"As you make your way across the Moor, you encounter a spectral Courser wandering aimlessly, its armor aged and torn. A second, human specter – or perhaps an extension of the same spirit – straddles the Courser’s back for some reason. They don’t seem to threaten you, but it’s unclear what would happen if they were to see you…"

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Any protest was futile; even ghosts couldn't always chase away the fate that nipped their heels.

As the spirit drew nearer the human half of the ethereal pair kept searching, eyes wandering over the battlegrounds which surrounded them. Yet for something long since passed, it seemed wary and uncertain; worn leather pulling against the steel that wrinkled against the spectral courser's mouth to direct and lead their search. The steed's teeth clicked against the bar in protest, but another kick and they listened; power and intelligence bowing to simple commands and taut reins.

It made Kalim uneasy and Fetch was faring no better. Stories had been shared of humans and coursers serving as comrades; equal in their place upon the battleground's red throne.

But this was... off.

...

Eventually, it saw the courser duo and, maybe, the human half might have ignored riderless coursers. Initially, at least.

Yet something in the tense bowstring that hung at Fetch's side, an arrow notched by a spectral hand, caused something to stir within the ethereal human. While the courser beneath them began to throw their head, feet stomping and ears pinning while they yelled words neither Kalim nor Fetch understood, the tower in the saddle manifested a lance. A clear steel that contrasted wildly against the red of the Moor. The human called out wild, angry, dangerous.

Once again the courser beneath them spoke, ancient and forgotten words distorted by the steel in their maw. They backed up one, two, three steps in protest. Sharp heels against the barrel urged them forward until, finally, the courser charged.

"We need to run!" Fetch's spectral hand suddenly dropped the arrow from the string, the ether's teeth gripping a strap on Kalim's armor to pull him away.

But something stirred in Kalim's chest and rather than turn away he shifted his position and took a guarded stance. Lance would meet the tower's shield with a sound not unlike a crack of lightning. Momentum pushed Kalim back but the knight remained on his feet; steadfast and focused on the ethereal duo.

He forced the ghosts to pull back.

The spectral human yelled, angry- but the courser beneath them snorted, hoof pawing at the ground as something stirred within them. Eyes that held weary compassion and concerned fear moments ago now held a bright new spark. Robbed of a valiant fate they had died on the Moor cold, hungry, aged legs weak beneath the weight of chainmail and heavy leather. A body torn apart long before the spirit of battle had wavered.

Once again the entity in the saddle tried to kick them forward, but the ghostly courser backed up- one, two, three steps. They ignored the sharp steel; pain had been replaced by determination. The human in the saddle was merely the weapon this time. Then the ghost charged ahead of their own volition- once again meeting Kalim's shield. The bay knight had been pushed back, but like a tower, they stood; a challenge to overcome.

Something to conquer.

"Kalim what are you thinking?!" Fetch called out, the ether concerned and confused by what her companion was doing. There was no merit, no point, to meeting spirits in battle. They had no energy to drain, no life to lose.

"I don't know why but... I feel like they're trapped here," The bay snorted, ears pinning back. "Both of them," as he spoke he shifted his stance, now bringing his own bayonet to a place where he could use it.

The ether courser looked confused, impossible blues settling on Kalim before turning to the ghostly courser and rider.

"Don't worry, I don't go down easily" Kalim spoke proudly before the bay knight charged forward with a roar.

He'd give the spirit the battle they never made it to.