“Oie rauha.”

The girls’ voice cracks, thin and weak, the language strange to Frey’s ears.
The icy, crawling presence of the Pale spreads over Frey’s back.

It’s here!

She stumbles past the trees, towards the frail girl, thinking to shield her somehow, but a root catches her foot. Her hands and her hip slam painfully into the ice. Her breath is driven out of her body.

Frey looks up helplessly as the Pale slips right through a tree, into the clear night air. Its eyes fix her with a starved, crazed glare. 

A gentle hand rests on her hair, just between her antlers, so light it’s barely there. 

The girl stands over Frey, her other hand still lifted toward the Pale, as if death itself wasn’t approaching, her expression… serene. Compassionate even.

“Oie rauha, vintur muhn.”

The words wash over Frey, tingling warmth down her spine, from her scalp through her whole body. Like sunlight spreading over her, it steals the chill and the fear away. The voice echoes in her mind over and over and her breathing calms. 

The Pale just.. Hangs there, completely still, hungry spectral eyes fixed on the girl.

She’s speaking to it. The revelation shocks Frey, but more shocking still is that the Pale has stopped. It’s listening to her. The wraith settles to the ground and begins to shift, to change before Frey’s very eyes.

The gaunt, hungry face softens, malicious eyes turn sorrowful.  Its wild windblown hair stops lashing in all directions and settles down around its shoulders…fingers shorten to a natural length and slender, beautiful antlers even sprout from its head. Fangs disappear into soft, full lips and though it’s still mostly see-through, where there stood a horrible wraith, now stands the ghost of a once beautiful woman, her face soft. Her expression is kind…if not sad.

Translucent tears fall like a stream down her cheeks. She smiles at Frey, almost motherly and reaches a hand towards her, no longer menacing, just… longing. Apologetic.

She looks up at the girl and though there is no sound, the words on her lips are unmistakable. “Thank you.” Then.. There is only empty night air between them and the trees. The Pale is gone.  

Frey looks up at the girl still holding her head.

What kind of person is she?
What kind of power is this?

She’s never seen or heard of anything like it. The power to banish the Pale… A dozen questions stagger through Frey’s mind, but are silenced by the girl’s eyes locking onto hers.

For a moment the girl’s eyes brighten as if she’s had a sudden spark of thought. Her voice comes out barely above a whisper… “Morwen” ... and then with a sigh, she collapses.