The ghoul was sweating profusely by the time he found the little beast, haggard breath and trembling legs an effect of his struggle. The trail of torches he followed were short of life. A discovery made when the fire he walked toward suddenly extinguished. His chest wrenched as he noticed the black globs moving in to fill the light-less space. He lunged after the safety of the next fire, frantic stumbling steps afraid to touch the disfigured creatures. It was all a sprint after that. Twist and turns, down winding steps, over fences, under bridges, from window to window, through a sewer, roof to roof. It was a maze of movement forced by the extinguishing torches that left him deranged and confused.

The pyramid was no closer than before and the stairs that he had tumbled down from had long disappeared. The little creature he thought to follow had vanished and now waited for him here, ringed by flaming lamps, to give him a soft relaxed panting. The ghoul approached the ring of fire in the plaza just as the torch behind him died. An open area with a dry fountain and little creature at the middle.

He dropped to his knees to rest and tried to regain his strength. The little beast tilted its head.

“What? You weren’t made to run across the whole city. I nearly died making those kind of jumps,” the ghoul panted, remembering the leap of faith he made when he found himself at the top of a tower and the next torch at the bottom of it. Wooden buildings close to collapsing had softened his fall.

The beast barked and moved off, disappearing behind the fountain. The ghoul picked himself up and followed, finding the thing biting a black bone. A skeletal leg.

He quickly moved and lightly pried the biting teeth away. “Don’t disrespect the dead. They have it—”

“Don’t move and stop whining. I can’t concentrate if you won’t shut up.”

The ghoul hurriedly looked up, searching for the sweet voice he suddenly heard. Sunlight blinded his eyes, a bright shine descending on the trees, shrubs, and the couple before him. A woman, with skin as fare and pale as his, lay on her knees, bent over a man as pale. She wore a red slim tunic and mantle, golden locks of hair tickling the man’s cheek.

“But. It hurts so much,” the man winced as the woman removed his bloodied green coat and chain mail from his chest. His red eyes flared in pain as the woman opened the wound stretching across his chest, a long gash running from his collarbone to his hip.

“I guess you can cry a little,” breathed the woman as she extended her left hand, thick purple smoke emitting to cover the wound. She turns her head to the sky, a silent prayer on her lips, red ruby eyes filled with determination. The smoke lessens, a wound no longer present. The man’s face soothed by her free hand ruffling his thick dark brown hair.

“Really, you can be such a baby—”

The man opens his eyes, grabs the woman by her shoulders, and forces her beneath him. A wall of fire descends upon them.

The ghoul stumbles away and falls onto the ground, the fountain once again in front of him. A slim skull—an arrow wedged at the collar bone—the skeletal body tightened as if cold. Thicker bones hold dozens of arrows, an arrowhead protruding from an eye socket, the end of the shaft coming from the back of the skull. Two black skeletons, one held in the arms of the other.

The ghoul looked at his own hands, at the smoke that he willed to slightly puff out. Only his was a dark black, not the purple he had seen. But then the fires that surrounded him fizzled and he was alone in the darkness. Except a flame ignited at the end of a stick held in the little beast’s mouth. It gave a slight growl and skipped away, its chin lifted upwards.

“What was that? Was that them? Did you see what I saw?” asked the ghoul, making sure to stay within the light the fire emitted. He bent down to take the stick from the little beast’s mouth, but he received a growl for his effort.

“It’s a shame that they met with such a terrible fate,” muttered the ghoul and a whimper sounded in agreement. He matched the pace of the little fire, past rows of arrows, broken blades, piles of armor and clothes, the little creature led him. Soon, they reached an alleyway and in they went.

Against the wall sat another black skeleton. This one had an arm missing and a foot twisted grotesquely. The cause of death a sword embedded in the ribs, the hilt resting against the bony black chin. The ghoul walked forward and removed the sword, careful to lay the body against the floor.

“There he is, make no sudden movements. Remember, we all move at the same time,” mouthed a man, completely covered in black, to his companion, similarly dressed. They lay on the ground, bodies hidden in the densest shrubbery, moonlight unable to shine on them. On the road in front of them glistened white snow and a man appeared. He stood tall and poignant, pale chiseled face with red eyes, several layers of clothing keeping the cold away. He walked slowly, carefully choosing his steps as he made his way across the road, the men in black frustrated by the man’s pace.

“Once he’s directly in front of us, I’ll give the signal and everyone will surround him,” the leader cloaked in black muttered. “No one makes—”

“You seriously believe I cannot see you. Hide in the darkest shadows; that will do you no good,” the patient man proclaimed, turning to face the two that hid in the bushes. The cloaked beings stiffened, but the leader quickly regained his composure.

“DAMNDED GHOUL! SURROUND HIM!”

A dozen black cloaks revealed themselves to surround the single road traveling man, a fine purple mist settling. The closest cloak ran three steps to his target before he fell flat on the ground, clawing at his spluttering throat. One after the other, cloaked figures fell to the ground, bodies thrashing and convulsing as they wished for breath. Soon, all bodies were still, the snow around them upturned as if a great struggle had taken place. The man was unperturbed with not a single strand of purple hair out of place.

The regal man walked to the closest silent figure and got on his knees. He worked his hands over the clothing, taking time and care to remove all. A pile formed: cloak, hood, mask, shirt, pants, undergarments, necklace. The purple mist condensed next to him as he worked, a dark purple ball that he fed more purple smoke to until it became a black abyss. The woman’s body was completely clean of clothing, and he grabbed her by the shoulders and hurled her into the hole in the air. He stood and looked at the others waiting for him.

“And I was just running out of specimen,” he smirked, making his way to the next black cloak.

The ghoul blinked, finding himself on the skeleton, staring into the empty holes where red eyes used to be. He rolled off, gasping for air. He remembered his pale skin and red eyes. He was a ghoul. He shivered, remembering the way the woman’s corpse was hurled with indifference, reminded of the men who had been so afraid of him. His eyes teared in frustration, unable to remember anything before the grove where he had awoken.

The little beast now danced at the entrance of the alleyway. It waggled its tail, balancing the lighted stick on its nose. Moving from side to side, the fire threatened to fall, until it did. It snarled and slobbered, desperately trying to put the stick back in its jaws. The torch was lifted by a pale trembling hand.

“Take me to the next one.”

A single bark and they were off.