Flip knew immediately that his spell had not killed the wraith. The two beady red dots of light glowing ever so faintly like dying embers in the distance told him that his most destructive spell had been, at least in part, ineffective. There was more to this monster than Flip could have even imagined. And perhaps even then, the most surprising thing was that it was hardly a monster at all. Even at the distance he stood, he could tell the wraith had hardly moved an inch. There was no twisting shape in the night, no emerging demon from the humanoid body. The only strange element to the figure was that it seemed to have unfurled its cloak to blow freely in the wind. That, and perhaps its stillness in the wastes. Flip had expected, the second he saw the burning ember eyes, an immediate response as fast as Selian had recounted. But there was nothing. No movement at all. Only a faint breeze.

“Ocean floor take me…” Selian whispered to herself in apparent shock.

Flip turned to see the elf with her hand covering her mouth and her eyes wide. She was frozen in place, as was Dovhran, both in shock or perhaps awe. Flip could not distinguish which, nor could he adequately determine the purpose for their response.

“What? What is it?” Flip grumbled.

The wizard could only barely see the faces of his companions, and the red eyes of the wraith were all he could see of the distant figure.

Dovhran seemed more afraid than shocked, as he muttered “What have we done…”

“We should leave.” Selian swallowed hard and began to walk backwards to the south, her eyes still locked on the figure in the distance.

“It’s still alive, I know that, but I doubt it can move.” Flip grumbled. “That spell should have… or it could have rendered a dragon to mincemeat.”

Dovhran grabbed Selian by the shoulder and held her still. “I don’t doubt Feangil. And this may be our only chance to put some distance between us and the monster… and maybe our only chance to get closer to the tomb.”

“You still want to get past it?!” Selian nearly shrieked. “And by your own admission that might take two or three days.”

“Two to three more days of travel by night… to the first marker.” Dovhran corrected the navigator. “And yes, I think we should try to pass it.”

“It hasn’t move an inch.” Flip interjected. “And if this work is as important as Dovhran insists, we can’t waste time. We might even be able to finish it off now.”

Selian shook her head at the assertion, as did Dovhran.

“What is it that has the two of you so afraid? It’s powerful, yes, but it hasn’t moved an inch since my spell damaged it.”

“Your weak human eyes… If you really aren’t afraid of it, why don’t you get closer and look.” The elf hissed and the changeling tilted his eyes in moderate agreement.

“Fine.”

With a huff of frustration, Flip marched boldly closer to the glowing eyes that marked the position of the wraith. Once within fifty feet of the center of the impact, the ground began to become difficult to traverse. The rock was slightly melted and glassy, with small spikes of molten material flash frozen and pointing out away from the center of the blast. There was a small decline in the ground as well, as a shallow crater had formed on the face of the plateau, with the wraith planted squarely in the center of it. As Flip grew closer, his confident march slowly transitioned into a nervous creeping walk.

As it so happened, Flip had never actually cast this spell before. And while he was confident it could do substantial damage, perhaps even grind a monster as powerful as a dragon into a steaming pile of cooked ground meat… it seemed all the more real to him having actually cast it. His body felt physically drained, as he had likely inadvertently used his whole store of magic to cast the spell… and the damage it had caused gave him pause. If anything had survived it, he did not want to fight such a thing again.

Looking now at the scope of the damage he caused, and the power of the fellfire demon he had ensnared in Builend, he felt this spell could have easily slaughtered the same demon five times over. Though it may have taken a good chunk of the town with it. And there was the matter of missing as well. This wraith had not moved at all as Flip was casting his spell, and perhaps he did not anticipate an attack… or perhaps he was confident he could survive one.

The wizard’s mind was racing with possibility and doubts as he approached the central twenty foot radius of the spell crater and he began to be able to see the figure of the wraith more clearly. It was thin, gangly, and it’s cloak only barely hung to its figure around the neck. And then a gust of wind brought a shred of ripped black fabric up against the wizard’s ankle, and he strained his eyes to get a better look.

The same wind that blew the shred of tattered fabric into Flip’s ankle also lifted up what the wizard had thought was the wraith’s cloak. And as the material was lifted up above the two and the starlight shone behind it, Flip knew something was wrong. The starlight was tinted red, and the ground was glistening crimson in the light. The shallow red glow coming from the wraith’s eyes began to illuminate a more gaunt face than the wizard had previously seen. It was nearly skeletal, certainly devoid of skin, and perhaps a great deal of muscle. As the starlight shone more clearly, Flip paused completely in fear of the figure he saw.

It was reduced to bones and the bare minimum amount of flesh required to hold them together, and perhaps several organs and veins as well… still pulsing as they functioned. The rest had been ripped clean and barely clung together, and made up the large swath of material Flip had mistaken for a cloak fluttering in the wind. It stood there, frozen is a pose as though it had attempted to move at the last possible moment, something small and metallic shimmering dully in its outreached skeletal hand.

With a small pulse of life in the red glow of its eyes, Flip heard Theihdow’s voice. It was raspy, dry, but still that same neutral tone. And now, as had been the case before the wraith had revealed its face, it did not seem to be coming from the creature’s mouth... nor did its mouth move.

“Suffer.”

With the wraith’s words, a wave of crimson energy pulsated out from the eviscerated form in a growing bubble shape. The energy stopped just shy of Flips nose and caught part of his skirt as it fluttered forward in the breeze. The fabric rapidly faded into ash, and the ash was quickly drawn back towards the monster’s mouth. The whole time it remained perfectly still.

“A pity. If you had only taken another step.”

“I am sorry.” Flip took a careful step back and leveled an earnest look towards the disturbing figure before him. “I thought that spell would be a certain death… devoid of suffering. But, still, one being’s suffering is little compared to the suffering of many.”

Flip turned away from the wraith’s still form as another wave of crimson energy bloomed out from the center of the crater and reached out just an inch further than the first.

“You are the least sane being I have ever met.” Selian narrowed her eyes at Flip as he returned to his two companions.

Flip nodded in mild agreement to the accusation. He had never fully considered himself sane. And he had certainly never claimed to be, though he had often pondered on his sanity. “We should be safe as long as we don’t get too close. He’s still quite lethal, but only up close.”

“We should move then, who knows how long he’ll stay that way.”

Dovhran tugged on Selian’s arm and the three of them began to make their way around the crater, giving the creature a wide berth, and further north. It was at about that time that the clouds began to form above them.

It was nerve racking to turn their backs to the beast, but there was no avoiding it. Not being able to see his glowing red eyes hardly matter after the next hour though, as clouds began to fill the sky and rain began to sprinkle down. The loss of starlight alone made it almost impossible to see anything, and though it was a sprinkle at first, it slowly became a sweeping torrent of obscuring rain. The gentle gusts of wind had become forceful walls of air, the rain became mixed with hail stones, and the whole force of nature seemed to push against three otherwise insignificant ants: Dovhran, Selian, and Faengil. And their pace became that of a crawl. But they continued.

The wizard clutched his hat and kept it pulled tight to his head, if not he would not have been able to see. The elf pulled her cloak tight around her and seemed to dance slightly through the storm, her careful footsteps and elegant stride seemingly allowing her to pass through like an arrow. The changeling, in contrast, let his hood fly back and faced the full force of the storm, taking heavy raindrops and hailstones as though they were nothing. It was this determination that seemed to frighten the other two and keep them all moving at their fast pace. That inhuman determination… and the knowledge of what stood behind them. The fear of a monster that was quite possibly recovering in the storm.

“I can’t go much further.” Flip practically had to shout over the sound of the pounding rain.

Dovhran shook his head and growled out a response of, “No, we need to get further.”

“I don’t think he’ll be able to track us through the storm.” Selian called out and tried to grab Dovhran’s arm, but she was shrugged off. “We could die out here if we don’t take shelter!”

“But we will die if that thing catches back up to us.”

Despite his vehement insistence that they continue, there was a moment of hesitation as Dovhran spoke. He had never anticipated a threat like the wraith to be waiting for him in the wastes. Even hearing the ghost stories shared by the locals, he had anticipated something no worse than the demon he had already fought. In all his research, he had never found mention of any neigh invincible monster that patrolled the land; in fact, his research had led him to believe that the wastes were almost entirely uninhabitable, save some small insects and flying scavengers that nested outside the wastes. What was also worrying the mercenary, perhaps more so, was that he had not heard any accounts of extreme weather in the wastes. Granted accounts were sparse and usually relegated to the areas on the fringes of the plateau.

Being less frightened overall, and more worn out than his companions, Flip did not wait for their approval to put down the hatch. The wizard slapped down the wooden slab, which squelched against the wet ground, and traced the pattern to unlock it. At that point, he did not care what his companions were going to do or if they noticed him. He was soaked with rain, exhausted from arcane stress, and cold. So very, very cold.

The wizard had barely crawled into the hatch when he heard Selian clambering in behind him. And, a moment, later, a disgruntled Dovhran made his way in as well. With all three weary travelers dripping in the cluttered space, each wordlessly made their way to a corner of the flat—or as close as they could get to a corner—and began to peel off their layers of soaked clothing. Selian had shed her layer of clothing under her cloak, but left her cloak and underclothing on, as she had stayed mostly dry thanks to her cloak. Flip peeled off his thin layers of skirt—now missing a disintegrated section in the bottom front—vest, and canvas undershirt shirt before quickly reapplying a fresh skirt and robe top from a crate. Flip’s fresh apparel was virtually unused, as it was his backup clothing, and looked almost expensive; though Flip wasn’t sure how expensive they were as they had been left to him by his uncle.

Unlike his companions, Dovhran did not bother to take any precautions with personal privacy. He had shed his clothes entirely, and chosen to remain naked. Though, naked for him was more a matter of appearance. All pretense long gone, Dovhran reverted his entire body below the neck to its natural appearance. That appearance being the odd silvery androgynous humanoid form that all changelings are born in. It was a bizarre contrast, and Flip was still incredibly uncomfortable to have a naked changeling in his flat. But he couldn’t deny that the androgynous features were mildly less bothersome, which in and of itself bothered the wizard somewhat.

“So, he wasn’t trying to confuse me after all. You are a changeling.”

“And what of it, Farwysher?” Dovhran snapped back, partly smug and partly aggravated.

“You could have told me. I don’t particularly care as much as most elves do. People change who they are on the coast almost daily. Names and appearances are fluid when you can come and go from a place as you wish.” Selian shook her head. The motion agitated her cloak, which she quickly gripped tighter around her. “Not that you wouldn’t pick up on that, seeing as how I don’t share my family name everywhere I go like it’s a badge of honor that should grant me free room and board.”

“We both know why you do that, and it has nothing to do with being free spirited or not tying yourself down to a name. You just don’t want people to connect you with your family. Faengil would do the same if his family was as notorious as yours, but his family are just backwater nobles.”

“They owned land, not titles.” Flip corrected with a grunt.

The wizard was content to not be part of the conversation, but he knew the changeling was attempting to drag him into it. But for the time being, Flip’s primary concern was hanging his clothes a safe distance around the stove so they could dry.

“Still do own the land, now that your family debt’s paid.” Dovhran hissed. “You’re welcome. And why aren’t you using magic to dry your clothes out? I saw you do that before in town.”

“My stores are empty, opening this hatch took the last drops of my ability. So you will both have to hang your clothes up until I’ve recovered some at least.”

Selian shrugged and brought her wet clothes over to the stove, careful not to reveal anything under her cloak. Dovhran, conversely threw his bundle of wet clothes close to the foot of the stove and sat back in an obnoxiously relaxed posture on a pile of crates.

“I haven’t seen much magic in my lifetime, Faengil, but I don’t think I will ever see something so terrifying as what you did to Theihdow again.”

Selian’s words were filled with both respect and a small amount of fear. Flip had confused her initially, and though she acknowledged that he was probably capable of some impressive feats of magic, the scope of a mage’s power had not been clear to her until she had seen Flip cast his pillar of annihilation.

“Terrifying doesn’t cover the half of what you did, Faengil.” Dovhran smiled, cruelty eminent in his expression. “And I couldn’t be happier that we’re working to the same end.”

“You’re lucky you never set foot into my line of sight without someone else close to you.” Flip raised his bushy eyebrows to stare directly at the changeling, who revealed a hint of fear at the reality of what might have befallen him if something so small had been different.

While Flip was acting confident with the display of his abilities, the reality was that the longer he stayed standing, the weaker his knees felt. By the time that he had finished hanging up his soaking clothes, he could barely stand. And by the time that Flip made a move to find a seat, it was too late. The color slowly faded from his eyes and Flip had only a moment to put his hands under his body before he went from confident and powerful wizard to unconscious old man.