The girl's form flickered, her edges softening as she prepared to depart. But Sebastian's eyes narrowed, his head tilting slightly as he studied her. There was something about her voice, her accent, that did not quite fit.
"Wait," Sebastian said, his voice gentle but curious. "You are not Temerian, are you?"
The ghost paused. Her form steadied, and she looked at him with those soft, sorrowful eyes, and a smile touched her lips.
"No," she said. "I'm from Beauclair. I came to these lands some time ago... I can't remember when or why, but..." She paused, her brow furrowing as if she were reaching through a fog of memory. "I think love brought me here. Yes. Yes, love!"
Her face brightened, then darkened. "But where is he... oh, I remember now. He used me. To aid his people.. I was a clumsy girl, and so they killed me."
Dandelion's face went pale. He took a step back, his hand rising to his chest. "Good gods," he breathed. "Used by her own lover? Sacrificed?"
Zoltan's expression was grim, his voice was low but barely contained anger. "What kind of coward does that to someone who loved them? What kind of man uses a lass's love to destroy her?"
Sebastian's voice was calm. "Were you used as a sacrifice by your own lover?"
The ghost nodded slowly, her form flickering with the effort of remembrance. "Yes. Though he was against it at first.. He loved me, I think. Truly loved me. But soon enough, he too fell a victim to their lies.." Her voice grew distant, "They said the gods would grant them favor if they sacrificed someone from a prosperous land.. They said their own land would prosper in return, that their gods would be kind to them.."
Dandelion's face twisted with disgust. "They blamed their misfortune on a foreign woman and used her as a scapegoat.. It's the oldest story in the world."
Zoltan's hands clenched into fists. "And the fool who loved her went along with it. Let them kill her. What kind of man.."
The ghost's voice grew quieter, more broken. "I was brutalized before being killed. By the whole village." Her eyes seemed to look through them. "They spread lies. 'Our sheep are dying. The land yields nothing. The water is unclean. All because of the foreign whore.' That's what they said, that's what they called me.."
Sebastian's expression remained calm, but his yellow eyes had hardened into chips of amber. He stepped forward, his voice gentle still.
"It's okay now," Sebastian said. "You don't have to say anything else, I understand everything."
The ghost looked at him, her sorrowful eyes meeting his. A single tear, translucent and shimmering, rolled down her spectral cheek.
"Thank you, kind knight," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Truly. That tree was a monument to my suffering. And I was not even granted a swift death..." She paused, her form flickering. "I have nothing to offer you, but I shall not forget your kindness in the other world.."
Sebastian shook his head slowly. "No need to thank me." He paused, then asked carefully: "Do you wish for me to seek justice for you? I can try to do something. I'm heading for the Temerian capital. I can call some people and start an investigation. All those who wronged you would be hanged, including your lover."
The ghost was quiet for a long moment. Her form seemed to waver, her eyes distant. Then she shook her head slowly.
"No," she said softly. "You don't have to. They are but a fragile group of people... And as for my.." she paused, her voice catching, "..I truly loved him. To the point that I left my distant home to be with him here.."
She looked at Sebastian, her eyes brightening with a sudden thought. "Wait.. I have something to offer you. A necklace, a very valuable one. Hidden in a house in the village of Benek." Her voice grew clearer, more certain. "The house door is decorated with different sorts of flowers native to Toussaint.. I cultivated them myself." A sad smile touched her lips. "Though they are probably dead now.."
Sebastian nodded slowly. "Thank you. I'll try to pass by."
The ghost's smile widened, growing radiant. "Farewell.."
Her form began to dissolve, rising upward like mist in the morning sun. She grew fainter and fainter, her edges blurring, until she was nothing more than a shimmer of light in the air.
And then she was gone.
Dandelion was the first to speak, his voice soft and contemplative. "Toussaint. Her accent, it was unmistakable. The people of Toussaint are patrons of the arts.. Painters, poets, musicians. I'd wager she was one of them, a woman of culture and refinement, brought to this godforsaken land by love, and ended up.." He stopped, unable to finish.
Zoltan's expression was grim. "You don't want the necklace, do you?" he said, "She was so kind that she didn't wish them harm after everything. But she still accidentally gave you the name of the village and who did this to her.."
Sebastian met his gaze. "Yes. We have a destination, Vizima. But we can stop by this strange little village she mentioned. This is an extremely evil act, killing an innocent like this is..." He trailed off, his jaw tightening.
Zoltan nodded slowly. "There are plenty of stories like hers out there, you can't help them all, Seb." He paused, his expression softening. "But I agree. It's on the road, and we should bring them to justice."
Dandelion's eyes widened. "We?" he said, his voice rising in pitch. "Can't we leave that to the Temerian authorities?"
Sebastian looked at him, "I only mentioned the investigation bit to console her. And apparently, she could tell. No one would come to this shithole to investigate a peasant death, not to mention a foreign one. The authorities don't care about people like her. They barely care about their own."
Dandelion's protest died in his throat. He opened his mouth, closed it, then sighed heavily. "That's... fair," he admitted.
Sebastian turned away from the grave. His hand brushed against the mask at his belt, his thoughts already turning toward the road ahead.
"Let's get a move on, then," Sebastian said.
Dandelion was still pale. "Right. Moving, good plan."
Zoltan clapped him on the shoulder, his grip firm. "Buck up, bard. You wanted an adventure. Well, here it is. Murderers, ghosts, and a village full of bastards who need a reckoning."
Dandelion's laugh was weak. "I was hoping for a different kind of adventure. Songs, wine, beautiful women.."
"Then you came to the wrong place," Zoltan said, grinning. "Now stop whining and get moving."
/-\
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