It was grey. The sky, the earth, the very air. It was as if all color had been leeched from the world.  The swordsman crouched next to some rocks. They were out there, whatever they were. Ever since he had woken they had giving chase. Every time he thought he’d caught a glance of one, they vanished into the grey mist that seemed to cover everything.

He would have preferred to stand and fight, but his weapons had been lost. How, he couldn’t recall. He at times thought he remembered a fight. Green skinned sorcerers. And a girl. the girl haunted his thoughts. She was someone important. Not just to him, but important over all. Why couldn’t he remember anything past that?

Movement caught his eye. It was one his shadowy pursuers. He broke from his cover into a dead sprint, hoping to outpace them, Unearthly howls and screeches followed him as they gave chase. If he could gain more distance from them, perhaps he could lose them in the mists. Find somewhere safe. Try to remember where he was. Remember who he was.

One of the fiends leaped, tackling him to the ground. He rolled with it, punching and clawing trying to get space between them. to keep running.  The creature, a twisted shadowy thing pinned him to the ground a maw of hundreds of small razor sharp fangs opened seeking his throat.

“GET BACK!” a powerful voice yelled, followed by a flash of light. The creature screamed in agony and fell from the elf, one of it’s many limbs severed by the shining white sword carried by a silver figure clad for war. More similar figures appeared. Some carrying swords, others axes or bows. Others held shining white staves in one hand, and flaming balls of white light in the other. The first warrior reached down and hauled the elf up. “ On your feet Daer’the.”

Daer’the. That was his name. Daer’the Sae’tean. He looked into the face of his rescuer , his jaw dropping in shock.

“Father?”

“Yes, but I have no time to explain in detail. You should not be here. And our time is short” Althorien Sae’tean replied. “ You were wounded, badly. You now hover in between the world of the living and the realm of the dead. But there is still a chance for you to return. But it will not be easy.”

Daer’the looked around at the other shining figures. some he recognized, others he’d never seen before. These were the ghosts of the Clan Sae’tean. Fighting one last battle. Fighting for him. He looked back at the shade of his father. “ How?”

The ghost pointed beyond them. “ Not far is a cliff. You must scale it, but will not be easy. We must soon return to our rest and the fiends will give chase again. The cliff itself will try to thwart you. But you can do it. I know you can, for you have an oath to keep.”

Daer’the scowled. “ I’ve sworn no oaths. The king’s line betrayed us, the nation exiled us, and the clan..”

“ Not some promise given to a king or country boy.” his father cut him off.” One you made here.” he tapped his son on chest with a finger. Surprisingly, Dear’the felt the touch.

“ You need to find her. She needs you now more than ever. Go back to the living. Get to the clanhold. Orthelin’s gifts remain. You know where to look.”

“Father..”

“GO!” the shade yelled, spinning and cutting a fiend that broken the line  in half “ There’s no more time!”

Daer’the broke into run, glancing back over his shoulder to see the shining figures of his kin vanishing one by one. His legs pumped with all the strength he could muster. the fiends would not catch him. Soon the cliff came into view. As he neared it  he noticed it had a translucent shimmering look. When he reached the base he jumped grabbing for a handhold, and immediately let go a cry of pain escaping him as both his hands were cut deeply. 

He hit the ground, looking at his palms. What he could only assume was blood seeped from large gashes on each hand. He looked back at the cliff. Glass. The damned thing was made of jagged razor sharp shards of glass. He pushed himself to his feet, “ The cliff will try to stop me all right. It’ll cut me to shreds.” He looked up. He couldn’t see the top through the ever present mist.

Clenching his teeth the swordsman again jumped and grabbed the treacherous surface. Another shout of pain escaped him, but her held firm, forcing himself to climb. Each hand hold was agony anew.  His legs were also paying the price. but he continued to climb, trying to shut out the pain.

“ The orcs who took your noblewoman were slain by their masters. An attempt to try and gain false confidence in the girl.” his father’s voice came to him. “ Her captor is none other than her own sister. A witch named Enomea.”

“ Enomea?” Daerthe said aloud. Neither Eleney’a or Elenaris ever mentioned her. “ Guess Vela’dir isn’t the rotten apple after all...” The thought of kinsman betraying or harming one of their own was foreign to the swordsman. the though angered him, giving him strength.

Daer’the growled, forcing himself to keep climbing. Doing his best to ignore the glassy surface shredding his arms and legs. He glanced down and saw nothing but mists below. Looking up he saw the same above. Inch by agonizing inch he climbed, he had to. He had to get back and find her.

“ Her in gather to seek her out and destroy the banished one. But they are not of one mind, you must go them.”

Elenaris and Vela’dir would have questions, Or accusations for him when he saw them. But he would prevail. The people who took Elenay’a  were going to die. Every last one of them. He getp pulling himself up. Finally after what seemed like hours, he reached the edge and hauled himself onto the top. His breath suddenly became extremely labored, and a burning pain shot through his side.