HP: Spirit Talker

In front of the Japanese kneeling in blood in the distant cave, five figures appeared silently. The goblins had lost consciousness at that moment. The figures hovered over the blood, not revealing themselves in any way, but Sora sensed them and raised his eyes to the one right in front of him.

A tall man in a white coat and many golden ornaments, a high crown of pharaohs on his black-haired head. There was no question or reproach in the kind, dark eyes, only understanding. At this point, Sora had already moved away from anger and rage, his soul was left with the pain and grief of losing those whose souls and magic he felt, his kin.

The pale man whose skin had turned green shook his head slightly, covering his eyes, and the other four moved silently as well. The boy looked around and noticed that each of them wore a strange helmet on their heads.

One depicted a bird with a long beak, another a predatory short one, one female figure had a helmet depicting some sort of aggressive hippopotamus, and the other depicted a black cat with pointed ears and earrings. Each of the three men and two women wore only a skirt and lots of gold jewelry, the women's breasts covered with wide necklaces of precious stones and metals.

Sora turned her head to the pale man in the crown. Sad, dark eyes stared into the silver pupils as if searching for something. Then the man moved his palm slightly, and the ritual hall was cleared, and the bodies of the girls and their father were wrapped tightly in shrouds.

The creatures surrounding the boy shifted slightly, and the pale man in the crown waved his hand lightly. Out of nowhere, without any effect, a young girl appeared on the stone floor. An oval face, hairy, slightly squinted black eyes, a straight, clean nose, moderately plump lips covered in gold paint and lined with black paint like her eyes.

 Her thick black hair was pulled back at the top of her head, and her forehead was covered with a low quiff. A narrow white skirt to her knees and a wide gold belt accentuated her broad hips, while a narrow white top, embroidered with gold and stones, covered her modest breasts and revealed a beautiful belly. Gold bracelets jingled on the girl's hands, and large rings glittered on her fingers.

In an instant, the pale man stood beside the swarthy beauty, frightened but obediently awaiting her fate. In the man's hands is a thick folio in a rich binding.

— We, all of us, are grateful to you. — finally came the whispering voice of the man in the crown. — And your grief is not unknown to us. We recognize your rights, so we entrust you with our gratitude. — With these words, the man handed Sora a huge and heavy book. — You will decide the fate of the one in whose veins flows the blood of your enemy. Gratefully. — The voice whispered one last time and then the man disappeared.

One by one, the strange guests disappeared, saying "Thank you" and nodding slightly. When they were all gone, the man turned his eyes to the girl. If she had been here a few minutes earlier, he would have destroyed her without a second thought. Now he was in control and could think.

Somehow, he knew for sure that the girl wasn't evil, that she didn't have the seeds of the twisted sadism of the one who had defamed the Minhe sisters. All Sora sensed in the girl was resignation to her fate and the expectation of her punishment. There were no artifacts on this witch either. Yes, he had lost a treasure today, but he had another one in front of him, and who do you have to be to throw away what is rightfully yours?

— What is your name?

— Afiri, Master. — The girl bowed obediently.

— Do you know your position?

— Yes, my lord. The gods told me when they gave me your tongue.

— The gods, eh? — The boy sighed heavily, and the girl was smart enough to realize that this was not a question for her. — Okay, let's go...