The Banshee and the Banners, Fiction 1

He is the last of his accursed kind. A sort of lich even other liches flee from. The gargoyles call them Korpanexvoltaslem, the elves call them Mzil’rothe’sharen Phindaren, and the humans call them Soul Stealers. All three kill these creatures on sight.

I was the banshee of the Schreckenghast family. I failed them. New to the spirit world myself, I did not realize that sensing and announcing their impending deaths was not enough. I should have been guiding them safely into the afterworld.

The Schreckenghast line disappeared long ago in a horrible blaze. Their castle lies in ruins. All these centuries I have wandered, searching for their souls, determined to fulfill my duty. I’ve finally found the Mzil’rothe’sharen Phindar’s lair. I have as many of the souls as I could carry away. However, I cannot break the magical glass that imprisons them. Here’s an idea though…

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