“Help! Help me please! I’m drowning!” A voice, unfamiliar to his ears, rang with urgency.

Elliot felt the pull of the voice, urging him to go into the river and help immediately. However, he didn’t give in. Sitting on the ground a couple paces away from the river he listened to the pleading voice: 

“Help me! Please, good child! I need help! Help! Help me! C-come closer!...”

Again, Elliot did not budge. Soon, the voice became more and more impatient and demanding.

“HELP ME, young sir!!! I need HELP! Are you going to let an innocent person die?! How cruel, how cruel! Disgusting, you should join me then!”

“YOU SHOULD JOIN ME!!” The voice roared with evident malice.

Elliot had had enough; he stood up while the voice continued to berate him and turned to look up at the willow. Elliot stared in shock. The tree was blood red, oozing a menacing aura, thread like strands ran from the branches into the river playing with a puppet-like thing deep in the currents. Elliot took a couple steps back from the tree and river. Then a face on the tree turned to look, staring straight at him.

“Ahh, I see~ A young necromancer has found me. How interesting! How interesting indeed.” The tree groaned, obviously not used to speech.

“N-necromancer? No, nevermind, I don’t want to know. What I do want to know is, are you the killer, old spirit?” Elliot sputtered.

“If I am, what is it to you? Are you going to die for me too? Obviously not, you are smarter, young necro.” It crooned.

“I- I am here to put these spirits to rest. Would you be willing to rest too?” Elliot hesitantly asked.

The old willow reflected on what Elliot had asked. “If you try to put me to rest I will surely stop you, by any means necessary of course. Or you could die for me! I would love the taste of your soul in my garden of spirits.” The tree gleefully wiggled.

Elliot pulled out a sword from its sheath, his stance indicating he was prepared to fight.

“HAHA!! You think a pathetic mortal sword like that will stop a great spirit like me from ripping you apart and stealing your soul?!” It spat.

Elliot brandished his sword, jumping towards the tree and slashed the branches moving at him to block its attacks, the branches dropped to the ground unmoving.

“AGH YOU ANT, YOU MINISCULE THING!! HOW DARE YOU CUT MY BEAUTIFUL BARK!” The tree screamed.

“It is not an ordinary sword,” Elliot replied calmly, touching the flat part of the blade as if the sword was a holy relic, “it is crafted with a holy metal. Designed to kill evil spirits, such as yourself and it only grows stronger with the amount of cursed spirits I kill with it. Meaning, you are only helping me, by putting up a fight.” After finishing he flicked the sword’s point at the tree, threateningly.

Howling, the tree swung again, hitting Elliot square in the chest knocking him back a few meters. Elliot coughed up droplets of blood and staggered to his feet while the spirits joined in the fight: hitting, scratching and biting the attacking branches to protect Elliot. Steadying himself, he dodged the second branch heading for him and slashed his blade along the bark, cutting it off at the end. He jumped onto an oncoming branch. Running along its surface Elliot neared the trunk that held its stained heart where he raised his sword up. Distracted by the mob of spirits, the tree failed to notice Elliot until it was too late.

Elliot swung, piercing the tough bark with his blade straight into the heart of the cursed spirit. Branches thrashed violently, cutting Elliot in the face and torso.

“You… have much talent, young necro… mancer. I, am glad, it was you who, put me to rest.” The tree gasped, sounding as though it was running out of air.

“Goodbye, Old spirit. Rest in peace now.” Elliot bowed in respect.

The tree let out one final sigh and dissipated into the wind. The spirits cheered, grabbing hands of each other as they danced in a circle.

“We can finally go home now, thanks to you traveler. I will now give you information regarding your “curse” before I depart.” The young ghost boy smiled, and started fiddling with his hands as if he was flustered or shy. “You can find a witch deep in the marshes, far south from here, perhaps she can help. Her name is Achlys but be careful with her, she is quite sneaky, her apprentice is more so. It will be hard to get an audience with her because she works for the sick king, and I don’t mean sick as in ill but as-” 

“Thank you, child. I will see to it that I find her. I appreciate the help.” Elliot interrupted, raising his hand up kindly to stop the child’s rambling.

“Heh, if you ever need my help, traveler, blow this whistle and I will be there.” The boy hands him a silver whistle.

“I will. Goodbye young boy.”  Elliot nods, carefully taking the whistle from his hands, to put it in his own pocket.

“Call me Colm.” Colm beams.

“Alright, goodbye Colm.”

“Goodbye!” Colm waved, then turned and walked away. 

Elliot could see a beautiful ghostly figure of a woman holding her arms out to embrace Colm, crying and rejoicing. Colm ran to her, tears forming as he wrapped his arms around her, “Momma!” Elliot blinked, Colm and his mother were gone. Turning, Elliot changed his destination and continued his path of finding a way to rid his believed curse.

Perhaps, Elliot's tale will go on...