The whispers grew louder, transforming into guttural hisses. Then came the shapes—dark figures flitting between the trees, barely visible but undeniably present.
"What are they?" Alysia asked, panic creeping into her voice.
"Wraiths," Aragos said grimly. "They feed on fear."
"Great," she muttered, her heart pounding. "Any advice?"
"Don't let them touch you."
Easier said than done. The wraiths grew bolder, their claws swiping through the air, just inches from Alysia's skin.
Aragos unleashed a blast of golden light, momentarily scattering them. "Run!"
They sprinted through the forest, the wraiths in pursuit.