The Listener’s Ghost

very elf is curious about the afterlife, but not everyone truly wants to know for sure what happens when we die. I don’t want to know, but there is one thing I’m sure of: I never want to be a ghost. I want an afterlife that is nothing like what I have now.

My life is one of servitude; long ago my family sold me to the wealthy Gelmberry family as a manservant, bound to their only son. I serve Master Alyew Gelmberry, of the same name as the elven city of Gelmberry. My contract binds me to him for the remainder of his life. Even if he were banished from elven society and forced to leave the motherwood, I would have to follow him. He is only a few years older than me but has enough resources to easily outlive me. When I do die, I want an afterlife unlike the world I know.

Roughly twice a year, the Grave Moon shines overhead, and in its silvery light, ghosts walk amongst us. I am filled with pity for these aimless elves and animals. I say pity, because I do not hate them. However, many think that I hate them because my master hates ghosts with all of his being.

When Alyew was a child, the ghost of some long-dead, fat woman, became obsessed with him. Every Grave Moon, that ghost would scour the city looking for Alyew, and when she found him, she would linger relentlessly. There are no known spells to rid a ghost, and their ability to pass through even the densest castle walls makes them difficult to escape. Poor little Alyew’s only option was for his parents to send him away to stay with a distant relative in Brexia, but that relative was a bitter old man who supposedly died from shouting.

After twenty-three years of haunting, the ghost stopped appearing and has not been seen since. One would think this would be a Grave Moon to celebrate, but the Gelmberry family can never celebrate during a Grave Moon, at least not while they are in the city that bears their name.

Out of all of the major cities in the elven motherhood, the only city to ever fall to invaders is the city of Gelmberry. On top of that, it fell to an army of goblins, which only adds to the shame. Ghosts from that great pillaging still wander the streets, reminding the citizens of that shame, and those citizens pass that shame onto the family of the same name. And now, generations later, the once vast Gelmberry family has dwindled down to just one remaining heir: Alyew.

As a young adult, Alyew used to travel to other elven cities during the Grave Moon season in order to escape the ghosts of his hometown. He used to favor the city of Laurenstir, but now he and I travel to the capital, Tiersylvia. We travel so often that we now have a second residence there. This is mainly because of a certain . . . “organization” that has caught his attention.

In the city of Tiersylvia, there is an odd group of elves known as The Listeners. They wear bright red and white striped robes, and have tall red hats. They all speak in a sign language of their own invention, and they have a singular focus that has made them the topic of much debate: They are determined to learn about the afterlife.

The reason why they wear such loud garments and speak in sign language is so that if one of them were to die and come back as a ghost, they could easily be identified as a Listener and could communicate with the living. Ghosts don’t make any noise, and they cannot write, but they can be seen. Supposedly, the Listeners have already begun gathering information from ghosts, and are willing to teach their sign language to anyone willing to learn in order to greatly increase their chances of communication. The high elven council has demanded that the Listeners share anything they learn, but the Listeners are incredibly secretive. They are willing to die with their secrets, and maybe even excited to do so.

lyew hates ghosts, so I thought he would dismiss these Listeners as a cult or some other fanatical group, but instead he became intrigued. He learned their sign language, took every opportunity he could to speak with them, and is now actively trying to join their ranks to become a Listener himself. Despite being near Alyew at almost all hours, I could not say that I truly knew Alyew until I asked him outright why he would want to join a group that is devoted to something he hates so much. It was then that Alyew told me a truth that made his entire character clear to me and rationalized this paradox. He stated plainly and from a place of pure devotion “I want to kill ghosts.”

I had never seen Alyew so determined. He wore a smile whenever he was with them and opened up his family’s coffers to appeal to the Listeners. He even donated one of his family’s properties to the Listeners so they could open a new branch in Gelmberry. Over time though, these monetary contributions seemed to get Alyew nowhere. He hid his frustration surprisingly well, but whenever he asked to formally join, I feared he would pop as they continually rejected him. On his last trip to Tiersylvia, to the Listener’s main citadel, he managed to speak to a Listener of high regard. He asked to join, and offered the whole of his family’s resources, but the high listener’s denial cut through Alyew. The high listener told him that he could see through him, and that Alyew was not sincere. Alyew did finally lose it, and asked if a ghost told him something, and when the high listener did not deny it, Alyew screamed and shouted like an elf transforming into a werewolf. Months of pent-up frustration poured out of his whole being. The high listener stoically waited and when Alyew had finished, the high listener walked away.

My master’s defeat by the Listeners led him to the wine cellar, where he only emerged to eat or find someone to argue with him. I was often the recipient of his one-sided arguments, while bringing him food or clean clothes. He did have my pity, but there was a glimmer of hope for me that he might drink himself to death, which would free me from my contract. I dared not tell him that another Grave Moon was on the rise, knowing that ghosts do frequent wine cellars. I hoped deep down that a ghost might startle him in his drunken state, weaken his heart, or cause him to tumble. It wasn’t even fully out of self-interest, Alyew was a tortured elf who could benefit from death. But when the Grave Moon shined overhead, it awakened something in my master that was somehow worse.

heard multiple crashes and shouting from the wine cellar, it sounded like Alyew was throwing curses and empty bottles around the room like a lunatic. I peered from the steps and saw Alyew trying to confront the ghost of a lowly glif elf. The ghost did not flinch as the bottles passed through it; in fact, it seemed to be enjoying the interaction, smiling and noiselessly chuckling at my master’s anger. Alyew tried to grasp at the ghost’s neck as it effortlessly evaded the attacks. But then, Alyew stopped, and his demeanor shifted from rage to an eerie stillness. Alyew pointed his finger at the ghost’s right arm in a way that caused the ghost to also stop. Alyew commanded the ghost coldly to “raise your arm.” The ghost did not move. We know that ghosts can hear us, and this ghost did seem to hear Alyew, but it looked back as if it was offended.

“Raise your arm!” Alyew shouted. The ghost instead walked toward the stairs to leave. Whatever thrill the ghost had found had transformed into something dissatisfying. It glided up the stairs, and Alyew chased after it, shoving me aside. He kept shouting, “Raise your arm! Raise your arm you worthless glif! You can’t raise your arm, can you? Raise your arm!”

Alyew then came back to me as if he had a new life and new purpose. He grabbed me by the shoulders and asked me if I knew anything about who that ghost was. I actually did know, because that was the ghost of a laborer who used to deliver flour to the residence. I nodded at Alyew that the ghost was familiar.

“What happened to him?” he asked frantically.

I explained that he supposedly died of an infection or a disease. This was years ago, but that ghost doesn’t normally wander around here.

The news did not satisfy Alyew. His grip tightened on my shoulders as he clarified. “His arm. What happened to his arm? He clearly could not move it.”

I had to think for a minute, which was difficult in Alyew’s grip. I told my master what I could remember. That ghost had some sort of injury before he died, and that he had lost the use of his arm. It was some sort of accident, I did not know what, but it did not matter because Alyew was ecstatic. He spoke toward me but it was as if he was speaking to a mirror. “There are those who have been decapitated, but their ghosts have heads. There are those who have been burned, but their spectral form is smooth and healthy. But that ghost we just saw could not move its arm even though it had a functional arm during its life.”

I did not know that laborer well in life, but Alyew was speaking the truth. It was not clear what he was so excited about. Then, Alyew’s eyes seemed to snap their focus onto my face. “Elmir, have you heard of the Noseless Maiden?”

“Of course, sir,” I replied. “She has been haunting the willow gardens of Laurenstir for at least a thousand years. She supposedly cut off her own nose after being called ugly by a prince from her time. Elves pay to see her, she’s a local attraction.”

“Yes!” Alyew said, as if we somehow agreed. “No nose.”

Alyew then released me. He paced around for a moment, then shouted, “Clean this room up. We will have guests in a few days, and they will want wine.” He then bounded up to his room, leaving me with a wine cellar full of broken glass and confusion.

Grave Moon usually lasts three to four days, and after the current Grave Moon had passed, Alyew held a meeting with a band of local thugs. He did not meet them in the wine cellar, but instead they met in a workshop on the edge of the estate. These were three of the biggest elves I had ever seen, each wearing leather armor with weapons hanging off of them. Alyew had me bring up a bottle of quality wine to serve them, but they drank it like it was water.

Alyew cut right to the job; he wanted the thugs to capture a Listener and bring them to this building, and he wanted them to do it without anyone noticing. Despite their size, the thugs looked nervous. One of them spoke up.

“The Listeners are tricky. They know things. I’ve heard they can say things that cannot be unheard.”

“Then gag them before they can talk,” replied Alyew.

The thugs looked at each other. They did not expect this type of request and were very unsure of what to do. Another thug spoke up. “We don’t know how . . .”

“They’re just like anyone else,” replied Alyew without hesitation. “Just capture them like you would anyone else, and bring them here. Tie them to this chair, gag them, and leave them for me.”

The thugs looked at each other some more. One gave a shrug, and the others kind of shrugged in reply. The one closest to Alyew asked, “Which one do you want?”

Alyew replied slowly this time. “Any one of them.”

The thugs agreed, but demanded half of the money up front, and to be paid in Dwarvish Gold Kruts instead of Elven Silver Notes. My master gestured for me to pay the thugs, so I did so right away. As they left, I looked at the wooden chair in the room. It was likely that we would have a new guest sitting in that chair. I felt an urge to dust it, or maybe sand it, but instead Alyew and I just looked at it together. He left without speaking to me and returned to the house. I felt the need to wait a bit before following.

t did not take long. The following afternoon, Alyew shouted for me from the garden. He shouted for the money, he shouted to me to quickly bring the Gold Kruts. I rushed to Alyew’s side with a clanging purse. The thugs were waiting impatiently in the workshop, one was pacing nervously. There, tied to a chair, sat an elf in an unmistakable red and white robe. She was hatless; the thugs had placed a sack over her head. She did not struggle in her chair but from the few noises of discomfort she made I could tell she was gagged.

I offered the purse to the thugs, who snatched it from my hands and were immediately out the door. I quickly closed the door behind them, and also the shutters on the one window. I was nervous, I even started tidying up the workshop a bit without thinking.

Alyew stood there over his prisoner with a look of hunger. He rubbed his hands eagerly but seemed unsure what to do. He hesitantly raised his hand, then quickly pulled the sack off of the listener’s head. The listener was a woman who looked older than us. She had white hair which was gnarled from the sack. Her dark purple eyes defiantly stared up at Alyew from the chair, but she made no sound. Alyew stared back unafraid, maybe even insulted. He postured forward to lean over her unnaturally.

The two were locked in a staring contest that I was happy to be left out of. Then, quite deliberately, Alyew raised his hand towards her face. Slowly, he reached past her cheeks to untie the gag. He tossed the gag on the floor and kept eye contact.

The listener looked up at my master, still defiant. After a pause, she commanded Alyew to “untie me now.”

Alyew let the words sit in the air. He smirked at the listener briefly then spoke conversationally. 

“I would very much like to kill a ghost. Well, all ghosts actually. But, I just want to know how to kill a ghost. If you tell me, I will let you go.”

The listener’s ears tilted downward a bit, and her top lip tightened. She responded with a hint of anger and spit as she repeated her command to “Untie me—”

Alyew’s hand arced down across her face before she could finish. The slap surprised me. I crouched down, unsure what side of Alyew I would see now. He was less conversational as he restated “I want to kill ghosts.”

The listener cocked her head back towards my master with a look of disdain. She raised her voice and started to repeat her demands, but Alyew raised his voice even louder. He grabbed the sides of the chair, leaned his face down onto hers, pushing her head against the chair screaming, “I WANT TO KILL GHOSTS!”

“I WANT TO KILL GHOSTS! I WANT TO KILL GHOSTS! I WANT TO KILL GHOSTS!”

Whatever defiance the listener had was forgotten, her eyes were wide with surprise as my master straightened up and away from her. For the first time, the listener looked towards me. I could see that she was capable of fear. I could feel what would come next, I had heard the rumors of why one should never meddle with the Listeners. They know things about death. Things that the living do not want to know. If there was a time to use such words to save herself, her eyes convinced me that this was the time.

I sank down against the workshop wall and covered my ears, but this did not stop me from hearing. She returned her eyes to my master and spoke as if casting a spell. “They do not go away when the Grave Moon sets. They are here, now. Always.”

My mind went back to that fat woman who plagued my master. The thought of her haunting his peaceful days as well gave me a chill, but these words did not shake Alyew. Her words only seemed to anger him more.

The listener went on. “They know about each other. They know about everything that has ever died and come back. Unspeakable horrors that dwell below our feet and above the clouds.”

My master started to pace, impatiently. It looked like he might strike her again.

“They know the future. They know the calamity that is to come. They are not the unfortunate, they are the lucky ones to avoid the maddening blackness that—”

My master slammed a bundle of tools onto the workbench, the clanging interrupted the listener. Alyew unrolled the cloth to reveal a set of tools he had prepared. There was a sharp knife and a fine-toothed saw. There was a bar of flint, a spool of silk thread, and a metal flask. He then reached for a torch that appeared to be already soaked in oil. He also produced a large roll of bandages, placing them next to the tools.

The listener seemed about to continue when my master spoke first. “As a listener, you must know about the noseless maiden.”

The listener looked bewildered for a moment. Most people know of the noseless maiden, she is a tourist attraction surrounded by folklore.

Alyew continued, expecting her not to answer. “There are many campfire stories about how she came to haunt that glen, and why she is disfigured, but no one ever asks an obvious question.” He glanced at me for a moment with a smile as if he was about to win an argument. “No one ever asks the location of her nose.”

I did not see the point. Perhaps his erratic behavior and actions were a symptom of madness? The listener did not react either but was now listening intently. She was hanging on his words.

“Is there a ghostly nose somewhere in that glen?” asked Alyew, rhetorically. “No. With the generations of foot traffic, someone would have found it. It would have been quite the discovery. No, she must have lost that nose some time before she died. If I had to guess, at least a whole day. However, maybe I should guess two days, just to be safe.”

My master then reached for the metal flask. The listener clenched her fists and tugged at her bonds. He opened the flask and crept toward her carefully. She started to jerk and pull wildly. She closed her mouth tightly and tilted her head as far away from Alyew as she could.

lmir, grab her head!” Hearing my master’s words, I leapt up out of habit but stood there frozen. He commanded me again, “Elmir, at once!”

With staggered steps and great hesitation, I maneuvered behind the listener and struggled to steady her head. I grabbed her ears like handles and pulled her head against the back of the chair. My master grasped for her chin. “Hold her by the forehead you fool” he shouted at me.

I wrapped my arm around her forehead, and the other around her neck. Alyew pressed her chin down to open her mouth. She bit at him like an animal, but he splashed the liquid from the flask at her mouth. He did this several times until he was satisfied and commanded me to release her.

I took a wide step away. “Master, why do all this just to poison her?”

Alyew looked at me as if I insulted him. “This is not poison. It is medicine! It will slow her heart, but it won’t kill her.”

“You’re sick!” shouted the listener. “You’re a sick elf!” For the first time, she sounded like a real person.

“I want to kill ghosts!” replied Alyew. “I want to kill ghosts, and you’re going to tell me how.”

“You can kill me, but I’ll never tell you!” she replied.

Alyew picked up the knife and moved towards the listener’s side. He grabbed the cuff of her robe, and slid the knife up the sleeve, exposing her arm. He then placed the knife back on the workbench and picked up the silken thread. He unwound the thread and started to tie it around her arm above her bicep. She jerked her arm, but her movements were sluggish.

“What are you doing?” she demanded.

“I know that you don’t fear death. I know you eagerly await it,” explained Alyew as he wrapped the thread around her arm over and over again. “The idea of coming back as a ghost is the highest honor for you. But what good is it if you cannot tell your fellow listeners about the afterlife?”

I could see it now; my master’s plan. Ghosts can’t talk, but the listeners use sign language. Without her hands . . . she would be useless. Even if Alyew doesn’t kill her, she would have nothing to offer the Listeners. She knew this too. She probably knew before I did.

“Please . . . ” she began to plead. “Not this. I’ve given up everything for this.”

Alyew stopped wrapping the thread. He moved in front of the Listener and knelt down. He was calm now, and he looked into her eyes. “Will you tell me what I want to know?” He asked so softly, it was as if someone else was the one threatening to cut off her arms.

The listener nodded. Alyew then asked, “Is it possible to kill a ghost?”

The listener nodded again. This nod felt like a weight lifting from the room. My master trembled a little, losing his balance as he knelt. He leaned to the side to look at me around the chair. He had a look on his face I had never seen. It was as if he wanted to share this moment with me. I had to admit, even I wanted to know the next answer.

“How?” Alyew asked intently.

The listener looked towards the floor. “We don’t know if it is death for a ghost. We know there is a way to make them disappear, but we have never tried.”

“How?” Alyew calmly asked again.

hosts can hurt each other.” The listener explained, reluctantly. “They can . . . dissipate each other, like snuffing a candle.”

Alyew didn’t look pleased to hear this. This was not the sort of revelation he was looking for. He stood up, crossing his arms. “If you’re suggesting that I die and become a ghost . . .”

“We’re already ghosts!” exclaimed the listener, interrupting my master. “We’re just ghosts trapped in flesh until we’re free.”

Her words were morbid, but she said them almost like a mantra.

“There is a way to . . . step out of your body for a time.” The listener began to explain. “With the right herbs, you can walk amongst the ghosts, and then return to your body. In that time, if you’re able to, you can kill ghosts.”

Alyew stood there, arms still crossed. He was considering this. He then started to fantasize out loud. “The ghosts of warriors still carry their weapons with them. I could bring a sword. If I wore a mask, people would not recognize me. If it works, perhaps I can hire mercenaries to rid Gelmberry of ghosts once and for all.”

Alyew moved to the workbench and started to put away the tools. I breathed a sigh of relief.

“What herbs do I need, and how do I prepare them?” Alyew asked, while he packed up his instruments.

The listener started to explain. Alyew told me to write it down, but the recipe was simple enough for me to remember. The main ingredient was a rare flower, but I knew where to get one. I nodded to my master that I had everything. Then, Alyew took a nearby hammer. He turned to the listener, still bound in the chair, and struck her hand. She let out a scream. Alyew then struck the other hand as the listener cried out.

“I told you everything!” cried the listener. “You said you would let me go!”

“If what you said is true, then your hands will heal. But, if you gave me a recipe for poison, then you will starve to death here, with broken fingers.” Alyew then turned to me. “Elmir, tomorrow, go and collect the ingredients.”

t took some time to prepare, but I collected everything the listener had instructed. While I was shopping, Alyew searched the family armory for his instrument of spectral destruction. My master was no warrior. If he indeed intended to face a ghost on equal ground, he would need all the advantages he could give himself.

One of the chilling details the listener said while trying to scare us was that ghosts are always walking among us, and it is just the light of the Grave Moon that reveals them. If this was true, then we did not need to wait five more months for the next Grave Moon to rise.

I checked in on the listener again while Alyew prepared the herbs. I brought her some water and a bit of bread. She reluctantly ate from my hand like a sick dog. Before I left her in the workshop, she surprised me with a question. “Why do you want to kill ghosts?”

“My master has always hated ghosts,” I explained. “He was plagued by one as a child, and many of the ghosts from the great pillage are a recurring shame on his family.” 

“I’m not talking about your master, Elmir,” she said from her chair. “I asked why do YOU want to kill ghosts?”

“Oh.” I’m so often an extension of my master, that I assumed she was asking about him. “I don’t want anything to do with ghosts, or listeners for that matter. I am bound to my master until death, or until he frees me.” I then continued to exit the workshop, but before closing the door, I looked back at her. “It’s nothing personal. I hope he lets you go.”

Alyew had prepared the herbs and poured the concoction into a waterskin. Night was beginning to fall, and we still had to go to a place where we were certain to find a ghost. Alyew knew of an old man who haunted a well. Every Grave Moon, this old elf could be found pacing around a dried up well. Alyew said that this would give him the best chance of finding a ghost, but I suspected that he felt he could take the old elf in a fight.

The well was located far out in an overgrown field. It was unlikely the owners would notice us. In addition to drinking the mixture of herbs, incense was also required. As I lit the incense, I wondered if Alyew was going to make me drink the mixture. He could if he wanted to, I am required to taste his food and drink if he were to ask.

“Master Alyew. Are you sure you want to do this?” I felt compelled to ask. I didn’t want to drink the herbs, but this was clearly a dangerous endeavor. We were meddling in things we did not fully understand.

Alyew drew his sword. It was an old sword from before Gelmberry fell to the goblins. It was from a time when his family was revered. He held the sword out in front of him as if shaking hands with it. He looked ridiculous holding a sword, but I could tell he was trying to take the weapon seriously. He gestured for me to hand him the potion. I did so and took a step back.

He looked at me as he drank the potion. He drank the whole waterskin. We looked around, waiting for something to happen. Then, I noticed Alyew looking at his own hand as if in a new light. As he stared at his hand that grasped the sword, it suddenly fell limp, the sword falling to the ground. His stare did not break, it was as if he was still staring at his hand. He started to wobble, and I instinctively moved in to catch him as he fell. I patted his face a little and spoke his name to see if he would wake, but he was out. His breaths were short, his heart was slow, and his eyes looked as if a frost had fallen over them.

Part of me panicked, while a voice in me reminded me that this is likely what is supposed to happen. I pondered what would occur if he didn’t wake, I imagined some battle between Alyew and the old elf, and every few minutes I patted his face to see if he would stir. After a while, I grew physically tired of the pacing. I sat near him. He was still breathing, and I had no context for how long things should take, but it felt entirely too long. Minutes felt like hours, and I sat there, clutching my knees, resting my head in my arms. I was tired, but I fought to stay awake.

After what felt like a long blink, the sun was rising. Alyew was standing there, the sword discarded on the ground. Did he fail? Alyew was watching the sun rise. I stood up to join him but approached slowly. I suspected he would be angry with me for falling asleep, but as I got close enough, he seemed content, peaceful.

“Master Alyew?” I asked cautiously. “Did it work?”

He turned his head towards me. “Yes. It worked. Take me home, we must free the listener.”

We walked back, but it felt like Alyew was following me. It’s hard to say, but he always walked in front of me and I followed behind, but this time it was as if he expected me to lead him. As soon as we reached the property, we went to the workshop, and he immediately freed the listener. She didn’t say anything, she just rubbed her wrists and left. 

“Master Alyew, aren’t you worried she will tell the authorities what we did?”

“I release you from your servitude,” Alyew stated plainly. “You are no longer my servant.”

I was certain I had misheard him. “Alyew?” I asked, confused.

“Take some money, as much as you need,” he continued. “Collect your things and leave.”

If this was a side effect of the concoction he drank, then he could not legally free me. He could easily reclaim me once he regained his senses.

“Master Alyew, you’re not in your right mind. Perhaps you should lie down.”

He looked at me coldly. “What do you need in order to leave? Do I need an officer to escort you away?”

Startled and confused, I reminded him that, if he wished to free me, he would need to do so in writing. He then demanded to see my contract. He followed me into the house as I searched for it, but this was one of the few things Alyew did not leave in my care. It was locked in a safe. Alyew stood in front of the safe, staring at it for a time. I stood by for a while, but then I figured he didn’t want me to see the combination, so I removed myself from the room. From the hall, I peered in and watched as he just stood there. Alyew reached for the knob of the safe and slowly inputted the combination, but the way he paused between each turn, it was as if someone was telling him what numbers to use.

Suddenly, it all dawned on me. He was actually going to free me. Did his newfound power to kill ghosts change him? Was he just under the effects of that concoction? If he indeed freed me in writing, he would have to admit to a number of crimes to explain how he did so by accident. It also dawned on me that he said I could take as much money as I needed. If I took too much, it would seem suspicious, I certainly couldn’t ruin him.

There was a cache of money that I used for groceries, shopping, and most recently paying thugs. I took all of the gold kruts, and a number of silver notes. When I returned to Alyew, he had indeed written a statement on the contract itself stating that my bond was fulfilled, and I was free.

I didn’t know what to say. It felt like a dream. I had spent so many years by his side, my heart was suddenly heavy with sadness. I had never embraced Alyew, but I felt compelled to do so at that moment as I struggled with how to say goodbye.

But Alyew made it easy. He gave me the contract, and with an annoyed tone, he said, “Collect your things and leave.”

Aside from a few clothes, I didn’t have much to collect, other than the money of course. Alyew seemed to be waiting for me to leave. As I walked away from the Gelmberry estate, I could see Alyew watching me from the window.

Months later, I had my own apartment, and a job as a waiter. My coworkers poked fun at me because I called everyone sir or madam and joked that I am awkward to be around. I even told a girl I liked her, but it turns out she was just being nice to me and telling her how I felt only made her stop speaking to me entirely. This didn’t matter though, it was just refreshing to be around people who were happy.

That night, the Grave Moon was going to rise, and I thought it would be nice to go out and watch it rise without Alyew. I wondered if I would discover some beauty in it that I could not see before. Maybe I would see the ghost of a loving grandmother, or a brave warrior, and that would wash away the last of my old self.

As I sat on a park bench, there was no sense of dread, only a small twinge of excitement. Then, like the many Grave Moons before, they started to appear. Walking into view from nothingness, the ghosts of the dead began to stroll the park. There was even a ghostly couple holding hands, I had never seen that before.

One of the translucent figures was looking my way. In his hand, he carried a sword. He walked up to me intently, angrily. To my horror, I knew who it was even from a distance. I wouldn’t let him get near me. No. I could not look at him. I scrambled from that park bench and ran. I went back to my apartment, packed what I needed and left the rest. The local stablemaster had gone to bed, but I woke him and paid double for a steed.

I rode as fast as I could. I needed to leave Gelmberry, I needed to leave the motherwood. The only place outside the elven nation I had ever heard of was Brexia. I just needed to get someplace he would never find me. If I could not escape him in Brexia, then I would find a way to the ocean. And if he was somehow there as well, I would sail to the ends of Atruxia.