Laronius ran through the ever-present wheat, his attention fixed on getting to the top of the chilly hill ahead. A cold, ominous feeling grew in Laronius as the hill grew nearer, further confirming that the phantom that had slipped past their defenses was hiding at the top. The pale blue mist beginning to form was also a dead giveaway. After all, any weather other than beautiful sunny days and clear starry nights was out of place in the idyllic spirit realm of the Homestead.

Behind Laronius ran Solimar Silverbow, holding a bow that was far more golden than silver. Then again, every weapon wielded by their clan was golden, having been shaped and formed out of the boundless golden wheat that represented the strength of their clan in the spirit realm. As they continued to run, Laronius looked back and saw Solimar reach out a hand, snatch two stalks of wheat, and fluidly transform them into two gracefully sharp golden arrows. Laronius was grateful that Solimar had volunteered to join him in hunting the rogue phantom.

More than any other new arrival Laronius had met since his own adoption into the clan, Solimar had been the most adept at the skill of shaping wheat into whatever they wanted. Solimar had once commented to Laronius that it wasn’t all that different from the way that elves in their homeland shaped wood into tools in the physical realm, only much faster and easier. “The wheat is practically eager to become whatever the clan needs it to be,” they had said. “I find it hard to touch it without it shaping itself into something else.”

Laronius couldn’t help but feel more than a little bit envious. Even though Seth had technically made him a clan patriarch in the physical realm, it had been a struggle for him to embrace the mantle, and exercise the special powers that Friendly Seth had been trying to teach him he possessed. Like the power to control the wheat without even having to touch it, for example. But even after all this time, all he had been able to shape for himself was a simple, round shield.

Of course that wasn’t the only reason that he envied the elf. Solimar was the most beautiful person Laronius had ever met, and possessed a self-assurance and strength of will that were unmatched. When Solimar moved there was no hesitation, only follow through. As far as Laronius was concerned, the word “try” was meaningless to Solimar. Whatever the elf meant to do, they did.

Krall had once told Laronius that when he and Solimar used to work together as dragon hunters, Solimar had always worn a covering over one of their eyes. “Solimar always had impressive aim,” Krall had told him, “but still missed on occasion. For somebody so accustomed to being flawless, missing an eye was a hard flaw to live with.” Solimar still wore the same covering, but now that both of their eyes had been restored in the spirit realm, the covering was worn on Solimar’s forehead above their brow. And with that full sight restored, Solimar could no more miss a shot than Laronius could miss the ground if he threw himself at it.

“Laronius, focus,” Solimar chided, running up next to him. “We’re hunting a phantom, not picking wildflowers.”

The remark slapped Laronius back into the moment, and he realized they were only moments away from reaching the top of the hill. “I’m sorry,” Laronius replied. Even running at full speed, it wasn’t hard to talk. A sprint like this was tiring after a while, but with no physical body, Laronius didn’t need to worry about getting winded. Laronius hadn’t experienced shortness of breath back when he was a vampire either, but that existence seemed so distant from him now that it seemed like those memories belonged to someone else.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what good I can do once we catch up to it,” said Laronius. “I don’t think a shield is going to do much good against a phantom.”

“It will keep you safe, and that’s what matters,” said Solimar. Laronius started to blush, but Solimar continued. “You’re the best fiend tracker in the clan. Without you, the rest of the patriarchs wouldn’t have realized that some of Gravine’s forces were sneaking past our defenses until it was too late. Your ability to sense the enemy is crucial.”

Laronius realized that Solimar wasn’t flattering him. It was true. The other patriarchs in the clan were so used to the light and warmth of the Homestead that the fear and dread that emanated from those that Gravine commanded in the spirit realm was totally foreign to them. Asking one of them to track down a wraith or ghoul would have been like asking a phoenix to hunt for a snowman. On the other hand, Laronius found it so easy to track them that it was almost like he was being drawn to them, which secretly worried him.

“You seem to be able to track them well enough,” said Laronius.

“That’s because I’ve been watching you,” replied Solimar. “I’m a fast learner when I’ve got a decent example to follow.”

“I wish I could say the same about myself,” said Laronius. “I wish I could shape the wheat like you do, but I’ve been practicing with Friendly Seth and the other patriarchs for as long as I’ve been here, and I still can’t seem to get it to do what I want.”

“That’s because you won’t let yourself admit what you want,” said Solimar. “I’ve seen you struggle with the wheat. When you connect with it, you don’t let your desire flow out of you and into the wheat. You keep trying to shape it into what you think it should be or what you think others want it to be, which is why you can’t shape it. You won’t tell it what you want.”

“I don’t know what I want,” Laronius murmured.

“Dragon dung,” said Solimar. “Just because we’re in the spirit realm doesn’t mean we stopped being the people we were back in the physical realm. What did you want when you were alive?”

“I wanted power,” said Laronius. “I nearly destroyed myself because I constantly lusted after more and more power.”

“More dragon dung,” said Solimar. “Nobody seeks after power just for the sake of power. People seek power because they want to use that power to get what they want. But something tells me that even in life you were never willing to admit to yourself what you wanted.”

“Maybe you’re right,” said Laronius.

“Of course I’m right,” replied Solimar. “So you better start admitting what you really want if you actually want to help in this fight. Stop holding yourself back before others get hurt.”

“Speaking of hurt,” said Laronius, “we’re here. Watch your step.”

It was nearly silent at the top of the hill. A scent of damp, decaying grass hung in the air, as the bluish mist blocked out so much night that it seemed like an early twilight had settled on the land. In the dim light, Laronius could see the outline of two large boulders jutting out from the ground, forming a wedge where they met buried in the dirt. There was a ghostly shimmer between the stones.

“Something’s wrong,” said Laronius, putting up a hand to tell Solimar to hold back. “I was wrong. The cold and the mist fit the effects of a phantom, but there’s something off about the rest of this.”

Solimar knocked a golden arrow to their bow. “What do you mean?” they whispered.

“If it was a phantom, we’d be hearing faint voices trying to lure us away in separate directions to try and divide us before attacking us,” said Laronius. “But it feels like something here is trying to lure us together in the same direction. Did you see that shimmer between the two stones?”

“I didn’t see any shimmer,” Solimar replied, “but I was going to suggest we head towards the stone first to investigate.”

“Exactly what I was afraid of,” said Laronius. “I had the same thought at first. And that means that what’s up here is either no phantom, or it’s a phantom that’s unlike any I’ve come across.”

Laronius expected another comment from Solimar, but instead there was silence. Laronius turned and saw Solimar was several paces behind, and seemed to be frozen in place. Laronius ran back to see why they had stopped, but when he saw the elf up close, he felt a chill run through his very soul. Solimar was covered in thin, icy webs. “A nightmare weaver,” he hissed.

Laronius didn’t have time to see the attack, but he felt its frigid approach, and he spun around with his shield right before an enormous frost-covered demonous spider launched itself at the pair. The nightmare weaver was knocked back, but it wasn’t stunned. It began pulling on unseen strings, and Solimar began to be pulled away from Laronius.

“No!” shouted Laronius. As he leapt towards Solimar, the nightmare weaver’s trap was sprung, and a thousand strands of its webbing began to descend on Laronius. The clever spider had somehow hung its threads from the mist itself. He could feel the mist and the gossamer close in around him, and then he saw Solimar looking directly into his eyes.

Laronius acted. There was no trying and no hesitating, only action. He took the golden shield off of his arm and spun it above his head like a pinwheel. Golden wheat flew through the air in every direction toward him, and joined with the round shield to create a golden dome that covered Laronius and Solimar from the ground up.

The inside of the dome glowed with a warm orange light. As soon as the frosty threads on Solimar and Laronius had been severed from their source, they melted into nothing like a bad dream. Both of them could move again. “Well, that doesn’t exactly solve our problem,” said Solimar with a smirk, “but at least we know you’re good at covering things up.”

“What do we do now?” Laronius asked. “I’m not really sure how to open this up, but even if I could, what are we supposed to do about that thing? Gravine never commanded any nightmare weavers when I was serving him. I’d only heard stories about them. I’m completely outmatched here.”

“Then it’s a good thing you didn’t come alone, isn’t it?” replied Solimar, refitting the arrow to their bow. “Because I may not have faced a nightmare weaver before, but killed plenty of spiders bigger and nastier than that when I was alive. The first thing we need to do is…”

Solimar’s words were cut short by a loud clamor from outside the dome. The sound was deep and rich and caused the soles of his boots to vibrate. To Laronius it sounded as if someone had rung a giant brass bell, followed by a hundred horns all seemed to shake the rocks and the hill itself. He was so astonished that the wheat that had fused to his shield fell away, turning the dome back into his usual small shield.

When he and Solimar stood, they saw a massive round hole in the center of the mist, as if some giant had just punched a massive fist through the fog, and left a cylinder of clear air where the light from beyond was able to come pouring in. At first, Laronius was nervous because he couldn’t find the nightmare weaver anywhere. But as his eyes adjusted again to the daylight, he realized that pieces of the nightmare weaver were scattered everywhere.

Solimar tapped Laronius on the shoulder and pointed to look behind him. He turned and saw more than a dozen individuals standing in a group. Each of them was wearing vibrant yellow and orange robes and expressions of intense focus. It was clear that they were responsible for destroying the nightmare weaver. There was a spiritual energy emanating from the group that was unlike anything Laronius had ever witnessed, yet also felt slightly familiar.

A large minotaur stepped forward from the middle of the group and looked at the pair they had just rescued. “My name is Burimi,” she said. “My son Mendoji finally returned home to our monastery and offered to adopt us into your clan so we could be freed from the torment that bound us there. Many of us have decided to accept that offer.”

Burimi stepped forward and crushed one of the nightmare weaver’s legs beneath her mighty hoof. It shattered into ice crystals, and then to nothing. “We’ve come to help.”