the end of the race
His laughter echoes in your ears, trickling down your spine like ice water. Perhaps it is rage, or disbelief, or panic -- perhaps it is even a mixture of all three -- that has you turning and racing after him. Maybe it is only the feeling of your body becoming insubstantial, of how you’ve become more-thing-than-person that has you acting on instinct, on impulse.
Or maybe you simply saw through his words, and knew better than to trust what he had to say after his betrayal.
Through the grey-twilight forest the grulla colt races, crashing through the underbrush and leaping over fallen logs. And along you follow in pursuit, mist billowing from your shoulders like a cloak. Perhaps you notice now that while the colt is gangly and uncertain on his new legs, you seem to float over the underbrush -- no, through the underbrush, as your body phases in and out of fog. But more likely, you are only focused on catching up to the not-ghost, watching the distance between you open and close like a flower blooming.
Until, something changes -- until, bit by bit, stumble by stumble, leap by leap, you begin to draw closer. Until you blink and you are suddenly on the colt’s heels, and one final stride later, about to collide --
“Wait--!”
You fall through empty space.
The colt disappears into a cloud of mist the moment your skin touches his, and a chill spreads like ice through your veins. Perhaps your body is already beginning to feel more solid again, the feeling returning to your limbs in a rush of cold. Or maybe it takes longer, and you are left there wondering if what the spirit-boy said was true, if you are now stuck in a world not your own. It’s not so bad, he had said -- but nor do you think would it be so good, either.
But as you stand there, flowers begin to grow from the ground the colt last stood upon. Dozens of slender, silver wildflowers, grouped in the rough form of a horse and shining brightly with a light that seems to come from within their very petals.
In the distance you can hear festival music, and over a hill you can see the light of a bonfire; but something catches your eye first. A flower that is not like the others, that remains closed even while the others celebrate. You draw closer to it - what’s one last mystery to solve?
It is not until you lower your head to the bud that it begins to stir, unfurling its petals slowly and shaking the sleep from them. There is a light glowing in its center, a single, shuddering flame rising from the heart of it. And it seems to you a gift, waiting to be plucked.
@maeve & @maret have reached the end of the quest! The spirit had been trying to trick them to buy himself more time to escape. He leads you both through a wild chase through the forest, but just before reaching the end he stumbles one final, fatal time -- and you are upon him. The ending of this quest is your choice -- your characters could remain half-ghost for some time, or could immediately return to his body. Feel free to powerplay the spirit!
Growing where the ghost-boy last stood is a cluster of moonflowers - two of which remains closed. They unfurls as you approach, one for each of you, a single flame rising from their centers. The color of the flower and the flame is your choice! To claim this thread as completed, you'll need one last "exit" post.
