I look all around myself, my hands nervously clenching on my staff. The ghosts press in from every side, gazing at me with empty, glowing eyes.
The one closest to me reaches out their hands, trying to touch my face, my hair, my hands, even my clothes… but they all pass through me.
My breath escapes in a trembling exhale, condensing into a pale fog that hangs before me like a fleeting veil.
Some have stopped trying to touch me; they stare hollowly at their hands, while others surge forward, their spectral fingers clawing at the air, stubbornly trying again and again to grasp what they can never hold.
"Vyswe'eyaga, are you alright?" I look over at Kayin, who is hesitantly approaching me. But he stops short from the encirclement.
"I-I, I am f-fine."
Suddenly the apparitions before me dissipate as Ike emerges from them, he takes my hand to pull me away from them, but the same scenario that happened with Ewa repeats itself… Wherever I go, they keep following.
"Why do they do that?" he asks.
"I d-don't know."
I look back at the ghosts around me, my eyes narrowing at the sight of the garments they wear. They are not very visible but, I almost sure these are Nchāren clothing.
"They are the g-ghosts of the dead people h-here."
"Ghosts?!" Sazayi exclaims, "Like, actual ghosts?"
"Do you not see them, or maybe you need to have your eyes checked?" N'jobu mocks.
"—Not the time, you two."
"You mean, these are the spirits of Nchāren people?" Kayin asks, "The people who died over 6000 years ago?"
"T-they are."
His eyes widen further, matching his widening mouth. Then he snaps his head at them, then marches toward them.
"Excuse me," he tries, but they ignore him. They keep flocking over me despite Ike trying to keep them away from me.
"…Should I just carry you out of their reach?"
"—No need to go that far," I tell him, slapping his hand away. "Besides, they are not causing harm."
"Why are they not answering me?" Kayin asks.
Ike has given up on trying to keep me away, as I have grown tired of running around in vain. He has given me his jacket instead of warding off the cold. I stare at Kayin, then at the phantasm of ghosts who are stubbornly trying to touch me.
"I do not t-think they can," I say. From what I have studied in the past, ghosts can communicate normally with the living… unless— "It has been too long. From the state they are in, they can barely maintain their spectral forms anymore. They… they are fading away."
"So, what do we do?" Azikiwe asks after a moment, "We can't just go on our merry way with them in tow."
"Why are they even following you? Is it because you are a Nchāren?" Ewa adds.
"M-maybe they can s-sense it… that I am one their o-own." Maybe that is why they revealed themselves to me. I stare at all those empty gazes, even in death, what remains of these poor people tries to reach for the warmth of their kin, and my heart is filled with sorrow for them. Do they even realise they are already dead?
I reach out my hand and try to hold the hand of a young girl, but her fingers slip through mine, leaving only a lingering chill on my palm.
"Either way, we must find a way to get rid of them. You are going to die of hypothermia if it ,goes on… and us soon after." N'jobu says. He has moved a flame before me, and my body feels a little less cold with it.
I bite the inside of my cheek. I don't like the coldness with which he said it. They were people too, long ago; they had lives of their own, they never asked to die like that, or to end up in this state.
I take a deep breath.
And I know he did not mean it like that. It is of no use to get angry at him for nothing.
"I think I can do something about them. I have read of a ritual for just this type of situation in the temple's annals. It is an old rite which was used to free wandering souls long before the empire existed, but it stopped being practised since such cases became rarer and rarer."
"Is that safe?" N'jobu asks.
"Erm… Well, a-anything involving spirits can never be considered safe—but the ritual is s-simple enough to perform. I just need to draw the ritual array correctly, and… Oh, and an offering. I need an offering!"
"You should offer those two. They are useless and annoying, so they won't be missed." Ewa points at N'jobu and Sazayi, who snap their heads in her direction in horror.
"No, Ewa, we don't do human sacrifices," I sigh in exasperation, then I look up at Ike. "Do we still have some flour and oil? I would like to make some bread." He nods. "Hmm… having some wine would be ideal too," I trail off.
"I should still have a gourd of palm wine, if it helps."
"Yes. It will do."
"What?!" Ewa exclaims, "How come you have your alcohol while that spider drank all of mine?"
He shrugs, "Maybe he didn't like mine. It is not the best to be fair."
I use some of the flour and oil at hand, I make a simple dough. Fifteen minutes later, when it has rested enough, Gamba helps me make a small fire to cook the flatbread with. Ike gives me his gourd of palm wine, and I fill up a cup with it.
When everything is ready, I place the offerings at the centre of array I drew earlier. But I pause when I am about to begin the ritual.
"What's wrong?" Kayin asks, having noticed my hesitation.
I stare at the ghosts before me. At some point they stopped trying to touch me and have settled with observing me with their spectral eyes… I wonder if they actually see me. Slowly, I turn back to the skeletons scattered around us. "I… I should give them a proper burial first."
He nods in understanding. "Do you want some help?" he asks, but I shake my head.
"I can do it on my own."
With a firm motion, I strike the ground with my staff, sending a pulse of essence travelling through the ground. In an instant, I detect the precise location of all the remains around us, some metres in the ground or hidden behind debris of the SCLPE. I part my lips, chanting a spell in a low voice, then I will my essence to take shape and a spell matrix unfurls beneath my feet.
The skeletons stir. Faintly, at first, then with more force. One by one, the remains rise from their resting places: the ground splits to release those buried, while debris crashes aside to uncover others. Moments later, a mountain of broken bones towers next the ghosts.
Many are incomplete, splintered in some areas or lacking a limb, or several of them. I wish I could fix them properly, but I do not event know which bone belongs to whom… Sabar had told me of a spell which could do that, but I don't remember what the chant for it was.
This… is the best I can offer, I'm afraid.
I bring my hands together and offer a silent prayer for their souls to make a safe travel to the Spirit realm. Then I point my staff at the pile, and it erupts in a pillar of smokeless flame. And for that brief moment, the ghosts simultaneously look away from me to the pillar of fire with what looks like sorrow, or maybe is it relief?
When the fire dies down, only a mound of ashes remains. With a flip of my hand, a jar half of my height appears before me, and pointing my other hand at the ashes, I telekinetically compress it so that it fits inside.
I will spread them someplace more fitting when I get the chance.
"Alright."
I gently place my staff at the rim of the ritual array, after another deep breath, I channel my essence into it and the circle starts to glow. With some hesitation I clear my throat, and when I open my mouth, it is not a chant that comes, but a hymn.
The book in the annals said it was preferable for the ritual to be complemented with a hymn to appease the souls in case they became too agitated. Any hymn works apparently, so I chose the shortest one I was taught and which I master best. When I look up some of the tension in my body is relieved when I see the phantasm of ghosts.
A circle of radiant light envelops them. Their blurred, fading forms grow almost tangible, and the hollowness of their faces softens, returning with the colour and vitality of the living—most of all in their eyes. That familiar glow has returned, warm and piercing, and for the first time it feels as though they are truly seeing me. Not through me, but at me.
Smiles spread across their faces, radiant with joy and euphoria so pure I almost envy them. Then they all wave at me, looking at me with the deepest gratitude as they slowly dissolve into motes of light.
The light ebbs away, vanishing into nothing, and the tunnel is swallowed once more by obscurity—save for the small space still held in the glow of N'jobu's flames.
"Phew…"
This is it, I suppose.
I make use the next minutes to do a thorough check-up on the state of my body and Spiritual essence. Everything seems to be fine, and I don't feel anything odd with my body.
It went out better than I expected, not that I was thinking I would mess something up, but I am proud that I did so well on my first trial. Teacher would be so surprised if I told him, the Sisters and Brothers in particular, would they even believe me? Either way it is no doubt I would receive the lecture of a lifetime if I ever told them I performed a soul banishing ritual without any training.
"—Why are you guys looking at me like that?"
No one answers. Ewa blinks a few times, then looks away reluctantly.
"Ah, uhh… what you did earlier was impressive truly… but uhh…"
"But what?" I am starting to panic, patting my body to see check if there is something wrong with me.
"N-nothing," Kayin says, "It is just that, erm… well…"
Why are they so unwilling to tell me what is wrong. I whip my head at Ike, hoping he would tell, but he is staring at the walls like they are the most interesting things in the world. Even Sazayi and Gamba would not look at me.
"Just… just tell me."
Azikiwe walks up to me and pats my shoulder. "It's nothing, really. Let's just say that we are… a little surprised. That's all."
"Surprised by what?" I exclaim, not able to bear it anymore.
"Your singing voice is horrendous." N'jobu blurts out, and I turn limb.
"…huh…"
"Don't take it personally Vyswe'eyaga. We are just, shocked… Your ritual was more than a bit flamboyant, it was enthralling. I had never seen anything so captivating," Azikiwe's face become serious, "But your singing voice…" He shakes his head. "I just wonder how those souls managed to pass over."
N'jobu mimics him. "Whereas your usual voice is so melodious. I could have never guessed it."
I stare at them, my mouth hanging open. I don't know how to react. What to say… Then I feel the heat creeping on my face, and I suddenly want for the ground to swallow me whole.
"It… it was not that bad." But my voice comes out so small and broken, and the pitying smiles on N'jobu's and Azikiwe's face makes me want to die.
"Vyvy," Ewa takes my hand and holds it tight, a sympathetic smile on her face. "It's alright. Not everyone can be good at everything. I'm sure you will get better with a few lessons."
It takes everything in me not to burst into tears from how mortified I feel. I suddenly remember why I left the choir when I was a teenager—and gave up on anything involving singing in general. I had been mocked so much by my peers because of it that I vowed never to sing again in public. How could I forget.
The ground shudders beneath me, and I stumble. Then it happens a second time.
Is that it, has my wish been granted, and I am about to be engulfed in the depths of the abyss?
"Junjus are about to emerge from here." Gamba announces.
It seems not.
He is standing over the whole, and I quickly join him. I point my staff inside to create a ball of light and immediately recoil at the sight of tiny eyes shining below.
They are small, frog-like creatures, their slimy and grotesque bodies swelling and contracting as their attention fixes on us. And there is what appears to be tens of thousands of them. All fixed on every corner of the hole's surface and slowly crawling out.
"I-I think we should go," I say, shuddering in revulsion.
"Nah, it's better we take care of them now," Ewa says as she leans dangerously close. "Hmm… I wonder where this pit leads."
I take another step back, tightening my grasp on my staff. "Then, should I collapse the whole thing?"
"I have a better idea," N'jobu strides to the ledge, his face twists into one of disgust when he peers inside. He lifts his palm over the hole, and with a snap of his fingers, an inferno roars to life. The tunnel fills with the crackle of flames and the unsettling cries of the junjus—too human-like for comfort. The heat forces me to retreat several steps, my skin prickling as if the fire itself is reaching for me.
Moments later, the stench of scorched flesh saturates the air, so acrid it brings tears to my eyes. N'jobu swings around and tells me with a movement of his head, "You can collapse this pit now."
Which I do without a second thought. I make sure it is covered in hardened layers of rocks and soil.
With the whole ritual and the amount of essence I used, I suppose it is no surprise they detected our presence. But still, I never would have thought there were junjus this deep.