A Hold of Spectres
Part 2
Chapter One
The next morning, Rhaean awoke, startled from slumber by a strange sound. As she opened her eyes and tried to reorient herself, she saw something moving back and forth in the darkness, scraping the stone floor of her room. She sat up, her eyebrows furrowed, still unsure of what it was she was seeing. The fire in her hearth had died out and offered no light by which to see, and so she lit a candle. Her eyes adjusted to the light from the small flame and she saw her desk chair sliding back and forth along the floor at the foot of her bed.
She froze. It was a dream, she told herself. Yes, it had to be. Chairs weren't sentient. They didn't move on their own. What she saw was impossible, unless…Her eyes widened and she sucked in a quiet gasp. Spirits. Ghosts. Specters. They could move things. She had, after all, heard unfamiliar voices in her room the night before, had she not?
Her heart began to pound slowly in her chest. She didn't know what to do, how to respond, or how to get it to stop. She wasn't prepared for this. As far as she knew, the spirits that occupied the fortresses of Passing's End and Fire's Hearth were mostly docile and kept to the background, never bothering anyone, and rarely making themselves known to the recruits or the Mothers. Rhaean had no idea where she would even look for information about this kind of activity.
Should she talk to it? Ask it what it wanted? She didn't know. She feared antagonizing it, worried that it would retaliate by doing something worse. Right now, the scraping noise was a mere nuisance, but that didn't mean the spirit wouldn't go further. Rhaean thought as hard as she could, wishing that she didn't sleep alone in her dormitory. At least then, someone else would be there with her, wondering what to do. At least then, someone would be able to confirm her story which was likely to not be believed by the Mothers when she explained all this.
She decided the best course was to lay back down and try to sleep. She would leave it be, whoever it was, and see what to do about it in the morning. She would go to one of the Mothers and ask them about it, and if they could not help, she would go to the library and seek out texts that might offer solutions. Maybe there was a ritual or something she could perform?
Rhaean laid back down and pulled her covers up over her shoulders, and closed her eyes. The scraping continued, but she ignored it. Focused on her breathing, on the feel of her heart beating in her chest, on the warmth permeating her body from her bed. Minutes passed and she continued to focus on everything but the scraping, forced herself not to think about the spirit. Sleep would return eventually, she told herself.
"Are you so sure?" a voice whispered, so close to her cheek, Rhaean felt the cold air on her skin.
She gasped and opened her eyes. The chair still moved across the floor, back and forth, its spend and intensity unwavering. How was that possible when the spirit was able to get so close to her, but the chair did not stop moving? Her heart sank. Multiple spirits? No, she told herself. That couldn't be. Spirits rarely haunted the same specific places as others. They might haunt the same building or general area, but not specific rooms or hallways. And, as far as she knew, they never worked together to contact the same person. And yet, she could think of no other explanation for what had happened.
Her heart filled with dread. She had to do something before things spun out of control, as was common when dealing with the spirits of the dead. Rhaean, accepting that she would get no sleep, quickly climbed from her bed, and changed into her usual training outfit: she donned a warm, gray tunic made from a cotton and wool blend, pulled on her trousers made of the same fabric, only in black, slipped wool socks over her bare feet, and laced up her leather boots. It was very early and the air was cold inside the fortress, so she grabbed a wool shawl and draped it over her shoulders, and immediately left the room. The chair had not stopped moving the entire time.
It was dark in the hallway and she had forgotten to bring a candle, but she wasn't about to go back into that room to get one. She knew Fire's Hearth well enough to find her way to the library; all the dormitories were on the same floor as the library, so she didn't have to maneuver her way down or up any stairs, for which she was grateful, but it still took her some time to feel her way along the walls. But once she arrived, she let out a sigh of relief.
The library was vast and dark, but there were always pieces of iron, flint, and candles, as well as kindling for anyone who wished to use them. Rhaean walked to one of the two large hearths in the library, piled some kindling into it, and then lit a fire using the iron and flint. It quickly took, orange and yellow light dancing against the shadows throughout the room. She then took a candle, lit it in the larger fire, and began to search the library for any texts on ghosts and other kinds of spirits. Surely, in such a well kept cocoon of knowledge, she would find something useful in understanding not only the spirits and from whence they had come, but how to appease them and convince them to leave her alone. Yes, she felt certain that this would solve the problem before it became too serious.
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