Chapter 5 Rune #3
“We need to figure out how we are going to do it first. Everyone besides Rune needs to stay hidden. We need to hole up in one of the houses before the warlock comes around,” Dimitri spoke, and the way he talked sounded like he’d done this before. He took the lead so effortlessly it was impressive.
I found myself nodding, planting my hands on my hips. “He’s right. Jesper said the warlock would be around. I should start observing until you guys figure out how to do the ritual. Slater, you should find the trapped phantom.”
“I think Rune should find it then come get Slater,” Dimitri suggested. “The warlock should only see you until we need to take care of him.”
“No way.” Slater shook his head, side-stepping away from the group. “To be brutally honest, I know jack shit about arcane anything. Not sure how I got the role. It seems Coralynn knows more about the ritual than I do.”
“I do have extensive arcane knowledge thanks to my friend. She has always been extremely intrigued by the arcane arts.” Coralynn nodded politely. “I feel confident in my knowledge for us to be able to purify the rot without him.”
Dimitri winced. “Stay out of sight while you search.”
Slater saluted him. “Demon’s honor.”
Dimitri’s lips thinned into a line. “That doesn’t fill me with any hope that you’ll stay hidden.”
“Stop believing the bad shit about demons.” Slater rolled his eyes dramatically. “Believe it or not, I’m super badass at staying out of sight. You know, my bio dad was a serial killer. He stayed under the radar for decades. I’ve got this.”
I blinked at him in surprise but bit my tongue. That was something I could ask him about at a later date. “I’ll start exploring and see what all I can find,” I told them.
“Ditto, venom baby. I’ll stick close to you.” Slater winked before doing a weird roll on the ground and rushing off.
I stifled a laugh as he threw himself behind a dilapidated building.
“That house looks good.” Eleanor pointed toward one of the only houses not sunken in or crooked that was in front of the monument. “We can set up shop there and then do the purification ritual as a team.”
The rest of the group agreed, and they headed off to the house.
Koa hesitated behind for a moment, his brown ember flecked eyes staring at me. “Be careful.”
“You too.” I smiled, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach at the way he looked at me.
“I’ll try to find you a replacement knife,” Zuko told me.
“It was a dagger not a knife,” I clarified.
“Same difference. Both stab and cut.” He winked before he followed the others into the house and shut the door behind them.
I was left to explore with Slater somewhere around me, even though I couldn’t see him. Somehow, I knew he was around. I felt him watching me.
I walked around, avoiding the dark green all over the ground as I did. Despite it all, the village was almost beautiful in its ruin. It had a haunting, still kind of beauty. As if it were frozen in time.
The first hour was simple. I explored the village, avoiding the magical essence rot. The dark green substance crept over the ground in all directions.
As I neared the southern edge, where the crumbling fence bled into the dying forest, a raw and guttural scream exploded from within the forest.
Every muscle in my body grew tight as I froze to listen.
The scream echoed again. It sounded closer this time, thick with pain.
My stomach dropped.
There was a trail, barely visible, but it was worn. It had been kept clear through the dead underbrush. Something…or someone…had paced that path again and again.
I hesitated, only for a moment, before moving toward the sound. My legs wove through the trail with ease.
It was what a magical researcher would do, after all.
Branches scraped against my skin, making tiny cuts that healed almost immediately. The air grew colder the farther I pushed. Magic stirred in my blood, reacting instinctively to the shift in arcane pressure. A faint shimmer of spell-work brushed against my senses like a thousand tiny spider legs.
It was completely different from the feeling of Drecken Grimsworn’s magic.
Something was wrong here.
The air was too still, and it was far too cold.
The path ended at a ring of jagged stones, moss-covered and half-swallowed by dirt. At the center was a broken figure. It was thin and bent backward in a way that defied anatomy.
It was a man, and he flickered in that ghostly glitch phantoms were able to do, which freaked me out.
Only, the man was barely clinging to either form.
His arms stretched in jagged spasms toward invisible walls of a binding circle carved into the earth, etched with decayed runes that pulsed with unstable, corrupted magic.
I found the phantom.
The magic circle was drenched in the dark green rot.
I stepped closer, but he shrieked again. His form snapped, splitting one half of his body into faded ghostly shadows before reforming with a sickening crackle of energy. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth even as he faded in and out.
“Oh my Fates.” My voice was barely a whisper.
His head turned sharply toward me.
He saw me. His eyes were wide, glowing yellow, and his mouth opened in silent horror as if I had done this to him.
“What—” I started to speak, but then, he lunged at me.
He hit the invisible barrier of the circle, rebounding with an echoing blast of force that sent up a wave of energy so violent it knocked me back a step.
My heart thundered, echoing loudly in my ears.
I was not a fan of phantoms as it was. But this guy?
The man dropped to the ground in the center of the circle, convulsing. His body bent and twisted, as if trying to escape the confines of his own flesh.
Terrifying.
He let out a whimper, a child-like whimper, that hit me harder than the scream.
This man had been trapped here since the village was sealed off.
Alone.
For twenty years.
I gritted my teeth and knelt, examining the edge of the binding circle.
The runes were old magic. It looked to be improvised and rushed.
Not only that, but the entire circle had been corrupted.
It was leaking that magical essence rot into the surrounding area.
Whatever warlock had cast this had zero care for anyone or anything but themselves.
The man jerked his head toward me again. This time, there were tears streaking down his flickering face.
Despite my instincts screaming to run, I reached out toward the boundary.
The rot reached back.