But the whispers didn't stop. They grew louder.
Then he saw them — faint shapes drifting between the trees. Wraiths.
They were nothing but fragments of mist and hatred, faces twisted in silent screams. Their touch didn't wound flesh. It tore at his soul.
Alek stepped back, heart racing. He'd fought them before, but never this many. They are pretty common monster during the night, but they are also not that dangerous since it doesn't attacked on pack. It's always alone. But why?
He closed his eyes briefly, steadying his breath. "There's no point questioning it, I already encountered stranger things. I can do this."
He gripped the hilt of his sword harder.
The first wraith rushed at him, shrieking. He swung his sword — but it passed through the creature like smoke. Pain exploded in his chest as icy fingers brushed his heart. His knees buckled.
