I shivered through the familiar tremble of cold in the night, the lonely essence of the winds cruel duel against the winter.

I curse these times as I coodle myself close to my chest in the unfamiliar winter, life slipping to bliss. Focus. I whisper. Take your stance. I exhale. Blow. My mind is cursed with dreams caged to the eyes of another, blood, murder, savage calloused hands, and blurry surroundings. A late evening filled with nobility, my sister Sienas coming of age party. I celebrated my eleventh birthday alongside it. My father, an infamous hunter, hunted the Rusalka that had been living in the Sevia rivers. Her ***** bloody body was on display conveying a hearty message from my father, ‘Beings of the spirits are deathly creatures, this is what is to happen to the stupidity your kind possess when you trespass our lands’ My blood went cold as I watched my father and his mates clink there wine glasses and torturing the half dead creature, making her subordinates watch. Throwing punches to her ribs, changing the nails pinned against her wrist, and…rape… torturing her throughout the night. She had done nothing, and I knew my father fabricated the story of trespass, their murderers just as much as our mortal kind. Yet I watched her still living body, I watched her whisper to her soldiers while nailed up by her wrist. The bloody water soldiers knee bent in front, no emotion, not a flinch when broken glasses were carved into their body. I didn't say a word, as I watched them so evidently plan my fathers murder in their ancient language. Her tongue was soft, when she slipped words to her soldiers, then she lipped ‘retreat to Tali hands. I looked to the soldiers, to my father, and then to her. And I walked away. That was the first night, the first brutal glimpse of a man being gutted out by tongue, his supposed wife said the words ‘with mercy of mother, thou shalt not covet, condone me through your veil great Svalinn, as the axe collided with her head. I awoke, vomiting on the wooden floor boards. My sisters awoke that night and screamed for my father, but when they scattered to find him he was dead in his study. The Ruslka disappeared with her three soldiers, and I wondered if the man I dreamt about was him. It wasn't. The guilt stormed inside of me, I told my mother what I'd witnessed that night. I was so very young and something inside me told me my mother wouldn't dare blame me. I was replaced by the Rusalka, I was eleven, left with no one,  tortured for months. The people blamed me for murdering the infamous hunter, I carried deep cuts from my back to my thighs, bruises coated my once clear pale skin, help me, anyone please. But no one answered. Two years passed and my time was up, the torturing worsened, I wanted to die. Yet as they pinned me above the bonfire in our long yards, to my death, I cried out... ‘help’ and closed my tortured eyes. Then a scream, a mortal scream, blasted through the cuttings of my ears. My eyes exhausted, tired, I heard my sister's cries, Siena’s cries, holding my younger brother in her hands. I cursed myself, for letting my brother be exposed to this horror. But I didn't cry. I refused to cry. I watched them evacuate safely, and as a water soldier cut down my ties I whispered. “Not that carriage, leave them, please.” And he silently nodded, vanishing into thin air. That was the night it began, the Ruslka arrived in front when the rural area only consisted of dead bodies, dead mortals, towering. She said, “We are trained soldiers, we took notice of your eyes in a second that night” her eyes sharp and edged, crimson red blood eyes watching me on the floor. “I am no fool, and you weren’t either that night child” She sighed, then I remembered the lipped words. Retreat to the Tali lands. “My debt is paid.” Was all she said. “Please” I pleaded as she began to walk off. “Kill me” She halted, I could feel her pity, not a word when she turned halfway. Our eyes briefly touched, I swam the crimson rain of her resentful eyes. And begged. “I want to die, Please. Please.” I tugged through my ripped shirt to my heart, bleeding from every end. “You're so young, so naive. These cruel people tortured you, yet you forgave them, you let them. Your weak” She spat, and she was right. I never blamed the townspeople, my mother, my fathers brothers no matter how much I despised them. You'd think broken ribs and bones, blood drenched every second of every day, and cuts so deep you could my bones were enough for me to fight back. “Sima…” Her guard said, he gave me a warning stare as I challenged her eyes. “Your father is a foolish bastard, your mother is a selfish wench. And your sister–” I lunged before she could finish the sentence, I just barely scratched her cheek as her soldiers tugged me down. “Don't you dare…bring my sister into this… you don't understand what she's been through.” Flashbacks of the past rushed through me, Siena hiding me from my fathers rage… “I like this one.” Ruslka chuckled, licking the blood from her cheek. “Let's take her.” Her final words as she trotted into the darkness. “Sima you can't be serious, she's a mortal! You are already being tracked down, a mortal girl should be the least of your worries.” The soldier barked from darkness. “Did you not hear what I said? Plus I haven't had this much fun in years…” Her laugh faded with her steps, and I was saved by Ruslka and her three soldiers.

“You fight like a mortal…” Emmanuel spat, vanishing through the grass. “And you…” I stabbed my dagger in the dirt, “Fight like a coward.” I grinned as Emmanuel reappeared, my dagger so close yet so far. Drenched in his water form, racing for the river, I was paces behind him. I memorised every crook and cranny of this forest, the dirt, bark, rivers, and wind were a friend. There are four rivers that surround Sevia, Leeway, Lumine, Dashmeer, and Colo. And my good friend Emmanuel was heading towards Dashmeer, the river that belonged to vast amounts of quagmire mud, and sloppy water. A trap. He laughed as he bolted through with ease, having a body that consisted of liquid can be quite convenient. “You're a cheat, why do you always do this?” I uttered on the edge of the grass trail. “A cheat? Evelle these are lessons” he said. “Not every battle will have equal advantages, your rival won't constantly be against your advantages and I will prepare you for that.” His smirk irked me, standing in the middle of a quagmire pit, mud neck high, sloppy enough to fall through. “Now, let's begin.” He pulled his double edged sword, blade sharp, handle in the middle his grip firm, and I gulped.

“Second thoughts?” He asks slyly, his voice chirping with excitement. Smartass.

“To keep you alive? Debating” I smiled, I could barely hide the excitement in my own voice. He lunged first, but through the mud, disappearing in the vast liquid now beginning to swirl. I knew better than to step inside. The swirl began to evolve into a current, waves quaking, tornadoes forming. I stop, think, what can I use to my advantage. A blade interrupts my silent thoughts, mere inches from my face. Run. RUN. My conscience is screaming at me, there has to be something, anything. He stormed out from underneath the mud, now faced to me. A muddy, liquid version of him. He formed his fingers into a ball and punched. Dodge. He kicked. Swerved. I kicked this time, my leg merely sunk inside. Shit. My dagger found its way into my hand as I sliced his head clean off. The mud body fell flat, and the body travelled back into the quagmire pit. I paced around, the mud began to devour parts of the grass surrounding the river. The quagmire evolving and the one diluted mud man reforms from the centre of the river, striving towards me. “You can run, but you can't hide” his words haunted every step that sank more and more into mud. A muddy figure approaches, now with a dagger. He slash's twice toward my upper body, then lunges again, same pattern. I stagger back. He slash’s his blade again, I briefly veer myself away. But I wasn't so lucky again, a blade tore through my white hood, bleeding through my shoulder. I shrieked in pain and faltered away. Then that's when I noticed it, the pattern. He lunges for me again, this time my dagger is strangled tightly around my fingers as I dodge his first two slashes, I jump onto the muddy figure wrapping my thighs around its head, strangling till it disintegrates. “I got you” As it reforms and retreats to the mud, I tug off thick vines from the willow trees, wrapping it around my dagger and finally following the creature with my eyes. It dives to the centre and finally it stops. A puppeteer using puppets with strings around deadly beings without stamina, easily revived beings freely to control. There's only one solution to a problem like this. Target the hand with the strings. Three mud figures formed, charging me, I shot my vine tied dagger into the mud. “AHHHH” A vile angry scream. “Found you” I whispered cautiously, My dagger broke off as I tried to reel it, with the remaining figures I strangled the first two. As I reached for my sword, a silver line scraped a long cut past my stomach. I stumble, my dagger now bent engraved into a tree on the edge of the mud pool. The last mud figure is now holding me by the neck. crap. Emmanuel rises, with his agonising stare he slowly approaches. Mud towering his wound where my dagger must've burnt through, slowly healing himself, that's the first. “I think I've had enough of playing around.” His eyes are a shade of bloody red, and now I feel insulted for staying in the hands of a weak muddy figure for quite as long. “You're not ruining my fight.” I whisper to the figure, with all my strength I fixate my leg around its arm til the mud drops into a liquid and I force my sword out and cut through it. Emmanuel now steps away he cracks his neck twice. “To think my favourite battles are the one with a mere mortal child.” He grins. He glides towards, his strength bare like no other. I stumble holding my brown handle for dear life praying to the great Svalinn that my blade doesn't snap. He switches the sides of his double edged sword now aiming for my ribs. Dodge. Immediately he kicks me off my feet. I push myself in a hand handstand stance and steer away. Barely holding my own against his harsh double slashes. His blade gives no mercy targeting my face, I hold it upwards with my blade and kick his chest. He staggers a few steps back, satisfaction tugs his lips as he spits on the grass. “For an immortal your skin is quite in ruin, your complexion is as pale as a duck.” I taunt, distancing myself. He spins and throws his blade towards me, I barely, barely miss it. The Appearance of Emmanuel is like his unborn child, and he's spent eternity looking after it. Appearances though are one thing, but comparing him to a mortal? I think I've dug my grave. He strips his shirt off him bare, white long hair with a red tattoo travelling from his neck to his…inner corners. I spit, just a little more. I slowly steep back. His blade bounces back towards me, I jump—the blade slits my elbow, a cut that would've been worse if I reacted any second later. He holds his double edge sword below, in a stance low enough to crouch. Foot work isn't my strong suit, being against a water wielder makes my chances all the more slim. But I’m not giving up. In the corner of my eye faint silver light shines to my attention, and I pray to mother that I can make it in time. Finally I grin. “Has anyone ever told you, your white hair makes you look like an old white mortal? It's insulting you were born with it” I held strongly to my sword and especially my life the moment the words left my tongue.

He stiffened. “That's it” He finalises. He's gonna throw his blade, and mother knows he won't miss. He never misses. I charge toward my dagger, seconds before I hear the blade that cuts the wind. I immediately break off my dagger and collide into the swarm of mud and waves. I couldn't see anything. I swam to the bottom of the mud, where the green drenched water surfaced. I'm trusting my instincts now. Blind, dead, mute, and vulnerable without a steady stance. My guts telling me to swim back, use combat against him, but that's an obvious loss. And I refuse to give into him and his ego. I hold my dagger in my left, sword in my right, blind to the water, ears drained and blocked, floating vulnerably. I find the nearest dirt surface, and stab my sword into it, the mud right above, I push down onto the sword to make sure it flings, it does. I inhale my blood and choke and realise how much of it is in the water. Then I feel it. Wind may not pass down here, but the mud communicates. His blade. The sound of it approaching. I wait. A few more seconds. Eyes shut, I could hear him, feel him swimming towards me, racing against his own blade. Not now. I'm betting my life on this blade. “Evelle swim up. Now.” Emanuels voice renders. My lungs struggling to hold the suffocating water. “Evelle that's enough” A little longer. “Evelle stop!” I don't. “EVELLE” His words rumble the waves. Now. the blade mere milliseconds away, I fling myself up into the mud, the blade barely cutting my ankle, I drown out the pain as I shoot my dagger down. CLING. I know it's stuck, that cling confirms it, the blade knows my blood and it's after my scent, and I just coated the entire river with it. It struggles to set itself free, I take the chance to get ahold of it, and rip it out. Emmanuel I feel him striding toward me. I smile, and throw the blade blindly. My blood coating every form of liquid drenched in the green waters, as the blade travels to the nearest living thing. Then I hear a jab followed by a scream. His scream. and I swim out of the mud. If that blade didn't kill me this mud will, it's no longer watery. I can't swim out I can't. I curse myself for such a reckless choice. But then I feel the rock. I'm in the centre, I pull myself up over the rock, my eyes stinging and I finally climb out. I cough unhealthy amounts of mud, water, and my own blood. And then I hear another set of uneven breathing. Repulse and relief both hitting at the same time. “You're alive.” I chirp, “round two?” I joked. If there was a round two id more than likely die of exhaustion. But he didn't laugh. Lezion and Valha appeared from the tree, separated from me and Emmanuel. Valha grabbed my forearm and lifted me, my legs unable to walk. I tugged onto him. “Don't say a single word.” He warned. I was smart enough not to, my wounds suddenly began to choose now of all times to remind me of my mortal body. “EVELLE!” I hear Emmanuel call, Valha tucks his hands around my waist and carries me… I finally black out…

I smell the roast of a wolf, and I jump up awake.

Simas back turned to me, Valha reading a book in his dark corner, Lezion sharpening his tools and Emmanuel… his hands are covering his face, his blade coated in my blood. The wound is left now covered, a scar, I smiled.

“It looks good on you,” I said. They all turn startled faces to me, except sima. “The scar I mean” I pushed myself up, almost falling in the process.

“Don't you think Sima?” I said slyly, nudging the beautiful figure. She smiled back. And I hugged her tighter than ever. “Your training is more efficient than ever.” She kisses the top of my eyebrow and I smile, holding on to her forearm. “Did you hear that?” I said in a sarcastic shocked tone. “She complimented me” I leaned against the wooden table and giggled. Sima smiled, but they didn't, he didn't. “You could've died.” Emmanuel back to slumping in the position when I awoke, I sighed. “You put me up to it, it was a lesson and I took a risk. So what?” I shrugged. “Right Sima?” I jumped back to her side. “I disagree with your approach, but you did a great job.” She placed her cheek onto my head, Valha speechless, Lezion stiff, and emmanuel… “I called you. I know you heard me. I told you to swim up, you didn't listen. You never listen.” He banged his fist against the dining table, it broke it half. “And if an enemy was to ever call for me to swim up, would I just convey his words?” I argued. Lezion grinned and threw a loaf toward me, I smiled as I bit from it. “Simas correct I don't either agree with your approach, however you made it, using strategy.” Valha jumped in, Lezion winking alongside him. “Don't encourage her foolishness, you're better than that Valha.” Emmanuel again, opinionated as always.

“You know I don't either agree with the almost drowning, nor the baskets of blood you filled the lake with, but it was indeed smart against a weapon that tracks blood.” Lezion said, scrubbing my ruffled head. “Emmanuel is only furious because of the scar you got on his supposed beautifully clear body” Lezion jokes, I giggled. “You know if there was an enemy, we should place a bet on who can get there first.” I clasped a hand against Lezion, his strength showed no bounds, the bulkiest man I've ever seen. “There won't be an enemy, there won't ever be an enemy!” He repeated. “Risks like those dont grant you leeway to escape, that dagger trick, the provoking, the chances you took. You swam into a lion's den diving into the water, against a water wielder? You are a fool like the rest of your mortal lineage.” I tried not to basket the pain and hurt but I couldn't, a tear slipped my eye. I stopped in my tracks. His eyes gleamed with regret, “Evelle I–” I didn't let him finish, I pulled off my navy blue hood , boots and dagger and ran out.

The forest was bright and lit up, the night was befalling and the starlight that branched inside the Sevia river looked like dancing stars. The Sevia River connects into a large lake, where I sit in front. You are a fool just like the rest of your mortal lineage. His words constantly repeating in my head. Right, I'm just a mortal. The river beneath begins to swirl. “Mortal girl…” It whispers. “Water spirit” I reply. The water spirit that guards these rivers is named Vivienne. Sima told me her story, her pitiful story, how she became trapped inside the waters to guard the river she drowned in. The Sevia river ends at a waterfall at the end of the land, where Vivien the water spirit now named Sevia, drowned. She once danced upon the mortals decades ago, beautiful hair extended to her hip, her eyes blue like every lagoon combined. But the selfish mortals only want one thing, her valuable skin, they wished as they tricked her to stand at the end of the waterfall. Tying ropes around her as she danced. Her dances consisted of ropes and strings, those very ropes and strings that strangled her underneath the bottom of the fall. “Mortal girl. You know my name.” Her waters showed wary, starting a current. “Trust is a beautiful thing.” I whispered, swirling my hands in little waves. “It is a shame my kind tore that of you.” I brushed my fingers inside, deep enough to feel her, the river was her. I've never been so close without Sima Emmanuel Valha or Lezion, they would hide my scent with theirs. They say Vivienne's trust was stripped and she despises mortals. Murdering them is her hobby, my foolish father tainted the rivers when he crossed, scared of the legend of the river. “I sense familiarity in your blood, mortal child, your scent is unkind to me.” She spoke in an accent similar to Simas, traditional, elegant, and wary. “My lineage poisoned your waters as they crossed, I apologise Sevia.” I lifted a hand fill of water. “Your water is truly beautiful.” I smiled. Her current calmed back to the peaceful star light. “You're one of Simas.” I halted as she continued “The hidden mortal she so desperately hides, you don't own a humankind scent, but I know you are mortal.” The waters arose and a pure liquid light shone on the beautiful watered version of herself. A beat passed, the silence shivered my soul but I couldn't find it in me to feel free. “Sima is a strange one. Ruslka despises mankind, and yet she travels with three of the worst.” Judgement. Resentment. I know those words. Vivenne was Valhas bride to be, she drowned decades ago and Valha never once took interest in how his dead bride was… to be. Emmanuel attempted to seduce the beautiful spirit, but failed every single time. And I heard Lezion was a brute, no respect for water spirits once so ever. “Sima never despises anyone. She is the beautifulest type of strange.” I smiled. The water spirit seemed taken aback. “You're troubled.” she said. “It seems Emmanuel's mouth has done more worse than good. It's not surprising of course” Her accent is so elegant, soft and with a warning tone. This is her forest, of course she knows. “Tell me mortal child, what is it you desire? Truly.” Unbothered, uninterested, she must not have anything to do. But it's getting late. No. It should be fine. “What do I desire?” I repeated. “A library…” Her hand stopped spiralling in circles. “A tower filled from the very top to the bottom, all kinds of books, novels on every shelf. And a long staircase, able to reach every single one.” If those nightmares of the bloody sword taking lives were not troubling my sleep, I'd dream of this particular library. “It was accented gold and black, the staircase wood and the shelves cobbed with webs. Old and ancient. Beautiful. Two white pillars held it on the edge of a mountain.” I closed my eyes, memorising the beautiful dream. “A vine towering to the very top, if anything I desire this library.” I held the image to heart. “You're a strange mortal girl.” She figured. Her hand swirled and the image began to film in the waters. “I–I can't… what did you do?” Her eyes closed struggling to render the image out of the blur. “Nothing?” I causalling dismissed. “Is this one of Valhas tricks? Emmanuel’s illusions?” She panicked “I see everything, why…” The image disappeared. “I've never vaguely seen it, the watery vision is the same dream I hold on to. Black and gold accented colours, vines and webs, making out little details took years” I shrugged. “Even if what I desire is to have a glimpse of this image, this dream, I'd cherish it.” It could have been the brightly shined lights, or the bits of splashing water, but my eyes teared up. “I was mistaken, you've been worse than troubled. You mortal child, I pity you.” I held myself in my own arms, wishing for the worthless tears to go away. Mortal, foolish, helpless, weak. My past cornered me at the end of the lake, tortured, bled, scars, pain, constant pain.“I’ll grant you this.” She lifted her arms to me, bright star light coming from it. “A gift. For the astounding show you set for us spirits to watch.” she passed to me a floating light, I stared into the core of it. “It is the gift of the Sevia rivers, a power of your own,” I could feel her smile, but I couldn't see it. “The defeat of Emmanuel was gravely exciting, he desperately needed it. And you, a mortal girl, not in spite of weakness in her bones, put a scar in him.” I could feel the pride in her tone. “You do not understand how long I've waited, decades since I've encountered him, to see him bleed, scream, and rage.” Her voice made me tremble, shaken and limpy I listened. “ Little splashes of water and hundreadths of thousandths of times attempting to drown him, and a mortal girl with a mortal mind shattered him. With his own weapon in fact.” She laughed, bursted out laughing. I remember all the times she's attempted to murder Emmanuel, too many in fact. I accepted the white light, it engulfed my body. “You’ll stay mortal, but you'll move and fight just like a water welder whenever you please. This was a gift granted by the water spirits. Never forget it.” My body felt odd, unfamiliar senses causing me to almost puke. But then I realised. A debt. These spirits are tricky, debts, bargains, you steer clear. Once a debt to a being of magic, is a life sentence bound to be returned.  “Thank you, water spirit, thank you.” I bowed another thanks, and her blankless face seemed to tilt. “Vivienne.” She smiled. “Evelle” I smiled back. Her question is shallow in my mind. “Then. What is it you desire?” I asked her. She froze. The silence was impenetrable to pass, the tension in the wind becoming cold and dreary. “Desire? Me?” Her head swung  to the sky. A long— very long pause. “I wish to dance… Again…” Her hand draped onto her heart, I could see the memories flash to her in an instant of her past. “Then I wish that you can dance again, freely, happily, with your heart.” I lift myself off the dirt. “I thank you again. Vivienne.” I turn. And I begin to walk. “Wait.” She stops me. “The library. I've heard of it. I've seen it” A sparkle gleams in my eyes and I jump. “You have?” scepticism tried hard not to brush my voice. “In the northeast end of Ludta, it lies there. The tower is supposed to be trapped beneath the hatred of a monster. Locking the library to rot.” She sighs. “Watch your back, Evelle, creatures, various creatures than the water spirits have heard about Sima and her boys for a while. Keep hidden. Trust no one. Especially not yourself.” Vivienne warns. I now turn to face her, I watch her skin her fingers through the peaceful river. I wait for her to carry on, she doesn't, but she wants to. She wouldn't stay in this form otherwise, it's too dangerous to have the guardian of the rivers in this valuable form. “What is it that you mean?” I finally ask. “Sima is a Rusllka. She's a deathly soldier, former general of the waters alliance with Barvak. Decades of knowledge of fighting, creatures, old to new beings. Her three men are raiding commanders. She's been hiding in my forests for peace, and lately the water hasn't been as peaceful.” She admits. “I see everything. I know the ways the current moves, my current moves. Soldiers are stationed hidden beneath my waters, and you murdered seven of them.” She chuckles. My heart deepened at the words, I murdered seven soldiers? She probably read the horror in my experisson. “Mortal child, it is a good thing. I would've done it myself, but I never would have known you’d do something as reckless as diving head first into the mud. The soldiers were ready to attack, when they noticed the blood you so willingly tainted all through my green waters. You were blinded, yet you continued. You stabbed your sword into the dirt and waited for Emmanuel's hostile weapon to haunt towards you. Three heads made it so close even the spirits began to beg me to assist you, I refused. one of the soldiers raised to cut you but it was only your ankle that received the less fatal blow. When you jumped and the blade sliced clean off three heads, the spirits cheered.” she laughed, I stayed jaw dropped, horrified. My face paled, and I retreated back to my seat, listening in. “The remaining four soldiers cowered at the bottom of the river, we thought the fun had ended. But then you dropped down again and the entire forest began watching you. As lovely as it was watching a struggling human fighting death, I must say it took a handful of strength to not get involved and I'm very glad I didn't. Or else my neck would have met a similar fate. When your vine wrapped dagger assisted you to rip out his blade and throw it back, the spirits applauded you. A blade made to sense blood, a river filled with it, the best entertainment in centuries for us. It wasn't the satisfaction of the soldiers' deaths that enlightened me. It was The second I heard Emmanuel scream as his own weapon jabbed through him. I may or may not have given you a push out of the muddy pit.” full of light and excitement the once bored and unimpressed spirit vanished. But her words made no sense, until they did. I figured the river was ecstatic and fast because of Emmanuel's power, now it made sense why he was so mad. “I'm glad my near death experience enlightened you.” I said sarcastically, holding myself in my arms. “What happened to the last four?” I asked. “Sima ruined my fun, she murdered them before they reached the fall. It was quite a show, not as interesting as yours.” Her words still hint of laughter and excitement. “Mortal I have seen many things, but today, by far the best.” A little pride gleamed up when she said that. “Soldiers stationed… Why? What are they after?” I asked. And the laughter disintegrated. Silence. “I can only say so little.” Was all she replied with. She's now humming a song, ignoring my question. “And you can say so much, what is it they are after?” I repeated. She paused her hand that swirled and swerved, not meeting my eyes. The tension growing in the waters, the forest not at a stop, she feels threatened. “They are after her, there is a war coming, the mortals involved on a side. Sima is a warrior, and her skills and knowledge are what Barvak needs to win. Water spirits no matter how far we hide, no matter the many lakes, rivers, oceans, or seas there's always an end. We can only hold out for so long.” She sighed. “You share a lot of it. You share the knowledge of three legends and a general, and you're a mortal. Wisdom lost to the rest of the world. So stay hidden, do not be discovered, or you'll become a pawn in a game of chess.” The waters caged surrounding us, the tension growing alongside her rage. “I am thankful for your gift, your anger is quite unnecessary though.” I shrugged with a welcoming smile. “Goodbye great water spirit, wish mother and hope to you spirits as well.” I said to nothing in particular. The spirits aren't noticeable to the ***** eye, but with this unknown power I sense them lurking. “I’d suggest you run.” She finally said, if she was about to murder me after gifting me i'd be pretty upset. I laid a hand on my dagger. “They're in danger.” She tilted her head one last time and disappeared, sinking back into the current of her waters. I didn't wait a second before I leaped and ran. I found myself faster than I'd ever been before, I glided through the trees in seconds…