《The Great Calamity》


 A Hidden Temple

    The night was dark and eerie in the forests of Duskmoor, and deep in its woodlands there rested a monastery upon a hill. A temple with a wall around it, and clearly not a common place of worship. It resembled a dark castle in the fog, with a bell tower looming above its courtyard.


    "How much time do we have left?¡° Asked Luthor, with clear concern in his serious voice. He was an aging man with long hair, dressed in dark leather clothes and a coat.


    "It is yet unknown,¡° a voice from a gilded armor answered. It was the Grand Paladin Aryon Smite himself. The Witch-Hunters usually dealt with the matters of the Realms of Men alone and under their own command, so the presence of such a figure indicated that the problem they are facing right now was far out of the ordinary.


    "It hasn''t been long since the plague appeared in Aerinthorn, yet the people speak of its mythical nature, which leads many to believe it''s more than a common affliction; we could easily be dealing with a curse.¡° Aryon added, "The order has decided to send all of its available witch hunters and their acolytes to Aerinthorn so they can disperse to the nearby villages and deal with the task at hand.¡°


    Hearing that, Luthor''s acolyte quickly strode to his room. He was a young man with brown hair and blue eyes, and he went by the name Eldon Cay. He walked through a long hallway and downstairs to a basement of a temple, where the rooms were. After opening a large wooden door, he entered his chamber and rummaged through shelves, on one side filled with old books of all sorts and on the other with magical potions, tinctures, and relics.


    "Mugwort, there must be some mugwort...¡° He spoke to his chin, and as the doors creaked open, he heard Luthor''s voice; "Don''t forget crimson ruby, iron dust, holy water, and glittering gold.¡°


    "Glittering gold?¡°


    "Catch!¡° Luthor spoke and threw a small linen sack. After catching, Eldon peeked inside and saw lots of small golden petals that seemed to shine on their own with a soft golden glow. "The gold is way less potent on its own than silver, the purifying element; however, it has an ability to be infused with holy energy, which creates glittering gold, quite useful against all sorts of creatures, especially unholy and the undead.¡° Luthor spoke and left.


    Eldon knew he had to prepare fast; the witch-hunters often rode at night, rarely ever waiting for the morning to start their journeys, so he grabbed some ember root too, a spicy herb often used as a remedy to keep the travelers and guardsmen awake during the night.


    During that time, Luthor went to the castle''s courtyard, passing many sentinels on his way, the temple''s soldiers composed of the acolytes that finished their training but were not deemed worthy of becoming real witch hunters. And among them many servants, most often young future priests who are now serving their duty at the temple, who would be occasionally picked by the witch-hunters to serve as acolytes.


    Luthor was already a senior and experienced master witch-hunter, and everyone he saw greeted him with a downward nod of respect.


    "Prepare my horse, and bring one for my acolyte too.¡° He spoke to one of the servants, and the blonde boy obeyed.


    As soon as the horses were ready, the two rode out of the monastery gates, down the barely visible road through the forest, and the path slowly disappeared before them. Just in minutes they rode through the dark woodlands at night, lit only by the light of the full moon.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.Eldon could not see well in the dark, barely better than a common person, so he followed Luthor. The eyes of witch-hunters were red, and they allowed them to see in the dark, but that was not the only trait; their main advantage was that they could easily see magic and the magical creatures that were often invisible to the common folk.


    Their horses galloped through the woodlands, and both of the horses were raven black. The trail ahead and behind them was barely visible, and the galloping horses only left a handful of flying leaves in their wake, slowly descending through the night.


    "Forests of Duskmoor are known for the fae that dwell inside of them, the fairies of the night court, especially active while the moon is full,¡° his old mentor spoke.


    The silence of the night was not promising of any encounter, but Eldon could not help but feel like he was being watched by the countless eyes from the darkness, so he held his sack of iron dust by his hip, and he held tight on it. Perhaps they could pass before catching their attention, for they must be used to the witch-hunters trespassing upon their lands so close to their secret keep, or perhaps they passed so quickly that they evaded their notice, or maybe the stories of the night fae were simply nothing more than a myth to scare off the wandering peasants to return to their homes.


    "The wolves are hungry.¡° Eldon spoke, knowing about many encounters between wolves and the peasants, especially after the sacking of Lindenrow, a village destroyed by the Ur''glun horde led by their dreaded warchief Nal''zuk.


    And indeed he could hear the wolf''s howl in the distance, an ominous sign of the impending dark times, or maybe just a folk superstition, for he could hear many of them for the past months or even years. He wondered if the people simply got used to the omens and ignored their importance, like sitting ducks, or if those were nothing but the superstitions of the old that caught on in the books of lore that the witch-hunters learned from and that their apprentices often read. Yet the howls were closer and closer, and they sounded unnatural, almost like the howling spirits of the past.


    Eldon was a good student; he knew well that he should always obey his master, and he read plenty of the books.


    He knew about the Age of Calamity, the war of the gods that ended four thousand years ago, and he knew that Duskmoor was known to be one of the battlefields upon which many remains were laid, both of the humans ruled by the king Ventrius the First, crowned by Xorael, the god of light and order, Xorael''s servants, the Alofyr, his angelic warriors that fought by his side, as well as the remains of their enemies, the Dark Angels, the Alofyr that took Aroseth''s side when he rebelled against Xorael, and the Gorugolm, monstrous servants of Aroseth, the god of chaos and night.


    It used to be a lush forest with many rivers and springs, but after the first age of calamity, by the sheer presence of the wraiths and their remains of violent deaths and carnage, it was turned into a dark woodland upon which a thick fog lays every night, and its land has turned into a swamp and moor.


    Eldon knew better than to be afraid of the harmless mistwraiths, even if he could see them way better than the common folk, but what made him afraid was not the wraiths nor the wolves, but the reason why wolves became more active at night.

 A Journey through The Weeping Woods

    The silence between him and his mentor Luthor has remained unbroken for many moments, and as they rode further, as if by a magic spell, his mentor spoke almost as if he could read his thoughts:


    "Wolves are hungry because the Urgluns hunted the forests empty; the elk and deer are gone, and the only food that they can hope to find is now humans.


    The scouts report many altars upon which the ur''glun''s cursed kin lay the remains of the men that fell to their hands, remains of their bones and their skinned bodies, only to feed the wolves and give them the taste of human flesh."


    The aging mentor stopped for a moment and then continued:


    "It''s an ominous sight to behold, for I have seen some for myself, many mangled bodies hanging upon the trees, their flesh torn by the beast as far as they can reach, and many more remains scattered on the floor; their lifeless eyes don''t do justice to their torment, their gaze like they are waiting for the salvation that would never come to their rescue, and what remains of their existence was already condemned to hopeless suffering, a horrible way to end a life."


    "So why would they do such a thing?¡° Young Eldon replied.


    "Wolves don''t only go after the men; once the forests are depleted, they go after the cattle; they cause famine and death, and Ur''gluns only come to collect the rest.¡°


    It was clear for the young acolyte that the best times for mankind are slowly coming to an end. The times are changing, and for the worse. To think that the future depends on him would not only be a burden but also a hopeless dream, and reality was much different than that.


    As he rode through the night, he could hear the autumn leaves with every step of his horse, and he could feel the breeze of the coming winter. He could smell it in the wind and the fog. All that he could get to his mind was the words from the superstitions that came from the distant north, where mankind is less sophisticated, the winters are longer, and the frosts are sharper, while the city walls are way thinner. Yet the dark superstitions from the distant north reminded him of the reality he faces right now and of the times that are coming; they were simply known as the wolf''s winter.


    "If we continue at this pace, we will reach the ruins of Lindenrow by sunrise,¡° said Luthor as he continued riding.


    "That means we will be going through the Weeping Woods?¡° Asked the young acolyte, with his eyes wide open and his voice unsteady.


    "Yes.¡° The answer from his mentor was serious and cold.


    "Hasn''t that path become dangerous ever since the Ur''glun tribes have united?¡° The acolyte thought, remembering the atrocities that happened during the fall of Lindenrow.


    "Ur''gluns are nocturnal; that is why we hope to pass through their territory during the day, while they are the least active; chances of encountering them are relatively low.¡° As the duo rode through the dense woods, the forest around them slowly changed into a misty moor, and the skies above them were dark and full of stars that swarmed around the full circle of the moon.


    As his horse galloped, Eldon took a bite of ember root that he had earlier prepared to keep him awake. It had a strong earthy yet spicy flavor, and it was bitter and hard to chew, yet it helped to ward off tiredness.


    The young acolyte looked at the stars and remembered the old stories and the marching songs that often portrayed them as the fallen heroes of mankind. Certainly there were many, yet he thought, maybe one day he will have his own star in the night sky among the others.


    As he spent some time in his thoughts, he could see a dim glow at the horizon in the east towards the kingdom''s heartland, the first lights of the coming dawn. He could also see a large star appear in the east, and it was Nogryl, the morning star.


    The stories say that by the time Nogryl appears in the sky, the creatures of night start fleeing to their dens before the sunrise, and it is when night changes into the day, so the sight filled him with hope and the feeling of safety.


    Yet the morning mist still lingered, and he could see many shapes of men standing in the fog, in straight lines, and holding spears. He knew that those are the mistwraiths of Oxendell, a field where two great battles happened, many years apart.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.He looked closely at them; he knew that they could not see him, for they were only the remnants of the past, but as he looked closely, and as the breeze blew, carrying the mist, it formed into a larger shape, resembling a troll.


    The journey went on, and the night slowly turned into a day, as the two riders were approaching the woodland, earlier known as Oldwood, now named the Weeping Woods.


    "If you look towards the woods, you can see the remains of Lindenrow in the distance.¡° Luthor spoke and grasped his reins tightly. It was clear that the uncertainty had filled the air as the duo slowly entered the Weeping Woods.


    The woodland became thicker and denser with each step, and the canopies of the trees barely let any light pass. A heavy presence could be felt in the forest, and it was unlike the presence of night fae from Duskmoor; this one was much more sinister and dreadful.


    Luthor seemed to be extremely careful while riding through those woods, and Eldon did not like that even the slightest bit. Even the horses themselves looked frightened, but they went on.


    "Can you hear them in the distance?¡° The old mentor asked, and indeed Eldon could. He could hear the echoing shrieks and weeps that seemed to be just humanlike enough to be even more unsettling than those of the common beasts.


    "They found us.¡° Luthor spoke and leaned forward in his saddle, and his horse started galloping faster, and the other one followed. The cries and screams were coming closer. Eldon felt a rush of adrenaline while his horse sped through the woods and he dodged branches ahead of him.


    The howls were approaching, and there were many.


    Soon enough, he spotted one of them on a nearby branch: a gray goblinoid about the size of a child, with long ears, orange eyes, and many black stumps on his skin. He let out a terrifying shriek, and its teeth were sharp, rotten, and snaggled, and a black ooze poured down from its mouth. The riders were chased by a pack of Ur''gluns and their wolves, starved and monstrous, with their eyes bulging, and their teeth aching and drooling for a prey.


    As they rode, many arrows missed them by a hair''s width and pelted the nearby trees and branches. The horses were much faster than the Ur''gluns that chased them, and they left them behind, yet it was unclear if more of them would be encountered throughout their ride, so they could not stop even for a second.


    The forest divided the kingdom into two parts, and there was no going back. Their first stop will be Aerinthorn, the plagued land that they were going after, yet a long journey was still ahead. As they kept riding, the morning slowly turned into the noon, and it was very rare to see an urglun in that time of the day, yet the group remained cautious.


    As they continued their long journey through the woodlands, the evening was slowly setting, and the horses were already tired, but to their luck, the woodland seemed to disappear before them as they left it behind and entered Aerinthorn.


    It was a large valley surrounded by the mountains with many hills in it, and the canopies of the trees were red like the autumn. There were roads that went between the hills, and they were surrounded by thorns and a wattle fence, and in the distance they could see a village with a wooden wall around it. Even the air around the village seemed to be heavy and filled with an ominous feeling; the riders felt almost as if they were being watched from every bush by some hidden, unseen eyes. Braving the eerie feeling, they rode down the road towards the village, and as they approached, they saw a large wooden gate and a wooden tower next to it. It did not take long for a guard to spot them from the top of the tower.


    "Hey there! Stop!" The guard yelled and leaned against the wooden fence on top of the tower.


    "We are the witch-hunters; open the gate," Luthor replied.


    "Not so fast! Do you have any proof of it besides the dark coat?" The guard yelled, and soon after, he looked into the distance, instantly changing his attitude.


    "Open the gate!" The guard ordered, and the gate was slowly opened by the rest of the guards.


    Luthor looked behind and saw a torchlight in the fog, and he could hear the sound of many steps coming from that direction.

 Justice is a Luxury

    As the light approached, he saw a convoy of men appear from the mist, carrying torches and wooden shields; some had sickles, billhooks, and hatchets, and some had crude iron swords.


    They also carried strange trinkets, short oak stakes at their hip, horseshoes, necklaces made of dried onions, vials of holy water, and other sorts of things of either superstition or magical properties.


    It was clearly no professional army, for there was no uniform, not even the standardized equipment, and there was but a handful of them, around ten, led by a large man in chainmail armor and with animal fur on his shoulders.


    The men wore ordinary peasant clothing, some bolstered by pieces of crude leather armor, and some wearing thick linen gambesons.


    As the men approached the village walls, the witch-hunters watched from the saddles of their raven-black horses, and they could see that the men were leading two women in tattered linen dresses and tied in a rope, with their hands tied and their mouths covered.


    The first woman was old; her face was wrinkled, and her hair was gray, and she had a strange birthmark on her face, and the second woman was younger, with long dark hair and brown eyes.


    "This must be the Hogwatch."


    "The Hogwatch?" Eldon asked, and his mentor answered,


    "In some simpler times, peasants organized into groups to watch over the crops at night, to protect their land from wild boars and other sorts of creatures; however, as the times became grim, the role of Hogwatch shifted from the simple patrols that occasionally light fires to scare the animals to the people''s first line of defense against the creatures of darkness."


    "But aren''t the guards from the village militia there to protect them?" Eldon asked.


    "In the outer reaches of the kingdom, the kingsmen serve only one purpose: to keep order and make sure the taxes are paid accordingly, so the peasants often have to resort to protecting themselves."


    The witch-hunters rode through the gate and entered the village''s wooden walls, followed by the group of armed men.


    As the men lined up in front of the large wooden door of the tavern, they stood in a half-circle around the witch-hunters as they dismounted, their deep, dark boots landing in the wet mud and gravel.


    "Forgive the audacity of the kingsmen up in the towers; the Witch-Hunters are welcome to our humble village." The large man in armor spoke in a harsh accent as he leaned against his longsword that reached the height of his chest.


    "The incident is forgiven," Luthor replied.


    "As you may know, the vile curse was cast upon our lands; perhaps that would be the reason for your visit?"


    "Indeed." Luthor replied.


    Let me introduce myself; my name is Garric Thane, the watchmaster of our humble village, Brynmire," Garric continued. "The villagers are growing restless; the curse has to be stopped, unless we are all to go insane. Some of us haven''t slept for days!"


    Luthor looked upon the tired men that stood behind the torches, their eyes barely held open and their faces tortured by the sleeplessness.


    "For how long has the curse lingered?"


    "A couple of months at least, it all started with the dreadful feel, but nobody spoke about the curse until the farmhands started digging out eggs from the ground!"


    "Yes! The village was frightened, but nobody gave it a second thought until one of the bulls disappeared!" The men started adding stories upon stories, but the witch-hunters were not concerned until one of them spoke,


    "Soon after, the priest''s boy disappeared! a young acolyte!"


    "Of what age?" Luthor questioned.


    "He was seventeen years old, master hunter!"


    "Damn..." Luthor mumbled to his chin; his mood became clearly more concerned.


    "We brought two suspects, accused of witchcraft! We are to burn them, but what we ask is for your confirmation if they are users of magic! Tales say the witch-hunter''s eyes can see the vile powers like a faint glow!"


    "The tales speak true," Luthor replied, and concerned Eldon rummaged through his pouch to find the crimson ruby, a dark ruby through which the flows of magic could be seen even by the mortal eyes.


    "These women look innocent." He thought, and he decided to confirm it with the ruby, and no matter what the results are, before Luthor, a much more zealous witch-hunter could reveal the truth, Eldon was to let them go, by using lies if needed.


    His mentor would not go against his word as to not damage the reputation of the temple, the young acolyte thought.


    "Is the boy insane?" If he pulls out that ruby, the Hogwatch will surely check! for even the mere mortal''s eyes could see the flows of magic through it!" Luthor thought as Eldon made a grave mistake pulling out the ruby.


    Before Eldon was to lie and Hogwatch to catch him in his benevolent yet treacherous deed, Luthor''s eyes shifted bloodily red with a faint glow. He looked at the faces of the accused, and everything around him seemed to turn dark; all living things shined with a white glow, and around the witches, he could see a shimmering white mist that indicates the presence of magic.


    "They are witches," Luthor replied, his words condemning the accused to a horrible death.


    "Burn them! Set our village free! Quickly, assemble the stakes in front of the church; tonight we''ll bring them justice!" Watchmaster Garric proclaimed.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.The men pulled the accused by the rope and dragged them towards the churchyard, as the rest of them prepared the stakes, and the women, both young and old, screamed in terror as the watchmen threw the ropes tied around their wrists over the cross.


    The younger woman managed to free her mouth and yell, "Don''t do this! We are not the witches that you seek! We are nothing more than the herbalists, the users of nature''s magic!"


    "Pagan blood!" The watchmaster yelled, and the men continued with the rite, pulling on the ropes that were thrown over the cross and dragging the accused up to it''s wooden arms.


    A priest''s apprentice, a dark-haired, middle-aged, pale man with tired eyes of a madman took the ladders from the logger''s house and placed them against the cross before climbing up, pulling thick iron nails from his pouch and hammering them straight through the woman''s wrist into the cold wood of the cross.


    The screams of agony filled the air and rang through the village as the hammer blows rang against the nail, and the accused was nailed to the stake; the thick nail cracked her wrist bones and perforated her veins, and the blood poured down her arm, soaking the white dress.


    "Hereby, for the use of magic, as well as rejection of one true god, Xorael the King of Gods, as well as the Monarch''s rule, I sentence you to death by fire for the sin committed against the god and mankind!" The watchmaster proclaimed as the men hammered the nails into the wrists of the second accused and piled dry branches around the stakes before pouring thick black pitch on top of the heap and lighting it aflame. The women screamed as the flames grew higher, reaching their feet and painting them black as charcoal, engulfing their dresses, hair, and entire bodies, and as they burned, they let out the ungodly screams of suffering and agony, barely muffled by the ringing of the church bells in the middle of the night.


    The Hogwatch formed a half-circle around them as they watched them burn, the wails ringing in their ears, speaking of immeasurable pain and an inhumane ending. The priest appeared among the crowd, chanting his own chants in some language not understood by the mortals, the language of the Alofyr perhaps, attempting to redeem their souls. Yet redemption never met those unwilling to take it.


    The older of the accused witches was engulfed by the flames, and soon enough, she stopped screaming, her body burning violently, leaving only a black husk behind, a shape of human in the middle of flames that no longer responds to pain, as life has already left its body, and it''s nothing more than charred remains.


    On the other hand, the flames haven''t caught so rigorously underneath the younger witch, yet her body was aflame as well, and her screams stopped too, not by the death but by her own resolve.


    As her face slowly burned and the flames engulfed her facial features, she spoke in a calm voice:


    "I cast a curse upon you! and may the Forest-Father hear my words; you''ll forever be damned for your deeds!" The woman cursed her executors as the flames grew higher and higher and swallowed her, burning her body into a burned corpse.


    The entire village smelled like burned hair, flesh, and sulfur as the fires slowly calmed and settled and the stakes collapsed into the ash and coal.


    "That''s it, boys; the witches are burned. Claim your well-deserved rest as kingsmen sit upon the towers and look over the village!" The watchmaster yelled, and the men, dismissed by his words, carried their weapons over their shoulders and walked towards their homes, much to the scorn of the guardsmen up in their wooden nests. It was clear that most of the men questioned Garric''s deeds, yet none of them complained.


    As everyone left the pile of ash that remained from the accused, so did the witch-hunter and his acolyte.


    "Were they really witches?" Eldon asked with anger in his voice.


    "No."


    "So why did you condemn them to die?"


    "Be wise boy." The old witch-hunter replied.


    "Wise? What are you talking about? You could easily say they aren''t guilty!" The furious acolyte spoke through his teeth as they walked towards the tavern, barely holding himself from yelling.


    "You were about to pull out the crimson ruby," his mentor replied.


    "I was! I wanted to do it only to save them! They are innocent! All I wanted to do was prove it with the trinket!"


    "Fool." Luthor dismissed coldly. "What do you mean by that?"


    "You just killed them." Luthor replied and added,


    "If you pulled out that gem and declared them innocent, do you think nobody from the mob would take it from you to check with their own eyes? The men are tired; they want a solution, not a whimpering boy that lectures them!" Luthor replied, barely holding his anger back.


    "So what?"In the worst case, they''d burn them as they already did!"


    "They''d burn us too, fool! I''m hearing none of this! Next time think before you act! Justice is a luxury we can not afford!" The master witch-hunter yelled, as he couldn''t hold himself much longer.


    As they walked towards the tavern, a drunk stranger sat beside the road and leaned against the tavern, lowering his face behind the dark leather hat that hid it.

 Cursed Blades

    As the men approached the tavern, Garric appeared out of the darkness of the streets, after making sure all of his men were dismissed and everyone safely reached their home:


    "You seem to be tired from the journey. Take a rest; I will take care of your horses. There is an empty room in The White Raven, our humble tavern."


    "Agreed," Luthor replied as he handed the reins of his horse to the watchmaster, and his apprentice followed. The men entered a tavern through its large wooden door that led straight to the mead hall. Its tables were broad, and the whole room was dimly lit by the lanterns and the fireplace.


    They walked upstairs and entered an empty room at the end of the hall. It smelled of dust and old wooden furniture. The room was cold, and so were the woolen sheets, and Eldon could feel the shivers go down his body as he rested beneath the blanket, its coarse fibers doing little to block the chill.


    The time has passed as he fiddled with an iron cross on his necklace, thinking about his life back in the temple and his journey ahead. He simply could not fall asleep; his thoughts just spiraled around, and he found himself in the state of delirium. He could hear the faint sound of singing in the background, playing with his mind.


    "Who sings in this hour?" he wondered, and there was nothing but silence. "I must be imagining things," he thought as the tiredness prevailed and he rolled over to his side to sleep, but then it came back.


    He heard the sound of a chant in the distance, so faint that it lingered between the observed and imagined.


    As he slowly drifted into sleep, he could see himself standing in the middle of the village, and the night was strangely dark. The shadows seemed to dance around him, unusual and surreal, and every light was in a strange shade of pale, from the torches and windows to the moon and the stars. He could hear the mass of whispers talking to him, and he could see the dark energy radiating from everything around him, and as he looked down the road, he saw a figure standing in front of him, all dark, pitch black, lacking any depth, as if it was made from a tear in the fabric of reality, and the corridor seemed to narrow and wobble before his eyes.


    He walked towards the figure, barely ignoring the whispers in his mind, and as he approached closer, his vision seemed to dance more and more, and soon enough, he was filled with immeasurable dread; it seemed to swallow his soul, a sudden fear and nothing that stands behind it.


    He could feel his soul leap in his chest as he looked around, and in the shadows he could see many faces, and not a moment had passed before they rushed at him, charred bodies, as black as coal, burning in black flames and screaming in dreadful screams that haunted his mind, just like the ones that had been burned at the stake.


    Before he could fight, he thought to himself,


    "Am I guilty of their deaths?" Yet he had no choice but to pull out his sword and face them, and as he cut through them, he could see their faces, talking not of the thrill of battle nor the grim warrior''s face invoking intimidation and fear, but of fright and dread, the existential fear, the same expression he could see on the burning bodies as they disappeared into nothingness. As he cleaved through them, the whispers grew louder, and as they lay slain at his feet, he saw the dark figure grow, ascend, and loom over him, its whispers taking a deep and intimidating tone, and as he charged at it with a sword in his hand, he woke up in the room, covered in sweat. He did not spring up from the bed, nor inhale deeply; all that he saw was the reality appearing in front of his eyes, as he found himself lying in a cold, dark room.


    Yet the feeling of dread that he felt in his dream remained, as well as the eerie hum that he could still hear, almost as if the feeling from the dream still lingered in his wakeful mind. As he looked around, his eyes could see the traces of magic, a dark ectoplasm that lingered around the room, and observe its flows.


    He stood up and looked through the window, and he spotted the traces everywhere; the whole village was enchanted, and its dark tendrils led to a certain spot in the mountains, and they seemed to radiate from it.


    "Wake up!" He whispered and pushed Luthor, and as soon as his eyes opened, he was fully awake. The young acolyte never behaved in such a manner, so his mentor was surprised.


    "What is it?"


    "I have our clue; I saw it in a dream," the acolyte responded.


    "Elaborate," The older witch-hunter demanded.


    "Do you see this?" Young man asked as he leaned against the window.


    His mentor stood up without a moment to hesitate or brush off his tiredness and looked through towards the village.


    "See what?"


    "I can see magic! The entire village seems to be engulfed in it!"


    As soon as he heard that, Luthor focused his eyes, and they turned crimson red, allowing him to see the magic, and in his eyes, the village looked normal beside a faint eerie glow.


    "Just a glow, the place seems to be enchanted indeed."


    "No, I can see its flows and where it comes from!" The young acolyte clearly saw what even the master witch-hunter''s eyes could not.


    "Interesting." Luthor mumbled to his chin and looked towards the acolyte, and the young man''s eyes seemed to be ablaze in the white glow of magic.


    "Let''s go! There isn''t a single moment to waste!" The mentor proclaimed. The acolyte brimmed with potential, yet the powers acquired in a dream were often of a short breath, so indeed, they couldn''t waste a single moment.


    The men picked up their equipment and stormed out of the tavern into the dark streets of Brynmire, and as the hefty wooden tavern''s door was pushed open and the men walked out into the town square, they saw the priest''s apprentice dig through the ashes in front of the church, and the drunk man was sitting next to a church wall, leaning his back against its cold stones and drinking wine from a bottle, raising its bottom up, and the bottle was almost empty.


    "There are no honest folks on the streets in this time," Luthor said silently, and the priest''s apprentice looked at the two and waved with his hands, dark from the ash of the burned witches:


    "Oh, good evening, witch-hunters!" his voice nervous.


    "Good evening," Luthor replied.


    "I was just digging through the ashes for the nails! Yes!" As he spoke, the drunk man lifted his head, his glare landing on the two.


    "Freaks," Luthor mumbled, and continued walking towards the gate, and his apprentice followed.


    "The scriptures state that the nails that were used to crucify a witch can be used to forge weapons of great power against the creatures of darkness!" The acolyte stated as he followed the master-hunter.


    "Those weapons also come with a great price; that''s why we trust nothing but silver," Luthor replied.


    "A price?" The acolyte asked curiously.


    "They are the reason why most of the earliest witch-hunters went insane."


    "They did what?" The acolyte grew more and more curious as the two passed through the wooden gate and walked out to the road that led towards the forest and the mountains.


    "In earliest days, our orders were just like them, the Hogwatch, be it slightly more hand-picked for our qualities, by the paladins, of course. We relied on holy crucifixes, oak stakes and fire to destroy witches."


    "So why did they go insane?"


    "They forged witchblades, the weapons made of the witches nails, they could cut through magic and no creature was immune to them, they could harm everything but the gods, but the price was even greater than their power; the screams could turn even the sanest man insane."


    "The screams?"


    "Souls of the witches were trapped in the nails, and you could always hear the screams, sometimes they would come, sometimes they would go, and sometimes they would return as faint whispers in the night, slowly gnawing at your sanity, drop by drop at a time."


    "So that''s why we use silver?"


    "Most of us."


    As they walked, the duo slowly approached the cold and dark forest. The mist was thick, and they could barely see ahead of them. The moonlight was bright, and they needed no lanterns, not that a witch-hunter would need one in any case, for they could see in the dark, unlike their acolytes, who were almost nothing more than the common men.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation."I don''t like this feeling," the acolyte spoke, as the dread slowly went down his spine, or was it the cold? He could barely tell them apart, yet he felt the same heavy, burdensome dread as he felt in his dream, and the whole world around him felt surreal. "The dark magic is all around us, this place might be far worse than we expected." he spoke, and the master-hunter replied;


    "It all depends on what you expected to find, make no mistake boy, Aryon would not send us here if he thought it''s just a curse that caused the plague.". Luthor clearly grew more and more cautious as they walked towards the mountains.


    "Why didn''t we alert the hogwatch?"


    "This can be a mere distraction; now be silent!".


    The two continued walking towards the mountain, and they could see something on the road, a shape in a fog. As they approached, they saw the remains of two dead horses and a wooden cart, and the trails of blood leading towards the woods, and the traces of magic were scattered around the place. "This looks fresh; no doubt hogwatch has passed here tonight, so it must have happened after they returned to the village, It is so fresh it may still be breathing." The older witch-hunter spoke as his eyes locked onto something in the forest down the trail of blood.


    He walked into the darkness, and the acolyte followed. At the end of the blood trail there was an old peasant man lying on the forest ground, his linen clothes soaked in the blood that gushed from his chest, clearly inflicted by a blade, and there were still a couple of words left in him.


    Luthor rushed towards the man and asked, "Who did this?"


    "They... killed the rest *cough*, beasts unseen! The r-rotten and forlorn!" The man spoke with his dying breath, and his face lost all expression, almost as if he was frozen in time, and his eyes were wide open, and they blankly stared into the darkness above.


    Luthor closed now dead man''s eyes with his dark leather glove, and as he looked around, he saw pieces of human bodies torn and scattered around, strips of skin still hanging with coagulated blood cloths as they were dragged through the leaves, not far from their mangled bodies, and in the distance they saw a creature feasting on the torn abdomen of one of the fresh corpses.


    Its skin was of a sickly gangrenous green color, full of plagued blisters and covered by the vile pox and rancid pus, and as it turned towards them, screaming a piercing shriek before it charged the witch-hunters.


    Luthor quickly unsheathed his sword and slashed it diagonally across the monster''s chest, and the flesh of the creature was scorched by the silver blade, yet the creature only staggered and then swung its deformed claws towards the witch-hunter.


    He managed to block the swing with a single cut of his sword, and the arm was severed, and the vile blood poured down the wounded monster and reeked of sulfur and decay.


    Before the monster could recover, Eldon pierced it with his iron blade, and as the weapon stuck into the monster''s back, it did little to no damage at all. The creature was clearly resistant to common weapons.


    The sound of rumbling and growling, rattling and screeching came from deep in the forest as more of the monsters rushed out of the woods, some of them carrying crude cleavers and hatchets or simple iron knives, and there were four of them. As soon as Eldon saw them, he kicked the first fiend off his blade with his dark leather boot, and as the undead started falling, Luthor decapitated it with an upwards swing of his blade as the body fell limp on the ground.


    "Run!" Luthor proclaimed, and the duo started sprinting down the road as fast as their legs could carry them, but the monsters chased after them tirelessly.


    "They are closing in on us!" "I know!" The men exchanged words before Luthor turned around and threw two silver daggers at one of the chasing monsters, toppling it to the ground, but before he could slay the creature with his sword, the second monster lunged at him, and if he wasn''t agile enough to dodge the leaping fiend in one quick motion, it might as well have tackled him to the ground.


    As the lunging monster landed on the road, it rolled up in a quick motion, but as soon as the creature recovered, Eldon smashed its head with a vial of holy water. The glass shattered on impact against the skull, and the holy water covered the creature and started sizzling, burning its flesh away as the fiend wailed in agony before the acolyte pierced its skull with the tip of his sword, well-soaked in holy water, putting it to rest.


    Even if not optimal, it was clear that even the common weapons could kill such creatures if used properly and in combination with other means such as the holy water.


    "Three more to deal with!" Acolyte yelled as one of the putrid fiends swung its hatchet, all caked in worm-infested dried blood, towards Luthor, who managed to parry it with his silver sword and return a cut against its stomach, tearing the creature open as the decomposing guts poured out together with a pile of maggots and the smell of decomposing flesh. The second one swung its cleaver towards the master hunter, and Luthor managed to duck under the blade before running his blade through the attacker, and not a second later he tore the blade out of his victim in a quick spin and decapitated the monster in the same motion.


    The third monster swung at the young acolyte with a butcher knife, and the young man parried it with his iron blade, but without a moment to return the attack, the monster slashed towards him again and again, and the young man moved backwards, parrying his swings and occasionally returning them, yet the beast cared little about the cuts, each one cutting its flesh open but with little to no response.


    With no other option left, the acolyte kicked the monster and pulled out the linen pouch of glittering gold before throwing its contents against the monster.


    The glowing golden petals made a burst of light on impact and flew everywhere, illuminating the fight with a brief flash of light and a dull resonant sound. The creature was blasted with its holy magic and completely blinded and scorched in a second, and as the man swung his blade with both his hands, cutting the rotten fiend diagonally, the creature''s wound was aglow with the burst of holy power, burning it into nothing but a heap of seared flesh and coal.


    As he turned towards the Luthor, he saw him blocking the wide swings from the fiend and landing a quick cut against its knee, and as the monster fell, the man plunged his blade straight through its neck and kicked it down to the ground.


    "What a fight," Luthor commented as he caught his breath and wiped his sword clean before putting it back in its sheath.


    "We should hurry towards the village; we made a huge discovery here," the master hunter added, and the men quickly rushed towards its wooden gates. After a short while, the men approached the gates, and the guards opened them ajar as soon as they spotted two tired witch-hunters in the distance, all bloody and exhausted from the battle.


    They entered the tavern as the dawnbreak slipped through its curtains, and the barmaid already prepared a meal on its crackling warm fireplace.


    "Come in! You must be the witch-hunters everyone tal..." The young woman started speaking before dropping a ceramic mug from her hands, shattering it against the wooden floor as she gasped for air and covered her mouth with her hand.


    The witch-hunters were covered in blood and bile from the monsters they had slain, and the sight of them made the young woman rush upstairs to awake the plague doctor, and soon after, a man dressed in a black coat came down the stairs; he had a white mask with a beak and black round goggles, and his head was covered by a hat. Not even a slightest bit of his skin was seen, as he was completely covered in the attire.


    He had a short scepter in his hand, and as he slowly inspected them, he carried a small round piece of glass in the other, framed by a bronze frame; it served to magnify as he observed the two, to notice any sign of the affliction taking hold.

 The Oathbreaker

    A plenty of time has passed as the hunters recovered from their encounter by the help of witch-doctor and his arts.


    The word about what they have witnessed has spread among the village, reaching the Hogwatch in no time. Tales turned out to be true; many words were spoken about the undead, yet many more believed them to be nothing more than a myth; however, the truth surfaced, and it spread quickly among the entirety of the kingdom. The adventurers of all realms gathered at Aerinthorn together with the plague doctors and inquisitors of many knightly orders.


    As the day dawned, the church bell rang out of the ordinary, summoning peasants to a gathering in the halls of the church. The white-bearded priest in dark robes stood on the altar and awaited in silence as the men and women poured into the hall, and then he spoke:


    "With sorrow in my heart, I need to inform you that the king has placed a quarantine upon our lands; there will be no passage through the Oldwood, also known as the Weeping Woods." The murmur of words has filled the air, and the concern could be felt in the walls of the church.


    "Now let us participate in the prayer for our souls." The priest continued, and the prayer was held.


    The duo sat in "The White Raven," and as Luthor slowly drank red wine and thought, his sharp eyes staring blankly into the void, Eldon interrupted,


    "So what are we to do now? Nobody can leave Aerinthorn, not even the goods! You know the situation is dire when not even the tax will be collected."


    "We will strike the problem at its core."


    "Do you really think we can stop the plague?" The acolyte asked,


    "If we find its source, we can behead it."


    "Behead the plague?"


    "Do you think a spell of this magnitude could linger for so long?" The seasoned witch-hunter replied.


    "What are you talking about? What do you mean exactly?" After a moment of silence, Eldon answered his own question: "You think it''s a continuous incantation? Yes! I heard it in my dream! I heard a faint voice singing! It must be under that mountain!"


    As he spoke, a man in his mid-forties approached the table and sat among the witch-hunters. He wore tattered brown leather clothes, old leather boots that saw ages, and even his belt was eaten by the buckle. He smelled of rain and wine, and his face was unshaven; his hair was messy and greasy. His leather hat was weathered down by countless rains, yet it spoke of prestige lost through time.


    It was the same drunk man they saw leaning against the church not long ago.


    "Who would you be?" Luthor questioned, and the man placed a bronze medallion on the table, a mundane trinket of a sort, of almost no value at all.


    Eldon was confused, not being able to see magic anymore since the power from his dream had faded; for him, the gesture meant nothing, but Luthor''s eyes could see an invisible mark on the medallion, drawn by the magic, and it was a mark of the witch-hunter.


    "So you are one of us," Luthor mumbled.


    "Exactly." Both of the men seemed serious and stoic, and Eldon wondered if it was caused by the mugwort-infused wine the witch-hunters often drank in the temple or something else.


    "Be careful; do not break your disguise; you managed to convince me you are nothing but a drunkard on the street."


    "There is no disguise; people know who I was."


    "Was?"


    "I have decided to retire." The man spoke, and the barmaid brought him a copper chalice of wine. "It''s on the house! just don''t get used to it." She added with disgust in her voice and left, minding her own business.


    As she walked away, he continued, "I have decided to retire."


    "To retire? You are oath-bound to the temple for life; we retire only when we are dead."


    "Then call me an oathbreaker."


    "Did you come here to admit a treason?" Luthor asked, as his hand clenched a dagger at his belt.


    "I am here to help." The ragged man answered before chugging half of his wine.


    "Forgive me, I do not understand why you would take our cause if you just mentioned you would like to retire, and how can we trust you, Oathbreaker?"


    "I have retired because I have realized that what we do is not always right."


    "Morality is a luxury we can''t afford," Luthor answered, and in an instant, the man pulled a dagger from his boot and stabbed it right into the wooden table in front of Luthor.


    "What do you know of morality?" He yelled, Luthor''s dagger resting hairwidth away from his throat, and the whole tavern stared at the two as silence filled the room.


    The man left the grip of his dagger, and Luthor returned his knife to the leather sheath, but the people still stared in silence, and a couple of moments later, the tavern''s bard played a tune on his wooden lute, and the men cheered, and the attention was quickly diverted from the witch-hunters.


    "Stupidity is also a luxury we can''t afford." Luthor spoke as soon as he noticed the attention had diverted from his table and the room was filled with bard''s music and cheers.


    He added, "Next time if you do something stupid, I won''t hesitate to cut your throat."


    "You know nothing of morality." The man retold, still exasperated by Luthor''s words, as he yanked his dagger from the table.


    "So what happened?" Eldon asked,


    "What happened?" The man questioned.


    "There must be something; I''ve never seen somebody react with such ire without a proper reason."


    "Let me tell you, boy, the story is long, and I barely know you, let alone why such things would ever interest you."


    "Well, the day is long." Eldon added and pulled a skin of wine from his belt, pouring it into the ragged man''s chalice.


    "Every day is long, yet I rarely speak of my troubles."


    "Well, you used to be a witch-hunter?"


    "As I said, yes."


    "I am yet to become one; I''m an acolyte, as you were."


    "Indeed."


    "Is there anything you''d be happy to have known when you became one?"


    The man thought for a couple of seconds, sipped the wine, and looked towards Luthor: "If you don''t mind?"


    "I don''t," Luthor replied.


    "Alright." The ragged man drank some wine again, slightly intoxicated from before, and he looked at Eldon:


    "I was young just like you, and I excelled among our ranks, but those were different times. Our jobs were quite simple; we served to rid the kingdom of witches, especially the outer reaches, which Paladins rarely visited.


    "Paladins?" The boy asked and sipped wine from his chalice.


    "They created us." The man answered, "They are slightly less full of themselves than the rest of blue-blood kingsmen, and they cared about the outer reaches enough to create our first order in Duskmoor to do their job where they couldn''t reach. Quickly our orders formed as far as Darstulia, Vikeron, and even the frozen kingdom in the north."


    I understand about Aerinthorn and Darstulia, both belonging to the outer reaches of the Kingdom of Ventrius. The young man added, "But why would they care about the barbarians in the north? Let alone the traitors in Vikeron? the ones who betrayed the crown not by a hex or spell but by their own free will?"


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation."The civil war was harsh." The old man said, fiddling with his chalice, "But Paladins are not like other Kingsmen; they serve the Church, and they fight forces of darkness wherever they may reside."


    "I understand." The boy answered.


    "Yet you may need to understand some other things too; what we call forces of darkness are simply the enemies of the church; some of them are not like the others."


    "I understand that part as well; those herbalists shouldn''t have been burned; they clearly aren''t the cause of the affliction."


    "It is not only about them, boy." The man answered, clenching the chalice in his shaky hand as the wine rippled and almost leaped over its rim.


    "Then what is it about?"


    "Do you think that''s the only situation in which the innocent were burned?"


    "Well, the only one that I knew about."


    "They are all innocent."


    "Come on, by the chance some of them had to be the real witches?"


    "Indeed they were; most of them were, but they were innocent."


    "How can they both be witches and innocent?" The acolyte wondered.


    "You see, in old times, before Aroseth was defeated, witches used to be the practitioners of vile chaos magic, the power that could destroy existence itself and far beyond our comprehension."


    "Chaos magic? Isn''t it just another name for dark magic?"


    "Chaos magic, void magic, and dark magic all had the same meaning, the last one being most commonly used today and misattributed."


    "What do you mean?" The acolyte''s curiosity grew.


    "Before Aroseth was defeated, the witches were practitioners of truly evil arts, if left unchecked, it could tap into infinite potentials beyond existence and swallow the world entirely. After the fall of Aroseth, the word was thrown around haphazardly for thousands of years; the dragons were of far greater concern in that time, but after they were forced into oblivion and wiped away from the world, Monarch hungered for more."


    "Hungered for more?"


    "You see, King Ventrius the First was crowned a king of mankind in the time of need to unite humanity on Xorael''s side with a purpose to defeat Aroseth."


    "I know that much," Eldon mentioned, and the man continued:


    "When Aroseth was defeated, humanity kept fighting Naldir''s vile creation for thousands of years, the dragons, of course, and once we prevailed again, the feud grew between the realms. Why would they serve the king and obey? It was the end of history after all, the happy ever after for the world, or so they thought. Some may argue he was crowned by Xorael, the King of Gods, to rule the humanity, and that those that disagree only spite the Lord''s word, yet the man he crowned was King Ventrius the First, and he died in the seventh century".


    "Isn''t the king, the Monarch of Mankind, deathless?"


    "That''s what they tell you; in reality, King Ventrius the First died 666 years after the fall of Aroseth, at the jaws of Gull, the destroyer, the greatest of the dragons, and ever since, every incarnation of Ventrius died at 666 years old except the last, the sixth king.


    "Ugh." The acolyte groaned, "It always has to be that cursed number."


    "The number is cursed only afterwards since it was used as a mockery, a proof of the mortality of the monarch and therefore his reign." The man sipped his wine and continued,


    "After the war of the gods and after the dragons were defeated, to solidify his reign over loose regions such as Darstulia, or the far north, the King decided to rid their populace of their native religion and culture, and their priests, also known as Shamans and Druids, were hunted, and to invoke the evil the mankind has learned to fear, they used the word "witches'' to describe them."


    "But wouldn''t that provoke a¡ª"


    "Yes, a war broke out, and Darstulia, due to its proximity to the heartlands, was conquered and assimilated, yet the war in the north was much slower due to the hard conditions of the region, harsh winters, and the northern mountains that block the logistics."


    "Elaris Eldorath?" The acolyte asked, raising his brow.


    "Yes, the name that roughly translates to The Mountains in the North."


    "Most of us were told the world ends there, and beyond the mountains there is only an endless wasteland with no beginning nor end from which the winter comes." The acolyte claimed.


    "The Winterwastes, indeed, they span for miles, and not many know what resides far beyond them, nor if there is an end to them, yet what we know is that the people live there, and that''s where the northern raiders come from."


    "This all reminds me of the Northland, the frozen land at the very tip of the world beyond which nothing exists." Eldon spoke, mentioning the similarity.


    "Some people call the wastes Northland, yet some speak of some other place carrying that name."


    "So what you are saying is that the people we dubbed witches are nothing but the priests of the native faiths of Darstulia and the land beyond the mountains?"


    "That''s exactly on point." The old man answered, "And that''s why they are innocent."


    "So why would you take our side in our quest to defeat them to end the curse?"


    "The things I told you were true until now, boy, but what you fight against is far worse than the ordinary druids that the church has wrongfully dubbed witches. What you deal with are the real practitioners of dark magic; they have returned once again by whatever calamity has caused their return, but those things still remain for us to understand."


    "It comes to my understanding that your disagreement with our order is caused by your understanding of the druids?" Luthor asked the ragged man, interrupting the lecture.


    "Indeed."


    "So in a fight against the evil greater than Druids, we have a common enemy."


    "That''s correct, and that is why you can consider me to be an ally."


    "Due to the nature of our situation and the quarantine imposed by the king, I do not think we have more options, so please, introduce yourself."


    "They call me Edgar Corvus."


    "In that case, you are welcome to our squad, Edgar. We need to instruct Garric Thane that Hogwatch, from now on, should only serve the defensive purpose."


    "Forgive my question, Master Luthor, but why would that be a good course of action considering the fact that we are in grave danger since the king''s men won''t bolster our ranks?" The young acolyte knew better than to question the master hunter''s decisions, but this one seemed necessary.


    "Because the kind of enemy we face now shouldn''t be dealt with by untrained peasants."


    "Do you think the old sergeant will listen to you?" Edgar has questioned.


    "If he wants to keep his people safe, he''ll have to.


    "Don''t be sure in the stubborn man''s reasoning; he was a hard nut since the day he came here."


    "It''s still worth a try." Luthor proclaimed before he chugged his wine, left a handful of copper coins on the wooden table, and stood up to leave the tavern in search for Garric, and the acolyte soon followed, together with Edgar, since he was left with no other choice.

 The Forge

    As soon as the group left the tavern, they could hear a sound of smiting coming from the blacksmith¡¯s workshop, as it usually does, but what was strange is that each blow of the hammer made witch-hunters deaf for a fraction of a moment, and they could swear they could see brief flashes of white light each time the hammer struck against the iron.


    , as if led by some unseen force, walked straight towards the smithy, and there he saw the old blacksmith, his son, an apprentice and  Thane working together with them. Even when busy, the whole room was afflicted by a strange evil feeling. At least Eldon could feel it, and nobody else seemed to react.


    The old  brushed a sweat off his forehead with his coal-streaked hands and greeted the witch-hunters.


    ¡°Oh there you are, our welcomed guests!  may have already heard that the king has imposed a quarantine.¡±


    ¡°There is a matter to discuss, .¡±  said coldly.


    ¡°Then speak!  can discuss right here, like honest folks without any ¡±  replied and grabbed a handful of charcoal, throwing it into the fires while the blacksmith¡¯s apprentice stoked the flames with the bellows, heating up a piece of hot iron.


    ¡°I want you to keep your men safe,  should serve a defensive purpose only¡±.


    ¡° already serves a defensive purpose, as it was meant to be.¡±  replied, while focusing mainly on his work.


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand me , the powers that we deal with are not something that can be fought with mere iron tools and wooden stakes.¡±


    ¡°I am aware of that, witch-hunter, that is why I am forging a weapon¡±.


    As soon as he spoke, Eldon could hear a deafening hum in his ears, and as he looked in the forge fires towards the red-hot steel, he could hear the bellow¡¯s breath and the roaring of flame, which for a fraction of a second brought back the image of burning witches.


    It was clear, the nails were collected by the priest¡¯s apprentice that dug through the ashes that night, and  decided to forge them into a blade.


    ¡°Do you think one sword will be enough to protect the entire village?¡±


    ¡°I will make it enough!, do we have any other options left? King has forsaken us, witch-hunters! His men have already written off , he¡¯ll wait for the plague to settle and repopulate our villages with new peasants from hills in  once when we are dead, It is up to us to fight for ourselves, and we can not wait for anyone else to do that job.¡±


    thought for a second, maybe  was right.


    ¡°Alright then, I certainly can not stop you, the people trust you, make sure you do not waste their lives.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± The  replied, his voice dimmer than usually, clearly bearing the burden of duty.


    As they left the smithy behind, Edgar spoke with his ragged voice:


    ¡°I knew he won¡¯t listen, you will soon learn that  Thane will prove to be more of a threat than ally¡±.


    ¡°We are yet to see¡±  replied, ¡°he speaks with the zeal in his words, clearly passionate in the quest to protect his people.¡±


    ¡°Clearly passionate in his quest to murder the innocent!¡± Edgar yelled on the muddy street, his voice clearly intoxicated; and he continued;


    ¡°Half-breed! Convert! Do you think he slaughters out of his benevolence? n¡¯t be naive, you remember when that young woman confessed she¡¯s a herbalist and nothing more? He burned her at the cross!¡±


    ¡°Woah, wait! Half-breed?¡± Eldon asked.


    ¡°He¡¯s from the north, born of pagan blood!  he¡¯s trying to wash it away by slaughtering the innocent! He is the reason why Aleena is dead!¡±


    It was clear that out of his Ire, drunk Edgar spoke too loud, and the word will sooner rather than later reach , since many of his watchmen, ordinary peasants at day, were in the village at the time.


    ¡°Silent, fool!¡±  yelled and grabbed the drunk man by his elbow and turned him towards the gate.


    ¡° is the most influential person in this village, since the quarantine is introduced, formal authorities won¡¯t last long. His watchmen outnumber the  up in the towers!¡±


    ¡°There are twenty guards and around ten watchmen at a time.¡±


    ¡°At a time¡±  replied, ¡° circles his men, there must be  twice as much not even more!  many men are in this village?¡±


    ¡°Around .¡±


    ¡°They outnumber the  two to one!¡±  yelled, as they left through the gate.


    The men walked towards the nearby lake and sat at the fishing platform.


    ¡°You see what you did fool! We no longer know if we are welcome to the village, and we can¡¯t spend a night outside it¡¯s walls, the  won¡¯t take us into their towers, and we can¡¯t leave !¡±


    Edgar stood up and took off his boots before walking straight into the shallows of the lake, searching for something, and after a couple of moments he lifted a rock from the bottom, with fishing nets hanging from it, with lots of silt, algae and pond scum.


    ¡°Did he go insane?¡± Eldon questioned as the drunk man walked back to the platform and placed the rock on it, water still dripping, before sifting through the lake plants in the fishing net, and finding a bottle of wine.


    ¡°Ah yes, just where I left it¡± He proclaimed before he threw the rock back into the lake and took a sip from the bottle.


    ¡°Is this a right time for drinking?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, this one is infused with mugwort and ember root, true Eucharist!¡± Edgar spoke and handed the bottle towards , but it was clear that the master-hunter was not in mood for the overindulgence in alcohol.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°Do you realize what situation we are in?¡±


    ¡°Relax, as soon as we see the  leaving the gates tonight, we¡¯ll join them and access the situation, I know  will mind what was spoken, but I doubt he¡¯d ask his men to expel or hurt somebody because of his personal grudge¡±. The weathered man spoke held the wine.


    ¡°Alright...¡±  replied and yanked the bottle out of Edgar¡¯s hand before drinking a hefty amount and passing it to Eldon.


    ¡°This will be a long night.¡±


    ¡°You mentioned a certain name while you were getting us in trouble¡± Acolyte asked before sipping a bitter mugwort-infused drink.


    ¡°Forget it.¡± Edgar replied.


    As the time passed, cold fog came down from the nearby mountains shrouding the lake, and sun slowly went behind the horizon. The night was setting in, and the frogs were creaking from the reeds, together with the sound of crickets.


    ¡°They should leave the walls soon¡± Edgar spoke, as  polished his blade under the moonlight.


    ¡°I have some ominous feeling about this¡±. Master-hunter declared and looked across the lake into the dark woods, the heavy presence was felt, almost as if the group was being watched.


    Eldon stared at the lake¡¯s calm surface, he could see his reflection and the ripples that flickered with the moonlight, and the middle of lake was blanketed with a thick layer of white fog that slowly crept towards the witch-hunters. They could feel a breeze of cold wind and soon enough they were engulfed in mist. The mirror surface of the lake had a thin veil of the mist covering it, and as Eldon stared in his own reflection, he saw it.


    For a brief second, he saw a face of a woman appear under the lake¡¯s surface, ghastly and bleak, and her eyes stared right at him. The young acolyte instantly recoiled and when he looked back at the surface, there was nothing.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Edgar asked curiously.


    ¡°Um ... I must have fallen asleep for a moment!¡± Acolyte answered with anxiety in his voice.


    The large wooden doors of the village nearby rumbled their hinges creaked as a river of men with torches and weapons started pouring out of it. It was Hogwatch, with  Thane at it¡¯s tip together with the priest, and its force was much more numerous this night.


    There were  twenty men, twice as much as the initial group.


    ¡°There they are, It¡¯s time for us to join them.¡± Edgar proclaimed and stood up, and the rest of the group followed.


    ¡°Let me do the talking.¡±  demanded, and the weathered man nodded, letting him take the lead.


    As they walked uphill towards the muddy road,  stopped for a moment to let them join their ranks.


    ¡°So you have decided to lead a patrol again ?¡±  yelled


    Indeed, two of them to be exact, Father  will lead the second group.


    It was common for priests to lead such patrols in outer reaches of the kingdom, specially  and mostly in times of suspected witchcraft, and such was this case.


    ¡°The priest will protect us from their vile spells!¡±  proclaimed as the men joined the ranks of the armed peasants.


    ¡°We will protect you from the things your eyes can not see¡±


    ¡°Good! It is always perfect to have a witch-hunter among our ranks! But what about the drunk man? What is he doing among the witch-hunters?¡±


    ¡°I thought you said they know who you are...¡±  said silently to Edgar


    ¡°They do¡±.


    ¡°He is a witch-hunter too.¡±


    ¡°Haha! That was almost twenty years ago! If he is still a witch-hunter then I suppose I am still a young lad in flame of youth!¡±  mocked and the rest of the men started laughing.


    ¡°Witch-hunter? More like witch-fucker!¡± A big man from the crowd added to the mockery, town¡¯s butcher, laughing and grunting hideously like a pig with his rotting black teeth, and the whole group burst into laughter.


    ¡°Oh you tell me, swine!¡± Edgar yelled and strode with determination towards him before swinging his fist at his brow, knocking the man down into the mud.


    ¡°Okay that¡¯s enough!¡± Garric proclaimed but Edgar already jumped after the man and proceeded to fist-fight him on the ground, bashing his nose and almost strangling the life out of him before rest of the men broke up the fight.


    ¡°This kind of behavior won¡¯t be tolerated, save your petty disputes for the tavern!¡±  yelled and added; ¡°We have no more time to waste! Let¡¯s go!¡±


    ¡°Aye!¡± The men shouted in unison, raising their torches and lanterns and not a moment later, they were already on the move.


    Edgar tried to clear the mud from his already dirty leather coat and the angry man cleared the blood from his nose, his face steaming red-hot with ire.


    ¡°You need to control your impulses.¡±  calmly said, as he handed Edgar a piece of linen to clear his face.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lecture me, you know nothing!¡± He answered and adjusted his coat.


    It wasn¡¯t a long walk, but it seemed much longer due to the cold and the eerie atmosphere below the dark forests, combined with the thick dreadful feeling in the air, a dull weight of the spell. Only a couple of minutes have passed, and the group found themselves at the place where the bodies were found together with the horses, however only a couple of days later, there were only bones remaining.


    ¡°Something dwells inside those forests.¡±  proclaimed, as he brought the torch closer to the bones, and the silence prevailed, while fear could almost be seen with the naked eye.

 The Dark Crescent

    "Xorael, oh! Father of Light,


    Lord of heaven, gods and men;


    May your order last forever,


    Upon heavens and upon land.


    Bless your servants, lead our way,


    And protect us with your might!"


    An old priest chanted a prayer to Xorael, joined by the rest of the Hogwatch, and as his carved staff tapped the ground, a white glow appeared for a moment, filling the men with courage and warding off fear.


    "We need to move on; who knows what waits ahead?" Garric ordered, and so they moved.


    The road was completely silent, leaving no trace of any late travelers, and the forests were asleep, almost too silent, some would observe. Luthor glanced at the moon through the branches of nearby pines: "It is a horned moon, what some witch-hunters call the dark crescent."


    "The dark crescent? Moon is almost full, except for..." Eldon was interrupted.


    "The dark crescent," his mentor explained.


    Eldon was lost in his thoughts for a couple of seconds, and he could hear a hum ringing in his ears and a faint sound of singing, almost the same as he experienced in a dream. He looked at the moon, and the heavenly body seemed to grow and shrink; it wobbled in his vision, and the skies seemed to get darker by the second as darkness engulfed all the stars. He could see nothing but the moon and hear nothing but the loud chants. The whole world seemed to disappear around him, and there was nothing but him and the moon, almost as if the moon itself was singing the chants he heard.


    "What is it, boy?" Edgar pushed his shoulder, breaking him out of the trance.


    "Ughh!" the acolyte yelled and unsheathed his sword, almost as if awakened from a nightmare. As he looked around, he could see magic again, this time even more intense than before. He saw auras around people and a pinnacle of light around the priest, and every person had a white glow, except Edgar, whose glow was dimmed by a dark void inside his chest.


    "They must be performing a ritual again, this way!" Edgar yelled and started running in a certain direction.


    "Follow him!" Luthor commanded, and everyone looked at Garric.


    "You heard the witch-hunter!" the watchmaster commanded, and the men started chasing after Eldon.


    He ran past the dark trees and dodged branches on each step as he dashed through the woodland and the dense pines. He ran uphill towards the nearby mountain. All traces of magic, this time shining white, poured into it, and as he approached it, the chants grew louder and louder. He was almost blinded by the magic and deafened by the chants. In a fraction of a second, he saw a glowing shape appear in front of him, with a glow far brighter than that of an average person. It was too late to dodge, so they collided and fell to the ground.


    It was a young woman in dark robes, and she dropped something from her hands¡ªa certain artifact that was overflowing with magic, a chalice of a sort. She had long, dark hair, clearly unkempt like her old linen robes, and her eyes were blue like two sapphires, almost glowing in the night. She seemed frightened, but she didn''t say a word; instead, she stood up and grabbed the chalice. It was made of black iron and bloodstone, and the iron that held it in place was forged into the shapes of a demonic head, with two glowing ruby eyes.


    "Wait!" he yelled and grabbed her by her coat. She stumbled again, this time holding tight onto the artifact.


    "Let me go! They are coming!" the woman spoke and yanked her cloak out of Eldon''s hand. Eldon could hear a group of people chasing after the woman, but as she turned around, she saw a swarm of torches approaching from the other side¡ªclearly the Hogwatch that followed Eldon.


    "Who are they?"


    "The Cult of the Merciful Ones!"


    "Come!" the acolyte commanded and grabbed the woman by her shoulder, running towards the Hogwatch, and surprisingly, she followed.


    "Hah! You got one, a witch!" Garric proclaimed, and the men cheered. The young woman''s face looked betrayed.


    "You fooled me!"


    But after catching his breath, Eldon proclaimed, "She is not one of them. They wanted to sacrifice her, but she escaped! A whole cult is coming!" Even he was surprised how quickly he made up that story, never mentioning the crimson goblet.


    "Grab your weapons! I can hear them howling in the distance!" Garric yelled and pulled out his sword. It was clearly crudely forged, but it was made of witch-steel, a large two-handed weapon with three rings forged through its blade. As soon as the sword left its sheath, the voices in Eldon''s head seemed to intensify, and in his eyes, the blade soaked the magic from the air.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    The men stood closely to each other in a crude formation, linking their improvised wooden shields and pointing out their weapons, from lighter pitchforks to scythes reforged into long polearms. Garric stood in the middle of the formation, holding his longsword tightly with both his hands, and both Luthor and Edgar stood behind the first row next to a priest, each on his own side.


    "Come," Eldon pulled the woman by her arm and led her to Luthor. "Stay here."


    As the cultists approached closer, the Hogwatch heard terrifying howls in the distance, inhuman sounds of screaming that sounded something between the human voice and the howl of a wolf, and they were coming closer. Soon enough they appeared out of the darkness, wearing black robes with pointy hoods and black masks that had the appearance of a skull. They screamed ungodly screams and sprinted towards the Hogwatch, hurling balls of green fire from their hands that flickered into many green sparks.


    Father Theolyn lifted his staff and yelled in an unknown language, forming a glowing golden barrier in front of the peasants, and the magic bolts violently broke upon impact. After the barrier disappeared, many of the cultists threw knives at the Hogwatch, which stuck into their shields and sometimes bodies of those unlucky enough. Many more saved their witchfire bolts for a second barrage that wreaked havoc on the group.


    "Charge!" Garric yelled and rushed with his blade towards the cult, and so did his followers. Clearly being outranged, they had no choice but to close the gap. When the two groups collided, many men were already found on the floor, toppled from the first impact¡ªboth cultists and the watchmen. Garric cleaved through one of the cloaked men, cutting him in half, before charging against the second. As his sword clashed against the cultist''s serrated sabre, the rings rattled against the steel, and the sound silenced all the spells around, causing the cult to shriek in pain.


    Many watchmen cleaved through the flesh with their weapons and tools, but their enemies were extremely resistant to pain, almost as if the ordinary weapons had only half the effect against them. They were vicious, fighting with their sabers and their curved knives, stabbing the watchmen on the floor in bloody duels. The butcher managed to block a saber swing from a cultist with a wooden shield, and his cleaver hacked into his opponent''s chest, but the cultist seemed unfazed as he pulled his knife out and stabbed him in the ribs. The butcher bent in pain as the cultist kept stabbing his back in an ice pick grip, and the big man collapsed lifeless on the floor.


    During that time, Luthor fought with his silver blade, fencing two opponents at the same time, dodging and parrying their attacks before he found an opening, severing one of the opponent''s hands right off before returning his blade with a cut to his neck, and the cultist was dead. It was much easier to kill them with silver, it would seem, yet the ordinary weapons did their job too, as one of the watchmen managed to land a blow of his hatchet straight into the opponent''s forehead, leaving him dead on the spot, his skull nearly split in half. Yet many of the men fell wounded by the knives in the bloody duels. The forest floor was covered with bodies of both cultists and the armed peasants, and red rivers of blood poured downwards.


    Eldon protected the woman and the priest. As the old man prayed in the middle of the battlefield, one of the savage heretics rushed towards him with his sabre above his head. Eldon swung his blade at him, the two exchanged a couple of blows, both parrying each time, before Eldon managed to stab the man through his body, But he just howled and rushed at him, landing a sabre cut against his chest, covered with leather armor; the wound was not very deep. Eldon pushed him off his blade, and before he was about to finish him with a sword cut from shoulder to gut, another one of the cult members rushed in with a knife behind the acolyte''s back.


    At that moment, a sudden burst of blue light in the form of a sphere blasted the screaming man and blew him off his feet. The blast echoed through the forest, illuminating the night like lightning. The acolyte landed a cut with his iron sword, killing his opponent instantly, and as he turned towards the other one, he realized he was already dead from the blast, his body completely blown open, as blue sparks flew from its sticking bones, hitting the ground and nearby branches and gore.


    He turned towards the cloaked woman and saw her holding her palm in front of her; she clearly cast the spell.


    Many cultists fell in that battle, and they started retreating, running away and disappearing in the darkness of the forest, about ten of them left, but the casualties inflicted upon the Hogwatch were extremely high.


    "Don''t chase! We can''t lose more lives!" Tired and blood-soaked, Garric yelled, and the surviving men grouped around him.


    "Carry the wounded to the village! Hurry up!" He commanded before lifting one of his wounded men up to his shoulders.


    "We can''t let this remain unsolved! We must pursue them!" Luthor clearly disagreed, "Who knows what kind of spell they can cast if we let them live? Let''s put an end to this!"


    "My men are going home; you can proceed with Edgar and your acolyte," Garric objected.


    "We will take the girl; she may know the path once we are inside the mountains."


    "She''s a witch! We all saw her cast that spell; that man was turned into a mush!"


    "I can handle witches, watchmaster Garric, for such is my profession."


    "I''ll trust that you won''t do something stupid." Garric replied and grabbed the young woman by her shoulder and pushed her towards Luthor. It was clear he had zero compassion for the users of any sort of magic.


    "Lead your men home." Luthor proclaimed, leading the woman by her shoulder as Eldon and Edgar followed.


    Once when two groups went apart, he asked; "Can you still see the magic?"


    "Yes," the young acolyte responded.


    "Then show us the way."


    "I Will." Eldon knew that he was leading the group straight towards the den of whoever was responsible for the affliction, but there was no time for fear now, so he went on.

 Witch-Hunter and a Witch

    The adventurers walked through the dark forest and fog, and the grim skies started raining upon


    them.  could feel a presence of something vile within the group.


    "What is your name?" He asked the young hooded woman.


    "My name is Kassandra." She answered with a fright in her voice.


    "Are you hiding something? I can feel it." He insisted, and as he patted her cloak, he found the chalice, raised it towards his face and observed:


    "A goblet made of  and black iron with a demonic face on it, Is this one innocent too, Edgar?"


    "Well, I think we would need more information before we make conclusions."


    "Now you are really starting to concern me."


    "I stole it," Kassandra admitted as the group walked towards the mountain, the way becoming steeper with each step.


    "From ?"


    "The cult that we just fought, that''s why they chased me." The girl explained.


    "And what about the magic blast you used to turn that cultist into bashed squash?"


    "It''s sorcery."


    "I saw."  replied, "So somebody had to teach you to control it."


    He knew that sorcerers are rare, being different from witches and wizards by the fact that their powers are innate from birth, with far greater potential than mere mortals.


    They are also known as the , natural conduits of the arcane magic.


    "Leave the girl alone, ; you are stressing her."


    "Stressing her? She is our prisoner!"  replied.


    "Come here, girl." Edgar grabbed her shoulder and brought her to his side; "Stay with me, and you will be safe, okay, Kassandra?"


    "Okay."


    During that time, Eldon was a couple of steps ahead of the rest of the party, leading the way with a torch in his hand, until a cave appeared in the side of the mountain, hidden by a dense forest.


    "This must be it; let''s go in," he proclaimed.


    "This is beyond insane; we are bringing a goblet right back to their feet."  protested.


    "Do you have any better ideas? We certainly can''t hide it from them!" Edgar replied.


    "We could send it back to the village with Hogwatch; that is, if  wouldn''t try to destroy it."  clearly understood the complexity of the situation.


    "This is but an entrance." Kassandra spoke, "They are probably far ahead of us."


    The group continued into the cave. The darkness was thick and impenetrable, and Eldon strode ahead as he followed the traces of magic. As soon as they went into the cave, they were met with a cold gust of wind and icy droplets of mist that could be felt on their skin.


    The road down was carved into the stone, resembling crude steps that led deeper into the ground. From the very start this seemed like a terrible idea; however, witch-hunters had very little choice in that regard, so they walked down the stone stairs.


    They could hear only drops of water echoing through the bowels of the world, the deep, reverberant sound of the humming wind, and the occasional squeak of a bat. The torch''s light allowed Eldon to see very little ahead of him, and he entirely relied on the traces of magic that he followed in his waking trance, and Kassandra stood close by, for her eyes could not penetrate the darkness, unlike  and Edgar, whose eyes were adapted to the absence of light. To them the cave looked as a dim and muffled laminar space, its colors muted, barely more than the shades.


    "Drops of blood; we are on their track," Eldon spoke as he went on, and Kassandra closely followed, watching her step so as not to stumble against a rock in what little torchlight there was. As they went downward below the surface of the world,


    it seemed that the cave had reached a network of large caverns, a world of its own, yet none of them could see far enough to observe its shape, for it was completely swallowed by the dark.


    "We are in the underworld right now, the place where the sinful souls linger for eons before they are collected by  and given a new existence in ."  explained.


    "In Underworld the rivers flow,


    The hollows sleep, and cold winds blow,


    Beneath the ground, so deep and low,


    Where no mortal dares to go."


    Edgar mumbled to his chin, his voice heavy with sorrow.


    As they went deeper into the guts of , they entered a dense fog, and they could see shapes in the mist, resembling lost people that walk around aimlessly in their centuries of sorrow, trapped in the pointless existence, void of everything except misery and grief.


    Among many souls, the shape of a woman appeared, and Edgar rushed towards her.


    "Aleena?" His eyes full of tears, and his voice cracking with pain, yet the specter simply walked through him. It clearly wasn''t the woman he was looking for, nothing but a ghostly shape, yet his eyes were playing tricks on him; he saw her in every shape in the mist.


    "Who is Aleena? You seem to mention her often," said Eldon.


    "Forget it," the man exclaimed and sat on a nearby rock; "Don''t wait for me; I''ll catch you."


    The group went on, but Kassandra walked a couple of steps back and sat next to Edgar.


    "What are you waiting for, girl?"


    "You told me to stay with you, remember?" She said silently and looked at the floor as the light disappeared behind a rock while the rest of the party continued.


    "Well, that may be true; you can stay." The man spoke, his voice heavy.


    "You are in pain; can I help you?"


    "Why would you help me? We barely met; you don''t even know me. Why would you care?" Edgar questioned before he took a bottle of wine out of his coat and drank a swig.


    "Because you cared too." She answered.


    "You are a dear one, it would seem." The weathered man took another swig, swept his mouth with his sleeve, and placed the bottle beside him. Perhaps he didn''t even sober up ever since they found him in the tavern, and he was drunk even before that, since who knows when.


    "Thank you," she answered, and the man took another swig.


    "Does this make you feel better?" She questioned


    "It is supposed to."


    "Does it?"


    "It doesn''t; it just makes me bear with it easier."


    "Tell me, what troubles you? I won''t tell anyone, I promise, and maybe you will feel better."


    Edgar didn''t speak a word; he just drank more.


    "Is Aleena dead?"


    "Of course, girl, why do you think I''d be checking for her in this place?"


    "Was she your wife?"


    "She was not, maybe she would be, in some better world. But since you already know enough, I don''t see a reason not to speak." Edgar said and handed the bottle to Kassandra, and she took it with both her hands and drank a little sip that turned her face zesty.


    "You don''t have to drink if you don''t want to."


    "Okay." She said happily and handed him the bottle.


    "She was a witch."


    "A witch? What kind of witch?"


    "The one that I pursued for many years, those times were much easier; villagers talked about strange rituals, cattle went insane, people had nightmares, harvests were inconsistent, goats disappeared, you know, simple things,


    and upon hearing the rumor, I came to , no plague at that time, no skirmishes in the forest; those people that died in the woods, I knew some of them for years, yet they thought very little of me." The drunk man explained, as he took another swig and the story unraveled:


    Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    "I was a young witch-hunter back then, in my middle twenties, a prodigy. Most of my peers were still apprentices at that time. I wanted to prove myself. I found many witches; I lost count. Most of them were pagans, old native people of the land.


    They lived here before the Kingdom claimed what''s theirs, yet those that refused to convert to the new faith simply fled to the forests and lived their lives that way, while others practiced their native faiths in secrecy.


    Those were the witches that we hunted, and one of them, Aleena."


    "So she was just an ordinary woman?" ''s curiosity grew.


    Far from it; she was a  dedicated to the deity known as The Forest Father, a demigod of a sort. Every forest has one, and let me tell you, she was both powerful and intelligent.


    My ego was enormous back then; I strived to be the best witch-hunter in the realm, yet there was one  that always escaped me, always just out of my reach, so I pursued her for years.


    Sometimes she toyed with me, intentionally giving me hints, before disappearing again, and I could never catch her.


    Hogwatch was led by our old priest, doing the bare minimum to protect the flock, but then  came.


    The big man in  armor and fur on his shoulder you saw back in the forest, back then a young warrior from the north, experienced in battle against the raiders, was sent to train the , the crown''s militia here in .


    "He pushed me." Kassandra added with a grudge on her face.


    Sooner rather than later he joined Hogwatch and earned his name; he was extremely inquisitive, and his zeal was unmatched; he wanted to kill every witch, every last pagan, even the smallest one; he burned their bodies and gave them no peace.


    It was clear to me;  was his name, but Thane was only his nickname. Whose surname is Thane? He was hiding his past because he was one of the pagans from the north, converted at a very young age, trying to prove himself as a true man of .


    No person is truly evil except the ones that feel a constant need for proving, and unfortunately I was one of such people, same as .


    We became best friends, and he quickly became a  of  due to his capability. As a duo we murdered many; you know how many nails we collected?


    The church bell in  is made of witches'' nails, all from the pagans our men have crucified under our command. We also lost many young men, but they fell in battle, and many more came to replace them.


    One day, we found a hidden village, full of pagans, and we have decided to raze it. Its walls were made of wood, and their archers did wreak havoc upon our ranks, but we were many; even the  patrols of neighboring villages came to our aid, even the .


    There were at least two hundred of us by the time their walls fell and their houses burned. I realized there were women and children there too, not that I hadn''t known it earlier, of course, but that is when the thought had come to my mind.


    For some of them, it was already late, yet I saw a group of around fifteen hiding in a large tent, and I led them to safety; that''s where Aleena met me;


    she saw me save them, she appeared from the woods, telling me she''ll lead them away from danger, and I left back to the remains of the town we burned.


    Despite the losses, our men celebrated that night, yet  was restless. I always suspected he saw me, yet I couldn''t confirm or deny it.


    Aleena came to me in my dream and revealed to me a spot in a forest. I still relive that dream from time to time; I remember it vividly. It was what must be the reddest sunset I''ve ever seen.


    That day I went exactly to the spot I saw in a dream and waited, and exactly at sunset, she appeared. She seemed so surreal, a witch that I pursued for years, now right in front of me.


    I shook her hand, a greeting pagans know very little about, but I did it only to touch her, to confirm she was actually there. She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.


    She told me that her people needed sustenance; the winter was coming, and everything they had was burned. I already saved them, a handful of women and children that survived. How could I deny it?


    So I met her there again, many times, and the cattle kept disappearing, dried meat too, and other resources.


    Harvests were still inconsistent, sometimes missing large portions, but this time it was no witches or pagans; it was me.


    I did it to save them, and Aleena, despite my past, saw some good in me. The redemption, you see, how could a person whose people have been slaughtered by my blade and crucified by my hand ever see anything but a tyrant in me?


    Not even I saw anything good in me, yet she did. What I felt for her, I never knew if it was mutual or not.


    Yet one dusk, I approached the spot, carrying a basket of goods, and she met me there at a sunset, as usual. We spent a couple of moments exchanging very few words, but then  and his men appeared all around us.


    It was a trap; they caught us both, but what still bothers me the most were the words that  spoke:


    "Well done, Edgar, you can add this one to your count."


    I swore I had nothing to do with the ambush, but her eyes looked at me only with hate; there was no way I could explain to her, I wasn''t the traitor she thought me to be.


    As soon as they left the forest, they nailed her to a large wooden cross, and as they carried her towards the church to be burned, I followed them and tried to make my amends, to explain to her that this wasn''t planned, yet she didn''t listen to me;


    her eyes were looking straight at mine and judging, full of tears.


    "Traitor! Liar! You fooled me!" She yelled from the cross. At that moment I wished that she could simply read my mind, to know I had nothing to do with the ambush, yet it was not possible to prove.


    I followed her straight before the church gates and explained myself and begged for her understanding up until the moment she burned, and even after the fire had settled, I found her body lying in the ash, at least one half of it,


    or a coal that resembled a human shape, and I knelt there for days, telling her I didn''t mean to betray her, but to no avail; she was already dead. Her remains were blown away by the wind, and it took half a  to drag me away from the spot.


    I was lost; I threw my sword into the lake; all I did was drink. I collected the nails that were used to crucify her and forged them into a knife, a knife I still carry to this day, and sometimes I can hear it whisper to me,


    "Traitor! Liar! You fooled me!"


    Every night I whisper back to the blade, hoping that maybe she could hear me and understand.The man finished the story and felt lighter, but when he looked towards Kassandra, she was already asleep at his shoulder.


    "Well, at least she cared," he thought as he scooped her up in his arms and carried her through the darkness ahead, following a trail of magic towards the rest of the group.

 Strange Sigils

    He walked through the underworld, endless caverns around him, shrouded in darkness, and the heavy wind blew from the emptiness of the dark world beneath, almost blowing him off his feet, yet he carried on. He went downwards into a valley under the earth; the fog was thick and dense. As he passed through it, the specters moved away and hid from his sight, for they had not seen a living mortal for decades or even centuries. Edgar was closing in on the rest of the group, passing through different routes in the stone, shortening the way.


    During that time, Kassandra slept peacefully in his arms, not awakened by the cold winds nor the mist on her face; she was clearly tired. It did not take long for the old witch-hunter to catch up with Eldon and Luthor; he could see them from afar, as torchlight revealed them in the dark caverns below the stone. By that time, Kassandra was already awake, and the two approached the rest of the group.


    ¡°You could practice caution, Eldon,¡± he said as he appeared from the darkness, but the men were clearly looking at something else. They found a magic circle, full of strange sigils, many of which Luthor could recognize as sigils of lesser dark deities that were banished from the world together with Aroseth after his fall. The circle was drawn with blood, which already dried and crusted at the stone below. It was covered with ash and surrounded by scorched bodies, petrified as charcoal, by blown-out black candles, and the lingering remains of black magic shined in the stone walls surrounding the place, in an invisible light seen only by the eyes of a witch-hunter.


    ¡°Strange, this is a sigil of Ivarath, the demon of insanity; this one represents Mora, goddess of death,¡± Luthor spoke as he pointed to the sigils at the ground. Eldon''s heart was gripped with dread; it was unwise to speak their names out loud while standing in their realm.


    ¡°Keep your voice down! You don''t want them to hear their names being told at such a site!¡± a concerned acolyte warned with a fright in his voice, despite the fact that those deities were long gone for thousands of years.


    ¡°The circle is broken; one of the sigils is missing,¡± Luthor proclaimed, clearly concerned, and he added, ¡°A failed ritual, what remains of it, at least. Look at those damned souls, kneeling around the demonic runes; they did not know what kind of forces they were meddling with, their remains scorched by a surge of the black magic they invoked.¡±


    ¡°What is this?¡± Eldon stood in the middle of a circle and cleared the dark ash from the surface of the stone, revealing a mysterious sigil yet unseen by the witch-hunters.


    ¡°Strange.¡± Luthor''s concern grew as the two inspected the lines that led from the sigil in the middle towards the ones at the rims of the circle, and the connection at the missing sigil seemed to be broken.


    ¡°Something escaped the circle,¡± Luthor concluded, and the dread overwhelmed the rest of the group as soon as those words left his mouth.


    ¡°This is why they needed the chalice,¡± Edgar explained. ¡°The powers they meddle with are far beyond their capacity; crimson goblets, such as the one Kassandra stole, are used to connect the magical capacities of multiple casters so they can handle it together.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Eldon questioned, holding his torch as the flame crackled.


    ¡°They form a circle and perform a ritual of blood sacrifice, each of the participants sacrificing his own share by pouring it into the chalice, and when the chalice is full, the main caster drinks the blood and absorbs the power, which allows them to handle the spells of such magnitude, not alone, of course; they still need the circle to harness it.¡±


    ¡°But if a spell of such magnitude is summoned inside a circle, what protects the participating acolytes from its power?¡± Edgar questioned.Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± the old man replied. ¡°That''s exactly what we have here.¡± Luthor concluded and continued, ¡°Nobody knows what they unleashed upon the world, but one thing is certain: it isn''t something easy to deal with.¡±


    ¡°The place of ritual seems old to me,¡± Eldon observed under the light of his torch. ¡°By this time the entity could be anywhere in the world.¡±


    ¡°The Cult of the Merciful Ones!¡± Eldon proclaimed, his memory rewound to the moment when he bumped into Kassandra in the woodland. ¡°Do you think they were summoning Mora and her sisters?¡± he asked and looked toward Kassandra.


    ¡°Indeed, that was her concern too before she sent me.¡± The young woman replied.


    ¡°Who sent you?¡± Eldon questioned.


    ¡°We have no time for the interrogation; the presence of the merciful ones could be the cause for the plague; we may be onto something,¡± Luthor concluded. As he spoke, a large ember fell from the torch fire and landed into the circle. As soon as it touched the ground and broke into many pieces, Eldon''s head was filled with overwhelming pain and the sound of whispers and incantations.


    ¡°Damn!¡± the man yelled as he fell to his knees. ¡°I can still hear the whispers! There are more! This is not the only site!¡± he yelled, and the glow of magic around him seemed to intensify.


    ¡°We must go,¡± Luthor''s serious voice commanded. ¡°For whatever it is that they unleashed, it certainly doesn''t sleep.¡±


    The group started moving in pursuit of whatever could be the source of the silent chant, and Eldon led the way by following the sound of the whispers and the lingering traces of magic. Deeper they went into the underground caverns, the louder the chant became, and they went where no innocent mortal had gone for many long years.


    In one moment, as they ascended the passage, they felt a strong gust of wind coming from ahead, and as they climbed, they saw a massive cavern in front of them, bridged by a stone bridge made of massive stone bricks with gargoyles guarding its entrance and many extinguished braziers along its length.


    ¡°Let''s move,¡± Luthor proclaimed, and he went first, yet closer he came to the underground bridge, the more repelled he felt by its dark energies. Regardless, the dreadful feeling wasn''t enough to stop him, so he walked between the gargoyles and across the bridge.


    ¡°Your turn,¡± he shouted, and the rest of the group followed. However, not long after the bridge, the group was met with a large wooden gate. The surrounding wall seemed to be a fortification of a sort, yet it was clearly deserted.


    ¡°There is no way that we''ll open it,¡± Eldon concluded, as he bashed the gate with the heel of his boot, yet the old wooden planks didn''t even budge.


    ¡°May I?¡± Kassandra questioned, looking at Edgar.


    ¡°You can try,¡± he replied, and the rest of the group moved. The young woman closed her eyes and raised her hands in front of her, as if she were holding an invisible sphere, channeling power into it, as a small glitter of blue light appeared, and the motion of her hands spun it around as the sphere grew brighter and larger. The power seemed to be overwhelming, and soon enough the little glitter of light became an orb of arcane magic, radiating its energy with violent motions that stirred the air around the caster and the rest of the group as a powerful gust of wind blew through their clothes and hair as Edgar held his hand atop his hat to make sure it wouldn''t be blown away and Eldon protected the torch with his body.


    When the sphere grew into a size that could no longer be easily controlled by its caster, Kassandra threw it against the wooden gate, and it roared through the air before it slammed against the wooden boards of the gate. A sudden sound of explosion echoed through the caverns, and the flash turned darkness into day for a moment, and the wooden boards were turned into splinters, leaving a round hole blown straight through the obstacle, big enough for an adult person to comfortably pass.


    The potential of the mageborn was great enough on its own, and when exercised by more powerful sorcerers, their apprentices could become a conduit of raw arcane power with very little limit to their capability, and Kassandra was an example of such gifted sorcerers; her power was clearly greater than she ever credited herself for.


    ¡°I think we can pass,¡± she spoke with a tired voice as her legs trembled; clearly exhausted from the raw magic she projected outwards, the girl was obviously depleted.


    ¡°That was impressive,¡± Luthor confessed as he stepped through the blown-through gate ahead of the rest of the group, and the others followed, entering a large stone hallway. The cave was no longer natural and wild, full of unruly stones and openings in every direction, but clearly man-made, surrounded by stone walls and pillars that held the weight of the rock above. Yet the whole room had an uneasy aura; a heavy presence could be felt; they clearly entered a cultist fortress.