“E-Evil spirit??”
Moezhi was instantly startled by her words. She hurriedly looked herself over, but didn’t seem to notice anything unusual.
“I’m full of righteous energy! How could I possibly have something like an evil spirit on me… You’re not just trying to trick me, are you?”
“I won’t lie to Teacher anymore!”
Upon hearing this, Siltuya grew anxious, past memories flashing vividly before her eyes. She began to tremble with fear and unease, her hands pressed tightly together in a gesture of prayer. Those eyes, beautiful like snowflakes, locked Moezhi in a field of pure white, as if terrified that she would run away at any moment.
“Even if I have to betray my own faith, I will never do something like that again!”
“Are you really a Saintess…?”
Moezhi was startled by her serious demeanor, but what caught her attention even more was that she’d just said “again.”
Why “again”?
Had this girl tricked her before, and she just never realized it?
But before she could ponder further, Siltuya pressed on urgently: “Please let me help Teacher with exorcism! I’m a professional in this field!”
Heh.
“Professional, huh?”
From the moment they met, this snow-like girl radiated an air of unreliability—a world of difference from her own Windsor.
Her Windsor always did things carefully and meticulously, always revolving everything around her as the center. She had never given Moezhi a real headache—well, except for this one incident.
But this Saintess—judging by human standards, she was already in her early twenties, the age where, in Moezhi’s tribe, one would be expected to hunt alone. Yet she always seemed on the verge of tears, more like those young ladies at banquets who cried at the drop of a hat.
“Why not just forget it. The most urgent thing now is to bring her back to life; everything else can wait.”
Moezhi said this, but the girl before her seemed even more concerned about Moezhi’s safety than she herself was. She pressed on stubbornly, “Exorcism doesn’t consume energy or magic, it just takes a prayer. So please, let me exorcise for you!”
Unable to withstand that expectant and confident gaze, Moezhi sighed, “Don’t waste too much time, alright? If possible, I’d like to take my family home with me by tomorrow morning.”
“Of course! Tonight, Teacher won’t just bring her home—she’ll be bringing a Saintess too!”
This girl—it seemed she felt no reluctance to leave her own home, yet was so excited at the prospect of joining Moezhi’s family. How odd.
But since she had already agreed, she was determined to see it through—she never broke her word. As for what to do with her after bringing her to the tribe… Conveniently, the tribe happened to be short a Saintess. Maybe bringing her back would bring blessings; if not, she’d still make a good healer, saving everyone trips to the Demon King’s castle for major illnesses.
“So… what should I do?”
“Teacher doesn’t need to do anything. Just close your eyes and listen to my prayer.”
“…Alright.”
Moezhi obediently closed her eyes, and the next moment felt a cool touch on her forehead. Her hands were gently held by another pair, soft and slender with prominent joints.
Siltuya closed her eyes as well, pressing her forehead to Moezhi’s, and gently kissed her hands at her lips. This ambiguous gesture felt less like a Saintess’s prayer and more like a blessing bestowed upon a beloved.
Siltuya’s face was so close—though Moezhi’s eyes were closed, she could feel the other’s warm breath moistening her cheek.
A gentle whisper sounded at her ear, clear as silver bells, as pure as a bottomless lake, stirring the soul. With one listen, it was clear the voice belonged to Siltuya.
She softly chanted a prayer, though Moezhi had no idea which god it was addressed to. But to her, it didn’t matter—she’d never believed those selfish beings would actually grant blessings or relieve suffering. After all, if prayer worked, then why did her tribe’s pleas to cure the plague go unanswered?
The chant continued for a while.
Just as Moezhi was starting to wonder if prayer had any real effect, a chill suddenly crept from the back of her neck, slithering around her like a snake.
She didn’t know what was happening, but so as not to disrupt the prayer, she kept her eyes tightly shut and made no sound.
Siltuya’s chanting continued, accompanied by a growing, frenzied cold enveloping Moezhi’s body.
It seemed to struggle and squirm, refusing to leave despite its obvious pain.
Even Siltuya seemed surprised by this spirit’s stubbornness. She repeated her prayer again and again, but still couldn’t exorcise it. She had never seen such an obstinate evil spirit before.
Unable to bear it any longer, she resolved to use a thunderous method to destroy it. Her prayer chant suddenly shifted to a magic incantation, her snowy white hair emitting a faint glow, even her trembling lashes catching the light. Moments later, a single pure snowflake appeared atop her thick hair, quickly followed by more and more, until her beautiful white hair was completely covered.
At the same time, the cold became more violent.
Its presence weakened, its struggles grew feeble, and even Moezhi could tell this evil spirit was nearly at its limit.
“I don’t want to leave you… Chief…”
A hoarse, sobbing voice in her ear startled Moezhi into opening her eyes.
And she saw—the true face of the evil spirit.
“Windsor!! Stop!”
She hurriedly broke Siltuya’s chant, yanking her hands free and pulling back.
As her hands were released, Siltuya’s body seemed to shudder, and when she looked up, she too saw the evil spirit’s face.
She was a gray-haired woman, her expression dark and lifeless, her eyes completely devoid of any living spark. Her presence was so weak, and this wasn’t something that came after death—it was a trait she’d always had.
Having died and become a wraith, her form was now hazy and smoke-like, filled with pain. The jealousy in her eyes threatened to devour Siltuya whole.
But this face—it looked familiar…
Siltuya seemed to realize something and looked at the corpse on the ground.
Suddenly, Windsor lunged toward Siltuya and merged into her body.
“Damn!”
Siltuya clasped her hands and, eyes squeezed shut, began a frantic prayer. But instead of expelling the wraith inside her, it only made it angrier.
She endured suffocation and pain, desperately continuing to pray, but eventually couldn’t hold out.
“Cough, cough!!”
She spat a mouthful of blood, clutching her neck and gasping, her face going pale from pain that coursed through every limb.
“Windsor! Don’t do this!”
Moezhi’s urgent voice rang out, and—unexpectedly—it worked.
The wraith Windsor emerged from Siltuya’s body and flew to Moezhi.
Their eyes met, and the former fury in Windsor’s eyes softened to warmth.
“Windsor… how did you… become like this…”
Windsor only gazed at her, sorrow flooding her eyes.
She said nothing, but drifted like mist behind Moezhi, gently wrapping her arms around Moezhi’s neck. Her form grew more and more indistinct, until finally she disappeared…
“She’s… become a wraith.”
Siltuya spoke weakly. After coughing out the blood, she added, “No wonder I couldn’t resurrect her just now—it turns out her soul was already polluted.”
“Soul… pollution?”
“Too much resentment and obsession from her life.”
Moezhi helped her to a chair, and when she’d recovered a bit, she pressed urgently, “Is there still a way to resurrect her?”
Siltuya shook her head in silence.
A soul that had become a wraith was like a completely rotten apple—its seeds destroyed. The Requiem of Souls, in resurrecting someone, was like taking a seed and planting it in a body to bloom and bear fruit anew. But a rotten seed would never sprout.
“How could this be…”
Moezhi could hardly accept it—was even this final hope going to be dashed…
“Look on the bright side, Teacher. See, she didn’t try to hurt you at all. In a way, she’s still with you, just differently.”
Moezhi fell silent, her unhappiness clear as day.
She wanted Windsor to live, to feel her warmth and care again, to hear her gentle “Chief” once more. “If Windsor can only exist by my side in such pain, then I’d rather die to accompany her.”
“Isn’t there… another way?”
Siltuya pondered, then her eyes lit up as if remembering something.
“There’s a kind of magic in this world that’s almost the opposite of my Requiem of Souls.”
“It can create a new body for the dead—one that any soul can use. Maybe even a wraith.”
“But!”
Before Moezhi could rejoice, Siltuya spoke sternly, “Teacher, you should know—giving a wraith a body is extremely dangerous. A soul that has become a wraith has no rationality; if it gains a body, it might relentlessly pursue its resentments or obsessions from life, and could harm many innocent people.”
At these words, Moezhi’s smile faded.
Harm innocent people…
And yet, she still selfishly wanted to resurrect her.
“I’ll take responsibility.”
She clenched her fists and declared with determination.
“Once she’s resurrected, I’ll never let her out of my sight again.”