The mist enveloped Sharon like an icy shroud. Whispers swirled around her, now no longer enticing but insistent, full of irritation and anger. She felt the tingling of magical energy on her skin - thick, viscous, tainted with something alien and sinister. The runes around her glowed dimly in the damp air, as if struggling to fend off the onslaught of darkness.
The runes around Sharon flicked uncertainly, like candle flames struggling against the damp and the dirt.
- "You're beginning to bore me," she muttered under her breath, adjusting her hood.
Then she heard him. A voice. Right next to her ear, quiet, like the amused breathing of someone very close to her.
- And you, Sharon... are you ready for what you'll find next?
She rolled her eyes.
- "If this is going to be a 'eat a bug or die" riddle, then spare me.' - Her tone was as dry as the old parchments in Master Korvel's library. - Really. I've heard better bogeymen in taverns.
The runes around Sharon flicked uncertainly, like candle flames struggling against damp and dirt.
Step by step, Sharon plunged into the milky whiteness of the mist. She could feel the sodden ground beneath her feet, and the stench of mustiness and rotting plants grew more intense. Every now and then, she noticed pale lights flashing in the distance, which immediately disappeared as if something had extinguished them. These were no ordinary swamp fires. This was something... intentional.
And then... she saw it.
A shred of cloth snagged on a branch. Not just any kind. Deep purple, almost black. Decorated with intricate embroidery of the symbol of the new moon. The old symbol of Lyra. Her favourite cloak. She always wore it, even when everyone said it made her look like a theatrical fortune teller.
Sharon furrowed her brow. Her heart sped up.
- Well, no... Lyra... - she whispered, touching the fabric like it was something sacred. - 'What the hell were you doing here?
As if in response, the mist thickened.
Then a figure emerged from the mist. It was tall, almost transparent, as if woven from the night air and swamp vapour. His facial features were not clear, but Sharon could sense an aura of pure evil and power emanating from him. The coldness that emanated from him was piercing to the marrow of her bones.
- 'I see you've brought me another toy, Wet Lady.' - The phantom's voice was quiet, but it carried across the swamp with an unsettling clarity. Boredom and sadistic satisfaction could be heard in its tone.
- Lyra?" - she whispered into the void, and her voice trembled slightly. 'Are you the one here?'
The fog seemed to thicken around her, and the whispers quietened, as if something had held its breath. In front of Sharon, another figure emerged from the vapour. She was tall and lean, her body covered in patches of mud and moss. Long, curled hair, resembling seaweed, fell down her back. The face... The face was distorted, the features blurred and the eyes shone with a dull white glow. There was nothing of the beautiful, proud sorceress in her that Sharon remembered. Around the neck of this ghostly figure, however, Sharon spotted something that dispelled all doubt. A small silver amulet in the shape of a spinning leaf - a gift Sharon had given Lyra many years ago.
- Lyra... - whispered Sharon in disbelief.
The creature that had once been Lyra tilted its head, and a snarling, creaking sound came from its throat.
- "Sharon... you came..." - the voice was distorted, as if it was flowing through a layer of water and rotting leaves. Lyra scowled and her body trembled again. 'I had to... he ordered...'
The phantom looked at Sharon with her invisible eyes.
- 'And who are you, little sorceress? Have you strayed into my domain?
Sharon squinted, measuring him with her eyes.
- 'This is not your domain, wraith. And I have come here for my friend. - The phantom laughed softly, and this sound resembled the rustling of dry leaves carried by a cold wind.
- Your friend? She is no longer herself. She is my servant. My tool. And she will provide me with many more... gifts. - His gaze wandered to where Brito lay unconscious.
- Oh, I see you have brought me another. How kind of you.
- You're not touching her. - growled Sharon, and her hand went under her coat where the handle of her cane rested.
- 'Really? - The phantom raised an invisible eyebrow.
- With a shiny stick you want to chase me out of my own mud, dry land girl?
Sharon felt anger bubbling through her veins. - 'Whoever you are, you will lift this curse. And you will set these people free.
His unseeing eyes rested on Lyria again. - Wet Lady, remind this little sorceress what happens to those who defy me.
Lyra let out a moan and her body began to bend in an unnatural way. From her throat came the same enticing whisper that had deceived Brito.
- Sharon... come closer... don't be afraid... - Sharon clenched her teeth. She knew it wasn't Lyra. It was the phantom, using her voice. She focused her energy and the runes around her glowed stronger, forming a protective shield.
- I will not listen to you, wraith. - She said firmly, drawing her staff.
- 'And you, Lyro... I know you're out there. You must fight back. Remember the spinning leaf? Do you remember our promises?
A shadow of something that might have been pain or a memory appeared on Lyra's distorted face. Her white eyes clouded for a moment, as if trying to regain their former spark. The phantom growled angrily.
- Enough of this tenderness! Wet Lady, take care of her!
Lyra moved towards Sharon, her movements unnatural, jerky. Swirling balls of muddy energy appeared in her outstretched hands.
Sharon knew she didn't want to fight Lyra. She had to find a way to lift the curse from her. But first she had to stop her and the one wielding it.
- 'Here we go, swamp king. - whispered Sharon, and her staff flashed with a bright blue light.