Norvin spun around ferociously, adrenaline overriding his exhaustion. He dropped into a defensive stance, his hand hovering over the handle of his axe, ready to defend himself against this new threat.
"You!"
For hours, he had convinced himself that the red ghost he had seen earlier was a hallucination—a trick of the light born from fear and fatigue. But his mind hadn't betrayed him.
The entity was there.
The crimson mist, glowing with a soft, unnatural luminescence, swirled and concentrated before him. It sat casually on the very same thick branch he was resting on, legs dangling into the abyss below. Slowly, the vapor coalesced into the distinct, feminine shape he remembered. She was beautiful in a terrifying, abstract way—a figure made of blood and starlight, possessing a form but lacking the defining features of humanity.
From her faceless visage, Norvin could read no emotion—no anger, no pity, no malice. She simply sat there, a nightmare made flesh, watching him with the curiosity of a child examining a dying insect.
"Are you here to kill me?" Norvin asked, his voice trembling but his grip on the axe tightening.
The red figure tilted its head, the crimson mist swirling around where a face should have been. "Why would I kill you, boy? I harbour no ill intentions towards you."
"I see..." Norvin didn't relax his stance. "Then how did you find me again? I made sure I wasn't followed."
"Of course you couldn't notice," the entity replied, her voice was beautiful but unnerving. "You possess no Numen, child. You are spiritually blind. How could you possibly feel the weight of my presence pressing down on the world?"
She leaned forward, the branch not even creaking under her weight. "And who do you think I am? I do not need to track footprints in the mud. I can sense the heartbeat of the forest. I can feel the breath of every single living soul present in this stronghold, from the rats in the cellars to the knights on the walls."
"What? You can sense... everyone?" Norvin took a step back, his back pressing against the rough bark of the tree trunk. "If you are truly that powerful... why did you not help me? You stood there and watched as that knight nearly took my head off. You decided to watch me die."
"But you didn't die, did you?" The entity let out a soft, chiding sound. "You were not even afraid, kid. I tasted your fear, yes, but underneath it? There was resolve. You even decided to dive into the Marsh Forest—a suicide run to most—just to draw less attention to yourself. That was a brilliant decision made amidst the battle."
She paused, her form shifting slightly, like smoke in a draft. "But alas, no one escapes my view. I was watching you, boy. You are so young, barely a sapling, yet you dismantled a man who had clearly trained for a decade. I am surprised. How did you do it, boy?"
Norvin stood silent, his mind racing. This Red Ghost was not only sitting there casually; she was speaking to him as if she were fond of him, like a pet that had performed a trick.
'She is mocking me', he thought, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck. 'She is way too powerful. If she can sense everyone in the stronghold. She can kill me anytime she wants, yet she decides to play with me first. This is how the Nobles play with the me, with us, the slaves before putting us in the worst condition of our life.'
"I am not a 'Boy'. I am Norvin," he snapped, his pride flaring up despite the danger. "And I had no choice except to enter this forest. I can't even get out anymore. The path I came from... it no longer exists. The trees... they are moving. I don't know how to escape."
"Yes, Norvin. This is the Marsh Forest," she said, saying his name as if testing the flavor of it. "A forest capable of devouring humans and any other living being foolish enough to trespass. Were you not informed of this by your master?"
"My master?" Norvin flinched, the word striking him like a physical blow. His eyes darkened with old, buried anger. "I don't have one. I am no longer a slave."
The Red Ghost tilted her head again, the mist pausing its swirl as if in genuine confusion. 'No longer?'
"Ah... I see," she hummed, realizing the misunderstanding. "I did not mean a slave owner, child. I meant the master you serve—the teacher instructing you in the way of the blade. Surely, someone taught you to fight? Have you got no one? Oh... you poor, abandoned soul. Did Thane truly send you into the abyss without teaching you anything?"
Norvin was bewildered. His jaw went slack.
How did she know?
It wasn't just that she knew his name or saw the fight. She knew exactly which knight's division he had been sent from. She had pinpointed the exact person who had given this absurd command.
Norvin's mind raced back to the command tent. Even though he was a child, he wasn't stupid. He understood the hierarchy. Mat had given him the orders, yes, but his eyes darting to the Captain's office. Mat was merely the mouthpiece reciting the Captain's will. Norvin was here, in this foul, deadly hellscape, because Thane Caldaron, had sent him to commit a sin. He was here to poison the magnificent dragons, a dishonorable tactic just to gain an upper hand in the battle.
"How do you know this?" Norvin whispered, the fear returning, sharper than before. "How do you know about the captain? How do you know why I am here? Are you a spy for the enemy?"
The ghost laughed amicably, a feminine gentle laugh. "Hahaha... don't worry, Norvin."
She drifted closer, floating off the branch until she was hovering directly in front of his face. She lifted a finger made of red starlight and pressed it gently against the area where her lips would be.
"This," she whispered, her voice echoing inside his head, "is a little secret between us."
"A secret?" he stammered, his voice barely audible over the distant groaning of the shifting trees. "You... you aren't with the enemy?"
The Red Ghost chuckled again, drifting backward, her form expanding and thinning like red ink dropped into a pool of black water.
"No, Norvin. My time for choosing which patch of dirt to bleed for is long past. I have no desire to spend the rest of my life fighting wars for unjust Kings that do not care of their people. Especially not for a kingdom that is already dead, even if it doesn't know it yet."
'Already dead?'
The words echoed in Norvin's mind, heavy and ominous. 'Which kingdom did she mean?'
Was she speaking of the enemy land, whose the town of Ruxwax belongs, the Kvothe? Or his own Roric Kingdom? A sudden realization halted his train of thought.
"Wait!" Norvin blurted out, staring at her ethereal form. "Spend the rest of your life? But... you are a ghost. Aren't you already dead?"
She hovered higher, the crimson mist swirling lazily around her. Though she possessed no eyes and no mouth, her posture slumped with a weight that conveyed a profound, ancient melancholy.
"I am not dead, little wolf," she murmured, her voice losing its playful edge. "This... shape... is not my true vessel. In truth, I am not even here."
Norvin's brow furrowed in confusion. If she wasn't a spirit, she had to be a Cipher of terrifying power—someone capable of projecting their consciousness across vast distances using Awen.
"Your affinity..." Norvin started to ask, but the words died in his throat. It felt rude to pry into the secrets of a god-like being. Instead, he asked softly, "Where are you, then?"
The mist tightened, glowing with a pulsing, rhythmic light.
"Somewhere close. Yet infinite miles away," she whispered. "Chained and bound in the dark, unable to feel the warmth of another soul."
Norvin fell silent. The words struck a chord in his own heart—a resonance of shared isolation. He remembered the cold nights in the barn, the feeling of being trapped by a destiny he didn't choose. He looked at the faceless entity and realized that despite her power, she was just as trapped as he was.
"Oh, don't worry too much, Norvin!"
She shook off the gloom instantly, her voice brightening with forced cheer. She spun in the air, a whirlwind of red starlight. "Come! Follow the light. Unless you wish to become fertilizer by morning, I suggest you keep up. I will guide you out of this leafy tomb."
"Really?" Hope flared in Norvin's chest.
"Yes. Now move."
She began drifting toward the southwest, cutting through the dense fog like a lantern.
"Wait for me!"
Norvin didn't hesitate. He scrambled down the rough bark of the tree and splashed into the mud. He ran behind her, fighting against the suction of the swamp, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried his best to match her effortless, floating pace.
They travelled in silence for what felt like an eternity. Norvin counted a thousand steps, his boots heavy with muck, his eyes fixed on the red glow ahead. The forest around them was a nightmare of twisting roots and grasping vines, but where the Ghost passed, the branches seemed to recoil, clearing a path.
'Just a little further,' he told himself, wiping sweat and grime from his eyes.
He looked down for a split second to navigate a treacherous root system. When he looked up again, his heart stopped.
The red glow was gone.
Norvin skidded to a halt, his boots sinking deep into the sludge. He looked left. He looked right. He spun around in a panic, scanning the oppressive darkness.
"Hey?" he whispered. Then louder, "Red Ghost?"
There was no answer.
She wasn't in front of him anymore. The comforting crimson light had vanished, leaving him alone in the suffocating embrace of the Marsh Forest. The silence rushed back in, broken only by the hungry groan of a shifting tree directly behind him.
"Are you lost, boy?"
The voice didn't come from the trees; it resonated from the darkness itself, a sudden, solid sound amidst the whispering leaves. Norvin froze.