Authors Note: This is an unfinished story. The rest of the story has yet to be writen. No part of this piece of writing can be copied without the authors permission.

The wind blew in sharp puffs against his face. He sat there alone on the steps to the church, waiting for the shadows to come. And as he waited he thought, he dreamed, and he wished that his ability to see wandering souls had never shown itself to him.

He shivered in the cold fall air, and tugged the cloak around him more tightly. He peeked out at the world around him. The trees surrounding the church were almost stripped of their leaves, and the morning had left white frost on the grass blades. And as he watched, the rising sun grew higher in the air, and its faint heat melted away the snowy frost.

The shadowy feet stepped into his view of the grass, and he looked up. There she stood. The same as when he had first saw her two weeks ago. She had long nut-brown hair, flowing loosely in the wind, and a small oval face that was so childlike, and sad. Her eyes were a soft blue, and must have been in the past, so rich in colour, but now they are dark and shadowy, like the rest of her form. Cloaked forever in shadows, even in the full light of the sun, because of the shadow-kin that had stolen her strength, and captured her once blinding inner light.

She looked up at him, curiously. “You see me?”

“Ye, my shadowy lady, I do.”

“How can that be? I am a shadow now.” She stared at her hands. “No one sees me. For only when I touch them, they see me and then they die.”

“As would I, malady, if you touched me.” He stepped closer. “You would drain away my strength, till I had nothing to hold me on me feet.”

“Then how? Sir who beholds me, how is it that you look into my eyes, and see my eyes, and not the grass behind me.”

“The Fates are cruel, malady. They have cursed me with the sight to see the lost souls, and the monsters that caused them harm.” He turned and picked up his bag, which he put on his back. He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, a saber made from blue steel, which included a silvery basket embedded with a black diamond. A faint blueish glow surrounded it, but so faint was it that a person passing by would never notice. He turned and started walking, but after a few steps stopped, and looked back. “Are you coming Malady? I do seem to have quite a ways to go.”

“Coming? Are we going somewhere?”

“Ye, we are.”

“And where are we going?” She asked, as she stepped in front of him.

“North to the lands of Oversea, and West to the lands that are near and far.”

“The Elven lands! Why we go there? What is there that is so important?”

“An item that can give you back your life.”

“My life? But I am dead!”

“Maybe I should say, an item that can give you back your soul. So that you may have peace.”

“That is a fairy tale. Don’t lie to me stranger. Don’t give me that hope, when there is none to be had.”

“Ah. But there is hope, and I have seen the item work, and heal.”

“I will believe it when I see it work. And never will I before that.”

“Fine by me, Malady. But may we now continue?”

“Yes, and she floated beside him as they left the church yard.”