Book One – Chapter 7

Tension transformed into an overwhelming sense of dread; just as Yves crossed the border to the ethereal, a palpable danger gripped his existence. He felt it with his entire body, for his body was of the same essence as this world — raw energy and comprised light. Suddenly, the well of free energy and light in his surroundings vanished from all his senses, leaving only him, the Vicha, and the void. And the voice.

“I̥̹̾̉ͫ͝t͚̪͠ͅ wa̰̦̠̒̐͆s̭ a l̥͎o̓̕ņ̈g͔ͭͣͧ t͚͋im̰e̴͇̜̐̑͑ͬ s̢̮̜̞͎in͗c̻͗̋ͪ͋ḙ a w͚̞̜ͤ̕it͉c͇͉̥̮ͯ̚͢h͉̻̎ c̛̥͐͗a̸͔̳͠͡m̧̹̫ͪ̄́̔e͍͑̋ t͎̄o̤̾͘ ç̴̙̚͟h͎̆͡a̭͌ͫ͞l͎͔̺̪̝̯̄l̛̳ͧ̿͑̕͢e̞͇͇͑ͩ͠n̦͂g͈͆ͬe͋̓ͅ t͒ͩh̦͈̓e͞ Ǵ̢̃̊o̕d̹͑̀̀̅s̠ͫ.”

It echoed in Faramyr, the language of witches, distorted and multi-layered as if borne from the rushing sands. The presence was close, circling him, separated from Yves only by the Vicha’s black veil of distorted energy. It was the Stalker.

Yves was suffocating. As the voice had appeared, so had a barrier of black light. The void. Yves could not access any energy, not draw upon the light fragments that he knew were right there, just behind the Vicha. The Vicha still fed on him. With his faltering resistance, the curse needed mere seconds to outgrow and again engulf him in its rotten mass.

“ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔞 𝔴𝔦𝔷𝔞𝔯𝔡.” They were the first words that came to Yves as he felt his control breaking, his form losing stability, fracturing just like the voice he did not know he had. His breathless words resonated in Byrmir, the most arcane language of higher wizardry.

“𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔢𝔱, 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔞 𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔗𝔢𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔲𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔳𝔢𝔦𝔩 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔡𝔰,” responded the rushing sands from all around.