"How in the name of Niryati do we even get in there?" Lina broke the awed silence. Aarin sighed and shook his head. He needed to get it together; they were finally here, and he couldn't let this opportunity slip. He stood up, dusted himself off to the best of his abilities, and hesitantly beaded the locket on the chain on his neck.
Aarin didn't know how much he had changed after all these centuries, but he knew for a fact this ghost of his past was smart. Considering the locket had shown up after all this time, he had a feeling he'd have to keep it close.
"We can sneak in wearing our robes," Aarin stated, "I'm going to mask your soul… Just do not get in trouble."
Unlike mortals and reapers, ghosts had a corrupted soul. Their pains, desires, and violence all culminated into a certain type of essence that mortals could not replicate naturally.
Aarin drew the characters for 'mask' on their chests and channelled his energy into it.
Though it didn't change anything physically, he could already sense their presence coming off differently. Unless someone were looking for them specifically, they'd be able to blend in with the dead.
"Rub some dirt on your clothes, conceal your talismans and any other indicator of your identity," Aarin commanded. "We don't want to stand out."
"What do we do once we get in?" Lina asked as both the juniors aggressively pressed mud onto their silk robes.
"It won't be possible to check for immortality passes on every single ghost present in the festival," Aarin said. "It's a lot easier to know who doesn't carry one. Spirits who haven't passed on and have no valid reason to remain tend to be more volatile; it's in their nature to cause chaos."
"Pinpointing 'chaos' when the name is 'Festival Of Ecstasy' doesn't sound like a breeze." Kian hummed.
"I never said it would be easy," Aarin responded with the shadow of an amused smile. "Just stay in the crowd and check for anyone causing too much of a ruckus. If you sense corruption, summon me. If that's not possible, perform the exorcism from as far as you can. And for everyone's sake, do not go and get drunk."
Once all three looked decently ragged and muddy, they made their way towards the bridge. Ghosts came in a wide variety, from looking decayed to alive, from terrifying to charming. That simple fact made it easy for the three reapers to blend into the crowd without trouble.
Aarin had expected something to go wrong immediately, but it seemed as though luck was finally in his favor.
The moment Aarin stepped onto the bridge, a chill ran through him. He could see both his juniors shivering by his side. The blue and green candles flickered. Ghosts giggled and chattered excitedly, all fading into the mist once they reached the other side of the bridge. Aarin took in a deep breath.
Their main objective was surveillance, yes, but Aarin had an agenda of his own. He was curious to investigate the higher ghost lords, just in case it would give him any clues about the rising undead activity.
The closer they got to the mist, the heavier their bodies felt. Aarin held himself well, but the two younger ones were clearly starting to struggle. As long as they didn't collapse to the ground, it'd be okay. Finally, the steady rush of the river and the forest began to disappear around them, overtaken by this heavy fog. Aarin took in a deep breath. It reeked of rot and death, of spices and cinnamon, of cloves and jasmine-
He's here. Oh gods, he's here.
Aarin reached for the locket on his chest and held it so tightly his knuckles turned white. His head hurt, his heart beat far too fast for someone who hadn't been alive in centuries. Finally, the fog subsided, and what unfurled before their eyes was nothing short of breathtaking.
The sky that had been a twilight overhead was now dark gray with a crimson moon overhead.
Musicians sat on high platforms with their instruments, and beautiful women danced to the music. Vendors sold food, weapons, lost treasures, dismembered limbs, and about everything else. Graceful, scantily clad servants could be seen weaving in and out, serving high-ranking spirits.
Ghosts cackled and swayed and fought and stumbled around. The entire swarm would probably devour itself for the lack of anything better. All these centuries later, and the festival still ran on nothing but primitive desire.
"In the name o-" Lina slapped her hand on Kian's mouth before he could finish the sentence.
Aarin took in a deep breath.
"And this is where we separate," he told the two quietly. "Cover as much ground as you can and meet me here once I call for you. I… I have faith in you."
Once they split up, Aarin immediately began walking deeper into the crowd, searching. He had tunnel vision, letting the bustling bodies take him farther in without looking at anything else. Finally, after a little while of wandering, he found it.
At the very center of the festival was a palace. He watched as a drunk ghost staggered after a performer, giggling absent-mindedly. She looked over her shoulder with disgust and stepped over the threshold of the gate. The drunk pervert tried to follow and was thrown back by an invisible shield.
Aarin frowned. With such protection, clearly, there was something inside, something worth looking at, but it was going to be tricky getting in. He hung around the entrance and observed. It seemed as though the only people allowed in were servants and performers… Aarin knew what he would have to do, but he wasn't looking forward to it at all.
He waited patiently for the right moment. The moment he noticed an attendant who didn't look as experienced, with big, curious eyes, nervous twitches, and wobbly legs, he swooped in. A simple incantation, and that seemed enough to take control.
Nervous or shaky minds were the easiest to influence. The poor servant turned away from the gate and began making his way to the alley nearby. Aarin waited a little to avoid suspicion before following.
One knocked out ghost and a quick change of clothes later, Aarin was ready. He had been decent enough to clothe the ghost with his own robes after the fact, though he would've given anything to have more fabric on his body.
It was cold, and the dhoti resting on his waist did nothing to shield him from the chill. He had to strategically place the scarf to hide the scar running down his torso, the only mark on his body that he couldn't get rid of. Many variables, far too many ways this could backfire on him.
But he had come too far to back down now.
So with a painfully artificial smile, he picked up the pot of rose sharabat and made his way to the gate. It was a desperate attempt. He couldn't stop his thoughts from wandering as he stepped in. A place so well-guarded would probably be able to determine he was an intruder; he needed to be prepared for a fight-
He just stepped in and was immediately pulled aside by another servant.
"You're late," the attendant hissed at Aarin.
"Ugh, it's always the new ones," commented a dancer standing beside them. Aarin smiled nervously. It wasn't his best acting, but they didn't seem too intrigued by him anyway. They seemed a lot more interested in oogling the revellers.
The inside of the palace was so grand it would've put kings to shame. Gold and silk adorned the walls, while baskets of fruits, pots of alcohol, plates of meat, and rotting flesh were strewn across the hall. The stairs went up to about three stories high, and every floor was filled with people.
Dancers performed on the top storey. Flower petals periodically rained down from the ceiling, fading into fragrant dust before they ever had the chance to reach the bottom floor.
Ghosts ate, drank, and spoke to one another in hushed tones. By the lack of decay on their bodies, the clothes they wore, and their very air, Aarin could tell he was amidst ghost-lords.
"Well, what are you waiting for, newbie?" The attendant who had pulled him aside urged him, keeping her voice low enough to hide under the music. "Go on. You're pretty 'nough. If you do a good job, you might just get the night of your life."
She and the dancer giggled conspiratorially.
Aarin would much prefer not to find out what that meant, but he wasn't going to get to eavesdrop without getting close. And if he had his mind set on something, he wasn't going to back down.
So with a forced laugh, he joined the revelry.