Emerging from the library, the party were breathless and marked with a myriad of paper cuts from the frenzied tomes. Continuing their way deeper into the dungeon, it wasn't long before a chamber opened up before them. Sand crunched softly underfoot, as they emerged from the shadows into the gigantic room. Walls encircled them and beyond that, shadowy figures filled something bearing resemblance to an auditorium, their gestures formless.

A single, wavering silhouette circled the group, tattered and black as night. A challenger. 

Yet it was the silence laying thick and heavy, a blanket shrouding the group, that was most alarming. Even their own movements seemed dulled by some unseen force.

"Looks like we've got some fans." Terrence's gaze was filled with a cautious thrill, one that was echoed in the blue-grey of Castalla's eyes. She'd stood in arenas before, battling creatures and monsters while the crowds bayed and cheered. This was merely the same thing... against a formless, faceless creature. What fun.

"Who are they?" Logue asked as he spun on his hind legs to watch the silhouette prowl around them.

At his words, the shadowy figure paused their circling to step closer.

"Spread out, and attack together," Castalla instructed, voice steady and resolve steeled. She was itching for a fight against something bigger than flying books.

Their opponent charged with a sudden burst of movement, lunging as the group moved apart. Castalla met the charge head-on, her muscles coiled and ready. She moved with the lethal grace of a predator, hooves striking nimbly as she danced around the ghost's attacks. But there was no sound of impact, no clash of bodies, only eerie silence and the feeling of something cold and wet.

Terrence moved to join her, his blade flashing through the air, but his strikes seemed to pass though without resistance. "Damn it," he hissed, frustration tinging his voice. "How do we defeat shadow?"

Logue, more cautious, circled the edge of the arena, his eyes searching for some clue, perhaps some evidence of those who had come before, who had faced this apparition and claimed victory. 

Fetch, however, seemed unphased, even excited by the strangeness of their opponent. "Not a fight, but a dance," they sang, moving to stand on the other side of the creature. "Not strength but spirit. Not flesh, but memory."

"If that's you saying you have an idea how to defeat it, it's all yours, Fetch," Castalla said, with a low, humourless chuckle as she slipped beyond the figure’s strike.