The Pontianak drifted through the jungle night, her white dress glowing. Veil of Beauty. She smelled of frangipani—a sweet scent to mask the rot. She was crying, a soft, mewling sound intended to lure sympathetic men to their doom.
She found a woman resting by a hidden spring. The woman had the upper body of a queen and the lower body of a white serpent. It was Shahmaran, the Queen of Serpents.
The Pontianak hissed, her face contorting into a fanged mask. She saw a rival. She saw prey.
"My child..." she wailed, reaching out with razor claws.
The Cure
Shahmaran looked up. Her eyes held the wisdom of the earth's core. "Your grief is a poison, little sister," she said softly.
The Pontianak lunged.
Shahmaran moved faster than thought. Queen's Coil.
Her massive tail lashed out, wrapping the ghost in a secure, crushing embrace. The Pontianak shrieked, trying to turn intangible, but Shahmaran held her spirit as easily as her form.
"Peace," the Serpent Queen whispered. She bit the ghost gently on the shoulder.
Venom of Wisdom.
It wasn't a lethal toxin. It was a flood of understanding. The venom neutralized the hate that anchored the Pontianak to the world. The ghost’s fangs retracted. Her eyes cleared. Realizing her pain was over, the Pontianak dissolved into white mist, finally allowed to move on, leaving the grove silent once more.