The Banshee and the Banners, Fiction 2

I have outlived my siblings by centuries, but this past year feared I was finally slipping into senility. I couldn’t remember songs and stories I’d known for ages. Many of the voices that shaped my thoughts had gone silent. I despaired.

Then I heard a new voice. It had the warmth of a violin and the majesty of a harp. It was softly singing a lullaby. I followed it and saw a banshee! They’re usually tied to the ancestral home of the family they serve. She was cradling one of the souls that form my mind. I realized with horror that I couldn’t sense that piece of my personality anymore.

She looked up and the lullaby turned into a keening wail. It sounded like my name.

I was frozen with fear. By the time I could move, the banshee had escaped, taking that fragment of my mind with her.

I have outlived my siblings by centuries, but with the knowledge that their souls are enslaved to a Mzil’rothe’sharen Phindar.

Our vast extended family lived together in Schreckenghast Castle. I grew up with a swarm of sisters, brothers, and cousins, each and every one of them as dumb as a rock.

I was always fascinated by death, by the energy gently released at the moment of transformation. I attended every natural death that occurred in our county, from the time I was old enough to toddle down to the village.

It was obvious that Schreckenghast souls did not float away as those of the villagers did. I soon realized we were being trapped like animals. Nobody listened, of course.

I ran away the night before the Mzil’rothe’sharen Phindar destroyed the rest of my family. How could anyone not sense the monster’s growing frustration and greed? I used the necromantic arts to shield myself from the attention of the lich and, eventually, from death itself.

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