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The witchers arrived at the cemetery and pushed the rusty door open. The creak was soft, but it sounded deafening in the silence. There were about a dozen tombstones littered sparsely across the land, and a gnarled tree stood in the center of those tombstones. It was greyish-brown, and the bark was cracked in many places. Its roots and branches were dry and yellow, and not a single leaf hung from the ends of the branches.

A concrete staircase leading down into the underground was situated right beneath the tree. The dark underground tomb slept at the end of the stairs, but the witchers were in no hurry to descend. They turned their witcher senses on first and checked the land near the tombstones.

“It’s dry. No signs of someone digging the place up. Luck’s on our side. There are no grave hags or ghouls nearby.” Roy heaved a sigh of relief. “There isn’t any blood or sign of a battle in the cemetery. If there are any fleders down there, they would have left signs of their hunt.”

“Don’t let your guard down.” Letho scanned the place sharply and tossed Roy a torch that had a cloth drenched in oil covering its end. “I sparred with Kolgrim many times, and he’s as skilled as I am. But he still died in the tomb. This place is more dangerous than you think. It’ll be a tough fight even if there are only wraiths down there.”

“I understand.” Roy nodded. Unlike most creatures, wraiths were not corporeal. In most situations, they were unaffected by fire, poison, and weapons that could cause bleeding. Brute force alone wouldn’t be enough to deal with them.

And this was no game. Roy had to be careful, even though he had a few tricks up his sleeve.

They started checking their equipment. Their swords were greased with specter oil, their potions and decoctions were stored in the pouches on their leather armor, and the pouch on their waist was filled with alchemy bombs. In the end, they gulped a dose of Thunderbolt down, and black veins crawled up their faces. The preparations were done, and they went down into the tomb.

***

The tomb was dark, cold, and humid. That was the first impression it left. Letho took the lead, a torch in his hand, while Roy followed closely behind. He was walking sideways, looking around carefully in case any dangers were to leap out at them.

The tomb’s entrance was only wide enough to fit two people at first. The walls were smooth, and a picture depicting the tomb’s internal structure was situated near the stairs. It had been many years, and the picture was starting to degrade. The tomb was cramped, and Roy lamented, This orchard isn’t really big, but the baron’s family is. Man, this place is freezing.

He gasped. Compared to the warm temperature outside, the tomb felt like a freezer in the medieval age. It was as if winter never left this tomb, and Roy could even see his own breath. The cold wasn’t even comfortable. It was eerie, and the wind felt like it was blowing from within. The chilling air was trying to dig its way under Roy’s skin, and for some reason, it was upsetting him.

When they came to the end of the passage, they turned left and walked through a roundabout, then they came to a clearing. It was a burial chamber, and four white stone coffins sat quietly in the corner. There were more than a dozen small enclaves dug out on the wall, and they were filled with coffins.

Roy lit the braziers up, and the burning flames illuminated the burial chamber, whisking away the eerie chill that hung in the air. According to Temerian royalty’s burial customs, only direct members of the family could be buried in the center of the chamber, while branch family members would have their eternal rest in the holes in the walls.

He came to the coffin in the center. “Patrice Verrieres…Year 1150. Died from bloody flux,” Roy read from the record on the coffin’s side. “She died more than a hundred years ago. Wonder whose ancestor this is.” He brushed his hand across the coffin’s rough surface and eventually stumbled upon something black and rotten. Roy took a whiff of it and realized it was rotten petals that were already at least ten years old.

“Seems like it’s been a while since someone came for a visit,” he muttered. “This is a noble’s tomb, but nobody would come in because of the wraith infestation. Maybe there are still treasures and jewelry in here.”

“Kid, come here.”

“Did you find something?” Roy crouched down between the coffin and looked at the green powder on Letho’s finger. It was sparkling beautifully, as if someone had enchanted it.

Roy was surprised to see that here. “Specter dust?”

Specter dust was the ash left by wraiths after they died. Witchers needed this to make many of their alchemical creations, and Petri’s Philter was one example. But specter dust was rare, and one wraith could only produce half a unit.

“Kolgrim fought a wraith here, no question about that.” Letho kept the dust. It would be useful later on. Then he found the second pile of dust near the left wall, and they saw a chip in the wall that was left by a sword slash.

“Still as strong as ever. He was probably in great condition. There were two wraiths. It would take a lot out of him, but nothing that could cause him any injury.”

Letho was about to get Roy and venture deeper, but Roy stopped walking, and he scanned the coffin in the wall. A white candle that was melted halfway through stood beside the coffin, but Roy’s attention was on the coins that were lying quietly on the coffin. He went over to pick them up and wipe the dust off them. Then he saw Foltest’s hook-nosed face staring back at him from the head side of the coin. “Five orens. They aren’t popular now, but they can be exchanged for some crowns at Vivaldi’s Bank.”

Roy put them down a while later, however. He was no graverobber, and he would not take this kind of money.

***

Verrieres Family Tomb wasn’t fully interconnected. They expanded inward, and every path would end in a burial chamber, though anyone who came in would have to turn around at the end of every path to find the chamber. The witchers explored three more chambers and counted all the coffins that were in the center and the walls. Combining that with the tomb’s structure they saw when they came in, they deduced that there were more than two hundred people buried in the tomb.

“The Verrieres Family used to be an enviably big one, but now only Ignatius is left.” Roy was reminded of what Brenna said before they left. “Perhaps the baron has been driven mad by loneliness. That’s why he did something so outrageous.”

***

They noticed seven piles of specter dust along the way and some dried corpses that were strewn everywhere. The corpses were badly dressed, and the witchers thought they must have been graverobbers. If they had left after they looted the first chamber, they might have escaped the wraiths, but greed got the better of them.

“Greed drives many people to insanity, kid. Remember that.”

“We’re different. I can escape with my life intact, at least.” Roy shook his head and changed the topic. “Kolgrim has killed nine wraiths up to this point, and he doesn’t seem to have been injured at all. He might have killed his way to the deepest chamber.”

Roy admired the strength of Kolgrim, though they had never met yet. Witchers would have to use Moon Dust of Yrden to deal with wraiths. Those were the only ways to turn the specters corporeal and deal real damage to them. Roy only had one Moon Dust on him, and Letho was a far better caster than he was when it came to casting Yrden. The young witcher couldn’t affect wraiths too much on his own. If he was in Kolgrim’s place, he’d stop right after he killed three wraiths.

“If that guess is correct, then there must be a formidable monster waiting for us in that chamber.” Suddenly, Letho raised his index and middle finger, and he curled up like a cheetah, holding in his breath.

Roy kept quiet at the same time and stuck to the wall as he slowly moved to the corner in front of him. The closer he was to the corner, the more his pendant vibrated against his skin. They were getting closer to the source of the magical energy. The vibration was starting to get violent, but they heard no footsteps. Wraiths levitated. They wouldn’t make any sound when they moved.

And then, Letho came face to face with the monster. Letho quickly made an hourglass sign in the air, and a purple light pulsed from the circle on the ground. It was big enough to cover the corner. At the same time, Roy turned the corner and saw what was happening on the other side.

A green, translucent wraith was bound to Yrden. It was humanoid, and it was wearing a silk dress. On one hand, it was holding a bright yellow lantern, but on the other, it was holding a petite dagger. Eerie green flames flickered in its eyes, and its head was nothing but a skeleton. The wraith looked menacing, but it was struggling to break free, as if it were succumbing to quicksand. Bright green light illuminated its form, and it was blinking into and from the void.

‘Wraith

Age: Twenty years old

HP: 60

Strength: 6

Dexterity: 7

Constitution: 6

Perception: 3

Will: 4

Charisma: 3

Spirit: 0

Skills:

Ghostly Wail Level 4: Wraiths are born from the souls of those who bear grudges because of the pain they suffered when they were alive. Their wails can pierce through their target’s soul and awaken the fear sleeping within them, robbing the target of all courage to resist.

Flesh of the Void (Passive): A wraith’s body is between a corporeal and ethereal state. All incoming physical damage is halved. They can hide in the void at any given moment and avoid taking any damage. They can also ambush their target in this state.’

***

Roy wouldn’t allow it to break free. He made an Igni sign, and a stream of flames burst forth, spreading in a cone. The sparks touched the wraith’s body, and the flames swept over it. It flew up into the air, looking like a big fireball, and the wraith let out a wail. Invisible sound waves crashed against the walls, and dust flew up from the ground, covering the passage.

Roy shook his head and cast away the confusion. He waved his hand before himself, and he regained clarity. Thanks to his Will, he was immune to the mind attack from that wail. The young witcher charged at the wraith with Aerondight in hand, and he leapt up high into the air, swinging the blade up and cutting through the wraith’s hem, chest, and neck in one swoop.

The wraith’s flesh crackled as the specter dust on Aerondight corroded it. Green smoke billowed from the gash, but the wraith had no way to fight back. It was trapped by Yrden, preventing it from turning intangible, and the trap slowed its speed. It was moving as slowly as a snail, and it could never dodge any attacks from the witchers. All it could do was swing its lantern and dagger clumsily in a feeble attempt at a counterattack.

Roy crouched and slid across the ground in the opposite direction of where the wraith was spinning. The young witcher came to the other side of the wraith and took the plow stance before stabbing Aerondight into the wraith’s lower back.

He made another sign, and the wraith froze, disappearing into thin air, but not before it let out one final wail. Glittering green dust fell to the floor and formed a pile of specter dust.

‘Wraith killed. EXP+60. Level 6 Witcher (700/3500)’

“Well, that was one ugly scream. Sounded like an old hag trying to shout with her throat filled with phlegm.” Roy sheathed Aerondight and crouched to bottle up the dust. “But wraiths aren’t that terrifying if you have Yrden.”

“Stay alert, kid.” Letho kept his eyes on the dark tunnel. “This is just one wraith. How will you handle it if you’re surrounded by two or even three of them?”

***

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