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He ran as fast as he could, stumbling through the trees. Branches catching on his clothes and making small tears in the fabric. A sickly sweet voice echoed from the trees around him. “There is no need to run, all I want to do is talk Wemmbu.”
Wemmbu skidded to a stop, sword weighing heavy in his hand. “Just show yourself already!” he barked. His voice strained from running. How long had he even been running for..? A chuckle echoed from around him. His eyes darted around, sweat trickling down his face.
“Oh Wemmbu, why do you run? Why do you hide? You know it's not worth it.” A vivid image of a player appeared in the trees, the long ago friendly silhouette now bitter with memories. The kind eyes now shaded with hate. The silhouette moved around Wemmbu, the laugh that once warmed his heart now just empty of any warmth, of any fondness.
Wemmbu stood his ground, eyes squinted as he tried to keep track of where the silhouette danced around. “You know we can never be again.” the voice dripped with disgust. A sharp slap to the face it felt like. Wemmbu spoke up “You act like it's my fault! You were the one who didn’t trust me Zam. You were the one who ran.”
“HAH-! And here you are now, you know I’m not real. You know I’m gone. Yet you still think of me.” The voice echoed back from the trees. The sound distorting like a broken record. “Still weak like the day I left.”
The edges bent and blurred of the shadowy player, the memory of the once powerful king disappearing. “You know you can’t forget, you know you’ll never be the same.”
“You still the same Wemmbu I once knew” it laughed, “And you are not the Zam I once called a friend.” Wemmbu spit out. He stepped forward and struck his sword at the shadow, the blade cutting into a tree. The silhouette no more.
Wemmbu set back, the midnight breeze blowing his hair softly as he pulled his sword back. “Good bye Zam.”