Stump had the misfortune of being locked in the same cell as the catfolk.
"I'm glad you're not dead," he mustered.
Sylas' tail weaved lazily across the floor. "As far as you know. I could be as dead as this prison and your eyes would lie to you."
Halwyn, uncharacteristically quiet, moved near Sylas with a slow, heavy stride. He rested a hand on the flagstone for a long while before sinking to his haunches.
Sylas nodded to the ghost. "He's the Iron Fleece sellsword?"
Stump shook his head. "A spirit. Denna's over there."
In the opposing cell Denna and Morg refused to make themselves comfortable. She paced around while he stood in a corner like a swaddled statue, staring holes into Germott, who commanded the opposite end.
"It's time we got out o' here, eh?" said the dwarf. "No one's looking now."
"Oh? And you've got a plan, I presume?" intoned Sylas.
Morg looked to Stump. He refrained from saying anything, probably knowing to do so would out Stump as a Lumenurgist. Instead he shrugged. "Figured one of us could sort out these locks."
Sylas narrowed his eyes. "I could if I wanted."
He must know Lumenurgy would work, Stump thought. "I thought you would've escaped already."
"Germy and I have been weighing our options."
"Call me Germy again and I'll pull your lungs out your throat," Germott barked.
Sylas chuckled dryly. "I love you, too."
"What options would those be?" Stump pressed.
The catfolk stood and paced slowly into the light, paying Halwyn little more than a glance. "We haven't settled yet on where to go. You've seen the lights outside?"
"The ones offshore?" said Denna. She pressed herself against the bars. "I saw a flash."
"The lights come from the old temple to Lumensa," Sylas explained. "Umbralanus, her male aspect, to be precise. In case you have't yet discerned what's happening, Germott and I believe—"
"There's magic strong enough to warp our plane with that of the dead," Stump interjected. "That's why this whole town has sprung up, being so close to these lights, where the magic is coming from. That's why the hauntings have gotten worse, and why the fire was started at the brewery."
A wry smile disturbed Sylas' whiskers. "The goblin is smarter than he looks."
Stump strangled a retort. "We figured it out. I wouldn't have gotten this far without Morg and Denna."
"A sweet thought," Sylas said dismissively. "So there lies our dilemma. Germy and I are not particularly drawn to the idea of sailing to such a place to confront whatever lies there. We value our lives, you see. However…"
Germott bolted to his feet and slammed a fist against the bars. "There is no however. No treasure or gold is worth sticking our necks in whatever sorcery be found there."
"I thought Wasptongue paid ye to uncover the source o' the hauntings," Morg challenged. He swaggered up to Germott and the two engaged in a fierce duel of unblinking growls.
"But not to deal with the source," Sylas countered. "Germott and I alone are capable of many things, but there's a reason why the two of us are still alive while this whole town only masquerades in our world."
"Who said you would be alone?" said Stump.
He let the words rest in Sylas' ears. The Ocelot paced leisurely around the cell, his thoughts never slipping into his expression. "And what experience do you and your companions have? That girl there looks to be some fresh faced daughter to a rich patriarch looking to score a company alliance," he said.
Denna scowled. "That rich patriarch paid for some of the best masters-at-arms in the city to train me."
"And the walking carpet?" he went on, ignoring her. "You say there's a dwarf under there but I'm halfway convinced it's three goblins in a leather coat."
"Pick both these locks and we can settle that idea for good, eh?" said Morg.
"And you," Sylas turned to Stump, towering over him. He stepped closer to heighten the effect. "Three goblins would be an improvement. But here we have only one, and shorter than any I've ever seen. I've asked you once and I'll ask again. What's your trade?"
Stump looked down. His ears dipped in thought. "I'm good at helping people," he said, meeting the catfolk's gaze again.
"Stay with the dead, then." Sylas sauntered back to his stool and fell into it. "You can run around in circles with them, screaming about the end times. Germy and I will find our own way."
Germott's fingers wrapped around the iron so tightly you could almost hear the metal warp.
Stump waddled over to sir Halwyn and took a seat next to him. The ghost barely registered his presence. "Are you alright?" Stump asked.
"My family will be safe," Halwyn said, but there was no warmth in his words, no hope in his eyes. From this distance they were vacant of colour. They were grey, lightless, like the undead fires that failed to warm their world.
"They'll be safe…" Halwyn whispered, his face tightening and brow furrowing, as if he didn't quite believe the words he was meant to say.
"They'll be safe," Stump agreed, thinking back to the plot of land Halwyn had pointed out earlier. It was unfortunate his house was only one of a small number that hadn't come back with the other phantom homes.
Strange any of them didn't, actually. Surely the spirits of Halwyn's family would have remembered their own house. Their ghosts would have been mingling with the townsfolk somewhere, engaged in whatever activities they'd tended to before they died…
Stump stiffened. "Wait," he said. "Your house wasn't there."
Tenet of Lumensa Fulfilled - Virtue +1 (7/7).
Halwyn was puzzled. "My family will—"
"They are safe," Stump interrupted. "Or… were. They got out." He picked himself up and shook the apparition by the shoulders. "Sir Halwyn, your family escaped before the battle."
By now the others were watching from the other cell. "What're ye sayin' over there?" said Morg.
"Morg, you said there were a few ships that managed to ferry some of the people out of Seabrace before it became the Spits, right?"
The dwarf nodded pensively.
"I think Halwyn's family was on one of those ships," said Stump. "That's why some of the houses are still destroyed. Those memories didn't come back with the spirits because those spirits aren't here to remember them."The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
"My family…"
"You lit your beacon," Stump went on, staring deeply into the phantom's eyes. "You warned the town. They got as many on the ships as they could. Your family was on one of them. They got away… but you didn't. The battle started and tore your homes into the sea. It tore your island apart. And Lumensa lost."
Despite the naturally greyish complexion of the deceased, Halwyn went pale. "I'm dead?" he said, then shook his head, more in denial than disbelief. "No, I must find my family."
I'm losing him, Stump thought. He glanced over at Sylas and caught the curious gaze of the catfolk from the shadows. He had an idea, a glimmer of a plan that might help push Halwyn out of his memory prison, but if he did it, Sylas might remember him.
I have to. Stump held out his hand, and a moment later light formed above his palm. Halwyn jerked back on instinct, but made no move to flee from the lumen. His clothes glittered with ghostly light, and his skin shimmered pale. The prison erupted in spectral mist, like the fog beyond the walls.
Stump reached out with his other hand and held his palm open, the same way Borag had done. "It's alright," he said. "It won't hurt."
Halwyn hesitated, then placed his hand atop Stump's. His skin glimmered pale green, revealing the goblin palm beneath. The spirit's mouth hung open. "I…"
"You didn't make it," said Stump. "Most of Seabrace didn't. But your family did, because of you. Lumensa might have lost the battle, but you won, sir Halwyn."
The ghost appraised his hand as if seeing himself for the first time. He turned it over and watched light scatter through like sunbeams breaking on the sea. "My family is safe," he said, and Stump believed him. Halwyn blinked, and in his irises was the faintest hint of blue.
Tenet of Lumensa Fulfilled: Virtue +1 (8/7).
Sylas, now fully illuminated, watched from the corner of his eye. "Neat trick," he said.
"Sir Halwyn," Denna called from the other cell. "Are you with us? Can you hear me?"
The lighthouse keeper looked across at her with the deliberate agency afforded to the living. "Denna. Of the Iron Fleece." He spoke the words as if reciting the name of someone he'd met in a dream.
Stump let the light hover freely in the air as he took a step closer to Halwyn. "We must get out of here. Jaessun might be gone but there's something else that's causing all the dead to come back. That's why you're here."
The apparition nodded with lukewarm comprehension.
"Will you help us?"
Halwyn nodded again, more vigorously. "My family…" he said. He met Stump's eyes, and in them roiled determination. Anger. "…Is gone. I have to see them again."
Morg, Denna and Germott slipped through the bars, partially hindered by the ectoplasmic mist. Denna made an uncomfortable sound.
"Not diminishing the help o' yer new friend here," said Morg, stopping next to Stump. "But what're we usin' for transportation off this spit?"
Halwyn stood briskly. "There are smaller boats down by the harbour, near the Spirit of Dusk."
"That's where our vessel was taken, as well," Sylas said.
Germott approached his furry companion with a severe look. "You can't mean we're going with them. Our job's done, Sylas."
The catfolk tutted. "Where's your sense of adventure?" He slid past the other Ocelot and towered over Stump again. His narrow yellow eyes glowed with careful consideration. "So. You're a Lumenurgist?"
The question sounded like a goblin trap in the woods—a hole in the ground covered with sticks and leaves to mask the descent. "Wasptongue taught me a little," said Stump.
"Oh? She must be fond of you."
"She has a big operation to shoulder."
"Indeed."
Stump almost jumped when Sylas raised his hand. But it wasn't to strike. The catfolk gracefully uncurled his arm like a snake, and offered his paw. "I admit you've impressed me." The compliment slithered off his tongue. "We'll go to this magical source together, yes?"
Stump clasped his small hand in the catfolk's.
 

 
Ghosts milled about, unaware of the figures slipping through the jailhouse wall.
Stump dismissed his light, and the buildings in its glow dropped their ghostly hue. "Where do we go?" he asked.
They had gathered in a narrow alley wedged between the back wall of the prison and other nondescript manors of judicial importance. Halwyn pointed down a narrow stretch that opened up to the main thoroughfare. "Through the market," he said.
"And if the sailors see us?" whispered Denna.
"Light a torch and give them an existential crisis," Sylas said dryly.
"We go with our plan," said Stump. He looked to Sylas and Germott for confirmation. Sylas let a wry smile creep through. Germott's scars twisted up with his frown.
It was a hasty idea, cobbled together from the ramblings of all six of them in their cell. The ghosts were all stuck in their shared memory of their goings on just before the battle commenced, whispering endlessly about the incoming danger, filling carts that would never be filled, burning their belongings in a fire with no heat, fretting about a battle that had ended generations ago.
But Halwyn had gotten out. First by lighting the fire he so desperately wanted to light, and then by realizing the family he was trying to save had already been saved.
"Why not break them out all at once?" Stump had suggested.
Sylas put a hand to his chin. His tail weaved in thought, catching Stump's notion without having to hear the words. "It could make for an able distraction," he said.
The whole town believed the battle was coming.
So they needed to know it was already here.
The first light appeared in the air, far above the rooftops, raised by Germott. It vanished with a sudden flash, outlining the rolling underbelly of a passing cloud. A loud bang of Sonurgy followed on cue, with Sylas stretching his arm for full effect. Stump sent up a second light, exploding it in a puff of light. Bang. Germott sent up a third, a fourth. Bang, bang.
Stump followed up with another—bang—but Germott had the larger pool of virtue, so he let the Ocelot lead. Denna and Morg stood with their necks craned, the cracks of false thunder lighting up their faces.
The first screams reached them after the second flash. Within a minute whatever confusion had dawned on the frantic spirits swelled into a frenzy, a panic, fear leaping from one to another, as shouts sounded all around.
"Jaessun is here!" someone screeched from the main road.
"Lumensa is in battle!" another cried.
A pair of ghostly bells tolled, their wispy trills carrying through the air like light through fog. Pandemonium. The ghosts had all broken out of their memories.
Tenet of Lumensa fulfilled: Virtue +1 (5/7)
Tenet of Lumensa fulfilled: Virtue +1 (6/7)
Tenet of Lumensa fulfilled: Virtue +1 (7/7)
Tenet of Lumensa fulfilled: Virtue +1 (8/7)
Stump put a hand to his head and blinked away the celestial mind barrage. The words kept coming, exploding in his skull, mirroring the light show they'd just performed. He steadied himself against a wall.
Fingers wrapped gently around his arm. "You alright?" Denna's voice was soothing.
"Let's go now, shall we?" Sylas said and started down the alley.
Stump massaged his cranium, but gave Denna a slight nod to dissuade her concern.
"Alright, I've got you," she said, and urged him forward.
The tenets kept firing. Fourteen out of seven. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen…
 

 
The streets were alive with throngs of screaming spirits. Halwyn led on, turning down the old roads of Seabrace, immune to the hysteria, while the others followed close behind. In the chaos they faced no resistance.
Stump staggered as a ghostly home splintered to his right. Denna was on him again, pulling him to his feet. Wounded phantoms sprawled around them.
"What happened?" he tried to say, but light speared out of his throat instead. Then he felt it behind his eyes—a searing, burning pain.
"Stump? Are you alright?" Denna's voice was faraway, her touch light despite how hard she gripped him.
He beckoned for the system, but the words were a blur of light and colour. I can barely see.
"Stump?" Her voice thickened with worry. "Stump!"
The clouds answered with a thunderous bellow. The opposite end of the street flattened beneath an unseen force, lifting ghosts and dropping them like bags of spectral meat.
"They're reliving the destruction!" Sylas' words reached Stump like they'd been shouted from the depths of a cave.
"Move!" said another—Germott?
Stump was on his knees again. Someone shook him by the shoulders. He strained to look up and found Denna's face ringed by white. It swallowed her. It's so bright…
Darkness threatened the edges of his eyes.
"Borag…" he managed. Ascension.
A second light burst behind her. He couldn't see it through the glow consuming him, but he felt its power leaving his body. The darkness retreated, then sallied forth once more.
Thirty two out of seven… thirty three… thirty four…
Virtue rang in his mind like the spectral bell, each peal quieter than the last, in contrast to the rising rhythm of his heart. The bloodlust clanged in his eyes, his ears, his throat. Lumensa was dragging him under with the ghosts of the tides, but Grumul commanded him to live.
Thirty eight… thirty nine…
The hum rolled deep within. A coming hurricane, a clash of gods.
Forty one…
Stump rallied the anger of the bloodlord with a scream that would rattle the bones of the most lust-stricken goblins. He forced his arm in the air against the bell's final toll, and expelled Lumensa's decay in a staggering pillar of light.
The world flashed into focus all at once. Chunks of raining ground spewed from the isle dispelled with a puff. Buildings scattered in breaths of mist, and bodies curled off in trails of pale light, and for the first time in a hundred years morning came to Seabrace.
He squinted through the godly light to the illusory town and its people whisking away like dust in a windstorm. They're going home, Stump thought.
Eight… nine………..
The virtue slowed and stopped. His back met the ground, and he blinked at the sky. It's so bright…
Slowly the arcane column of light, anchored from island to clouds, dimmed and vanished, and the sounds of battle faded with it. The fog drifted back in to reclaim its territory, the gloom peeked out of hiding, and the mirage of Seabrace lifted, leaving behind nothing more than tall stalks of seagrass and ancient structures lost to time.