He quickly opened the spell screen and navigated to his attributes, surprise washing over his face as he read them.
"Wha—"
No need to speak aloud. I hear your thoughts perfectly. Just think—it's easier that way.
"How is this possible?" he thought.
Ah, answers? You're asking the wrong person, friend—I only arrived today.
"Who are—"
"Qurem, we're heading back."
His thoughts were interrupted—his head snapping to the left, meeting the woman's cold, unblinking stare.
He began to stand, only to be forced back into his seat by her hand resting lightly on his shoulder.
"Stay here, finish eating, and rest. You seem… faint today." Her melodic voice held a hint of concern, though her gaze remained measured.
"Meet us back at my quarters when you're finished," she added, walking away to join the other two Saints.
Bennan turned back to the runes, reading them again for the second time.
[haunted]
Attribute description: "Something ancient has taken root in your mind."
"You wouldn't mind leaving my head, would you? I'm not really a big fan of having my thoughts read", Bennan thought.
Regrettably, I haven't the faintest idea how I came to be here… or how to leave, for that matter. It's an enigma I find particularly intriguing.
Well, can you at least tell me your name if we're gonna be stuck together for a while?
The voice paused for a moment—and for the first time, sounded troubled.
Truthfully… I'm not sure what it is. Though I've retained my vast intellect, it seems my past memories have been severed from me.
"Okay then, I'll just call you Specter for now."
The voice scoffed but didn't seem to object to the name. Raising his spoon to his mouth and glancing around the noisy clearing, Bennan asked:
"Hey, Specter—how did you know his name was Saint Lyil?"
Returning to his former cheery tone, Specter answered:
Back in the hut—while you were quaking in your boots—I was listening. Every word. You missed quite a bit… some of it more important than just a name.
"Well? What is it?"
A favor isn't something to be given lightly. So you'll have to do something for me too. That's the polite thing, right?
He was stunned.
"You bastard, what could you possibly want?!"
Thoughts raced through his head as he imagined what a bodiless entity could want. What was it even capable of?
Calm down, boy. I simply want all the information you're privy to on this nightmare spell, Specter said, laughing.
Slightly embarrassed by his outburst, he stood up and began thinking through every class he'd taken that pertained to the spell. As he walked, years of lessons and stray bits of knowledge flowed through his head. And as he stepped out from under the tarp, Specter muttered to himself:
Fascinating. Whatever this curse is, it's operating well outside conventional sorcery.
"Alright, that's enough. Tell me what I missed."
Turning out of the alley, the large hut came into view. As they drew closer, Specter began speaking.
From what I heard, they're having trouble with something… spreading among the soldiers. That map you saw? It wasn't for terrain—it was tracking whatever this is. If I had to guess, that's why you're here.
Bennan stopped, the handle of the door in his hand.
"But how am I supposed to fix something if Saints can't even deal with it?"
Oh, I'm sure you'll get there eventually. That's for you to figure out.
Scoffing, he turned the handle and walked in. Inside, Anthony and the woman were standing over the map, studying it with clear contempt. Anthony spared him a strange look as he entered.
"Specter, what's her name?" Bennan thought.
Hmm. Judging by the others more mundane names, I assume it was just part of her true name, but they called her Wind Flower.
He opened his mouth to speak to the two in front of him but was cut off by Specter screaming in his head.
Bennan—behind you! You need to run!
Choosing to trust the sudden urgency of the so-far calm voice, he turned on his heels—only to find a tall figure standing in his way.
Saint Lyil stood before him, hand raised.
Without even seeing it move, Bennan's vision went black.