Chapter 34

"Oblations"

The legion of ghosts was as grotesque as I imagined it to be, swarming, buzzing, and gathering like maggots and flies on a corpse. I could not keep count. They drove all other life from the mountain, leaving nothing but corrupt souls to furiously attend to business at the altar. The moon was so full and luminous that not even their spectral bodies could hide from its light. Smokey Eyes loitered so thick in the sky above that they created a cloudy haze over and through the treetops. Clawed Phantoms cut their way through them, stalking the woods in the canopy to terrorize the weaker ghosts and will-o-wisps that gathered from all over the range for the blood moon ritual. The presence of the wisps illuminated the darkness of the trees with grim blue light, further highlighting the happenings at the altar.

The fatter dark bodied Ghouls stood guard around the perimeter of the altar, pleased with bullying outsiders away and having a front row view of the performance within. Ever since nightfall, untold numbers of Skull Ghosts with their bone masks, glowing eyes, and sock like bodies, began pouring out of the portal to tend to it. The portal itself was now visible to the naked eye. Spider string thin yet circular in nature no matter which way you looked at it. The hounds and I managed to clear away Ezekiel's body earlier in the day and purify it, but it did not matter. The Skull Ghosts did not acknowledge the blood I splashed on the sides of the altar.

The presence of their Gate Keeper and Key Master were not missed. Had they still been alive, it's likely they would have been sacrificed as part of the ritual because nothing that drew breath was allowed on the altar. The only creature the ghosts cared about was the Lunar Stone. At nightfall, it opened its crimson colored eye. Now, that same eye wept tears of blood. Amidst so much necromancy, the shells of bugs long since shed spontaneously came back to life in the trees. They floated eerily about, frozen in the way their living parts had left them. The halo above their heads was nothing but a ruse to draw in any will-o-wisps that wandered too close.

They kept to the canopy while the Doom Seers and I remained hidden in the holes we dug out under the trees to conceal ourselves. Entranced by the collection of Skull Ghosts writhing together, the hounds and their foxes could not look away from the ritual that was as perverse as it was enchanting. It was not often that the living witnessed the Skull Ghosts' gross disassembly and assimilation of bodies so that they could evolve into Beckoners right before our very eyes. Their lustful groans of birthing twisted my stomach. Two Beckoners evolved out of the pile. They absorbed so many souls that they were almost as tall as the pillars around the altar, far surpassing the size and strength of all the other ghosts. They began ministering to the portal on either side.

I feared the appearance of a Banette, the ghost of a Shaman, but the chaos and disorder of the display indicated their absence. The blood we Mighty Hena spilt in the Bone Wars was our seed of hope. If a Banette had been present, the legion would have formed much faster, launched their attack before my arrival, and destroyed all light and life within these mountains as the ultimate sacrifice for the ritual. Thankfully, the ghosts we purified, no matter how long ago, could not return through the portal. They were forever banished.

But there was something else there. Something beyond the divide. Sinister and gargantuan and evil. It was waiting for its chance to come through the portal. It cursed and growled. The sounds made my hair stand on end. The echo of its roar sounded enormous, like a giant, even greater than myths and legends like the Dragon of the Sky. This was surely a dragon too. One from a ghostly reverse world where everything was twisted and dead. It terrified my soul to hear it speak, but I asked the Spirit at the start of this hunt to reveal my true enemy. Back then, I thought I could match it.

I was wrong.

This was no creature, but a monster, and it found me when no other could. It saw me in Spirit as I felt it. The portal was a two way window with tinted glass. This monster understood what I intended to do even from beyond the veil.

"I am Giratina," the voice on the other side of the portal told me and only me. Its language was as old as the world itself. "You cannot stop me."

I did not know what such a name meant, or who this monster was, but I knew, if unleased, this apocalyptic beast would kill us all in its cataclysmic violence. I would not let it come through. Very soon, the legion would reach the pinnacle of the blood moon and the end of the ritual. The time for the holocaust was now.

I glanced at the hounds beside me. If not for the foxes hiding within, they did not have the sense to look away. The hounds silently peeled off in either direction, already aware of their mission. A few moments later, trees began to burst into flame. One by one, the hounds set them alight with their fiery breath. Fox fire flew with them and the flames spread with an even greater ferocity. Successfully cleared of snow earlier in the day and dried by the thin cool air, the timber and bark caught quickly. The conifers here had no resistance to flame like the vegetation of the grasslands that was accustomed to periodic burning for germination and regrowth.

The fires quickly spread and joined together to form a wild fire. The inferno surrounded the altar in the same way the trees did. A wall of fire encircled the ritual with heat and smoke and light. But the hounds did not stop there. They circled around again, expanding the ring down the mountain, and would continue to do so until my task was complete for this blaze and its smoke would create the domain that would trap the ghosts in this plane. Instead of darkness, there would be light, and with the foxes' High Spirit, the flames were of a purifying type. They would take the place of my shadow and prevent the legion from returning to the protection of the otherworld.

The shells of the ghost bugs began to combust. The lesser ghosts caught in the flames began to shriek. It was the beginning of the holocaust and it was up to me to make it a sweet smelling oblation to the Spirit. Just as the ghosts collected their power, I pooled all of my Spirit and energy into my first strike. I had much practice now, and with plenty of time to prepare, it would be my best pulse yet. Red eyes hidden by the flames, I narrowed my focus on the leftmost Beckoner. Like My Man, I brought its burning blue spectral heart into my sights. It could not hide from me. Not in this place, under the light of the moon, accompanied by my hunting prowess.

As if holding my own rifle, I loaded my Spirit into a narrow concentrated bullet using a combination of the techniques I learned over the course of my life and fired. I felt the bite of my first fang as it pierced the Beckoner's flaming heart. It set the ghost instantly aflame. I shifted aim slightly to the right, reloaded another spiritual round, and fired a second pulsing fang. It pierced the second Beckoner's heart. Another blazing column of blue flame rose up, consuming the Beckoner from the inside out. This was enough to jar the ritual out of rhythm. Skull Ghosts darted away from the spectral fire when a few of them realized the blue flames could spread. This cleared the way to the Lunar Stone. Such an alien creature was incapable of expression and yet I knew it glared when it spotted my hiding place in the trees.

I meant to stab that ugly eyeball right out of its socket, but my third fang ricocheted off of the invisible protective barrier around it, searing through several ghosts before blowing outward and collapsing in on itself to destroy all in its wake. The resulting concussion blew even more ghosts to smithereens. I anticipated more shields given the way the energy of the altar remained earlier in the day. My fourth fang was already waiting. It pierced through the weakened shield and struck the stone so hard that the creature spun violently in place, unable to detach itself from the portal.

It slowed as I recharged. It was noticeably harder to do so now. By the time the stone stopped, several cracks appeared across its body. Its eye madly dashed about. My fifth fang blew it apart with a blinding green flash. Pieces scattered across the altar, passing through and destroying many a ghost. The altar trembled and a deep growling wail rumbled from the other side of the portal. Burning pieces of timber fell from the trees, showering the ground with ashes and sparks and burning wood. The remaining Skull Ghosts flew into a chaotic frenzy. The two Beckoners, still on fire, tried to fix the damage. Two concussions pulsed from the portal.

They pushed away the collecting smoke, bending the flames and destroying a large sum of the lesser ghosts caught in the wave. The monster was trying to snuff out the fiery domain. But it was too late. The flames surged back stronger than before with the induction of fresh air. The roar of the inferno now rivaled that of the monster. I came out of my hiding spot in a swirl of charred timber and ash. It lifted up and around me by the heat of the forest fire. Embers fell down from above. The burning pine needles rained down like hot sleet. After five attacks, the remaining legion not only knew of my presence and intent, but my location, and began to shift in my direction.

The inferno had already consumed the shells of the bugs and weak willed wisps, dissipating Smokey Eyes trapped in the branches with heat and flame and light. Several Phantoms tried to plunge their way toward me, but they caught on fire and burned out of existence before they could reach me. Those that changed their minds and turned back came out no different. The Ghouls were more resilient. They stayed low, out of the smoke and flaming canopy, and rode the shadow of the flames losing substance on the forest floor. The first sped headlong into a frontal assault. Stimulated by the fox fire, I sneezed out some ashes, catching my teeth a light with a Spirit infused fire fang. The flames burned an odd purple green for a few moments as the poison in my mouth burned away.

I clenched my teeth, struggling to bite back the flames as they soared upward. The blaze energized and excited them so much that they lifted my chin. I thought my front paws might lift off of the ground at ignition. The Ghoul was quick in shadow form and popped out from the ground as if jumping from his own personal portal. He punched me in the face, the worst place he could strike for my bite was much faster than his fist. I squashed his purple fist between my teeth, flames flaring with more color as his black blood burned in my mouth.

He could not escape my thrashing until the force ripped his arm off and exposed the wormy crawling pile of grubs and maggots that were his insides. I never saw a Ghoul's true flesh before, but within the light of the purifying holocaust, all was revealed. His form in the underworld now visible in this one. The squirming wriggling muscle in the hole where his arm used to be instantly caught on fire. Unlike his ghostly skin, this rotten tissue could not withstand Spirit infused flames. They burned a dark purplish black while his skin still remained relatively black on the outside until the inner flames caused it to shrivel and brown and burn. Once ignited, the flesh would burn until there was nothing left.

A second Ghoul appeared, darting past the first. He popped out of the shadows in a similar manner and threw a condensed ball of shadow at me. It shrunk exponentially the father it traveled in the heat and light around us. I plowed through it, smashing the ball against my forehead and dispersing it like a cloud. The Ghoul regretted his jump. The only place he could land was in my jaws. I bit down on his bulbous body as fast as I could, punching so many holes in his skin that I de-gloved the top half of his body when he yanked away. The tattered skin burnt away in my mouth. I coughed out dust and smoke.

The first Ghoul was now a speck of its former self.

The second burned much faster now that he was scalped. His body tottered off deeper into the woods, hands and arms catching fire as he tried to bat down the flames consuming his face. As the two Ghouls cleared away, none replaced them. The fire was so hot now that the air around me burned in an updraft so fierce, my entire mane and coat rippled. My tail remained high, pushed up by the heat. I heard nothing over the roaring. Flame encased me. It was hard to breath and not just from the flames raging between my teeth. Not a single ghost dared enter the trees now that the foxes' domain was in full effect. I would have to bring the fight to them.

Ripples of heat blurred my vision, but I needed neither sight nor smell to sense my quarry. I ran towards the creases of darkness between the trees, slowing to a walk as I exited the tree line to make sure I did not run into a trap. I stepped out of the thickening ring of fire spreading down the mountain and into the flat cleared space around the altar. The remaining Ghouls were waiting for me, but as I could see their true selves in the light, they could see mine in the dark, and when I appeared, they all stepped back. For even as I left the inferno, the flames stayed with me. The moonlight revealed the tongues of my enhanced fang, black and burning and lapping against the bone of my teeth and jaws. They would soon burn out. I must destroy as many ghosts as I could before then.

But I should have kept my eyes closed when I came out for my glowing promises sent the Ghouls running. One slipped in to shadow on the ground, thinking he could hide in darkness. I pounced on him and used my claws to rake and dig and scratch him out of the shadows. When he materialized underneath me, I bit him deep and flung him behind me into the flames. Black smoke bled from the holes my teeth punched through his skin. The fire would take it from there. The ghosts on the altar continued their panicked frenzy. There were not many now. They avoided the Beckoners who consumed additional Skull Ghosts to extend their lives and continue their task despite the flames.

With their strange large hands and arm like bandagers, they tried to hold the portal together. The ghostly dragon was raging on the other side. I glanced up. The smoke successfully closed in the top of the domain, trapping all of the ghosts within, but I could still see the bright light of the moon beyond. Its dreadful red glow grew brighter and bolder by the second. Whether the Beckoners were trying to fix the portal, close it, break it, or open it, I knew I must stop them. My sixth fang suddenly ended. The black flames dissipated. A great laborious panting came over me. I glanced around while catching my breath. It was a breath too long.

The remaining Skull Ghosts swarmed me, grabbing my tail and clawing at my mane. Screaming and screeching and cursing. But the fire was deafening and their voices had no effect. Even if they did, the blood rushing through my veins dampened the sounds. My mane, shortened and burned, was still hot to the touch and coated in Spirit. They would not have me just yet. I blasted them away with a dark pulse of more usual strength. I then took my tail to them. Forged in fire, it was once again energized, and I struck them down when my teeth could not. I battled and bit my way towards the stage.

A haze filled the air. The smoke was getting lower and all of the dissolved ghosts, still unable to return to the otherworld, lingered in the air. Chest heaving, I paused just outside of the stage. Every hair felt as heavy as metal. It was hard to keep my head up. No matter how much I panted, I could not cool. But there were only a few ghosts left. The slick and sneaky and cowardly. Licked and burned and bleeding, I hopped up onto the stage. My paws burned even worse than when I stood in the fiery domain. The curses sighed up from the stone, smoking between the cracks as if a hot molten lake of magma bubbled below.

I sprinted to the center of the altar and bulldozed through one of the Beckoner's blackened and tattered legs. The Beckoner's flesh had become so weak that it disintegrated like dust. Its bandages shredded at the slightest touch. He fell like a burning paper lantern. His body collapsed upon itself when it hit the stage. The collapse released a plume of smoke just as enormous as he was. Denser than air, it boiled over the stage and between my legs. I tripped on a piece of cold Lunar Stone, unable to see the rubble at my paws. The toxic fog burned my nose and throat and lungs. It forced me into a fit of coughing. The second Beckoner had more strength than the first. He threw out a bandage and wrapped it tight around my chest. I could not breathe much anyway so I whirled upon it, snapped down and tugged the Beckoner forward off of his feeble feet.

He too collapsed in a cloud of noxious smoke and burning blue ash. I backed away several steps, but this Beckoner fell next to me and the wash of dying curses enveloped me. They passed quickly and fell to the stage, taking the bandage around my chest with it. Controlling my dry cough to a small but constant puffing, I watched as the pool of miasma collected and thickened close to the stage. It was much darker than the thickening haze now blotting out sight of the inferno around me. Given enough time, the miasma would leak out of the domain as the fires weakened and the smoke cleared.

The ghosts were gone, but their curses remained.

They would spill down the mountain and be carried by the wind, contaminating and poisoning all that came in contact with it, be it creature or of the wild. The legion's ritual of death would continue. The curses would spread. It would take years, even decades, of intense blessing to purify such large amounts of territory. Meanwhile, surviving ghosts would find refuge in the pockets of pollution. Darkened creatures would find sanctuary, bidding their time with the lingering power of the blood moon. It was not over. It would never be over. I had to destroy it all here and now.

Controlled by the monster beyond, the miasma cloud brewed into a storm within the altar, darkening everything within an encased sphere. Black fog continued to flow around my legs, hugging my black marks, but not crossing above my grey fur. The inferno, the entire world outside of the altar, disappeared. A new domain formed. One that trapped me within the altar. It was dark. Eerie. Threatening. Like standing in a thunder cloud column in summer while waiting for the first lightning strike. Only this cloud was made of extremely combustible finely powdered ghost dust. Silence wrapped itself around me. A great heavy invisible pressure pushed out from the center of the altar, clearing just enough space so that I could see a few paces around me. There were no whispers here. No voices. Just the spine tingling sensation that I was being watched.

The temperature began to drop. It grew chilly. Then cold. My breath frosted. It grew colder still. Freezing. Frost formed at the tips of my coat. My boiling blood began to cool. Ice crackled across my teeth, coating them with the energy they were absorbing to keep them from being damaged. It warned me that this change had nothing to do with being on a mountain top at night in the dead of winter.

Slowly, carefully, I turned around.

The great black portal to the otherworld took up the entirety of my vision. I did not remember it being this close or this enormous. It came upon me as if taking the place of my shadow. The electric currents within me surged. The space was so cold between us that the static wanted to jump between the portal and I. One spark. One tiny flicker of light. One hair rubbed the wrong way and my Spirit would arc and flash to the one in my hidden reflection, the ghost dragon breathing heavily but calmly against the barrier on the other side.

I knew he was there, watching me through the darkness as if there was nothing but a thin piece of glass between us. I held very still, looking into the black void like portal, expecting to catch a glimpse of the dragon in the pitch at any moment. Terrified that if our eyes met, it would be enough to bring him over. The barrier still existed, but it was thin and fragile. To merely think the wrong way might open the portal enough for him to tap the point of a single claw through. From there, he would be able to rip our two dimensions apart. If I held my composure. Even if I did nothing, the monster and his portal would absorb the miasma cloud, this aeriated death, and destroy the barrier himself. Particle by particle, I watched the portal grow stronger with the destruction I caused. It was easier to absorb the energy when it was so finely dispersed.

All the dragon had to do was wait.

I felt it then, the monster smiling at me. He thought we were no different from one another. We were both embodiments of the same primal force. Predators. Killers. Those that sustained themselves with the lives of others. We were bound by the original curse of Soul Stealers. Ending a life ended a life no matter how or when or why it happened.

Dying on the other hand, was an entirely different matter. And the same spark that connected us could also ignite this domain into a life ending fireball for all parties involved.

I looked up into the darkness of the portal. Chest no longer heaving. Legs steady. Eyes slanted with the comforting ease of a Mother's greatest gift. The clouds around us swirled, agitated. The monster, this Giratina, did not like my shift of Spirit. The death it envisioned never had such purpose. A long calm smoky exhale steamed from my nose. Giratina growled. The altar shook in warning. The vibrations only reminded me of the physical world I was still a part of. The fact that he had not crossed over yet. I had not failed. And there was still time.

But not much.

I closed my eyes, collecting my last blessing. The cold was my ally. In these temperatures, the static spark would come the instant I moved. It would be all I needed to ignite the cloud and throw it out of balance before the spark could connect to the portal. With this much dust conveniently confined in this domain, I could finally put an end to this ritual.

It would be an end to everything.

A screeching rebuke came and went like the moving echo of thunder in real clouds, but this storm no longer intimidated me. This monster and I may have been chosen by death, but the shadow Giratina cast and that which I carried were worlds apart. Dimensions even. Death loved Mothers far more than devastation because death through the Spirit brought life and life was what death wanted most. That's why it always chased after it.

Knowing this would be the last this monstrous twisted dragon would see of this world, I tossed back the hood of my cloak so that the full light of my eyes pierced even his darkness. I then barred my teeth in a clapping snarling bite that was as quick as the spark created by the static friction of my separating teeth.

In a single bite, I ignited the cloud and blew the portal, the monster, and his ritual back to the hell they came from.