Chapter 1: The Ghost Who Waits
The wind howled through the twisted trees of Hollowmere. Dusk painted the sky in dying hues of orange and violet, casting long shadows over the forest floor. A man walked alone, his boots crunching over brittle leaves, his hand resting lazily on the hilt of a worn blade that hadn't seen blood in months.
His name was Asher Reed, 29, once an A-rank adventurer known across the four realms. Now? Just a man haunted by memories.
And a ghost.
"She's close again," whispered a voice beside him. Feminine. Soft. Cold as moonlight.
Asher didn't look. He didn't have to. He knew the voice too well.
"Elira," he murmured, stopping by a moss-covered stone. "You always say that."
The ghost of Elira Reed, his wife, hovered a few paces away. Her form shimmered faintly in the gloom — pale skin, long white dress flowing as if underwater, and eyes like twin pieces of forgotten sky. To others, she was invisible, a memory on the wind. But to Asher — and others who had trained in the ways of the Soul Technique — she was real.
"I feel her," Elira said, drifting forward. "She's crying."
Asher raised a brow. "You can hear someone's soul crying?"
"She's louder than most." Elira's form darkened slightly. "Something chased her. Something with teeth."
He sighed. He'd been tracking strange movement in Hollowmere for days — claw marks too wide for wolves, trees gouged with purpose, not hunger. Monsters were changing. Thinking. Evolving.
And now, a crying soul in the forest.
"I'll check it out," he said, setting off again.
Elira followed, silent as breath.
He found her an hour later, curled beneath a fallen tree, half-hidden by leaves and mud. Her clothes were torn, face streaked with sweat and soot. She couldn't have been older than twenty-five. Maybe younger. Blood clung to her thigh where a deep claw mark glistened in the fading light.
Asher approached slowly.
She looked up, startled — a pair of storm-grey eyes locking onto his. Her lips parted, but no words came out.
"I'm not here to hurt you," Asher said. "Name's Asher."
She blinked. "You… you're real?"
Elira hovered behind him. "She sees me," she whispered.
Asher frowned. "You see the ghost too?"
The girl nodded, trembling. "She's… sad."
Elira recoiled slightly. "She can hear me?"
That was rare. Soul-sensitive people existed, but few could perceive ghosts clearly unless they trained for years. This girl wasn't trained. She was running — broken and half-dead.
"What's your name?" Asher asked.
The girl hesitated, then whispered: "Emilia."
Then she collapsed.
Back at his cottage on the outskirts of Hollowmere, Asher laid Emilia on a cot near the hearth. He cleaned her wound, stitched the gash with practiced hands. Elira watched, arms folded.
"She's marked," Elira said softly. "Not cursed. Not possessed. But something followed her here."
Asher nodded. He'd seen signs of pursuit near the clearing — claw marks, unnatural ones. Something that moved like a man but breathed like a beast.
"She mentioned a village," he said. "Must've come from the eastern woodlands. No one survives there long."
Emilia stirred, mumbling in her sleep. "Don't let it… take me…"
Elira's gaze softened. "She's lost someone."
Asher's heart clenched. He knew that pain too well.
He stood and looked out the window. Beyond the forest, the central capital of Alsira stood distant and silent. It was said to be the last true bastion of peace. But even there, shadows stirred. Monsters were growing bolder, smarter. The balance of soul and flesh was tipping.
"Elira," he said, "you've seen more than I have lately. You sure she's not dangerous?"
"I'm sure," Elira replied. "But she's… different. Her soul shines like fire. And fire draws predators."
That night, Asher sat beside the fire while Emilia slept and Elira drifted near the ceiling beams. The silence between the living and the dead stretched long.
"You still think of her?" Elira asked.
Asher didn't answer.
"You still wear the ring."
He looked at his hand. The silver band glinted in the firelight. "It's the only thing that didn't rot in the soil with you."
Elira smiled sadly. "Then let it rot now. You're still alive."
"I'm not sure I want to be."
"You don't have to want it," she said. "Just… stay."
Outside, a low growl echoed in the forest.
Elira's form flickered. "Something's here."
Asher stood, blade in hand. "Then let it come."