The humanoid mass of ebony hair glanced at Thorin then tilted its head towards the spell array. The glare of the barrier glimmered in its beady eyes. The dense, milky fog of mana drew it in, yet it held its steps. Both sides fell into pin-drop silence. Only the thumps of his heart and the rush of blood roared in Thorin’s ears.

  He could act if he wanted to. His feet weren’t frozen.

  Yet, his pace had locked with the Hair Golem’s. If it stayed its hand, he wouldn’t trigger any attack either.

  He could strike if he chose to, he told himself again. But he knew the truth, deep in his heart. The sheer oppression of mana rolling off the giant before him had forced him into a passive stance.

  “Back off,” Iver said. “You can't fight it. Let the spell array deal with it. Once it gets bored, it’ll leave.”

  “What if it doesn’t?” Thorin asked, his eyes never leaving the Golem.

  “Then one of us will deal with it,” Iver said. “Since the spell array diverted it to your exit, it must be around your level. Any one of us can deal with it.”

  Though the implied meaning of the words stung Thorin, he had to agree with Iver. If he listened to his impulses, they would have him rush out and fight the Golem. For his pride and to prove his worth. But with years of pain, misery, and despair etched into him, he’d long won the battle against them. And so, he stepped back into the embrace of the spell array.

  Still, was the Golem really at his level? The mana tester showed a milky hue, so it must be. But the oppression Thorin felt compelled him to doubt it. He kept mum about his concerns though. Whether it was a mistake or a deliberate action that led the stronger Golem to him, he didn’t want to create a conflict inside the cave based on mere doubts. It wouldn’t be good for him and his brothers.

  “What is its weakness? Do any of you know?” Thorin asked as he looked at the Golem still standing beyond the defensive barrier.

  “Don’t think about using fire,” Casper said. “It’ll grow like crazy once you burn its hair. Your chained blades and paper blades can be more effective. But you won't be able to overpower it. Better give up the idea of fighting it.”

  “Haven’t I already?” Thorin glanced at him. “Am I not standing inside? Do you have to drive the point home twice?”

  “You know yourself if you’ve given up the idea,” Casper said. “If you really did, you wouldn’t ask for its weakness.”

  “Stop overthinking everything,” Thorin said, returning to his meditation position. “I asked just in case we meet it in the future.”

  “Sure,” Casper said.

  “There’s a reason why only the Golems have the honor of getting an arcana of their own,” Wolf chimed in. “Even if you meet one in the future, unless you’re at a higher level than it, run away.”

  “Do you do the same?” Thorin asked, chuckling.

  “No, but you’re not me,” Wolf said.

  “The only reason they have an exclusive arcana to their name is that the Magi of the old took a liking to them,” Casper said. “They certainly aren’t indelible. But still, for you guys, they’ll be too much. So, like Wolf said, run even when you meet them in the future.”

  “Of course. How can I ignore your godly advice,” Thorin said, sarcasm oozing from his words. “Can I meditate while it’s still my turn? Or do I need to keep an eye out?” he asked Iver.

  “Go ahead, meditate,” Iver said. “If the big guy starts to test the spell array’s limits, I’ll handle it myself.”

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  “Alright,” Thorin said and closed his eyes to feel the thick mana submerging him. The deep inhales filled his lungs with cold milky fog, and the hard exhales stirred his premises. Before long, his ‘Spirit’ started rising again.

  ……

  Though Thorin could only hear faint murmurs of the conversation around him, he understood the situation in the cave from Iver’s regular prompts. The Hair Golem had stared at the spell array for a long time. But, at last, it retreated without a single attack. Once it did, the rounds of raids began again. It was Casper’s turn next.

  Rounds after rounds bled together until the high tide of mana ended again. Whether the sun had set or risen outside, Thorin couldn’t tell. He had thoroughly lost his perception of the day and nighttime cycle. Especially with the disconnect he went through due to the time difference of the Death Arcana.

  Apart from getting a sense of their condition and checking the Ghost that still lingered outside, he remained in the depth of his meditation. When his turn came, he bombarded the incoming Faes with his spells and chained blades. The combination of his new and old spells rained hell on them. Despite the nonstop grumblings of Casper and Wolf that kept reiterating their misgivings about the three Aether brothers, Clay, Quin, and Thorin earned their keep.

  Then the next tide came and receded, and another one followed soon after the rest. The straightforward enemies like Irontooth Rats stopped appearing in the raids. Instead, the boys faced tricky Faes one after another. Like the Infant Spiders whose creepy infantile cries echoed in the tunnels; the flood of Earth Termites that almost ate through the spell array; the rare occurrence of Walkers who advanced towards the cave even under the heavy bombardment of spells; and even a Sand Golem who didn’t stay its hand, unlike its hair-type kin before. Luckily, Casper used his potions to counter its regeneration and shattered its core. Though the value of the kill plunged with the destroyed core, at least they neutralized the threat.

  Because of his undeniable victory, however, Casper’s deepened smirk became the Aether brothers’ headache. Thorin chose to ignore it and looked at the result of today’s meditation in his panel. They were at the end of the fourth wave, and his ‘Spirit’ had grown to 4.69. The second layer was within his arm’s reach now. Just a few days more and he could break through.

  But instead of continuing his cultivation with the receding mana, he thought of checking off a task from his list that remained at the back of his mind. He couldn’t delay it any longer. He looked at the Ghost outside who’d lost his vigor and waned over the days. It didn’t play around the remnants of the battles anymore. Even the tongues of flames and the frost on the walls couldn’t attract it now. It just sat in the corner, withered and wilted, barely keeping its form together.

  Its intention to aid Thorin in battles had forced it to pay the price with its ‘life’, if such a word even applied to the undead. Yet, it persisted in its help and often lent Thorin a hand at vital moments. His interest in the Ghost had begun from the existence and the peculiarity of its personality, but it had now grown into curiosity for its intentions. The Ghost helped him for a reason. If possible, Thorin wanted to find that out.

  Regardless, however, all paths led to the same conclusion. Whether for his curiosity or just for strength, he was going to make the Ghost his. Since it couldn’t hold on anymore, it was time to act.

  “That was the last batch,” Iver said with a weary exhale when Clay returned from his battle. “We’ll enter the ebbing period again. Heal, rest, eat something, and do your business. Meditate if you want. Take a breather.”

  “Can I go outside?” Thorin asked.

  “Go shit in the shitter,” Casper said. “Why’re you going outside?”

  “Sure,” Iver said, glaring at Casper then looking at Thorin again. “Just don’t go too far and come back quickly. If you miss the high tide of mana, I won't be able to let you in again for that duration.”

  “I’ll just be a minute,” Thorin said and stretched his legs to go out. The numbness soon turned into tingles that ran with his blood.

  He walked out when Iver opened a gap in the spell array, giving his brothers a nod of assurance. The Ghost outside looked at him coming out but it didn’t hide this time. It couldn’t hide anymore. Yet, it still gathered all its strength to screech at Thorin threateningly. Just that the deathly shriek now sounded like a wounded puppy’s bark.

  “It’s alright,” Thorin said in a gentle tone, staring down at the cowering Ghost. “You’ll live.”

  Thorin’s heart attracted the Ghost, yet it feared the same. When Thorin reached out, it shrank back in terror and whimpered. Without the spell, there really was nothing he could do to bridge the gap between them. So, Thorin made his move. He sliced his finger on the chained blade and let a drop of his blood hover before him. This spell from his ‘mother’ was unique to him. It needed the blood that his ghost heart pumped through his veins as a catalyst.

  Ghostcradle!

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