Skyborne Raider

Walking towards our camp, excited and exhausted at the same time, we shout to Astrid from a distance. The night vision effect has finally worn off.

I was afraid I wouldn’t sleep today since, even with my eyelids closed, it felt like they were open.

“Astrid, it worked!”

“Burning that thing called Jonathan worked!” Mike shouts, his words jumbling with mine.

“It started depleting the health bar—”

“—with a short delay, but it worked!” We both shout at the same time, our voices overlapping as we jog toward the fire and my huge chair.

“I took the kill instead of Mike, though. Gained a full level from just one!” I explain, gasping for breath.

"Don't worry about that. I have my two babies now," Mike notes.

For a moment, I think he's talking about Astrid and a weapon, but then I realize he means his two sabers.

“I knew it would work.” She blinks slowly, looking calm and relaxed.

“How did you know that?” I ask cheerfully, excited to spend my point soon.

“I read it somewhere online, in a religious article. It said the soul is released from the body by burning the remains, releasing the energy. Otherwise, it’s trapped there forever.”

“I assume we’re rewarded by harnessing or releasing the life force from the foe. I know we didn’t burn the nutria or turtles, but they weren’t humanoid. I was thinking about this while resting here. A lot of speculation. Maybe these humanoid creatures are already dead and reanimated. Or tortured, whatever. We’ll help them.”

Mike looks like he’s processing all this information.

“I never thought of it that way. These long-necked creatures were probably once human—some villagers or simple folk, indeed,” I reply to her eye-opening answer, handing her the bottle of fresh water.

“Here, we got you a refill.”

“Thank you,” she says, taking a sip immediately. She offers Mike and me portions of another batch of cooked meat in return. She warmed it and served it on plates, cut into smaller chunks. We take a few bites and store the rest in our inventories.

“Was everything safe while we were gone, Astrid?” Mike asks, concerned.

“I used up all the firewood you prepared, and Pocco kept me company. He scouted the area and calmed me when I heard some noises.”

“I never had a chance to ask, because of sudden events...” I start cautiously. “But when did you get him, and why the name Pocco?”

“It was a long time ago. He seemed young, sleek, and small when you first met him, but he was almost eleven years old. I don’t remember exactly when, but it was a sunny day, halfway through the two-month holiday. It was a tough day, too hot. It was close to the anniversary of my brother’s death.” She looks distant, her eyes getting watery. Before I can say anything, she continues.

“He died in a car accident. No one else was involved. But around that day, a year later, someone left a box at our door with a tiny cat in it.”

I blink slowly, nodding in sympathy. “What was your brother’s name?”

“Mark.”

I gulp, feeling uncomfortable for even asking.

“Pocco... We used to watch cooking shows, and there was this Italian one. I loved how the chefs would always say ‘un poco di questo, un poco di quello,’ which means ‘a little bit of this, a little bit of that,’ while adding spices.”

“And since he was so small, we adored that name. He stayed small all his life. But now, since he’s a ghost, I think he’s growing.” She smiles as she finishes her story.

“I never knew about that,” Mike says.

“Well, you never asked!” She replies.

“So tomorrow morning, we’re on a quest, right? Let’s call it the ‘Releasing Souls Quest,’” I suggest, steering the conversation to the present.

“First, we need to put them down one by one. The easiest solution is arrows, but they could break or get lost. We could try throwing some big rocks or sharpening a javelin,” I suggest.

“Those ropes look weathered and weak enough. Not much force is needed to make them go loose,” I continue.

“I’d definitely love to throw one,” Mike adds.

“But the most important thing is fire. This one won’t last till morning. Come with me, Mark, and let’s collect more.” I nod, finish chewing a small piece of meat, and store the rest in my inventory.

We scavenge a small area around the campfire, collecting enough fallen branches, sticks, and a few small logs. I throw in three big logs covered in moss. They start to sparkle, but the wood isn’t dry enough inside. It starts to hiss. I stick a bunch of small dry sticks in between and around to kindle it more. Mike keeps bringing piles of dry leaves, piling them up near the wood storage.

“This will do. If anyone wakes up, just throw something in. If you need more leaves for bedding, take from the pile. There’s plenty,” he adds.

I gather an armful of leaves for myself. As long as I sleep on them, they compress, and I can feel the uneven, cold ground. Astrid does the same.

“So, you’re not sleeping in the chair?” Mike chuckles.

“Of course not,” she smiles.

“Mark, you can hide it, just in case of rain or whatever,” she suggests.

This is the last thing I do before lying down in my makeshift bed. Well, there's one more thing to do, actually. Enough with the endurance.

Markus Hale foreigner level 11

Strength 13 no skill

Agility 3 no skill

Willpower 4 no skill

Endurance 4 no skill

A pulse of energy makes my muscles go stiff for a brief moment. I close my eyes, hoping for a good night’s sleep despite the uncomfortable conditions and the horrors we’ve seen.

“Aargh, no!” Astrid wakes up with a slight scream. It startles me awake, slightly scared. I imagined a lot of things, but mostly the longnecks. We must have been sleeping for a few hours because the fire is almost out. Night and darkness still envelop us. I look around and notice that Mike is still asleep, despite Astrid’s scream.

“What is it?” I whisper to her.

“Nightmares, all the corpses, hangmen from the forest,” she whispers back. “I don’t know if I’ll fall asleep again,” she sighs.

“Try to focus on your heartbeat. I know the fire and forest are noisy, but if you focus on your heartbeat, you’ll start hearing your own blood flow. It might sound unpleasant at first, but it always clears my mind and works for me,” I advise her, getting up slowly.

I carefully place a few more logs into the fire pit, trying not to wake Mike.

“I wish Pocco was here,” she says, turning onto her back, forcefully closing her eyes. She snaps her fingers, but nothing happens.

I lean towards the pile of leaves and sticks, carefully placing them close to Mike and Astrid, hoping the added light will comfort her. They catch quickly and produce warm waves of light.

“Better?” I ask.

“A little,” she replies softly, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

I tuck myself back in and fall asleep.

“Meow.”

I sleep soundly.

“Meow.”

With my eyes still closed and slowly waking up, I try to figure out if I’m still dreaming or hearing things.

“Meow. Mark?”

Shivers run down my spine.

“Did I just hear a young man’s voice?”

“Mark?”

I open my eyes in an instant and almost faint. Pocco is looking at me from close proximity. I can see the fireplace through him.

“Pocco?” I whisper.

“Meow.”

What the..? I swear I could hear someone call my name.

“Pocco?” I whisper again.

"Meow."

Thank God. I'm not insane yet.

"Pocco why are you here?"

“Meow.”

"What do you want buddy?"

“Is Astrid up? Ast..”

“Mark?”

I choke with my last word. My eyes are opened widely and I almost faint.

“Mark?”

I can’t comprehend what’s happening.

“When dead.” He continues struggling to articulate.

I start to choke. This is so shocking. I’ve never had such a vivid dream.

“Mark?”

*Hyperventilating*

“When dead. Die.”

*Poof*

He disappears in a cloud of dust.

My eyes have never been wider. I gasp for breath, open my inventory, take out my water bottle, and take a sip, still shaking.

I lay back down with a loud thud, convincing myself it was just a dream. The fire crackles more, and I focus only on my heartbeat.

If I ever imagined a talking animal, I never thought it would be so haunting and surreal.

Due to the extreme shock, my body feels limp, and I fall asleep or maybe even faint from shock.

I turn onto my right side in my sleep. I can feel a slight warm breeze close to my face. The fire is still crackling, yet I sleep soundly.

*A warm breeze blows over my face*, followed by a terrible stench.

“Ugh, what the hell. This can’t be my breath, even though I don’t have a toothbrush anymore.”

I slightly open my eyes, and the first thing I see is a pair of ugly eyes.

I wince and move slightly away. Gazing at the thing in front of me, my eyes finally focus.

“Jesus fucking Christ! Aaaargh!” I yell as loudly as I can while rolling away on the ground.