Xperia 4.0

The compilation of whispered chants spread into ghostly forms of men holding a variety of weapons. Each completely different to the last.
Alasdair couldn’t avoid his muscles tensing up, it was like they had a mind of their own. Muscles he didn’t even know he had clenched around his bones. They started to burn as if he were being stretched in unusual positions.
The ghostly warriors raised their heads at him as they lined up behind Arellia, her head still bowed, her chanting still mingled with theirs.
The first to step forwards was the first to appear, he had a large sword that looked as though it had a smaller set of swords clamped on either side. It lifted the blade towards him and waited. Did he want him to take it? Not that he didn’t want to but his body was not under his command anymore. Then words separate from the chant echoed clearly in Alasdair’s head.
“Your muscles need to adjust in order to use this weapon, understand when you die that blade will cease to exist, do you accept the contract of guardian to our daughter’s daughter?”.
His brow furrowed, ‘when’ he dies? Not if? The sudden certainty of his demise seemed to pause inside his heart. Was he ready? Hesitation, frustration, and fear battled down from his mind.
His eyes glanced to Arellia. Her beautiful face still bowed. She had chosen him over others who had more experience. She had picked him. But had she picked because he didn’t know what was happening? Was it a mercy selection?
Then the memory of their last conversation before the trials rippled through his mind. The council had decided to accelerate her selection process. They were going to force someone upon her until she gave birth then she’d be killed. She was also going to die. But she couldn’t back away from the decision…
He took a deep breath. Willed his arms to lift. And he took the sword from the ghost.
“Very well”.
It wasn’t over. The ghost then touched his face. Sinking into his eyes. Alasdair had a moment of panic. Unprepared for the invasion happening to his body, as each ghost form stepped forward and sunk into his flesh. Memories of lives he had not lived flood his thoughts. Each one adding more and more that the pile soon just mashed together.
When the last ghost slipped into him, the whispers stopped. Arellia lifted her head with a soft smile on her face. She seemed to be searching his eyes for something.
He felt the odd impulse to reach out his hand. To brush his thumb over her cheek. Yet he didn’t.