Primalcraft: Crimes of the Father (Book 3)

Chapter 10

The trees were purple, the sky was star-filled. The grass was blue, and unmoving as no wind moved in the forest. He looked around but he saw no sight of his body. The only thing that moved was small wisps, dancing between the trees.

Leaning over, he touched one and flinched when the cold touch sent a sap through his body. For a second, he saw a scene of an old woman, knitting on a rocking chair, watching her grandchildren play in the yard.

"What was that?" Blake muttered, rubbing his temples.

"Memories of the dead." A voice sounded, neither male nor female. It was inhumane in nature and made Blake shudder. He turned around to face a terrifying creature standing hunched over, watching him.

The creature was carrying a long leather jacket, tightly fitted armor seemingly made of vines, leather, and bark. The creature carried a mask over his or her face, with tall antlers horn, and had long braids adorned with bronze jewelry.

The creature moved almost animalistically, being close to the ground and reaching over to Blake who backed away with a few stumbling steps. "What are you?"

"Human," the creature said. "Druid."

The druid stopped moving forward, raising his hand and pointing at something behind Blake. Blake darted around, staring at a strange glade. The grass was black and the trees were mere bones. He could hear something scratch and move around from underneath the earth. Black roots seemed to engulf the trees and ground, draining it of life.

"What is that?"

"Defiled earth, sick and growing. Touched by dark magic. Zarazen," the druid made little sense, just giving him bits and pieces of information. "The child of Khaos closed the temple, imprisoning all phantoms within, but the dark magic is spreading. Defiling everything it touches."

Blake frowned at the dark spot, sensing the power from it. "Can it be stopped?"

"Stand with bare feet on the darkened soil," the druid said, gesturing towards him to take off his shoes. Blake looked down, frowning. He leaned down to do so when a hand grabbed onto his shoulder.

"How naïve are you? Haven't your mother taught you not to trust strangers?" asked Denesha, glaring at him before turning her gaze toward the druid who stood up, showing their tall length. "And who are you? You are not from this realm."

"Neither are you, but still you walk the land of the dead," the druid said, tilting their head.

"The land of the dead?" Blake asked.

"Yes, you went to the wrong place. This isn't the spirit realm but the Hereafter, where the souls of the dead await to be collected by-" Denesha went silent, suddenly staring at a dark clothes figure walking with a lantern through the darkness. It stopped for a while, its dark hood turning towards them. Denesha pushed Blake's face into her chest, like a mother protecting her child and Blake peered up at the dark figure who seemed to watch them for a while before turning around to continue its search.

Denesha exhaled, letting the struggling Blake go. She hit him over the head. "By reapers. We don't want the attention of the reapers of souls. We need to-"

She turned her head toward the druid who now was gone, sneaking away when they had been busy with the reaper. Denesha swore, grabbing onto Blake's hands. "I will guide us to the Spirit Realm, just allow me to bring you there. Don't struggle, bey."

Blake could feel himself floating, the landscape slowly changing. Then something suddenly grabbed onto his angle. A terrifying screech echoed as he saw a shadowy figure grab onto his leg and drag him down.