Having come from such a very small boy for such a very beautiful reason, the whisp radiated especially thick darkness from its frozen core. It danced joyously--almost playfully--in the late southern breeze, its destination a secret to all but itself.
Towns and villages filled with the vulnerable forms of sleeping humans passed by below. Any one of them would’ve been suitable recompense for the life returned just moments earlier, but the whisp ignored them all. The misty darkness resisted temptation, pursuing a more meaningful reward rather than instant gratification.
Many hours later, the whisp was faced with internal conflict. Some of the darkness pulled forcefully toward the sleeping world below. The Ways demanded recompense for a gift so crudely granted, but the greater portion of the whisp refused, intent on a loftier sacrifice. The strain became too much and the cloud split apart, the smaller portion churning violently toward the earth.
Through the stillness of night, the whisp crept silently along a road in the budding town of Elmsville. It whispered around street lanterns and slithered past shopfronts. It tickled the flowers on street corners and took pleasure in their wilting. The whisp came to a shuddering stop.
A small house stood before the dark mist, the building somehow having drawn it close. It surged toward the cottage and drifted over the rooftop, captivated. She was inside. She understood the Ways. What better reward could there be?
The whisp sunk through the ceiling and into a modest bedroom where a middle-aged couple lay blissfully ignorant, reading together in bed.
‘Good night, love,’ the man whispered and kissed his wife on the cheek. ‘I’d best get some sleep. We have a big day in the shop tomorrow.’
‘All right.’ The woman smiled. ‘I’m going to--’ She stopped abruptly and her features became still.
‘What is it?’
‘Nothing,’ she replied, glancing nervously about the room. ‘You go to sleep. I’ll just check on Seteal.’ She chuckled softly upon realising her husband had already fallen asleep.
The whisp sank into the shadows, excitement building. She’d felt it . . . just for a moment. She understood the Ways.
After abandoning the illusion of safety provided by her bed, the woman padded along a quiet hallway guided by no more than lantern light. The whisp remained silent as it slithered insidiously along the ceiling behind her. Having reached the corner at the end of the hall, the woman stopped and gazed adoringly at her daughter bundled up in bed.
‘I love you, Seteal,’ she whispered softly.
Stifling a yawn, the woman turned to go back to her room. Her foot landed heavily on the floorboards. The world twisted ever so slightly. The flooring moaned regret. And the black mist enveloped her. It touched her soul, leaving no time to gasp as the chill whispered its suffocating song.
The woman winced as bitter sorrow filled her heart. She knew what this was and yet she’d failed to sense it. Had she truly been so long away from her people? She wanted to scream, but could not. She knew this was her end. The clammy vapour sliced deep into her flesh and immediately her soul was cut out. The woman was dead before her body reached the floor.
The child in the next room sat bolt upright, her high-pitched scream tearing through the night. Whether she’d heard her mother collapse, or whether she’d simply known of its happening will forever be unclear, but the girl cried continuously and mournfully. The sound was deep and tormented. It was a sound that represented a kind of pain that should never be felt by a child so young.