The acknowledgment of this fact seemed to be what opened the floodgates, the peace they were enjoying, no matter how creepy it was, was broken. Right as Dubs finished his sentence a shrill growl started to radiate off the walls.
The floating dust that was highlighted by the moonlight suddenly burst to life and took human form. A ghostly figure, clearly that of a human with limbs too long for its ragged body, a sickly pale yellow where the body could be seen, its face flat and twisted into shapes as if it was constantly melting. It hovered above the floor as it continued forward at a creeping pace.
No wonder he couldn't sense anything, they didn't even touch the ground. He could have been surrounded by thousands for all he knew.
Skye quickly detached his hand from the roots and rolled out of the way, grabbing Thorn at the same time. He wasn't a master fighter but he could at least swing a sharp stick, and that's what he did. Jumping out of the roll with his new found athleticness and with all his force behind the blow, he swung around and aimed to cut the ghost in half.
The distance was a bit off due to the few inches he wasn't used to yet, and the blade didn't hit the ghostly monster, but the part of the staff right below it where the roots connected the two. It didn't matter much though, because it passed right through it, hitting the stone wall next to it. Blue sparks came to life and the spirit continued forward unphased.
"I guess you can't beat a spirit to death with a stick, who would have guessed. Thank god, I've seen the way you've been looking at me recently."
Dubs started to chime in again, the fear of being perceived by the spirit alone must be lessened with both of them experiencing it. But he was right, you can't beat a ghost to death with a stick, but Skye still had to try.
Knowing he had no way to defend himself, he was left with his last option, getting the fuck out of there. Skye wasn't a person to quit on things when they got hard, but even he knew a hopeless situation when he saw one.
Turning his back on the spirit, he leaped out of the nearest whole in the wall and onto the main road clumsily, almost rolling his ankle when he hit the ground. He stumbled forward with Thorn in hand, using it to catch his balance.
As soon as his feet hit the street the town came back alive and the neighbours came to visit.
Down the block and in front of him spirits depicting the different types of people who lived here long ago started to phase out of their homes through the walls and out the doors. Each floating above the ground and each deformed in new and exciting ways.
Did they just watch me crawl through their homes until the timing was right??
Dubs chimed in a if he could read his thoughts
"Did they just watch you crawl through their homes until the timing was right??"
"That's what i'm saying!"
Skye was able to reply even though he was still dazed and confused with the new unfolding events taking place.
He had to get out of there and knew there wasn't anywhere to hide when the things chasing you can phase through walls. The next best option was the one he took, and that was to head towards the castle.
If there were sounds of screaming coming from there, someone either knew how to fight these things or a bigger beast would scare them off.
Or I'll instantly die and join the community
No matter what he couldn't go back to the forest, he would be a sitting duck for the Flat Spider Cats and everything else that roams the woods. At least here the ghosts were slow.
He took off into a sprint and dodged a few swipes on his way, trying to swing Thorn a few times to see if any hits would land, but of course they didn't. Their ghostly bodies with their flat heads and overly long arms just kept moving forward.
It was hard to dodge as he ran at full speed and Skye was paying the price for it. He would dodge to the left to only have to duck and roll, getting clipped and cut along the way. It seemed like when he dodged one there was another right behind it ready to swing at his neck. He had to keep going but didn't know if he would even make it out in one piece.
He ducked under the arms of the spirit swinging wide in front of him, only to be met with a downward slash at the claw like fingers of another
SLAM
His duck became a sideways roll in an instant to avoid the hit, bouncing his body off the ground. His bones felt the reverb of the stone under him, missing the soft loving embrace of his first foe, the tree, the bruise on his head still remaining. Wood was definitely softer than stone. He pushed himself off the ground with shaky arms, his feet pushing himself forward before being fully upright, trying to carry him to safety.
Right into another swipe coming out of a nearby house. It reached through the wall with its long arms and tried to grab him.
There was no end to them in sight. He looked back down the road for a second as he propelled himself down the road.
He noticed that they didn't venture too far from the homes they originally came out of, they'd give chase and then stop in the middle of the road and stare at him flee. Behind him stood hundreds of specters gleaming in the moonlight, flickering in and out of existence. They were either bound to their homes or didn't see the point in chasing a fast moving target. It didn't matter much, because for every one he lost, two came out to join them.
Skye could feel his chest burn and his muscles call out for more oxygen, he took off running too fast and out of fear continued the pace. When you're being chased by ghosts, no matter how slow, you don't really think of resource management.
His arms were scraped and bloodied, a few near misses left deep cuts on his shoulder and thigh.
The spirits didn't seem to be his only problem. In the dark the crumbling houses he felt like something else was watching him, something more tangible yet singular, their eyes moving in unison. Red specks appeared and disappeared along the road, almost doubling in number by every house.
They kept their eyes glued to him, taking a bite with every glance yet did not dare to move.
The end of the road was approaching, he could see the towering walls of the castel now. If he could just clear this last bit of road he would be able to get away from the last houses and away from his slow chasers.
He pushed forward, he had nothing left to give yet he still had to give something. His breath was shallow and wet with spit, it burned every time it went down but he needed more. He stumbled forward, stopping his fall with Thorn. His trusted spear now reduced to a walking stick.
The stumble made him pause for a moment, spit and sweat sticking to his face. A few meters in front of him, where he wouldn't be if he stopped, a line of spirits formed, completely blocking his path. There were no gaps in their formation.
You have to be fucking kidding me
He thought to himself over the sound of his heartbeat in his own head. He couldn't go through them. If he ducked one hand, another would be there in the opening. Behind him, slowly but surly, his chasers were closing in on him. Like two walls coming together to flatten him.
Think Skye, Think. There has to be a way out. And if there isn't, you can't die before you try.
He looked to his left and right, no opening in the buildings, long walls blocked his escape. He was a rat in a maze and there was no where to go but up.
Too bad I got made into a tree rather than a bird
He cut his thoughts off, he didn't have time to think about how things would be better if his powers were different. He would keep facing problems like this and have to find a way through no matter what they were.
If he couldn't go forward, backwards, left or right, up or down, then he would have to find a way through one of them.
He had only a few moments until the walls closed in on him. Looking to his right he saw the top of the roofs still had their chimneys and they were close enough together.
I might not be able to fly but maybe I can clime. Who wants to be a bird when we've all came form monkeys.
Through his mental command the roots that made up his arm guards loosened and detached from each other, creating a long rope. He quickly connected both ends together and then tied it to the middle of Thorn, fusing it all together for a tight hold.
He cocked his arm back and threw it like a javelin, sailing through the air between the two chimneys. He quickly pulled it back and it caught like a grappling hook. He gave it a quick pull to make sure it didn't just crumble instantly and started running at the wall.
He leaped upward to clear some distance off the ground and pulled the rope tight. It supported the weight of his body and his full force hit against the wall. Before his foot even found support he was already climbing as fast as he could. Both sides of the line of spirits were already upon him. He was only inches away from the tips of their jagged hands.
Skye was already on his third or fourth wind by now, he had to make this work.
He swung like the monkey he was trying to be, bouncing off the wall as he pulled himself up, and found the edge of the roof. His hands could barely hang on for a second longer and his arms still had to pull himself up. Skye pushed with his feet in a rapid flutter off the wall, trying to get any momentum he could, and with a final push pulled himself onto the slightly slanted roof.
The tiles broke under his weight and the years they laid there, sliding him back slightly off the roof. In a panic Skye pulled the rope again and dragged his body onto the roof. He wasn't going back there again, and the two story fall might kill him as well.
He laid there catching his breath. The sweat from his hair rain down his neck and fell like stars onto the tiles, leaving water marks in their dust. He knew he had to get up and get out just in case they could float up to him, but he didn't care. This was it. If they came up here as well he'd just accept he did everything he could. He climbed over the walls of his maze, what else was a rat to do.
The seconds passed, and then minutes, and no one came up to take a bite out of him. He caught his breath and propped himself up. The same amount of distance it took him an hour to move through quietly and safely he covered in about 10 minutes of almost dying. The trade off wasn't worth it.
On top of the roof he could see all around him for a good distance. The houses and their broken roofs, an empty spot in the middle of town they must have used for the square, larger buildings that could have been owned by the rich. This was a fully formed city that must have housed thousands if not hundreds of thousand. And now? A ghost town trying to kill him.
Looking back at the castle he was taken back by the large walls. How did this city fall with a castle so big? It must have been able to house an army that could rival the population of the Steel Dome. There was a large empty space between the last house and the large wall that he would most likely have to sprint through. His body hurt already at the thought of it.
Now he just needed to find a way to get there. With a large sigh he picked up Thorn and untangled the roots. He would most likely need to do this monkey business again.
—-
After leaping from roof to roof, falling through the roof of the second to last building due to rot, landing on a dinning room table that crumbled under him, and quickly jumping out of the window to sprint all the way to the wall again, Skye had finally cleared it. He propped himself up against the wall and fell to his knees. Everything caught up to him.
Stupid stupid stupid
He thought in unison with the pounding of his heart.
This could have been it for me, and then 4 other people wouldn't be able to form a team and would be stuck here forever.
Skye was caught off guard by these thoughts, he wasn't really the type to put the needs of others before his own, but even while thinking about his demise he considered how it would have hurt others.
Maybe his time with Claire was showing him how good it felt to be needed by others and to accept the help of a team. He wanted more of it, he wanted to be there for others more. He wanted to see how far they could go in this new world. He wanted to be more than just a pusher of a wheel and someone who dies too early in the slums.
"Really almost kicked the bucket there a few times didn't ya?"
Dubs' voice rang nonchalant as he floated behind him, but Skye knew he was just as scared. Being in danger for the first time must have really shocked the wee fella. While Skye sprinted forward Dubs took the easier option and floated upwards and then took his sweet time getting to the finish line.
"Something tells me those spirits would be able to do you some harm too"
"Let's not go back and find out if you don't mind"
Dubs replied quickly
Skye didn't plan on it, but at the same time, he didn't really have any plans on how to get back out. Something told him that he may have no choice. Maybe if he was able to travel during the day they'd be gone, but that caused him to think.
Maybe they were the only reason those little eyes didn't come out to say hello, they could have been keeping them at bay. What would they do during the day?
Turning towards the wall of the castle with the closest moon in the middle of the sky, he set forth to find a way in.
—-
After about half an hour of searching he found a crumbled door to what looked like a servant entrance, small with steep steps into a dark room. He had to find a way to not instantly put himself in danger again.
My ability is best at scouting, I'll take my time and do just that.
He didn't want to take any more risks, he placed his hands on the floor of the stone entrance and did just that.
Extending it above ground was a lot quicker than pushing it through the soil, it slid down the steps like a cautious snake, going back and forth.
When it got into the dark room Skye had a bit of a silly idea but he wanted to try it.
Focusing on the tip of the root he mentally tried to go in two ways, splitting the root completely. He got the idea from connecting to the trees, seeing how their roots never were singular, always sprouting from each other and going their own way.
And with a little more pressure his did the same. The singular root sprawling from his hand became two, then 4, then 8, all the way into 36 roots going their own way moving in all directions. They were crawling up the wall and into the grooves of the stone, over and under anything they could find.
He could feel his mind start to split under the stress, being pulled in multiple directions and getting fed information that didn't connect just right.
He felt like he was some type of corruption taking over the old room, bringing it back to nature. He didn't feel the subtle influx of mana that he did when his roots were in the ground, like they were absorbing it from the soil itself and feeding it to him. He really was just like the old trees in the forest the more he thought about it.
But through his efforts he knew the layout of the room and where the door was leading out into the main hall. In the same way you know where your arms are in comparison to your body at all times, he knew roughly where his roots were. He also knew that there wasn't any movement or any shifts in the wind, like whatever those red eyes belonged to scurrying around.
I couldn't feel the ghosts last time either and they were still there, am I really going to risk it?
The choice was made for him, a banshee scream pierced the night, he needed to hide away now. He was tired, he was thirsty, and god he was filthy. This whole thing was a bad idea and if he returned with his life he'd be happy about it.
He wasn't going to take any risks, what he did in this room he'd do for every room and hallway going forward. Creating the roots themselves didn't take much mana, and once they were in the ground they would feed back into him, creating a balance, but with no ground here it would all be outgoing.
But it's better to run out of mana than to run out of life and bleed out in an old abandoned castle.
He came here with a goal, and if he left now he would forever wonder what if. He needed to find people or tools, or anything for that matter. Claire would jump for joy if he returned with a pot and a rag. They didn't have the ability to create what they needed to survive.
Dubs was there to bring him back to reality as he hesitated outside the door.
"Now or never hero. Time to risk our lives for a spoon or something."