The morning after our heist, we finish packing our things and make our final preparations before our journey. The world is blanketed in a fresh layer of snow, and small flurries spin lazily through the air. The sky is otherwise clear, and it seems like it will be good weather for travelling.

When we meet in the lobby of the inn, Igni’s cheeks redden as he mutters, “I, uh, I have a breakfast date with Alessina, I’ll meet you guys in a bit if that works?”

“Tell Alessina we say hi!” Aticus calls, but I’m already pushing him out the door.

“I’m just saying, this would all go a lot faster if you all got horses.”

I turn from the fur-lined cloaks I’m inspecting to raise my eyebrows at Aticus. “I don’t want a horse. I happen to remember an incident with your horse and the wall of Vearra’s Outpost. That was enough to make me swear off the creatures forever.”

“It all worked out just fine, we got him down!”

Coriol doesn’t offer his opinion, but I can hear him chuckling.

At that moment, I hear a familiar clanking of armor and turn to see Flare and Igni making their way towards us through the meager crowds. Flare doesn’t technically have a face, but it’s impossible for him to hide what would be a grin, and I assume his merriment has something to do with Igni’s flaming cheeks. An excellent breakfast date with Alessina then.

“I’m ready to go when you are,” Igni offers when they’ve reached us. “I picked up my rations and things on the way here.”

“Off to the inn then,” I say, barely resisting the urge to ruffle his hair.

I am pleasantly surprised by how easy it is to find Prior Matais. As we walk into the lobby of the Day’s Dawning Inn, we discover a pale man wearing a priest’s medallion lounging in a chair, reading a book. Another man and a woman sit at a table nearby, him reading a book, her writing in one. They all look up from their work as we walk in and, seeing my Theurg robes, adopt expectant expressions.

I smile at the man in the chair. “Are you Prior Matais?”

He puts his book down and heaves a sigh of relief. “Sister Agathara?”

I take a couple steps closer, extending my hand to him. “Yes, I’m Sister Agathara. It’s so nice to meet you.” I introduce him to the rest of my party; his eyebrows raise a little when I get to Flare.

“I am truly delighted to meet you all,” he says and beckons to his companions. “I am pleased to introduce you to Sister Synthia and Liturg Borio.” Everyone shakes everyone’s hands, and Prior Matais continues, “I trust you got the message from our joint friend. We have need to reach Ravenia, and she said she knew of someone who could help us get there. Travelling in the winter is an overwhelming thought… but then, travelling in the summer is also an overwhelming thought! We are grateful for your assistance.”

“We are sorry for the delay, we had some small business here in Yndaros that could not be left undone.” To my great relief (and surprise), none of my comrades offers so much as a snicker. “However, we are now ready to leave as soon as you wish.”

We sit in the surprisingly comfortable common area of the inn for about an hour while Matais and his people pack their things and prepare to leave. Igni and Flare, sitting across the room, are surrounded by a lazily rising cloud of vapor, the snow carried in on their feeting melting quickly from the heat eminating from Flare. When the travelers return to us, I note immediately the newness of their gear and the lack of any survival equipment.

As we leave the inn, I can faintly hear Aticus and Igni bickering about horses, hypothermia, and who would be the best to eat if we got stuck in a blizzard. Luckily, Prior Matais and his companions are walking ahead of us, pestering Coriol - easily the one least inclined to speak with them - with questions about the route we’ll be taking and all our adventures. I manage to hush Aticus and Igni before we get to the stalls to pick up a last few traveling supplies, earning myself a vaguely amused look from Flare.

The road out of Yndaros is peaceful, but by no means deserted. Various merchants come and go, including the firewood vendors we have seen roaming throughout the city. The sun is shining, and the air feels warmer as we head out on our adventure.

After a long but uneventful day of travel, we reach our first roadside inn. We can easily see that Prior Matais, Synthia, and Borio are exhausted from the day’s journey. Igni shows them how to ease their aching feet by packing them with snow, and they go to bed much relieved. I, too, am relieved by the peaceful day.

The next morning, the temperature has dropped, the wind is stronger, and light clouds have covered the sun. I find our travelers doing various odd stretches in the courtyard, apparently hoping to make themselves more limber for the day of travel ahead. They thank Igni for showing them how to pack snow on their feet, proudly showing him how quickly they are healing.

The day passes uneventfully, and we reach the next roadside inn without trouble.

The next day dawns glorious and bright. The sun is shining, and the air is noticeably warmer. We gather our gear and start down the road with light hearts, smiles, and cheerful chatter.

I guess it’s true what they say. Ignorance is bliss.

As we are climbing a long steep hill that afternoon, we are yanked from our cheerfulness by the sound of a man screaming in pain. Aticus leaps onto his horse and rides ahead as Coriol, Igni, Flare, and I form a defensive ring around Matais and his friends.

There are a few moments of tense silence, broken only by the nervous whispers of the priests, until Aticus returns. We can see his frown as soon as he crests the hill.

“There’s been an accident up ahead,” he reports when he is near enough to speak softly but still be heard clearly. “it looks like a man’s horse slipped and fell on him. I’m going back to help him.” He turns his horse around and calls back over his shoulder, “It doesn’t look like a trap to me, but please use caution and listen for me to call for help.”

My heart aches at the thought of the trapped and injured man. “Wait, I’m going with you.”

Aticus’s brow furrows just slightly. “Just in case it’s a trap, it might be wiser for you to stay here and for Flare to come with me instead.”

“So you want to take both our strong fighters away from those we’re meant to escort?”

Aticus hesitates. “Well…”

“We could all go together,” Igni pipes up. “Then we have our strong fighters and our healer all together if it is a trap.”

We all agree to this and get into a formation with Matais, Synthia, Borio, and I in the center, Aticus in front on Gibraltar, Igni and Coriol on the left and right, and Flare bringing up the rear. I do my best to reassure the trembling priests, telling them that we don’t see any danger but want to make sure that they are well protected in the event that we meet any. Sister Synthia’s face hardens into a mask of determination as she pulls a dagger from her robes.

As soon as we crest the top of the hill, we see that The site of the accident is brutal. A blood trail smears jaggedly across the road, stretching from where the horse must have slipped and fallen to where its body now lay, trapping a still man underneath it. When we can all see the fallen man, Aticus dismounts and runs forward, trying to lift the horse off him. Even from a distance, I can see that the horse is partially frozen.

I rush forward to offer my aid, arriving just as Aticus is rolling the man over. Black tears run from the man’s eyes and down his cheeks, black ooze has leaked from his mouth, and he is clearly not breathing. I kneel beside him to check his pulse and immediately realize three things. One: this man is dead. Two: this blood is fresh. Three: this man is stiff.

I look up at Aticus. “How is this possible? This man is stiff as a board, but we just heard his scream a minute ago, and this blood is fresh.”

We all look around, trying to determine the cause of this horrific scene. Coriol points out the odd lumps of snow scattered around us - almost like drifts, but not in any place we would expect to see drifts, especially with the small amount of snow that has fallen. We cluster closer together, discussing our next moves in low tones, until Liturg Borio sucks in a frightened breath and points into the woods.

We all look in the direction he’s pointing to see a tall, slender figure dressed in white, looking like a snow drift has risen to take human form. Its face is gaunt, dark hollows where its eyes should be and loose ice-blue skin sagging from its skull. It is dressed in a kind of leathery armor with a large white poof starting at the crown of its head and cascading down its back and around its shoulders. As we watch the figure, each of the snow mounds unfurls into a tall figure until we are surrounded by eight of them.

Aticus leaps off his horse and draws his sword as the figures begin to move in a circle, spiraling closer with every step and gaining speed the closer they get.

“Identify yourselves!” Coriol calls. The figures slow down and turn their heads in Coriol’s direction, but do not respond; I can feel them studying us with the hollows where their eyes should be. They linger there for a moment until one of them darts directly towards our group.

The wraith springs towards Coriol, raising a fist which sprouts spikes of ice as we watch, cold emenating from him as he moves. Coriol twists to the side, and we can see the frost of his breath as the wraith flies past him. It skids to a quick stop on the other side of him and swings around to face him again.

Aticus leaps towards Coriol and swings his sword at the wraith that attacked him. His sword smashes into it, and the wraith disintegrates with a sound like shattering ice, spraying dark blue blood and shedding splinters of ice. Igni starts the incantation for brimstone cascade, raising his hands and chanting under his breath. As fire shoots from his open palms, the wraith darts away, and the fireball makes a hard turn and slams into me instead. Most of the fire skitters off my armor, but I can feel small burns on my neck and hands.

Flare takes a menacing step towards one of the wraiths and swings with his flaming sword, following his mighty slash with a smash from his shield. The wraith tumbles backwards, hitting the ground with a crashing, splintering sound and shattering into a thousand pieces.

I whisper a quick prayer to Prios, and holy light radiates from me, its glow bathing the wraiths in warmth. One squints its eyes at me, but otherwise it doesn’t seem to bother them at all.

Coriol waves his hands, and vines sprout from the ground, growing rapidly up the legs, then the torsos of three of the wraiths. As one, all five remaining wraiths whip their heads to stare at Coriol, two raising ghostly hands to point in his direction.

One of the wraiths turns his icy gaze towards Aticus, and a black mass that strongly resembled large gooey spider webs shoot stowards him, landing at his feet and shattering across the ice with no apparent effect. Another wraith turns towards Flare, and another gooey black web shoots towards him. Instead of landing harmlessly at his feet, though, it splats across his armor, and little tendrils of what I can only describe as pure energy spiral from the web and anchor to the ground, apparently pinning him down.

Twin blasts of icy, reeking wind blast from the fingers of the two pointing wraiths, and Coriol’s eyes widen, his confusion palpable as the dark circles under his eyes, the only sign of his travel fatigue, fade. A matching blast burst from the finger of the final entangled wight, and Igni stiffens, and I can feel the corruption flowing through his veins.

A swirling miasma of snow, ice, and wind suddenly appears in our midst, spiraling up into the air to form an icy glyph above our heads. I shiver with the sudden cold and feel my muscles tightening, my blood slowing in my veins.

Aticus storms forward, sword drawn, and slams into one of the wraiths not entangled in Coriol’s vines. It shatters on impact, leaving a splatter of dark blue blood where it stood.

Igni swears and drops his staff, pulling out his crossbow and slamming a bolt into place. Flare shivers, an action I didn’t think possible for a flame spirit. Flare, apparently thrown off by this sudden sensation, moves a little slower than normal, and his sword swishes through the space between two wraiths, leaving them both untouched.

Whispering a silent prayer, I stretch my hand in Flare’s direction, trying to channel the love and light of Prios into a healing wave. The sound of whimpering voices steals my attention halfway through, and I turn to see the priests kneeling in a circle with their eyes closed, most likely also praying for help from Prios. The entangling vines wither before our eyes, falling away from the wraiths, and Coriol pulls out his spear and stabs towards the wraiths, the point just missing the chest of the nearest one.

Four black spider webs shoot from the group of wraiths, and Aticus, Coriol, and I find ourselves wrapped in them, the energy tendrils anchoring us to the ground. I groan as another ice tornado spins up in the center of our group, the icy gliph zapping Igni and me with extreme cold.

A movement in the corner of my eye catches my attention, and I turn to see that the priests have lit a stick of incense, propping it upright in the snow. A golden trail of glittering light trails upwards from it, dancing and shimmering in the winter air, and I wonder distantly what spell they’re attempting.

Aticus, fighting through the freezing spider web that binds him, takes a step towards Flare and swings his sword through the center of one of the wights, shattering it on impact. Igni raises his crossbow and fires, the bolt flying straight into a wight’s eye, taking its whole head off with its momentum. Flare, suddenly finding himself free of enemies, charges towards another wight, sword held high, and rushes right past. I whisper a quick prayer and reach a hand towards him, feeling healing light flow out of my palm and towards Flare and watching his flame brighten considerably. Coriol lifts his hands, and thorny vines shoot upward from the ground, wrapping themselves around him in a protective cloak.

The two remaining wraiths start to back away, shooting their black, tarry webs towards the light rising from the incense stick. The goo wraps around it, trying to choke it it out. Despite the black bands trying to contain it, the light starts to peel open. A golden arm reaches through, and a melodic voice calls, “Help me open the portal!”

Aticus goes charging into the forest and shatters another wraith as another bolt from Igni’s crossbow and Flare’s shield go whizzing past the other. I struggle against the energy tendrils pinning me down as I whisper a prayer and touch my sun medallion. Light leaps from my medallion to each of my friends, burning away corruption and healing their wounds.

Coriol fights his way out of the tendrils anchoring him to the ground and runs to the portal, grabbing an edge of the light and pulling with all his strength. The portal stretches and strains, black goo tearing away from it, a glowing figure beginning to emerge from inside it.

The last wraith hurls a black ball of energy towards Aticus, hitting him directly in the chest. The icy glyph above us releases another burst of swirling ice, and Coriol and I collapse, succumbing to the cold. As I fall, I hear a massive tearing sound, as if the fabric between the worlds has been rent…

The rest of this adventure I have learned from my companions. The massive tearing that I heard as I fell was a glowing, winged being, an Angel, bursting from the portal. Radiant light flooded the area, and those still conscious were filled with a burning, tingling sensation, watching in horror as black streaks trailed along under their skin, following their blood vessels. Where the blackness came close to the skin, their skin split, oozing a thick, black substance that evaporated almost immediately. But with the black goo went their corruption.

The angelic form, glistening and shining, stood before them. A wailing shriek filled the air as the remaining wraith in the woods turned to flee but disintegrated instead. Prior Matais and Liturg Borio were slumped on the ground, lifeless, and Sister Synthia had collapsed next to them, exhausted and weeping.

The Angel turned to Sister Synthia. “You have called, what do you need?”

Sister Synthia, speaking as clearly as she could between sobs, motioned to the scene around them. “We were in desperate need….” Her voice trailed off, lost in her grief.

The Angel then turned his attention to the standing adventurers. “What do you need?”

“You were summoned to vanquish our enemies,” Igni responded, gesturing in the direction of the vaporized wraith, “and you have done so. Thank you.”

The Angel bowed. “The one who summoned me appears to have perished in the effort. I will return to the Realms and shepherd his soul to the Realm of the Good.”

Igni cocked an eyebrow. “Could you possibly put his soul back into his body?”

“That’s not quite how it works. Once the soul has been lost, it passes over to the other side. But for those who walk in the light, we can guide their footsteps to the Realms beyond.”

I wake just in time to see the Angel bow to Aticus, Igni, and Flare one more time and disappear, taking the radiance with him. Coriol and I find our way to our feet, and I can barely contain my grief upon seeing the lifeless bodies of Prior Matais and Liturg Borio.

Moving as quickly as we can, hoping to avoid any further experiences with the wights, we take the deceased courier’s satchel and build a cairn of wood over his body on the side of the road. Prior Matais and Liturg Borio are lain gently over the back of Aticus’s horse, the gentle beast offering no complaint.

We manage to reach the next roadside inn before nightfall, where we are bombarded with questions about the wraiths. We answer as well as we can through our exhaustion, doing our best to shield Synthia from having to speak. The owners of the inn offer to escort us to Ravenia in a wagon the next morning. Seeing the promise of a blizzard in the quickly darkening sky, we accept gratefully and retire for the night hoping for an uneventful end to our journey.