Meanwhile, the royal palace was not spared from the attack. Wraiths hovered and drifted through the palace corridors. Princess Adelia De La Trea was hidden away in a tower chamber guarded by palace soldiers and priests from the Temple of Arasia, summoned by the King himself to protect her.
Princess Trea had just turned seventeen. Her last birthday had passed without celebration, as a witch had infiltrated the palace and attempted to abduct her. After that incident, the King launched a public decree to hunt down all remaining witches across the lands of Orlandia, a challenge taken up by a man named Patra—a monster hunter well-known in the southern territories.
However, the attempted abduction by a witch had only made the princess's life more restricted. Her father was overcome with worry, and the guards and priests became constant shadows, following her wherever she went.
Amid her growing restlessness, Princess Trea approached the window of her tower, trying to glimpse the world beyond that she longed for.
But the world she saw was no longer the one she knew.
Right beyond the glass, a dark creature hovered, turning directly toward her. Their eyes met—and in that moment, a gaze so dark pierced into the depths of her soul. The princess staggered backward, and the priests immediately rushed toward the window, chanting holy incantations and sprinkling blessed water to repel the cursed creature.
A piercing screech rang out. The Wraith called out to its brethren, who swiftly flew toward the tower, circling it like hawks eyeing prey. They had found what they were looking for.
The priests continued their efforts, chanting protective spells to keep the Wraiths at bay. But they were trapped there, and the wards could not hold forever.
Patra watched the Wraiths begin to fly quickly in the same direction, as though summoned by something far away and unseen. They were heading toward one point—at the very heart of Aldinar.
Patra's sharp gaze followed their path, and without a word, he broke into a sprint. His instincts told him something monumental was about to happen.
General Benneto quickly followed, his steps heavy. He couldn't let Patra go alone, especially once he realized the cursed creatures seemed to be heading toward the palace.
"Patra! What in the world is going on?" Benneto shouted as he ran through the city streets.
Patra didn't stop. His voice was urgent and heavy with grim awareness.
"They've found what they were searching for. I need to get there first. I won't let the witches who sent these Wraiths succeed so easily."
Benneto's face turned pale. His eyes pierced through the mist, and a horrifying truth dawned upon him. The Wraiths weren't heading to just any place—they were swarming the royal palace.
And worse still, they were all converging, swirling in a terrifying black vortex, surrounding the tower where Princess Adelia De La Trea was hiding. The Wraiths let out magical shrieks, trying to break through the sacred barrier shielding the princess.
The sky boiled with the force of the curse, and time was no longer on their side.
The knights guarding the palace gates crossed their spears and swords, forming a barricade to prevent Patra from entering.
Before Patra could respond, General Benneto's booming voice echoed among them.
"Lower your weapons! Let Patra into the palace!"
One of the knights hesitated. "Forgive us, General… We were under direct orders from His Majesty not to let Patra near the palace, for the princess's safety."
Benneto pointed upward, toward the sky filled with mist and terror.
"Are you blind? Look up there! The Wraiths are surrounding the princess's tower. They're trying to breach her room's protection! We cannot afford to be late—her life is at stake!"
The knights stood silent for a moment, then quickly shifted formation and cleared the path. Patra dashed forward, followed by Benneto and several other knights.
They ran through palace halls shrouded in shadows. Prayers and chants echoed from the tower. Upon reaching the main staircase to the princess's chamber, they saw the Wraiths had filled the corridor, floating and howling, trying to break through a door glowing dimly with protective holy magic.
Each time the creatures touched the walls or door, their forms were repelled by the fragile but still-standing barrier, while the priests inside continued chanting with trembling voices.
Patra clenched his fists. "We don't have much time. Their spells won't last."
"Give me a sword—now!"
Without hesitation, General Benneto drew a sword from a nearby soldier and handed it to Patra.
"Swords won't hurt astral creatures, Patra. You know that."
Without a word, Patra sliced open his palm. Blood dripped—warm and deep red. He smeared it along the blade of his sword, causing a faint crimson glow to emerge.
"General, your sword too. Now!"
Benneto handed it over without question. That sword, too, was tainted with the same blood.
"We attack them now...!"
"Understood!"
General Benneto immediately swung his weapon toward one of the Wraiths nearby. He could feel the blade slicing into the astral creature's body, which let out a knightly scream before vanishing like dissipating smoke.
"My blood... it can be used on weapons to tear through astral bodies."
"In that case, let's finish them now."
With a battle cry, Benneto charged forward, his stance firm, his combat prowess as strong as it had been in his prime. The Wraiths screeched with piercing shrieks as their pitch-black bodies were cut down, turning into dark vapor.
Patra followed, eyes sharp, movements swift and precise. One by one, he struck down the Wraiths without mercy.
But suddenly, the air in the corridor thickened. From within the dark mist emerged a Wraith unlike any they had seen before. Its body was larger, its dark aura suffocating. Its face was a gaping void—no features, only endless black holes for eyes and a mouth. Atop its head rested a black crown. In its hand, it held a long, unusual sword, its blade winding like a frozen flame—a weapon from another world.
Patra stopped, eyes wary as he stared at the creature.
"I've never seen a Wraith like this..."
Patra's sword danced in the air, cutting through the gloom. His strike landed, but the Wraith parried with deadly grace. The wavering blade in the Wraith's hand swung back, clashing with Patra's, sending sparks flying.
The creature twisted. One slash struck Patra in the chest, forcing the hunter to stumble back.
General Benneto rushed in to assist. He launched strike after thrust, but the Wraith moved like a formless shadow. Benneto's attacks were brushed aside as though they were nothing but wind.
"Careful... That Wraith knows how to wield a sword!" he shouted.
"I know... I can see it too!" Patra growled, the wound in his chest throbbing like restrained fire.
The two—warrior and hunter—danced in a deadly circle, switching between attack and defense. But what they were fighting wasn't the kind of Wraith they knew. This was something else—a creature of darkness that not only fed on fear, but could wound the flesh.
A piercing stab came from the shadows. It struck Benneto in the gut, the sword piercing through.
He staggered, then collapsed, his blood spilling onto the floor like the last spring of courage.
Patra screamed. He lunged forward, fury and grief entwined, slashing his sword at the Wraith's body. But the wound was not enough to destroy it. The creature still stood.
From behind the princess's chamber door, chants echoed. The priests, clad in white robes adorned with gold, burst out, raising the sacred artifacts of the Arasia temple. Light bloomed from their hands. Incantations filled the air.
The Wraith's sword clashed against the magic shield. The clang was deafening, like the wail of trapped spirits.
The Wraith roared and lunged at the priests. The shield cracked—then shattered. The priests were thrown back, scattered like fallen leaves caught in a storm.
The Wraith approached a terrified woman. Its breath was cold as death's mist. But it didn't raise its sword—only stared deep, trying to invade the princess's subconscious, to stir dreams and memories. But the curse failed to poison her mind, protected as it was by the blessings of two noble bloodlines. The Wraith... was but a shadow dancing at the edge of light.
The priests began to rise—shaking, but resolute. Their artifacts glowed again. Holy words were chanted, pushing the Wraith back, inch by inch, away from the princess.
Patra stood. Something lit his eyes. The bloodline he had long kept hidden stirred within him.
A spell was completed—fire gathered in his left palm. He hurled it, shouting the incantation:
"Flamera...!"
The spell flew like a small meteor, striking the Wraith's back. Fire erupted, engulfing the accursed creature, which flailed and shrieked as it burned to ash.
Patra advanced. With a single sweeping slash, he obliterated the creature completely. All that remained was the wavering sword it had wielded, clattering to the floor with a metallic ring.
The priests stared at Patra. Questions filled their eyes. Was he... a sorcerer? But there was no time to ask. More Wraiths surged in, and Patra stood between them, sword flashing to protect all who still breathed.
Then he saw her.
Atop one of the towers stood a woman. Her cloak fluttered, a short staff in hand. The emerald at its tip glowed brightly. A spell had been cast toward the darkened sky.
Patra suspected she was the cause of all this chaos—but then, the wind howled. It swirled, sweeping away the mist and dark clouds above the palace. The sky split open, revealing a great breach.
Sunlight spilled down upon the earth like a long-awaited blessing.
The Wraiths shrieked. Their bodies burned, evaporated, and vanished—carried away by the dancing wind.
Patra looked again to where the sorceress had stood. She was gone. He had no idea who she was, or why she had helped save the princess.
Patra hurried to General Benneto's side, lying in a pool of blood. The general was still breathing, barely, trying to speak.
"Patra... protect... the Princess..."
Those were his final words.
His body went limp. His heart stopped beating. And with his last breath, his courage departed.
The priests bowed their heads. They carried the commander's body away for purification.
Patra stood again. Before him lay the fallen Wraith's wavering sword.
The monster hunter reached down to pick it up. But as he touched it, he felt a great mystical force. Ancient runes hidden along the blade glowed like burning embers, pulsing—then vanishing once more into the steel.