The Second Night

After Erlana and Fumihito had gotten the information they needed, all that was left was to go back outside of Tartarus and meet back with Scrimgeour to go over a plan. At least, something that would hopefully work for him tonight. However, Fumihito would have much preferred to stay somewhere for the night and try to ignore the terrifying haunting statement that the spirits had given him.

If it was even a choice.

It wasn’t every day that he had to deal with a spirit warning him that failure would result in the imminent and possibly painful deaths of everybody around him. He would have preferred to be kept in the dark about that.

“So, Tartarus went through a plague two years ago? I guess that might explain the restless spirits, but why now,” Erlana asked once he had finished telling her what he knew regarding the plague.

“Yeah, that’s what someone told me at the time. If it wasn’t about the curse, then it was about the plague that hit Tartarus two years ago. The only thing that still doesn’t make sense to me is the time of the hauntings and the plague.”

He just didn’t know why there was such a vast gap of time between the plague and the eruption of spirits over a few months in this year. The plague that hit must have culled the numbers of Tartarus at the time and left who knows how many people grieving, but why exactly did all that pain and lingering resentment only manifest later on in life? It almost seemed like the town was moving on to a degree before the haunting began.

So, was it because the town had rejected the spirits when they first showed up, or was it just because they were so desperate to come back and see the people they had lost? It was so much to process and think about. Talking to the dead sounded like such a wonderful gift, but talking to those spirits was…

It was haunting.

“Well, spirits manifest in a lot of ways from what I’ve read. You can actually meet a few spirits even at the Center who go around their days guiding others. Almost like historians in a way, but those aren’t so common,” Erlana raised her hand into the air and wiggled her finger.

“The most common form of spirits are either lingering spirits, like the ones here, or corrupted spirits. We should just be glad that they aren’t corrupted or this entire town would have been razed to the ground by now.”

He recalled something Viggo said regarding another form of spirit. Corrupted or was it just another term that was used?

“What’s the difference between them? Viggo said something about a lingering spirit being here of their choice but a corrupted person is bound by a grudge or something, right?”

Erlana hummed softly and pressed her hand to her jaw, giving him a small nod.

“You’d be right about it, yeah. Corrupted spirits are those who were dragged here to the world and forced to exist for the majority of their time. Where a lingering spirit could pass over at any time, a corrupted spirit doesn’t have that option.”

“For example, someone who died of natural causes could linger around before they eventually pass over unless something compels them to stay. In a corrupted spirit’s case, they’re here because of a grudge, hatred, frustration, atrocities, etc. It’s never pretty and from what I’ve read, their powers dwarf a lot of advanced magic,” Erlana looked at him with a shiver and wrapped her arms around herself.

“We should be glad that these are lingering spirits, but I think they’re close to borderline reaching the status of corrupted. If they reach that area, then it’s very likely the boundary placed here won’t stand for too long.”

Then he was glad that they still had time to work when they could. Although, he wasn’t sure if any of those spirits from the night before were even lingering. From how Erlana talked about them, it was difficult to even give them an ounce of sympathy if it wasn’t for the fact that all their actions stemmed from grief.

He wondered how many of them just missed people they couldn’t hold, touch, or even speak to again without being repelled.

“I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to handle all of this. Do you think Scrimgeour has a plan?”

It might have been a stretch, but he didn’t exactly think the undead was dumb. They had already shown how clever they were by hiding from an entire town and somehow managing that while in a suit of armor. If anybody had to have some semblance of a plan, it had to be the man who had been dead for a few centuries, right?

“I… I’ve sort of learned to stop trusting my idols after him, but I‘ll hope as much as you do that he has a plan.”

He couldn’t blame Erlana for the lack of faith she had in Scrimgeour. From what he knew about her, she seemed like the type to have worshiped his tales as a kid at some point. Then, she learned that her idol was nothing more than a backwater thief who got by on luck, lies, and stealing people’s things. There was no way he could blame her sad response, but Scrimgeour WAS legendary for a reason.

Someone who somehow managed to lead some form of a revolution and change the course of history had to have plans.

“Oh, I don’t have a plan.”

He was wrong.

Erlana blankly stared at the undead with a depressing look on her face while Fumihito swore a blood vessel was about to burst at that very moment.

What he hoped would be a plan that could salvage this entire operation of saving a town was instead just one corpse blatantly telling Erlana and him that he didn’t have any semblance of a plan whatsoever. For the first time in his life, Fumihito wanted nothing more than to wish death on Scrimgeour. Again.

“What? You two honestly didn’t think I’d have a plan to deal with this, did you? I’m just as lost as the both of you. I only knew a few necromancers when I was alive and they weren’t exactly very detailed about their magic with me.”

He supposed that was true. Scrimgeour was a hero of an old war that dealt with people rather than spirits, but was it so wrong for him to assume that a man like that might have had at least some strategy? The palm of his hand was pressed against his temple and Erlana already looked like she wanted to strangle the undead herself if it was even physically possible.

“Okay, but what about the information now? What do we do with that because YOU told us we had to go talk to the dead and look into information,” he thrust his hands into the air and raised his brows as the undead scratched at their mandible.

“It was important, don’t worry. As far as I know, once you understand why someone died, the process becomes much easier. That’s all I remember about what some of them said anyways,” Scrimgeour crossed his arms over one another and if the skeleton could sigh, he was sure they’d be doing it.

“The good news is that you managed to talk to the spirits and that’s all we really needed. Now that you can talk to them, you just need to talk to the lingering ones and appease them. Once you do, their suffering should stop and the town’s safe. Easy, right?”

Erlana was the first one to step forward and object before he could respond.

“Scrimgeour, he only JUST learned to talk to them today. It’s not that I doubt him, but he’s still coming into necromancy. Isn’t this too dangerous?”

Scrimgeour, however, had a retort.

“And he managed to resurrect me by accident. The talent’s there and he’s not weak either. If we do this tonight, the town’s saved. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Erlana didn’t seem too happy about the thought, but maybe that was why she didn’t have a retort. Because to some degree, Scrimgeour was right and she wished he wasn’t. That was what she wanted. However, she saw just exactly what necromancy could do and it was only a fraction of the power that Fumihito had displayed at that very moment.

It wasn’t that she was afraid of him, but…

“I don’t want him getting hurt for this. This is dangerous, Scrimgeour, and you know it.”

The undead simply looked back to Fumihito and waited. The choice was on him and the group knew that as much. He already made his choice when he decided to save this town, but that didn’t take away the fear in his heart from what he felt. Just this morning with the undead was enough to leave his fingers twitching from the sensation.

If Erlana wasn’t there, what would they have done to him?

“It’s okay, Erlana. I… I know it’s scary, but what’s a few spirits, right?”

It was bravado and the both of them knew it. He wasn’t unaware of how scary or dangerous it was. The spirits at the cemetery made it clear that his failure would result in more deaths than he could ever imagine. The idea of an entire town falling to ruin and being razed to the ground because of him was a horrifying thought, but the idea of Erlana’s cold body lying amongst the ruins was sickening.

He was scared.

But what other choice did he have? Run away and do nothing as an entire town suffers? It was possible, sure, but it wasn’t like he was heartless either. He wanted to help people and save them, and this entire thing was eventually going to lead to people dying. It was only a matter of time.

“Fumihito, you don’t need to…,” but as soon as she reached out to touch his hand, he pulled his arm back and rested his hand against his wrist. It hurt her enough to make her peer down at the ground with a frown on her face.

“Alright, so tonight then. Scrimgeour, you go hide where you were. Erlana, you’ll have to stay at the inn tonight or…”

Erlana interjected as soon as he mentioned having her stay somewhere else. Mainly because she wasn’t going to be around in case he needed someone to help him.

“What? No! Fumihito, if things go wrong, you’ll be alone tonight. Do you really expect me to just stand by and do nothing while you go out there and risk yourself?”

She was right.

He was going to be alone and there was nobody there who would lose their lives because he stepped out to confront it all. It was selfish of him and he knew that, but the further she was from him, the safer she’d be if things went downhill. A few spirits were new to him, but an entire mass of them bearing down upon an entire town was something else entirely. There was no telling if he’d even be able to stand straight without collapsing like last night.

But it was better for Erlana in the long run if she was safe.

“Erlana, I need you to trust me. If I don’t do this on my own, then it’s not going to work.”

The lie was simple to say and yet it never felt more wrong to do so. He did his best to put that feeling behind him and give Erlana a small smile. She didn’t trust it, nor did she seem to have any confidence in it either, but he asked.

And she would give it.

“I’ll trust you, but promise me you’ll run away if it becomes too much. You don’t need to force yourself to do this.”

All he could do was smile, but it felt like she could read him by the way her eyes seemed to almost peer into his soul. It hurt to lie to Erlana, but he didn’t want to risk her life just because he wasn't strong enough. If anybody was going to dispel this curse, it was going to be him and that was that.

The hours passed and Erlana agreed to go inside Tartarus. She looked hesitant to even move before he stepped over and rested his hand against hers. Her palm felt warm against his and the smile she gave him was just as nervous as ever, but she looked like she had gotten a little faith compared to before.

“Promise.”

He could only lie.

“I promise.”

It helped ease the tension that came with the sun slowly coming down in the distance. As soon as she stepped inside, Scrimgeour and he were the only people outside the town, and right where Erlana and he had originally seen the first coming of the spirits.

The undead turned to look at him and walked over.

“You know, women don’t usually like it when people lie to them. Trust me, it never pans out well.”

He glared over at Scrimgeour and raised his brow, doing his best to play off ignorance. Although, he had a feeling the undead didn’t have a problem reading through him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Like I said, I’m better at handling it alone, okay?”

If Scrimgeour believed him, he didn’t show it. The undead simply walked closer and laid a bony hand against his shoulder. The action put him on edge, but the undead simply squeezed his shoulder softly and shook his head.

“I know what you’re thinking, but take it from a thief who lived his last days selflessly. It’s never as heartwarming or kind as you think it is. Sometimes, that selfless act is more selfish than anybody would like to admit. Me included.”

He crossed his arms and looked away. In his mind, he told himself that it was because Scrimgeour said a load of rubbish. In truth, he just didn’t want to acknowledge how right he was. Instead, he turned around and looked ahead of the town back to the road leading out. Right where all that negativity first erupted and clumped together last night.

“...You should go find some cover, Scrimgeour.”

The undead simply nodded before they walked off and left him be. They’d be able to find some safety without having him worry too much, but his biggest concern now was handling the oncoming tide. That rotten stench from before was growing heavier and he could feel a chill wrap around his neck, right down to every inch of skin.

It was close.

The moon was obscured, the skies were clouded, and the earth beneath his feet shifted with every subtle movement he made. He looked down at his hands and flexed them briefly as a shimmer of purple rolled across his skin, right beneath his veins, and through his blood. It was hard to explain, but he could feel and see it at the same time.

He just needed to do what he did in the morning.

‘Simple enough, right?’

The skies became darker and the ground rumbled beneath his feet for a second. That chilling sensation crawled across his entire body and he could feel his fingers quivering beneath the cold. Like at the cemetery, his body felt like it was descending into the cold abyss of the darkness.

Another deep breath and his eyes were closed before he thrust his hands into the air.

The ground practically sunk beneath his feet an inch or two and the chilling air only seemed to grow even colder. If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed he was thrown into the tundra itself. Clumps of ethereal purple formed from nothing yet again. The air, the ground, and even the sky were littered with numerous parts that seemed to clump themselves together, building new bodies and frames that began to take shape.

His eyes opened and he saw them all.

Hundreds of shapes rising from the ground or hovering in the air. Some of them were small, some of them heavy, others that looked like the same creature he had seen yesterday. Worst of all, he could see their lack of faces. Faceless visages that seemed to tremble and warp beneath constant clumps of ethereal purple that molded various expressions, but never an actual pair of eyes or a mouth.

They were finally taking shape, some of them even crawling across the ground, and a few of them jogging forward with their faceless visages slowly opening up. The earth beneath his feet shuddered and he felt the same magical energy from before surge across his body, sparks of purple dancing across his fingertips as he glared at the masses that seemed to converge upon him.

“You’re all going to listen…”

The thinnest of them twisted their bodies and slammed their bony limbs into the ground, clumps of ether clinging to their figure before they released a heavy howl. Another loud shriek left him stumbling back as the rest of the spirits rallied behind it. Their heads reared back and their bodies lunged at him.

A spring of ethereal purple sprung from his hands, like the branches of a tree spreading out as their bodies collided against him. His hands thrust outwards as their bodies collided against his in that single instant.

“ME!”

Black.

An inky blackness greeted him from where he stood.

Fumihito looked around and saw nothing but blackness as far as the eye could see. He couldn’t see anything or anyone. It didn’t even feel like he was at the front of the town like before. No cold, no warmth.

Nothing.

There was just nothing.

“Hello?”

He was hesitant to even ask before stepping forward, reaching out with his hand as a spark of purple danced across his wrist up to his palm. Another surge of magical energy coursed through his body before he tried to concentrate, focusing briefly on making something happen. A reach for something, for anybody.

Tendrils of purple spread into the air before a single small sphere of violet hovered across his palm like a candle. He spun it around, trying to navigate, but there was nothing up until a minute had passed.

“Help… Please help me…”

A choked sob and a cry escaped their lips. Whoever it was had cried out once again before he tried to push through the darkness. Even with the voice crying out, he couldn’t get closer. It felt like he was miles away rather than anywhere near.

“Where are you? J-Just wait… I’m trying to get to you, so…”

But another voice erupted from his side.

“Don’t leave me… Please don’t leave me alone…”

He was rooted on the spot before he tried to wave his hand of light over. Nothing emerged other than a mass of black hair before it shriveled up and scurried away from him. His hand was outstretched and he tried to grab them, but as soon as he tried to chase them, nothing.

They melted within his grasp, becoming nothing but an inky muck that clung to his body and climbed up his frame. He kept pushing through it, struggling to speak as trickling water reached his ears.

“Come back…”

“Guide us!”

“Do not LEAVE!”

The voices were growing more and more. Every time he waved his hand of light, another voice only seemed to erupt from another section of the black. For every bit of light he shined, every bit of darkness seemed to be infected with voices once again. The black cloud of ink seemed to pressure his body, forcing him to move slower as if he were submerged beneath ocean depths. His legs were wading through what felt like mud and his body felt like hands were clawing at his body.

A single hand grasped at his wrist.

He widened his eyes as something dragged him down and pulled him close to someone’s face. The face of a young child as their body twitched and cracked with every subtle movement they made.

“Where’s my mom?”

The words froze in his throat before he could talk. He wanted to say something, anything, but the words had frozen before he could even say them. His lips quivered and he raised a hand before the child’s face shifted and morphed. Their body grew, their limbs grew thin, their legs tall, and their body starved as their face molded and became something less than human.

It grew a face at long.

“Where is my mom?”

It spoke in the same childish voice it had before before their hands cupped his face and dragged him closer.

Numerous hands grabbed at his body from across. He could see ethereal bodies of purple forming from the ground up. Their limbs were thrust through the darkness as pale limbs began to grab ahold of his body. The darkness was swallowing him up, his body being dragged beneath each of their hands as he struggled to breathe.

His shirt was being torn apart, nails raking against his skin, teeth grinding against his flesh, and teeth chattering against his neck. It wasn’t like before. This wasn’t like his body was being drowned beneath the waves. It felt like his body was being devoured bit by bit. He could feel every touch, every scratch, and every harsh whisper of regret passed through his ears.

“Help us…”

“Take us to the River…”

“I want to see my family…”

“My mother! My mother!”

“You can’t abandon us!”

He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to DIE!

‘I don’t want to die! Get away! All of you! I can’t… I just… Get away… Just… get…!’

A surge of energy crawled across his body as the hands clambered up to his face and dragged his head down beneath the muck of black. He wanted them to go away. He just wanted them to get as far away from him as possible. A single scream ripped through his lips.

A howl of fear.

A single eruption of light shot out from his body all over before their bodies were pushed away. The black muck that clung to his figure was dispersed and their bodies slowly began to break down. Their haunted faces, their fragmented bodies, became twisted and spun together. No longer did they have faceless expressions. Instead, their faces were stained with fangs and brilliant azure eyes that glared at him.

He clung to his chest, on his knees, panting heavily as he stared at them. They stepped forward once more before he snapped and waved his hands out.

“I SAID GET AWAY FROM ME!”

A single order and a blast of energy erupted from his fingertips. It struck like a whip before they were sent flying. Their bodies became nothing but dust as they stumbled back, almost in pain at the action he had taken against them. Despite their horrendous forms, they simply stared at him.

And he swore, it looked like they were hurt that he had hit them. Like they couldn’t believe he had struck them. In that moment, he could see the fear in their eyes as they stepped away and shivered under his gaze.

He stared at the hundreds of bodies that began to fade away and vanish, leaving his sight once the inky blackness finally dissipated. Only a single one of them remained behind a small child, who stared at him with tears in their eyes.

“W-We needed you… Please… Please don’t leave us…”

All he did was glare at them, his body high on adrenaline, and his eyes narrowed in anger before the child vanished. Fumihito clutched his tattered shirt and collapsed to the floor onto his face. That trickling sound of water soothed his nerves as the numerous bodies across from him swam through the river.

The same river he had seen the night before.

A pair of skeletal feet were plopped in front of him.

A pair of glowing eyes peered down from above as he stared back.

“...What happened?”

They stared silently at him before they shook their head.

“...You pushed away their salvation. Now? Now they have nothing.”

His vision dimmed before everything went black.

Erlana stood outside the inn and looked to the skies. Not a shred of sound, not one, but no sign of Fumihito either. Thirty minutes had passed without any semblance of motion or movement and yet he still hadn’t returned. She plucked her hat from her hands and pressed it back down to her head before walking through the streets.

“He has to be fine, right? I mean… I just need to have faith before…”

CRACK!

She froze.

Her eyes peered ahead of her toward a single piece of ethereal glass laid out on the ground. She could feel magical energy rolling off of it in waves before it began to lose whatever trace of power it had before.

‘That doesn’t make any sense. This kind of magic resembles the barrier above, but nothing could have gotten through unless someone removed the markings or…’

CRACK!

Another piece fell to the ground in front of her and shattered. She yelped and stumbled back before several more pieces began to rain down. A rain of broken glass became nothing but pieces of energy that vanished into traces within the air. She froze as she looked above and her eyes widened.

There, in the sky, the barrier of Tartarus began to break.

And there, right above, were the numerous heavy shapes peering down with their azure eyes. She could barely scream before their bodies descended above and into the town below. A blast of air sent her flying and rolling across her stomach as something heavy landed in front of her.

A single spirit rose to its feet, its body contorted, its limbs snapping with every movement, and its demonic visage snarled as it gnashed its shadowy fangs together.

“Fumihito…”

It crouched low.

“What did you do?”

And the spirit lunged at her with a mad howl.