Their weapons were poised and at the ready. Their hearts thumped in their chests as fear and fatigue rushed through their systems, and as the three warriors knew both were deadly alone, but together against a new and decidedly lethal opponent; all hope seemed lost. Zedd had already seen his weapon of choice pass through this fiend, and their equaliser, the shotgun, lay empty, useless on the stone floor. WhiteShadow couldn't help but note the irony in how a weapon, harvested from a dead man, had been used against similarly dead opponents. The ghoul had raised his claw-like hands in the air, the souls writhing in his chest silenced. They seemed to be frozen in time, the silence deafening. Yasmine could have sworn that her life flashed before her eyes in that moment, but just as she began to contemplate what a dark and sheltered life she had lead, the ghoul struck, its two claws coming down, and slicing Zedd's bow in half. The two pieces fell to the floor, the impact ringing around the tight stairway for a long time. The first move made, the underdogs response was to stare blankly at the ruined weapon, Zedd now sweating profusely. Yasmine was the first to snap out of the trance, taking her short knife in hand and leaping for the ghoul, the blade shining as it cut the air. It's weapons at it's sides, the ghoul only smirked as Yasmine's passionate swing passed through his form, the NeiChild crashing to the floor behind her target. She looked back, no surprise on her face, simply rage. WhiteShadow followed, his scimitars crossed before his face. He barely had the strength to attack anymore. His arms ached, beneath his fur his skin was soaking with a cold sweat, and his heart hurt as any confidence he possessed deserted him. All that was left, all that drove him on, was the indignation at the horror this creature had caused. As he charged the ghoul, things seemed to move in slow motion, each footfall ringing in his ears as he attacked. The ghoul had not yet lost his smirk, his arms raising into the air to swat this next insect. Swinging his blades to his sides, WhiteShadow let out his Motavian war cry, causing Zedd and Yasmine to cover their ears as it rang out in the enclosed space. Still the ghoul's expression did not change. To WhiteShadow, it seemed as if his blades were fighting their way through mud rather than air, as his arms screamed from the effort, the adrenalin rush from the war cry no substitute for real energy. Just as the the two blades were about to pass through the spirit's form, his expression changed. The smirk disappeared and was instantly replaced by a look of horror, and then one of great pain. As the blades cut seemingly struck the ghoul, the souls within it suddenly screamed out in pain, and the vile creature dematerialised slowly, each soul flying out through the walls as it happened. Silence reigned in the aftermath of the strange battle. Yasmine still lay sprawled on the floor, breathing heavily, exhausted from the struggle. Zedd still stood frozen, looking down at his shattered bow in dismay. WhiteShadow, the apparent hero of the moment was rooted in the centre of the landing, his face simply a mask of confusion as he stared at his two scimitars. They glowed with a strange sheen, casting light upon their wielder's face. WhiteShadow finally broke the silence. "There is magic at work here." His stunned voice was barely above a whisper, but it could be heard clearly in the stillness of the stairway. "The blades... They shine with its effects... But is it their own magic, or some outside force?" He looked back down the stairway, at the piles of rotting corpses, at the slippery blood smeared walls. Yasmine got to her feet, gently turning WhiteShadow to face her. "You did it, Shadow; whether it was you or the blades you did it. You may not have saved those poor people's lives, but you at least saved their souls. It's over." Zedd had shaken himself from his reverie as well, slapping WhiteShadow's back heartily. "Sure, it may have cost me my favourite bow, but you came through with the goods!" Once again that mask of bravery had risen to cover Zedd's true feelings. The look of concern never left WhiteShadow's face, however. Turning from his friends smiles, he sheathed his swords and began climbing the staircase once more. "This isn't over." He said, voice level with determination. Yasmine reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder. WhiteShadow turned, indignant anger burning in his eyes. Yasmine could tell that it wasn't for her or Zedd; it was for the people below, and for whatever did this to them, up the stairs. This knowledge didn't stop her looking away, however. Slowing his veangeful march seemed to be aiding those he fought. But still... "We need to rest, WhiteShadow. We're no good to anyone in our current state." "We're in the enemies' stronghold, Yasmine. It's not exactly safe to catch a quick nap." WhiteShadow's voice retained its monotone. In his heart, his emotions boiled. Although the horror of what had happened to the innocent people of Aeido and Kadary drove him on, what angered him was his fear. He had been terrified of the ghoul, like no fear he had ever experienced before. Even when he was only a young boy, and the great sand worm had reared over him, he had not known fear like this. He was ashamed of himself. He hadn't saved anyone, the blades did. IF it was the blades at all. Yasmine looked into his eyes. He could see the fatigue there, and the fear. Knowing that he wasn't alone in his fear cooled him somewhat. He went to the rubble the ghoul had left when it had entered the stairway and began picking up whatever he could find. He went to either end of the landing they were on, stacking up the bricks, creating minor fortifications. In moments his two companions caught on, helping him to stack up what they could find. By the time they were finished, they couldn't see over the walls they had built, and they slumped to the floor in exhaustion. They all fell asleep leaning against each other, their backs to the cold stone walls. WhiteShadow awoke with a start, a cold sweat covering him from some quickly forgotten nightmare. He had no idea how much time had passed, but his back felt stiff. Stretching, he was pleased to find that his limbs were all but free of the leaden feel of fatigue. Looking to his two friends, he was pleased to see that their fortifications had not been breached. Getting up, he decided to see how much energy he had and to give the two others in the enclosed space a wake-up call. Looking down at them, he felt a certain paternal pride in the two NeiChildren that he had become allied with. They looked so peaceful, sleeping calmly, lying side by side on the floor. Sighing, and shaking away such foolish thoughts about two people he had just met, WhiteShadow turned back to the wall blocking the way further up the staircase. Although his magical expertise was limited, WhiteShadow had picked up the basic forms of techniques from simple observation. The higher levels, however, required intensive training and knowledge he simply did not possess. Preparing for his Wat technique, WhiteShadow lifted his right hand to just in front of his face, the index and ring finger raised. Closing his eyes, he began to mutter an incantation as the formerly still air began to swirl around him, flapping his robes as it increased its power, in time with WhiteShadow's increased chanting. The stairway filled with the howling of the wind, which was now in a gale around the one who had called it first. Suddenly, the wind dropped away, Yasmine and Zedd stirring on the floor. Then, WhiteShadow's eyes snapped open, the wind suddenly rushing forth from his hand, effortlessly taking the rubble and whisking it out the hole in the wall. After the way was cleared, the wind fell away once more and WhiteShadow turned to his now fully aware allies. "Let's go," He said, the familiar Motavian smirk crossing his face again. Despite his nightmare, his confidence had returned. It had to. With his two companions believing he had saved them, he could no longer show fear as they faced whatever had created these creatures.However wrong he may be, he felt that they needed him. Drawing his scimitars, he mounted the stairs, embarking into the darkness once more.

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