23. Twenty-Three #3
The creature took two halting steps toward her, then paused, head cocked unnaturally to one side.
Listening.
Long, stringy hair clung to what was little more than a skull.
While some grayed, decaying tissue remained intact across the forehead and cheekbones, the nose was completely gone.
Its eyes, sunken in their sockets, looked much like a moonstone.
Cloudy and unseeing. A tarnished headdress crowned with dull gemstones sat upon its head.
Nova flinched as the creature resumed its creeping pace, one arm stretched out in front of it, bony fingers reaching into the darkness.
It can’t see me.
Slowly, Nova rose to her feet, retreating into the alcove and pressing her back flush against the damp wall.
She looped the silver chain around her neck and clutched the moonstone in her fist, allowing only a bit of its glow to escape her grasp through a crack between her fingers.
Silently, she waited, counting each frantic beat of her heart, the uncanny chirping growing ever closer.
At last, the creature entered her field of vision as it passed her hiding spot.
Nova closed her eyes and prayed that the wraith wouldn’t hear the thundering of her heart.
The thing took no notice of her as it slowly shuffled along the stone corridor. Nova turned her face away from it and held her breath, nose wrinkling in disgust. The stench of decaying flesh and musty robes was enough to summon bile at the back of her throat.
When the once-elf had cleared the alcove by several strides, Nova slipped soundlessly into the passageway, hurrying back toward the main chamber.
As she reached the sharp bend once again, another piercing cry echoed in the yawning darkness behind her.
Instinct took hold, and she broke out into a run, the moonstone’s pale glow glancing off the walls as the pendant swayed across her chest.
The archway leading to the burial chamber came into view, a black void standing on the other side of the opening.
Pumping her arms, Nova sprinted for the doorway, an icy sensation creeping up the back of her neck: fear that the creature was right behind her, bony fingers a hairsbreadth from grabbing her.
As she passed through the opening into the main chamber, her toe caught on the edge of a raised stone, and she crashed to the floor, striking her forehead on the base of one of the stone slabs.
Shaking off the pain rattling her skull, Nova rolled onto her backside in time to see two more once-elves rushing toward her.
They moved much faster than the other one had.
She supposed she’d made enough noise to lead them straight to her.
Scrambling backward over the wet ground, she got her feet underneath her.
Nova drew her sword and slashed in a wide arc, forcing the creatures to halt their advance.
One let out a piercing shriek, and Nova fought the urge to cower and clap her hands over her ears.
They resumed their pursuit, edging her back, her boots splashing in the water pooled on the chamber floor, the sound giving away her position.
Nova shot a quick glance over her shoulder, searching for her best means of escape.
One of the wraiths charged her, a bony arm draped in putrid flesh reaching out, eerie clicks and chirps rattling in its throat.
Skeletal fingers nearly grasped her arm, but she twisted out of reach, thrusting her sword through the thing’s tattered robes and into its chest. Without muscle or sinew to slow it, her blade sailed through with no resistance, and Nova found herself much closer to the creature than she’d intended.
Drawing her sword from the empty rib cage, Nova spun on her heel, running for another darkened archway along the far wall.
As she neared it, the crowned wraith emerged from the blackness, looming over her.
Nova stopped short before stumbling backward.
The two other creatures grabbed her from behind, tightening what remained of their fingers around her arms and dragging her to the ground.
Cold water drenched her cloak as the once-elves pinned her down, one on either side of her while the third made a slow approach.
Her thoughts raced. Only, it was not the life she had lived passing before her eyes in an instant, but the future she would never have. Her mind taunted her with a lifetime of moments she and Callan would never experience. Incredible sights they would never see. Younglings they would never share.
There would be no fire. No smoke to carry her soul to the After Realm. Just an eternity of slow decay in a puddle in an underground tomb. As she struggled against the creatures’ surprising strength, she recalled the sprite’s final warning, and a delirious laugh nearly spilled from her lips.
I suppose this is what I get for disturbing their rest.