“Arlun.” the ethereal hole in his chest burst outward, engulfed the frail old man. With a thud his lifeless body fell to the ground.In the pale moonlight that seemed to breathe life into the rising patches of mist, Ytha saw for a moment her fathers spirit where his body stood straight a moment before, the Banshee and he held hands before both vanished as if a sudden gust of wind had blown them away like normal mist. Dim distant lights ahead told Ytha of the village. She seemed to have outrun the mist of the Banshees, as she reached the house in which she and her wife lived. “What troubles you?” Othuen hurried from the back of their house after Ytha had slammed shut the front door. Trembling, short on breat the sanctum maiden saw her wife leaning against the door, her clothes were dirty and ragged. In an outburst of agony Ytha suddenly let out a terrified scream.Othuen kneed down next to her wife, gently caressing her head. In greasy strands Ythas hair hung into her face as she let out the agony of the past hours. Gasping for air in between her sobs Ytha told Othuen what had happened at her fathers home. “You should lie down for rest my love.” Othuen spoke gently, but feared that she was unable to hide her sorrow and worries. A soft nod was Ythas reply, helped by her wife Ytha found her way to bed. Immediately she sunk into deep, dreamless sleep, engulfing her like the blanket that Othuen put over her. Loud voices from the front room woke Ytha somewhen around noon, before hearing what was spoken she clearly heard the familiar voices of Othuen and her brother. “a Banshee did it?” the end of sentence uttered by he brother was enough for Ytha to understand what he had asked. “She saw it with her own eyes, and I trust her in that regard.” A disgruntled noise arose from Arthen, he had made that noise since their childhood whenever he was displeased. Ytha sometimes thought it was the first thing she ever heard from him. He probably wanted a little brother, not a sister. From the noises that came through the door Ytha knew her brother was about to leave. “What can you tell me of your mother?” Ytha felt an emotional sting piercing through her heart. Their mother had died when Ytha was just an infant and Arthen but a small child. Othuen knew that. “Not much. I can barely remember her face as a vague shape before my mental eye.” he sighed. “You don’t think it was mother that came back as Banshee to cull father?” again Ytha felt emotionally stinged, but waited for the next words uttered. “You weavers are a strange folk!” apparently Othuen had replied nonverbally. “I will never understand you! I’m just glad Ytha isn’t a weaver.”