A fierce wind swept through the battlefield and Asher found himself standing in a valley, staring at a dark figure standing on the top of a hill.
One of the figure’s eyes was green and the other golden. Although his long gray hair fluttered in the calm breeze, the rest of his features were shrouded in pitch-black shadow.
“I’ve been watching you, Asher Ashbourne,” the figure said, his voice calm and strangely harmless, unlike the frightening man Asher saw in his vision.
“You must be Zorah,” Asher replied, frowning.
“I am. I see you have decided to come to the depths, to find your true path.”
Asher frowned again and said firmly. “I came here to clear my head.”
Zorah smirked. “An excuse given to you by fate. I see. I came here to hide as well. We both have our reasons.”
Asher snapped. “We are not the same.”
“Yet we walk the same path.”
“We do not!” Asher’s voice cracked with anger. Zorah was expecting Asher to snap, especially after his loss, knowing well that the man was fragile at this moment.
“Our wolves are not the only beasts capable of bonding with man,” Zorah said. “I met another—far stronger. Powerful enough to create troops that are able to wield elements as we Ashbournes do.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Those wolves we bond with were given to us by a higher authority. They empower us and in return, we strengthen them. But once you lose your wolf, you’re no longer an Ashbourne. Because that being has abandoned you.”
Asher frowned.
“I was banished by my father, Asher and you will too after losing your bond. Without a wolf, you have no place amongst your predecessors in the spirit world.”
“What about Sirius’ spirit? What if I find him in this world?”
Zorah’s eyes widened slightly.
“You’ve lost your bond. Your wolf’s spirit resides across the Red Sea, in the domain of vile mythical creatures,” Zorah said. “You are still limited by your mortal body.”
“So… there’s a way to get his spirit back,” Asher pressed.
“Stubbornness will kill you!” Zorah growled. “Use his ashes to forge a weapon. It’s the only way you can anchor his spirit to this world.”
“I won’t imprison my wolf like you did,” Asher shot back, turning to leave. “Take me out, I’ve heard enough of what I wanted.”
Zorah squinted as he watched Asher walk away.
“Asher,” he called out. “The spirit world isn’t the mortal world. Do not think there is no place after here. A spirit can die and if they do, they experience actual death and are lost for eternity.”
Asher paused, sensing that Zorah’s words weren’t a lie. This place he spoke of must be the dread of all spirits.
But this also meant one thing… Sirius could still die again. For good.
He clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. He had to figure out a way to find him.
Just as he was about to take a step, he suddenly paused.
“What about a man’s spirit? Can it be revived?”
“You cannot revive beings like us, but you can invoke the spirit of mythical entities which are still connected to the mortal world through the authority that created them. Go into the domains of Edom and Dothan. There, you’ll figure out Bashan is a land with a myriad of secrets…”
Zorah raised his hand. “When you hear of Clan El, reveal your identity to them.”
“Why are you—!”
Asher spun around only to discover he was back in the mortal world.
‘I shall wait for you in the depths of bashan.’
That voice lingered in his mind, echoing long after Asher drifted off to sleep.
….
The next morning, accompanied by Simon, Moses and Cynthia, he left Ashkelon, heading north. During the journey, Asher pondered Zorah’s cryptic words.
At first, he suspected Zorah wanted to take advantage of his current state and manipulate him. Yet, it seemed like Zorah’s only intent was to ensure that he left the borders of Ashkelon.
There must be something that awaited him beyond—something Zorah was certain would change his life.
But that matter was kept to the side, his main agenda remained unchanged: finding a way to enter the spirit world and search for Sirius.
He had always been summoned by spirits but had never been able to enter the spirit world of his own will.
“My lord, here’s your meal.” Cynthia’s voice brought him out of his reverie. He raised his head and saw her stretching a wooden bowl over.
‘Back to wooden bowls,’ he thought, a bitter memory surfacing.
Stretching his hand, he took the bowl and began eating the porridge without saying a word.
The morning was still fresh and the sun had yet to rise. The campfire had long since burned out.
Some distance away, Simon and Moses stood, gazing across the vast snow plains.
“It’s been over a week since we began our journey, my lord. This is the first time you’ve eaten,” Cynthia said softly, her concern evident.
Asher glanced at her from the corner of his eye. “I’m done eating.”
He handed over the bowl back to her. Cynthia hesitated, her hands trembling. “I’m sorry my lord, I didn’t mean to…”
“Take it,” he said firmly.
Biting her lower lip, Cynthia accepted the bowl.
“Simon…”
Simon walked over with Moses.
“How close are we?” Asher asked.
“We should be there by nightfall.”
“Then we better start going.”
…
The journey continued until the skies eventually became dark and the walls of Winter stronghold loomed in the distance.
Encased in ice, the ancient stronghold stood tall, its castle forming its heart.
“That’s my home,” Simon said, his voice filled with nostalgia.
As they reached the gates, soldiers clad in leather armour stood watch, their spears and shields made from icewood and fur coats protecting them from the biting cold.
“Sir Simon, you have returned.”
“I have. Where is Lord Winter?”
“He’s in the castle.”
The soldiers replied, his gaze shifting to the one-eyed Moses, the beautiful, golden-haired Cynthia and finally, the man whose aura was so fierce that it made some soldiers tighten their grips on their spears.
Tapk! Tapk!
The moment Simon saw the soldier coming from the distance, he frowned.
“Let me do the talking,” he muttered.
The soldier stopped and sneered. “I see you have brought some company. I thought you were supposed to come back with troops, not two men and a woman.”
“It’s up to Lord Winter to decide,” Simon replied coldly.
The fur-padded soldier raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
His eyes remained fixed on Asher. ‘This one… Why is his presence so ominous!’