Lifting his arms to the ‘W’ of Cassiopeia’s stars, their chieftain resumed the story. “She graciously allows our warrior spirit to confront one another in a pce where there is no regret, there is no hesitation. It all is absorbed into the sphere itself, and bares the wounds of war as an echo to both our spirit and the nd that is rejuvenated here…before our wakening eyes.” Handing out a small leather pouch to his fellow elders they solemnly handed the pouches to the shimmering mothers and bowed. Once the elders returned, the Chief resumed his small tale. “We call the battlefield, Oh’lidcara.” He waited and let the name sink in for his people, “While it is a great honor to fight within Oh’lidcara the price that is paid comes from within.”

  With a series of taps on his chest and light chanting from his fellow elders, the chieftain’s voice rose to a powerful and heavenly pitch. “While we can see and recall the events of a battle or war on open pins of living soil and wheat, the journey the spirit takes in the battle is hidden in a veil only pulled away when we walk before the spirit elders at our transition.” His gaze traced to every member of the tribe and then back to the wild fmes depositing enough heat to make his skin a bright red. “Oh’lidcara can call for us with any battle, or meaningful confrontation. Let the eternal battlefield guide you. When you arrive, admire the fallen that have come before you.” Immediately after the Chieftain uttered the words, the mothers tossed the contents of the bags into the fire. With each pouch that lit up the night sky in brilliant colors, they slowly hung in the air and formed tiny images of warriors standing, then cshing. Soon enough it changed and showed the same images pulling their comrades free and dropping their broken weapons. One by one the soldiers disappeared and the ground swallowed the remains of the engagement as a dried scar upon the ground.

  Whisking back to her immediate present, Sylvie stepped over the small crevices of battles fought and settled upon a section of destitute ground and felt the remains of her tribe reaching up from the ground and meld within her undead spirit. A few moments ter, the vampiress sensed a change occurring and saw her body taking on a few pieces of hardened leather, held to her frame by the ghosts of long-gone warriors.

  -Taini..-

  Echoed in her mind as the spirits criss-crossed over her body.

  -It’s your time. Your battle.-

  All sense of time evaporated for Sylvie as she stood proudly in the garments of battle that she was never allowed to wear while she was alive. This pce didn’t care who or where she came from, only that she had a battle to fight. It was the gifts of her fallen tribe that cared for her and settled behind her with a soft chant.

  While it was certainly dark, Sylvie quickly made out her opponent. Two hundred years of torment, rage and quiet taunting told the woman soldier all she needed. “Oh’lidcara…grant me the favor to embrace this demon under the eyes of Cassiopeia.” Sylvie didn’t bother to use the physical weapons that the spirits had graced her with, and took a few steps forward. “Kigatilik.”

  Unlike many times before, the inner dark that was attached to Sylvie didn’t take any known shape, but instead floated into her vision as a blob of hate-filled ectopsm with one distinct feature, a set of glowing white diamond eyes. “Taini.” It gutturally responded, a gleam of teeth slowly forming. Slowly taking in its surroundings, Kigatilik created a shadowy hand and dug up a piece of the battlefield. “Finally a pce worthy of a battle.” He sniffed the soil and then let it dissolve into his ghastly form. “Unlike before, every second thought, every doubt and every inkling of fear is just making me stronger. Our eyes shine white within her power.” Kigatilik ughed. “Your spirit believes this to be a battle, but in truth it is a sacrifice.”

  Truth versus lie. There was no way for Sylvie to know for sure what was happening as Oh’lidara wasn’t a pce for question, but one of action. “Words.” Sylvie barely whispered and shifted into her ghost form, then unched herself towards Kigatilik. Intent on mixing herself within his form so there was no solid form for him to possess, Sylvie’s smaller form missed the gooey ball of her demon. Before she knew what was occurring, Kigatilik had assumed his own cloudy form and surrounded her, closing in on her like a shrinking box.

  “Wasting precious blood. I can feel the panic in your form, my darkness will close and consume you, Taini. It is her will that I do so.” Kigatilik offered and quietly closed the gaps in his form.

  Exactly as the foul beast promised, Sylvie felt her blood slipping away and knew if she stayed in her ghost form any longer then it would be too te to provide any real battle that the pne demanded from its participants. With a tiny hole left in Kigatilik’s form, Sylvie extended herself like a thin string and got clear of the hateful bck box before it was too te. Using her snakelike cloud she meandered her way back to her audience of spirit warriors and reformed herself. Drained of blood, Sylvie did her best to stand firm in the face of her demon but failed to do so. Dropping to her knees, Sylvie felt a few of the hands of her tribal spirits touch her shoulder.

  -Taini…It is alright, come join us and travel with the rest of us. It’s been too long, two hundred years of blood thirst that is never quenched. Come with us and there is no more suffering.-

  Admittedly their words were soft and inviting and Sylvie allowed herself to get embraced by the ghostly hands as they kept chanting her name. Nothing mattered, peace and tranquility bore into her mind and drew grand times with her mother’s, reliving the images that she’d meticulously painted and hung on her walls. “My elders…” Sylvie nuzzled her cheek against one of the hands that she knew as her maternal mother’s, “...I didn’t know it until now, how tired my body is.”

  -Walk with us.-