Spirit Quest | ✓

Elliot Continued:

    “Help! Help me please! I’m drowning!” A voice, unfamiliar to his ears, rang with urgency.

    Elliot felt the pull of the voice, urging him to go into the river and help immediately. However, he didn’t give in. Sitting on the ground a couple paces away from the river he listened to the pleading voice:

    “Help me! Please, good child! I need help! Help! Help me! C-come closer!...”

    Again, Elliot did not budge. Soon, the voice became more and more impatient and demanding.

    “HELP ME, young sir!!! I need HELP! Are you going to let an innocent person die?! How cruel, how cruel! Disgusting, you should join me then!”

    “YOU SHOULD JOIN ME!!” The voice roared.

    Elliot had had enough; he stood up while the voice continued to berate him and turned to look up at the willow. Elliot stared in shock. The tree was blood red, oozing a menacing aura, thread like strands ran from the branches into the river playing with a puppet-like thing deep in the currents. Elliot took a couple steps back from the tree and river. Then a face on the tree turned to look, staring straight at him.

    “Ahh, I see~ A young necromancer has found me. How interesting! How interesting indeed.” The tree groaned, obviously not used to speech.

    “N-necromancer? No, nevermind, I don’t want to know. What I do want to know is, are you the killer, old spirit?” Elliot sputtered.

    “If I am, what is it to you? Are you going to die for me too? Obviously not, you are smarter, young necro.” It crooned.

    “I- I am here to put these spirits to rest. Would you be willing to rest too?” Elliot hesitantly asked.

The old willow reflected on what Elliot had asked. “If you try to put me to rest I will surely stop you, by any means necessary of course. Or you could die for me! I would love the taste of your soul in my garden of spirits.” The tree gleefully wiggled.

    Elliot pulled out a sword from its sheath, his stance indicating he was prepared to fight.

    “HAHA!! You think a pathetic mortal sword like that will stop a great spirit like me from ripping you apart and stealing your soul?!” It spat.

    Elliot brandished his sword, jumping towards the tree and slashed the branches moving at him to block its attacks, the branches dropped to the ground unmoving.

    “AAAGHHHH YOU ANT, YOU MINISCULE THING!! HOW DARE YOU CUT MY BEAUTIFUL BARK!” The tree screamed.

    “It is not an ordinary sword,” Elliot replied calmly, “it is crafted with a holy metal. Designed to kill evil spirits, such as yourself and it only grows stronger with the amount of cursed spirits I kill with it. Meaning, you are only helping me, by putting up a fight.”

    Howling, the tree swung again, hitting Elliot square in the chest knocking him back a few meters. Elliot coughed up blood and staggered to his feet while the spirits joined in the fight: hitting, scratching and biting the attacking branches to protect Elliot.