The harvest moon had come and gone from the sky. Not long after it's passing, Ridley felt a stirring within The Realm. He had tried at first to ignore the whispers. They were tedious and annoying, the way they buzzed in his ear, speaking nonsense towards him. The days turned into nights and with each one, the whispers grew louder. It wasn't long until they had turned into full blown shouting, screaming, begging and pleading. He could not withstand his calling anymore. They needed him, and as much as he didn't want to get back to work, he had to. If he didn't, the spirits would run rampant. It might even be too late already to stop those who were more restless.
"You know I can't assist all of you." Ridley rumbled with his cool, even tone. Currently, it was midnight with a clear sky dotted with thousands upon thousands of stars. For Ridley, however, the beautiful stars above were lost to him. Beyond him stretched tall, dark trees with canopies that engulfed the floor below. The foliage nearer the base of the trees grew impossibly thick despite the lack of light that stretched to reach it. Something else fed the hungry growth below, perhaps ashes and nutrients from the nearby volcano? Or perhaps the foliage lived without needing light, and stayed hydrated by the fog (or maybe smog?) that smothered the forest. He sat atop a boulder blackened by the mold and mildew of the environment. It was slimy beneath his paws. It wasn't his first choice for a proper seat, but it at least lifted him up higher than the brush that coated the flooring.
"It would be impossible. If you don't like floating around as a spirit, trapped in the Void, then maybe you shouldn't have died" The shouting dulled down to a whisper for a second before picking back up once more. Atop the gross mildew covered boulder, Ridley sat proper with his tail curled around the rock. His silver eyes were closed shut and his muzzle was tilted downwards slightly, ears perked forward. Shadows engulfed Ridley as it did the rest of the forest. It was not done with any magic, at least not any that belonged to the Necromancer. No, his magic was represented by the swirling white light lights that danced around him like visible gusts of wind. Occasionally, they would faintly shift into the shapes of animals. His magic did not limit him from speaking just to the wolves who had died.
A light source grew brighter, swirled around Ridley as he sat, and formed into the shape of a hawk. Brighter and brighter it glowed, faster and faster it raced around Ridley. Still he remained still atop the boulder. "So be it." he stated firmly, his tone still calm and collected. His eyes opened, and yet instead of glowing silver, they shined with an inky sort of blackness. As they opened, the spirit of the hawk dove for his face. Ridley's muzzle parted wide, but it did not snap upwards at the spirit. From the shadows stretched an inky likeness of his face. It's jaws parted and it snapped down, coating the glowing spirit in the ink. As suddenly as the figure in the air had formed, it melted and disappeared away, the light from the spirit vanquished. Ridley closed his inky eyes with a blink and reopened them. They were vibrant silver once more. "Who's next?" he challenged, grinning as the spirits settled their selves for the time being.
