can be saved. Maybe I should tell her, but I don’t have the heart to. Neither does Taria, though maybe the priestess is as hopeful as Caya and is willing to believe in the impossible odds. Even Natharius surprises me with his silence.
I lift my head, peering into the dark trees once more. As much as I doubt the fact Juron is alive, I can’t be certain he isn’t. We have to try to save him. Even if it risks reaching Gerazad in time.
“It seems our best chance of finding Juron is to find the wisps’ lair,” I say. “But since the wisp has disappeared, I’m not sure how we’ll find it?”
“Indeed,” Taria replies, “and it might not return. These creatures rarely prey on large groups and prefer to ambush lone travelers.”
“We could split up,” I say, “but then we risk losing each other.”
And time is ticking away. If we lose each other, it might take too long to regroup. Then reaching Gerazad before Arluin will be a hopeless endeavor. Even now, I can’t be certain we’ll reach there first, not with the countless days we spent in Esterra City.
Neither Taria nor Caya add anything else, seeming to have no idea how we can force the wisps to show themselves. And if they don’t appear, there’s no hope of finding their lair and saving Juron. If he isn’t already dead.
Or undead.
A dark voice whispers in my mind, advising me to abandon Juron and my new companions. That the Void Prince alone will be enough to defeat Arluin.
I close my eyes, doing my best to silence the voice. This isn’t me. I’m not someone who sacrifices others to aid my own goals. Even if the fate of the world rests on my achieving those said goals.
I run a hand down my face. I have absolutely no idea how to solve any of this.
Surprisingly, Natharius does.
