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“All right,” I say, pushing myself onto my feet. “Let’s keep moving.”
We continue to follow Natharius through the trees. I’m not sure whether it’s my imagination, but the air seems to grow colder the farther we walk through the woods. The layer of frost clinging to the branches and leaves thickens.
The trees creak as the howling wind slams into them, and I’m not surprised we’ve passed so many fallen trees on our way through the Ghost Woods.
Natharius’s strides are as furious as before, though the tension in his shoulders has lessened and he doesn’t look quite as enraged.
We come to a patch of trees where the gnarled branches aren’t as dense. A glimpse of the sky is visible through the gap. The clouds are orange, streaked with shadows.
“How much longer now before we reach the end of the Ghost Woods?” I ask Natharius.
“Another day, perhaps.”
“And once on the other side, how long will it take for us to reach Gerazad?”
“Maybe two days.”
I give him a quick nod, and we continue past the patch of amber sky.
The shadowy trees dance around us. I swear once or twice the branches coil together like snakes. I can’t wait until we leave these eerie trees behind. Every rustle and crack jolts my senses until my nerves are tightly wound.
Rustling comes from the left. I initially brush it aside as nothing more than the wind blowing through the bushes. And it seems the others also do, seeing how none of them turn to look.
Footsteps sound.
We come to a sudden halt, each of us staring in the sound’s direction.
A low, guttural growl echoes through the trees.
No one says anything. Caya draws her sword, and the rest of us draw on our magic. The purple glow of aether dances in my palms, waiting until the enemy shows themselves, and sparks crackle from Zephyr’s mouth. Golden light radiates from Taria’s hands, and shadows swirl between Natharius’s fingers.
Skeletons burst through the trees.
“Ignira!”
“Narliva!”
Our magic slams into two of the skeletons. Bone disintegrates, turning to ash.
We raise our hands, ready to unleash another barrage of attacks on the three remaining skeletons. But before any of us can conjure another spell, a hollow voice echoes from the trees.
“I wouldn’t do that again, if I were you.”
A blue light emerges from behind the branches, the same unearthly glow as the wisps. But this isn’t a flickering orb. It’s a translucent, floating silhouette.
A wraith.
The figure is short and has long, pointed ears, dressed in furs and leather. Its head is at least twice the size of its body, and a few strands of thin hair sprout from its otherwise bald head. Its oversized nose is hooked, and talon-like nails extend from its bulbous fingers. Despite the creature’s grotesque appearance, there’s a strange femininity to it.
The phantom goblin woman grins at us, revealing rows of razor-sharp fangs. I don’t want to imagine how many lost travelers her teeth tore through before she died and became a wraith.
Zephyr lets out a squeal and darts behind the safety of my robes. I dig my heels into the frozen earth, refusing to allow myself to be intimidated by the wraith’s terrifying appearance. The three skeletons surround the phantom goblin, their bones rattling as the wind threatens to blow them apart.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blast you all into oblivion?” I growl, flames already flickering in my fingertips.
The wraith’s grin doesn’t lessen. “The Master warned you might be uncooperative.” She nods to the skeleton on her right, and it steps forth, bearing an obsidian box. A skull is featured on the lid, matching the altar hidden in the lake’s depths.
The skeleton extends the box toward me. I watch the undead creature through narrowed eyes. Its bony fingers uncurl from around the box, holding it flat in its ivory palms. I hesitate longer before taking the box from its grasp. The motion is swift, and my fingers are nimble, not wanting to touch the skeleton’s bony hands. Fortunately, my fingertips only brush over the obsidian box.
