The Raven's Chronicles. Rage of the Wraith

Chapter 15. The Mother of Light

The sun disappeared behind the horizon long before they reached the castle. When they dismounted their horses on the castle yard, Grumbler nibbled at Jules' thigh and headed toward the stables. The stablemen welcomed the moody steed with a big, red carrot.

"So, what should I tell Rosalie?" Jules asked as they were heading to their room. "She knows Melissa's ghost left the castle."

"I leave it to you," the hunter held the tower's door open for him. "Decide what's best for her."

Once they walked into the room, Jules wrinkled his nose as a delightful smell came to his nostrils. He brushed by his master, who stopped to lean his reila against the wall. In the middle of their chamber, the table was set for dinner.

"Gods, I'm dying of hunger," the boy unstrung his bow, left it by Ravin's reila and hung the quiver on the hanger by the door. Then he dashed to the table and dropped down on his chair. "We should take more supplies next time."

"We will," Ravin took a seat. The boy was already demolishing his chicken, and the hunter poured some tea into his mug. Jules downed it with two big sips and pushed the mug to Ravin to refill it. "Slow down or you'll get sick."

"I couldn't help it," Jules shrug his shoulders. He ate silently until half of his portion was gone. "So, what do we do about the pears? You said we'll mine them?"

"There's an old mine it the mountains," Ravin sipped his tea. "Nobody has used it for several dozen years. We'll try our luck."

"And if we don't find any?" Jules swallowed a piece of chicken. "What then? What exactly do we need them for?"

"They'll fuel the ritual circle. The destroy the wraith, we must end the dark spirit Melissa's ghost turned into," the hunter downed the last bite of the roast. "It'll be resistant, but the circle will tear it into pieces and burn it down. Our own magic is way too weak for it to be done."

"So, if we won't find any..."

"It's not an option."

The air in the room stirred; a chilly breeze winnowed Jules' brown curls and a misty shape formed just by the door.

"Rosalie!" He stood up. Her form whirled and sharpened.

"Meet me in the chapel," she whispered before she vanished.

"I should get going," Jules drank the rest of his tea hastily. "Do you remember how to get to the chapel?"

"I'll walk you there on my way to Kedmon."

The chapel was based underground, just by the catacombs, where generations of Arvers rested in sacred silence. Jules cast the bluish ball of light and walked between sarcophaguses decorated with carvings and sculptures. An old man of solid rock lay with his arms crossed on his chest. Across him, a young woman of white stone slept with her hair scattered around her head like an aureole. As Jules passed by, the bluish light played on her angelic face.

The next two sarcophaguses, the newest ones, stayed plain rectangles. The bigger belonged to Lord Harald - only now did Jules realise the man hadn't had a funeral - and in the smaller one, Rosalie's body rested while her soul wandered through the castle corridors.

There were four more sarcophaguses before the chapel's door - but as Jules approached them, he noticed they lacked lids and remained empty.

He felt somebody's eyes on him and halted. A gust of gentle, chilly wind blew over his face.

"Rosalie?"

She stood there, by her grave, a white clouds illuminating in the darkness.

"There are only four more," she motioned at the sarcophaguses. "One for my father, one for my mother, and one for each brother. I hope they won't join me soon."