Page 77 of Storm of Shadows

When he first proposed the idea of me venturing alone through the woods as wisp bait, I protested vehemently. Taria offered to take my place, but the demon argued her aura of holy magic would cause the wisps to give her a wide berth, meaning she’s no good as wisp bait.

Caya also offered, seeing as it’s her brother who was whisked away by the wisps. Though I thought it an excellent idea, Natharius countered it. Unsurprisingly.

Firstly, he argued, we can’t be certain the wisps will choose to target her. Their preferred victims are those whose minds are easily penetrable and susceptible to visions of grief. While her brother was targeted, that doesn’t mean Caya would be as well.

I suspect his argument is nothing more than an excuse to ensure I’m the one who is wisp bait. That I’m the one at risk of dying so he has a greater chance of returning to the Abyss and torturing me for eternity.

I suggested for Natharius to go in my place, but he said the wisps wouldn’t bother him. A demon’s soul can’t be warped into a wisp, since it belongs to the Void King. Besides, their physical bodies disintegrate on death as their souls return to the Abyss.

So that’s why I’m here, stumbling through the woods all by myself. No one else makes good wisp bait.

Everywhere looks the same, the next trees identical to the last. It must be close to an hour now that I’ve been searching for the wisps.

This really is proving to be a futile endeavor.

I halt, a thought striking me.

Maybe the reason I’m not finding any wisps is because I’m trying so hard. Natharius mentioned about them selecting their targets with care. If I’m desperately looking for them, maybe my senses are too alert for them to worm their way into my mind. Before, when the wisp appeared to me, I was exhausted from sprinting through the forest and was planning on sitting down so I could rest. Perhaps pausing my search and forgetting about the wisps for a short while will prove a more effective approach. An hour of stomping through the woods has achieved nothing.

A few paces later, I arrive at three large rocks and perch on them. The cool stone seeps through my robes. I go to warm myself with magic but think better of it. The more helpless the wisps believe me to be, the sooner they’ll show themselves. I’ll just have to freeze until they do.

I sit there for a long while, resting my head in my palms. What time is it in the world beyond these woods, where the sun rises and sets? We must have spent several hours searching for Juron, and it’s likely late at night or very early in the morning. The lack of sleep weighs on me. I could meditate and draw on aether to lessen my fatigue, but again that means deterring the wisps with my magic.

I shut my eyes, allowing myself to rest as much as I can here in these terrifying woods. I wonder whether the others will burst through the trees and demand to know what I’m doing, but hopefully they’ll see the wisdom in my plan.

Time stretches on. The night wind rustles through the sparse leaves overhead. Aside from that, the woods are deathly silent.

Until a tinkling comes from the trees.

I don’t stir at the sound. Sleep already has me in its clutches.

“Rey-rey!” Eliya’s voice chirps.

I bolt upright.

A blue light flickers by the nearest tree, only a few feet away. As my sight adjusts, so does the orb. Like how the wisp assumed my mother’s form, Eliya’s features appear beneath the spectral light. Though she’s cast in shadows, there’s no denying it’s her.

Well, not her. An identical, phantom version of her.

But that doesn’t lessen the grief in my heart.

I leap up and start toward the wisp, chanting over and over that this isn’t the real Eliya. My best friend died in Nolderan, her soul scattered into the atmosphere. The real Eliya slumbers inside a crystal coffin in the Upper City’s cathedral.

The spectral Eliya lets out a giggle. Shadowy limbs gesture for me to follow. “Come on, Rey-rey!” the wisp exclaims in Eliya’s voice. “I’ve a stash of my uncle’s finest moon-blossom wine waiting for us to drink it! Come and look!”

My breath catches in the back of my throat.

It sounds so much like Eliya.

I shake my head, clutching my temples. My nails claw into my skin.

Not Eliya.

Not Eliya.

Not Eliya.

Despite the reminder I chant, it seems I’m not entirely immune to the wisp’s enchantment. I stumble after it, my vision blurring like before.