The Midnight Ghost

Act I

Ioana didn't expect to be placed here at a small, abandoned forest shrine in the middle of the British Isles. Quietly, she looked over at her companion Aden taking in the dusty worn peasant's clothes he had illusioned over himself. Her own ankle-length grey dress was scratchy against her pale skin. She personally found it uncomfortable, scratchy, and just bland. At least her mentor allowed her to dress it up a little with a red sash to hold back her curly, shoulder-length, brown hair. A matching sash with bones and iron coins sewed into the hem was securely tied around her waist. Accenting what little figure she had. While the shade of red used for the dye was a little bland for her tastes, the clinks, and jingles of the coins served to lighten her cloudy mood.

Aden, she knew, was perfectly comfortable in his dull brown and green forest apparel. As the knee-length tunic, full-length breeches, and plain rope belt was not only an illusion, but it was what he was accustomed to wearing. The road was just barely visible through the thick foliage of the forest. Six days. They just had to survive six days without getting thrown from the village or killed as none-humans. Acting human, she was more than confident they could handle. However, when it came to acting the part of a wandering peasant, Ioana wasn't as confident in her acting.

Before them, the silver light of the moon-lit sky illuminated the well-trodden road. Mindful of rocks and horse dung they pressed forward, carefully acting the part of travel-worn pilgrims before they even spotted the crude barricades of the town. At the edge of the village, just past the barricades, an oil lamp illuminated a sign. Dancing Maid Inn. Her companion turned his course and led them up to the stone steps. She followed, glad at least one of them could read the common language here.

He knocked politely on the wooden door before cautiously letting them in. From a back room an elderly, balding man came and looked them over. When the questions began slowly rolling from the elder's tongue, Ioana had to bite down her impatience. "Who are you, where did you come from, and, Where are you going?"

With ease, Aden answered them. Looking just like the sun-kissed natives of the isles, the language was easy and his dialect immediately picked up. The old man smiled accepting the recited information they planned out at the shrine. She smiled shyly and adverted her eyes as her companion introduced her as his wife the blush that rose to her cheeks not necessarily planned. She knew it would be inconvenient if they were not allowed a room but still the butterflies in her stomach were stirred by the temporary title. After requesting to see a map of the area, Aden paid for their room and allowed the innkeeper to show them the way.

As the door clicked closed behind them, she sighed and threw the lock over the door. It didn't take long for her tattered traveler's shoes abruptly found a corner of the room to spend the night. Next, her attention turned to checking the bed for lice and bugs, batting out the suspicious pillowcase at the window. "Aden?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you find out where we are from the map?" She heard him settling into a sitting position on the floor, the map easily coming to his mind.

"Yes, this Island is about a mile from my home."

"Have you been here before?"

"No."

Satisfied with beating the sheets and the pillow, Ioana settled onto bed. A book to read while she waited for the wee hours of the morning would have been nice, but with the illiteracy rate of the area, her tutor had removed all of them from her bag. It didn't help her case that a book in a language other than what the natives knew could easily be mistaken as a Grimoire.

The plan was to rest here for a few days in the village and then be on their way like normal travelers. In her opinion, calling anything in this region bigger than a hamlet seemed generous. There were few people to be seen in small villages like this, but she suspected most of the inhabitants lived in farmsteads father away.