The forest was heavy with the moisture left by a recent rain shower. The ground was soft and wet beneath Iris' feet - she could feel it squishing between her toes as she walked. She wished there was more moonlight through the canopy of treetops that made up the forest; without it she would have to walk slowly, feeling for tree roots and branches ahead of her in the darkness. A cool breeze blew past, sending a shiver down her spine. An owl hooted from somewhere deep in the woods, and another answered from behind her. She heard a low rumbling sound fading away, then coming closer again. Something heavy was stirring. Soon, the rumbling stopped, and all was silent once more. Iris held her breath in dreadful anticipation.
Against the black of the night, a shimmering figure rose. A ghostly apparition of a man, shrouded in deathly pale wisps of light. He rose slowly, his body shimmering with an eerie glow. His eyes were filled with pain and sorrow, and a burning hunger for justice. He surveyed the forest and the surrounding area, his face a mask of rage. He spotted Iris before she had a chance to hide. Her lungs were fire in her chest. His steps were heavy and deliberate as he strode toward her.
"I can smell your fear, girl." His voice rumbled through her body like distant thunder. "Why are you here?"
The scent of burning leaves stung her nostrils as she was forced to take in a breath. The man was towering above her, at least two heads taller. His hair was long, so long that the tips reached his knees. His muscles were bare for a moment, rippling as he moved. A dark cloak materialized, covering his body. Then a sheathed sword in a baldric. His eyes glowed with an unearthly light, and at the edges of his mouth was a thin line of white as if he was scowling.
Iris' fear was palpable. She trembled as if it were the dead of winter. She tried to find her voice, but only sharp shallow breaths arrived. His eyes roved her body, studying her every detail, before settling on her eyes once more.
"It's dangerous to be in the forest at night."
"I know," she squeaked. It was high pitched and pathetic. "I was on a hunt, lost track of time."
"Is the hunt worth your life?" he asked.
Iris gulped before answering. "Yes. My family is hungry."
The man cocked a brow. "Alas, you're empty-handed."
"I am unlucky," she whispered. "My name is Iris. What are you called?"
The man took a step back as if dazed. His face contorted, deep in thought. "I think I was called Gavril. I... I was unlucky, as well."
Iris sucked in as much air as she could, digging up whatever courage was left in her chest. "What happened to you?"
Just like that, Gavril's face brimmed with rage once more. "I was betrayed. Killed unjustly and cruelly. My murderers have escaped with impunity."
"You... were killed? So, you are from the realm of death. I thought as much. You're not the first spirit I've met in these woods. Do you know how long ago since you lived?"
His eyes flashed with fury as he threw back his head and roared, the sound echoing off the ancient trees around them. Summoning all the strength of his soul, he thrust his arms outwards and felt the energy surging through him like a tidal wave. The air around him shimmered with dark power as spirits of the dead answered his call, joining him in his vengeance, offering their power as his own.
"Show me where Lydia's Tower is," he demanded, teeth bared.
Iris' jaw set. There was no way she was going to tell the spirit that was actually where she was heading. She didn't want him to know where her family was. All she could do was agree. She would get him close enough and then try to lose him.
"Okay," was all she could muster.
They strode through the forest, Gavril trailing behind Iris. He could feel the fear emanating from the girl, and something inside of him savored the terror. Something from another world, not his human desires. He pushed the thirst aside. He was determined to find his quarry and settle the score. She wasn't the one who wronged him.
After an hour they came upon a clearing. The moonless night was still too dark, even outside of the forest, but Gavril could make out some objects in the distance. Houses, shops, stables, a church, and a tower. Before he could thank the girl, she was already gone. He couldn't see her, but he had grown accustomed to her scent, and she wasn't far. However, he refocused, shifting his senses.
Felix and Lazaro were twin brothers and nastier than a festering latrine-pit during the summer season. Their livelihood was financed through thieving and questing, whichever was easier for the day. If there was a mission that they knew they couldn't handle on their own, they would hire an extra set of hands, with a promise of payment upon completion. Gavril was unfortunate his whole life, including the day he fell for one of their scams.
Desperate and in a foreign land, he accepted one of their missions. However, upon completion, he was paid with death. He was robbed and his body was discarded in that dreadful forest, where his soul was lost. He didn't know how long he'd been there. But, what he did know was that the brothers took refuge under Lydia's Tower. He heard them speak of it that day. He hoped they were still there.
He arrived at the tower and found a path leading to its entrance. He stepped forward. The doors were heavy, but he forced them open with one swift kick. Inside he found a long narrow staircase that led down into the darkness. Gavril followed it until he reached an underground cellar. With each step he felt more confident as the dark energy of his spirit filled the room as if seeking something familiar, or someone lost in time.
He entered what seemed like an endless corridor full of boxes, crates, and barrels. The majority of them were empty, but some contained items from around the world – weapons, jewelry and even coins of gold and silver. There was no doubt, this is where the brothers hid their treasures. He could sense something familiar among the loot. He was being drawn to it. A glint caught his eye from a long forgotten barrel coated in dust and cobwebs.
As he approached, he noticed a single silver locket sitting on the lid of the barrel. It beckoned to him. When he picked it up, his fingers went numb. When he opened the locket, he saw a wrapped lock of delicate hair. It was like being stabbed straight through the chest. It was his locket. The hair belonged to his older sister. That's why he stowed away at seventeen. That's why he was desperate. That's why he needed money. She was sick.
"Julianna," Gavril whispered. He remembered her name. He wondered what became of her. He clutched the locket hopelessly to his chest. He remembered his home. He remembered his mother. Her legs that didn't work after the accident, her disdain for the world. In contrast, he remembered how Julianna's smile lit up an entire room. No matter the situation, her eyes were full of mirth.
"Is somebody there?" A boy's voice full of fear. Gavril never noticed the lamplight. "It's midnight, far past visiting hours, I should have you know."
Gavril steadied his breathing before slipping the chain over his head. The silver locket hung at his neck, renewing his vigor.
"Tell me," he hissed, turning to the trembling boy, "where are the brothers? Felix and Lazaro?"
The boy dropped to his knees and began muttering a prayer. Gavril's steps were slow and steady towards him. The boy was whispering of demons and gods.
"Tell me... and you will live to see another day."
The boy hesitated for a moment before his fear got the better of him. "They're in the study chambers," he blurted out. "At the end of the corridor on the main floor. They're in the last room on the right."
Gavril nodded, his face stony. He made his way back up to the main floor, his boots echoing against the stone. As he approached the end of the corridor, he could hear whispers and the clinking of glasses. He pushed open the door to the room on the right and found himself in a dimly lit chamber. Two old priests were sitting at a table, surrounded by bottles and plates of food. They looked up when they heard the door open. Their eyes were blurry and their noses were red. It didn't seem as if any studying was getting done.
"Who goes there?" one shouted with a voice like tearing parchment. He struggled to rise to his feet. They looked to be in their late seventies at least.
Gavril knitted his brows. "It seems... there has been a mistake. I have business with a pair of brothers named Felix and Lazaro."
"Aye, we are the Fathers of this tower. Who are you to barge in at such an ungodly hour?" the second man spat.
Gavril's stomach turned to ice.
"Peace, Laz. Hello, my son. What's your business?" The standing man put up his hands in a display of good will as he approached Gavril. It was Felix, except his skin was covered in spots and sagged. There was barely any hair left on his head and wrinkles sliced his face.
It had been decades upon decades since he was killed. His slayers were able to live out their days with peace, riches, and reverence. Dread piled in Gavril's heart the same way earth piled on top of a casket. The light blurred and swirled in his vision. Should he give them an explanation? He sourly remembered how he never got one the night they stabbed him. His chest burned. What happened to Julliana?
"My son?" The voice was far away.
Gavril moved with deadly speed. He charged forward and in an instant he was upon Felix, raising his sword and severing a man's head from his body like a brutal executioner. His lifeblood spilled onto the ground – his death cry filling the air. Lazaro scrambled desperately, begging for mercy. But there was no remorse evident on the ghostly face before him. Instead there was a single swing of his sword and nothing more. Both priests were dead - their souls stolen away by a force of vengeance. But, it still wasn't enough.
The sunrise the next morning spilled red ink across the sky. The townspeople stood in awe at the horrific scene before them. The brother priests' bodies were laid out and mutilated upon the entrance of Lydia's Tower. Their heads were impaled on the large iron gate. A boy was wailing, on his knees, and covered in blood. He screamed of demons and gods.
A peculiar barrel greeted Iris as she opened her door that morning. She grabbed the folded parchment that was tucked neatly in the crease of the lid. It read simply:
Thank you. Please take care of your family.
Iris looked around for an awkward moment before trying to haul the barrel inside. She groaned and called out for her younger brother to help before giving up. Too heavy. She opened the barrel instead. Her breath caught. It was filled with coins and jewelry. Enough money to feed her family and their next of kin. On top of the pile was a single silver locket. Iris plucked it delicately and studied it before placing it around her neck. She held the parchment to her chest.
She remembered.
His name was Gavril.