Episode 5

Pushing forward took every scrap of energy I had, but I knew this would be my only chance. The wraith had moved far, its path leading me out of the sprawling valley and to the shores of a great frozen lake that stood between three looming mountain peaks. The frantic trail had slowly become calmer. The darting from side-to-side had stopped as the beast’s focus seemed to have narrowed. The trails were also thicker and more densely packed, spun with more and more floating specks of shimmering blue dust. I think it had slowed down.

I found it, seemingly rummaging through a bush of succulent red berries on the edge of the expansive lake. If I was to fight it, I was to fight it now, before I lost a single ounce more of my strength. The fires of revenge lit in my heart again at the sight of the wraith, they would keep me moving — even if the cold was trying hard to turn my bones to ice. My desire to slay the beast was all my mind’s eye was fixated on; that, and getting to the juicy berries on the bush behind it. We farmed these berries all the time. They grew on the slopes of the mountains just outside the village in abundance, although most were unreachable up the side of great, snow-covered clefts. They were delicious and hearty. They’d keep me going a little longer. With my heart pounding and my palms sweating despite the bitter, bitter cold, I drew my sword with a clatter of steel.

The wraith spun around in a smooth, gliding motion, its glowing blue eyes immediately found me. They were empty, soulless; without any humanity or emotion. They just glowed a hollow glow. Its eyes were set inside a narrow, elongated and pointed skull, grey and bare. A skull more like an ox’s than a man’s. From the skull grew a spine, of large bones as big as a fist that slowly trailed off into smaller pieces, until one, pointed bone hung about a foot from a ground. Just below its head, two arms sprang seemingly from nowhere. Attached not to shoulder blades nor its spine. To the arms were fixed giant claws, each longer than my forearms, thin, curved and sharp. There was no muscle, flesh or skin on the wraith. Nothing holding its bones together but a thick fog of glowing blue dust that clung to its form. Legend has it that a stroke of a sword through the spine would severe the magic that bound this ancient monster together, and the wraith would simply crumble.

I was about to find out if that were true.

As it approached, the beast’s gaze bore into me. It moved slowly, seemingly cautious. Stopping and starting, edging closer. I gripped my sword with both hands, raised it as steady as I could and prepared to swing. But about ten feet away, the wraith stopped. It let out a hollow snort. Again, the noise was metallic, an unusual sound for a living creature to make. To my surprise, it didn’t charge, leap or race towards me, slashing its talons. The wraith simply turned and started to glide away. Ignoring my presence, my stance, my willingness to fight. It was just leaving. I was frozen, not by the cold, but by disbelief. Where was it going? Why wasn’t it trying to tear me apart? My confusion turned to anger. Did it think it could just kill my father and get away with it? Did it think I would just let it float away?

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