Ghosts, Spirits, and the Undead are abominations below the heavens. Since Truths are inviolable, it means that the heavens are biased toward the living.

~Arawn, God of the Dead

“Wendigo,” Crow gasped, trying not to gag from its repulsive breath. The misshapen human spirit was intimidating but didn’t make any other aggressive moves. Its long, slimy tongue licked its upper lip while expertly avoiding getting sliced by the dozens of teeth on its upper mandible. The enormous eyes stared balefully into Crow’s, and they held that position for several long seconds.

It was the first time Crow was in a situation that he wasn’t sure what to do. Summoning his heavenly flames felt like it’d set this creature off, and maintaining passivity didn’t seem like a good option either. But all his worrying was for naught. The next second, the creature lifted its head and stared off toward the center of Ghost Isle. It let out a huffing sound and then turned and sped off.

Crow deactivated Ghost Eyes before it could harm him and laid on the ground breathing erratically. What the hell is going on here?

It was one thing to have formations and ghosts, but a Snowmoon Serpent and a Wendigo were guarding this area. Sitting up, he cultivated to recenter his mind and emotions. The Ghost Mana flowed into him from all around him. Its purity level was much higher than most other types of mana, so he felt significant gains in his Source and, by extension, his Shield.

By the time he was back to normal, he had spotted the bright moon overhead. It made the sparse trees and miscellaneous plants look more sinister, not less. The ghosts still stood and pointed, but after the Wendigo, they weren’t as scary. Still, his gradual understanding grew the more he listened as the ghosts performed, and his Ghostly Aura increased dramatically. The more it did, the more he understood the screaming ghosts behind him and the pointing ones guiding the way. It was almost paradoxical.

They weren’t words, not like some spell chants specific races used, but it was melodious, like something a healer or priest would use. A sort of communion with the world around it, which Crow felt was related to the Truths. It was the only thing that could explain why a simple intent could destroy those malevolent spirits.

Every so often, he moved forward again until the pressure was nearly unbearable and then sat down to cultivate. He didn’t bother tracking how often he did this, well it was twenty-three, but he didn’t actively count them. Sage’s Mind wasn’t something he could turn off, but he found he could ignore it.

The moon had gone and come again multiple times, but this time he really wasn’t sure how often. This place was confusing, and the most disconcerting part was that the moon seemed to come from different directions. So he stopped bothering trying to understand it.

His only companions were the surrounding ghosts, and now and then, he’d test out his abilities and kill off swathes of the malevolent spirits by activating Ghost Steps. It wasn’t some sadistic trait, but it was an effective method for studying the chanting sound. Unexpectedly, he also had another gain. He opened up the third stage of Ghost Steps which was Coiled Ghost Hop. Crow knew that a strange frog beast created this technique, but he still found hopping odd. Unlike a leap, a hop was a vertical jump.

He activated Ghostly Aura and Ghost Steps while crouching down and building up the Ghost Mana in his legs. He could feel the mana circulating following a specific Celtic Knot pattern within his acupoints. Depending on how high he wanted to jump, he could build up more or less mana. On his simple test, he leaped to an alarming two meters of height. It wasn’t something he could practice in this place, and he realized he’d need to work on his landing. However, with the third stage opened, he realized he landed as if he had some kind of Feather Fall cast on him. Feather Fall was a spell that allowed people to drop from the sky without getting hurt. It would have been helpful to have this ability before he jumped off the waterfall cliff recently.

It was still odd that it was only a vertical hop. Then again, there didn’t seem to be a limit on how high Crow could hop. Nothing was stopping him from changing the trajectory of his descent after jumping, and Ghost Steps had a leaping ability later on.

Days went on like that—cultivating, meditating, learning, and moving forward. He used his Ghost Eyes frequently and found that he could use them for longer—maybe forty seconds. However, he wasn’t using them to train but to watch for the Wendigo that never appeared again.

Until one day, two things happened simultaneously. Crow felt it wasn’t a coincidence but some kind of triggered event. He finally learned what he called Ghost Chant. At one point, he had an epiphany and tried to study the chant while in Ghost Form and made huge strides toward understanding what the chant was doing.

The Ghost Chant didn’t destroy those malevolent spirits but rather activated the Truths regarding death and the cycle of rebirth. Those ghosts were using universal Truths as a weapon against the spirits. Their understanding was weak, so it wasn’t effective against ghosts since they were a higher form of spirit.

Crow felt its potential against all forms of dead was high. Provided he analyzed unique spirits and undead, he could adapt the chant toward whatever type of existence they were. The more Crow thought about it, the more he felt it was a pretty amazing ability. And it very much felt like a priest type of ability, so he found it odd how compatible it was with Druid cultivation methods.

After some thought, Crow realized it wasn’t that odd. Druids were naturalists and were fervent in their studies of the natural order. In a lot of ways, their ideologies were like those of the faith-based races. Even the Vodun, a religious or faith-based nation, studied natural concepts relating to life and death. Druids were of a similar mindset, just focused on different Truths.

Regardless, after gaining the ability to use Ghost Chant, Crow arrived in a small moonlit clearing. In the distance, he could see a small stone cottage with a plume of smoke rising from the chimney. Surrounding the clearing were tombstones, but Crow knew they were actually anchor points for a formation. That didn’t mean they weren’t actual tombs, and in fact, they probably needed to be authentic graves to activate the ghost mists.

Crow suspected this place was in the center of Ghost Isle, but he was wrong. To the side of the cottage, he saw a dock extended over the water. At the end of the dock was a pole with a lantern hanging from it, but the light emanating from it was pale green, giving the area a sinister appeal. While the wood looked old, it had that agelessness to it that made it appear as if it’d never rot or fall. Even canoe pulled up on the dock looked like it’d sink when put into the water. However, after his shabby-looking boat brought him this far, he’d never underestimate a shabby-looking boat ever again.

It was the Wendigo lounging on the dock that shocked Crow most of all. It briefly looked up at him but quickly lost interest. Its long arm hung over the side, his fingers trailing through the water, leaving behind rippling water. Before Crow could blink, the strange creature’s hand flashed into the water and came up with a fish. Without even pausing, the thing big into the flopping fish, devouring it bite by bite while it was still alive.

Crow shuddered and felt that the thing reminded him more of a domesticated pet than an evil spirit bent on devouring living souls. He was so disturbed by it and its actions that he didn’t even pay attention to the fact the water wasn’t frozen. This clearing was relatively warm compared to the frigid cold forest he’d just left.

All these thoughts were crowding his mind as he looked toward the cottage with apprehension. Just what kind of entity lived in a bayou like this? Racking his mind, he couldn’t even come up with anything and didn’t know how to prepare for this inevitable confrontation.

Looking toward the Wendigo once more, he realized why the creature reminded him of a pet. It was guarding the only exit.