Plague Wars - Epilogue and Afterword

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Epilogue

I

        “What is your name child?” The voice was sweet like honey.
        She rose, not remembering how she came to be in darkness. It smelled wet and like rusted metal. Warmth touched and pricked her skin. Am I floating? She wondered and discovered the answer a second later. Liquid sloped down her dress as she collected her feet beneath her and found ground just below the liquid’s surface. She hated its thick viscosity. Slowly, her eyes adjusted to the black. She turned to the speaker and focused on the silhouette.
        “My name is Volcatia Ivmara, Captain of the Lavici’s Guard,” She spoke with authority and defiance, “Who are you.” It was not a question but a demand.
        Red burning eyes cut through the silhouette’s night black visage. Silver white fangs and teeth in perfect alignment split its face, revealing an impossibly wide grin. Its outline seemed wholly natural in the dim light and had a woman’s stature but at the same time defied the World’s natural laws with its sheer aura as if something larger sought to stretch the physicality of the sillouette’s outline and was barely contained.
        “You are not like the others in Lavici, Volcatia. You are special,” The silhouette spoke without moving its lips and it took a second for Volcatia to realize that its voice was in her head. The silhouette continued, “Unlike the others who have been touched by my children, you will be given a choice. You are special – strong – and not cattle like the masses.”
        “Who are you.” Again, a demand.
        The silhouette stepped forward and pale grey light emanated from the atmosphere, dispelling the shadows. It was as if the surrounding darkness was lifted from the speaker’s guise by its will alone and with that will the entire all-consuming black was vanquished to reveal the bloody ocean, they stood in. Volcatia was immediately awestruck by both the beauty and demonic horror the female speaker portrayed. The woman’s armour was a glossy jet – almost organic in nature – as if it were made from still wet bone freshly harvested from flesh. Its curves and sharp points made the speaker majestic and cruel – once something godly and divine but now corrupted by a force beyond measure or understanding. Its long feminine face was a sinister skull with sharp cheekbones, slightly elongated to accommodate its slim but impossibly wide grin that stretched to its pointed ears.
        “Very special,” The speaker said. Somehow, its grin grew further across its face as it ushered its name into the cold air, “I am Uulia, my daughter.”
        “Daughter?” This time, a question.
        “Yes,” The grin transformed into a toothy smile that was somehow all the more sinister.
        “What are you?”
        “I would be considered many things. Some would call me Touched, others corrupt. Myths would label me as a creature of night, a Vampyre, while humankind would know me as a nightmare; the creature that stalks their dreams and those of their children... I am all these things and none of them. They are all ignorant attempts to explain something greater than moral understanding. To you, I am mother.”
        “My mother was consumed by fever when I was a child,” Volcatia spat, “You are not her!”
        Uulia laughed with genuine mirth and agreed, “No, I am not her. But I am your mother. You will be reborn as my daughter for you are of my blood. I am the Matriarch who conceived your great grandmother when the God’s walked the earth and fought over their petty things. I waged their wars and now I seek my rewards for that service... what I am owed. You were touched by greatest long before your first breath and will be greater still after your last. I gave birth to your line and therefore you are tied to me.”
        Uulia freed a curved dagger from her belt and drew it across her hand without registering any pain. Black blood dripped into the red ocean. It seemed to crawl out across the red surface like oil consuming the crimson, or like a spreading plague consuming the living.
        “I offer you my kiss, Daughter,” Uulia presented her open palm. “Feed and your fate will be bound to me as one of my Children. Deny the gift I offer and be condemned for being one within my bloodline.”
        Volcatia cried out against the black blood as it crawled up her legs and burned her nerves with its icy touch.
        “I will protect you from afar my Child,” Uulia said as she offered her palm to Volcatia’s lips, “The one who hunts you will not find your scent until you are long gone from Lavici... If you move quickly. My powers have outgrown his, but I am very far from you... Find and join me in the North. When you wake, make haste. I already feel my lesser children being slaughtered by the Slayer.”
        The last thing Volcatia knew was the black liquid’s rancid metallic taste forcing its way down her throat. She felt its power. She felt stronger. She wanted it. Her greedy acceptance warmed the blood as it consumed her.

II

        “We need to get Volcatia out of here!” Sergeant Dexsius roared. “Pescennius wake up! The town is burning!”
        An angry orange flickered outside the window and carbon filled the air. Smoke was beginning to gather around the room’s ceiling. An awestruck Guard stood watching the pandemonium that was consuming the town beyond the viewing portal. Dexsius marched across the room and grabbed the Guard by the shoulder to spin him, so that he could slap the shock from the Guard’s face.
        “Sir,” Pescennius said as if dumb with shock, “I think we are being attacked...”
        There were twenty-four guards left in the compound by Dexsius’s estimate, but a few weeks ago the number was over one hundred. A few deserters and the vanished patrols had both taken their toll on the Guard’s numbers, but it was that massive creature that utterly destroyed them in the end. Over thirty were killed that night before it was a driven away.
        Over thirty...
        The Captain, in her weakened state, had said the monster was Lars, but Dexsius could see no possible way that was true. In the end, it did not matter. Whoever or whatever it was, it had doomed them. He could not put down the religious zealots that were beginning to preach their insanity, and he knew it was only a matter of time before they would stir the populous up into some frenzy that he did not have the manpower to contain. Hell, the fires were likely the culmination of that insanity, he thought.
        Dexsius pushed Pescennius away from the window. Horror contorted his cragged face as he took Pescennius place and peered outside. He knew eight guards were out on patrol leaving the compound with sixteen souls including himself, Pescennius, and the Captain – who was on death’s door. The numbers left and those who were able bodied enough to fight did not matter. Nor did the fires. None of it did.
        Four Demon’s had entered the courtyard and those guard who barred their way lay in pieces across the courtyard. No wonder Pescennius was made stupid, his mind voiced the realization. He was a veteran and had seen death more than most. What these Demon’s did was not death, but utter slaughter.
        “Pescennius!” Dexsius roared as he turned away from the window and drew his sword, “We have to get the Captain out now!”
        Pescennius wobbled his head up and down and rushed to the bed where Volcatia lay. He slid his hand under her shoulders and was astonished by how cold the Captain was. It was as if she were frozen solid by a winter storm. Gently, he began to free her from the furs and blankets that cocooned her tiny frame. Then, her eyes flashed open, and he screamed in surprise, “Captain!?”
        He had no chance to project another word and whatever they would have been gurgled in his throat. Volcatia’s fangs shot out from her gums, and she plunged them deep into his neck with an animalistic fury. Her muscles flexed as she overpowered him with sheer strength, which should have been impossible as Pescennius was twice her size and a third younger in age.
        Desperately, Pescennius thrashed as he felt his consciousness slip away with the blood being guzzled from him. Soon, he felt colder than the Captain’s frozen, unbreakable, embrace. His mind fogged and then faded into nothingness. His end was final, the Captain left nothing from him to come back too.
        Volcatia freed her fangs slowly, after Pescennius’s body was withered beyond any reasonable measure considering how fast she consumed his essence. Her thirst was not satiated – it could never be – but the edge was gone for now, and she could think beyond her initial bestial instincts when she woke. She took in her surroundings and immediately knew where she was. The blanket fell away from her nude, flawless form as she crossed the room to her armour’s stand. She took a moment to study herself in the nearby mirror and gave a bloody smile. All scars and blemishes – few as they were – were gone. Her features, although corpse pale, were angular and sharp, while all the age was removed from her skin. She took a moment to stare into her sheer black eyes and enjoyed the way that they did not reflect any light. They were a huntress’s eyes and she owned them as if they were born to her.
        She pulled away from the mirror. There was no time to dally. The battle in the sewers was nearly over – her mother had told her thus. The True Demon, the Slayer, was gaining the upper hand over the abomination Lars had become. In a way she could feel the distant conflict as if distantly connected to the Ghoul’s that had destroyed Lavici. A gift from her mother’s connection she instinctively knew.
        A whimper carried across the room from a voice that was unfamiliar with vocalizing fear, “Captain?”
        Still naked, she turned to Dexsius and her almost avian facial features softened. Ever loyal, she thought as she watched the Sergeant back away and stumble over a chair to fall flat on the ground. She crossed the room with grace somewhere between a seductress and a viper. Very slowly, she slid down into a kneel beside Dexsius and licked Pescennius blood from her lips – though it did nothing to clear her cheeks and chin.
        “Dexsius,” She said, “I am sure I have you to thank for my survival? You got me away from Lars?”
        “I-I,” He stammered.
        “Shh,” she said and placed a taloned finger against his lips. “For your loyalty, I will give you a gift of strength beyond anything you know. For your love, I will give you eternal life.”
        She did not wait for a reply, he had no choice in the matter. She needed him and his eyes told her that he wanted this, despite the fear that terrorized them.
        Faster than any eye could follow she was on him. Her fangs tore into his throat, and she was rewarded with his rich and warm life fluid. She felt him slowly grow limp, not from lacking blood, but from acceptance. It took some effort to pull away but pull away she did. He was on the edge and his glassy eyes told her that he was about to pass out. Her bloody fangs lifted from his throat and travelled to her wrist. There was no pain as she opened her own flesh and allowed her black blood to race from her pulsing veins into the air. She offered her open wrist to Dexisius and smiled with a sinister warmth.
        Dexsius was weak but he accepted gladly. With each drop he swallowed, his skin became paler and his eyes blacker as if millions of microscopic spiders spread from the whites to the iris.

III

        Trickling sewage emptied into the river. Its once steadier flow was hampered by bodies in the collection chamber hidden beyond the tunnel’s dark mouth. Albino, black-veined, rats raced beneath bars at the tunnel’s outflow and launched themselves into the river beyond. They scattered and swam in the lazy current. Each squealed in fright and pushed through the water as if their lives depended on it. It did.
        A figure in black hard-edged armour followed their escape. Its eyes burned with the low light of hot coals and its sword glowed with a dim white brilliance, and its light reflected on water next to the moons. Wet filth covered the black armour but did not take away from the figure’s august visage. Even though a skull-like mask obscured any emotion from its face, one could sense its displeasure as it watched the rats reach the far bank. The figure watched them all until they escaped its vision to the hills and fields beyond. It sheathed its sword and waded into the clean river water, letting the current cleanse the filth that covered it.
        Just then, it smelled something faint and snarled its displeasure. A new threat was rising from within the town. It turned to the inferno rising into the sky and knew this was only the beginning...

IV

        The town burned.
        The deed was done.
        The entire populace had been culled, and all evidence would be swept away in the fires that raged without control through the buildings. On a hill, beyond the flames reach and the town’s edge, dark figures gathered – seventeen in total. The fire danced across their sorrow-filled eyes.
        At their lead, a Demon – who was not truly so – watched the flames with mournful sky-blue eyes, which was completely at odds with the skull-like face’s rictus grin that covered his face. Of them all, his hurt appeared to be the greatest. After a while, he looked down at the four torn bodies lying neatly at his feet. They wore the same dark armour and their rictus helms no longer seemed to grin, despite being identical to his own.
        From the night’s black, another approached. It was the same as the seventeen, yet utterly different. Where a regular man or woman would see all of them as equally demonic, the new arrival was something else entirely and the only one who could truly be described as such – despite being identical in appearance to the rest. The group watched the new arrival with the distrust, not fully knowing what it would do next.
        The Demon with the mournful sky-blue eyes spoke, “So... It is done Demon...” The last word was spat with contemptuous venom.
        “This is not the end,” The new arrival – the True Demon – said without emotion.
        The blue-eyed Demon spat, “We helped you in this, but do not assume anything has changed.”
        The True Demon’s eyes flared with orange and red fire, but not from the burning village’s reflection. Its own eyes glowed from the depths of something inside itself. Its voice split as if two people were speaking slightly off sync from the other and it snarled each word, “You are a lesser being, Untouched. Do not begrudge us for what was taken from you and your compatriots.”
        “We aren’t like you, you Slayer,” The blue-eyed Demon retorted.
        “And are lesser for it,” The True Demon said. “Despite what you mortals think, the magic of the World has not vanished. The Gods’ still hold sway, even in their slumber.”
        The blue-eyed Demon took a calming breath and said, “this will go nowhere.”
        “We agree.”
        “Will you deal with what caused this?”
        The True Demon gave a curt nod, “We will.” It turned the way It had come and marched back into the night – vanishing far too quickly into the darkness – as if welcomed by it.
        “What did this, Slayer?” The Blue-eyed Demon asked the retreating figure.
        The True Demon stopped and replied after a pause, “Leftovers from another time... an abomination.” It melded into the night. “Those who have strayed from the God’s will and thus will be hunted. We vow this and vow to slay them so that they may face their judgement at the God’s feet.”
        Aside from the fire’s fury, the night became silent.
        A Demon with a slender form stepped away from the group and placed her hand on the Blue-eyed Demon’s arm. “Talinnius...?” She Whispered.
        The Demon with blue eyes forced back the stinging tears – he had expressed enough sorrow and was tired from it – but did not pull away from his friend’s touch. Deep in his core, he knew this was only the beginning and the faces of those who now burned – those that he had murdered – in the town below stared at him every time he closed his eyes. The little girl and the last man most of all. They stood at the forefront of the crowd watching from the bloody ocean that consumed all souls. He was tired and could not challenge the True Demon; he lacked the will to do so.
        The heat from the flames only blended with the mid-summer radiance that refused to yield even with the sun being long departed.

V

        A shadow darker than the moonless void snaked through the overgrown grass. In one instant, it was solid and similar to a cat as it stalked prey; in another it was liquid, running round the grass’ with a breeze’s gentle touch. It slipped invisibly between the black armoured spectators – who watched a town burn – and slithered to the figure at their lead.
        If it had a mouth, it would have chittered with joy. If it had a mouth, it would have whispered its prey’s name. It could do neither and so quested slowly – silently – until it was a hand’s breadth from the prey. It felt the man’s sorrow and tasted it like a fine wine.
        It had followed the prey for a long time – hiding from the ones who trained him.
        It had been patient, like only the best hunters can be.
        It ignored its hunger.
        It ignored the pain that pulled at it to return beyond the material.
        This sorrow was what it needed.
        This weakness was all it needed to get in.

        To start...
        The shadow reached out and took its prey’s ankle. A smile did form on the shadow’s incorporeal form as it felt the figure’s hollow armour welcome it in, like an old long-lost friend. It sank into the metal and began to worm into the man beneath like a parasite, knowing Talinnius would perceive the feeling as if it were little more than an itch.

VI

        He stood alone in the blood-filled sea. Its gentle current lapped around his ankles and sought to pull him under. With each breath, mist formed on the air and took a long while to fully dissipate. There was no chill – except for that within his core. The sky had been black for an eternity and somehow it felt wrong. He was not supposed to be here, but something kept him frozen in place. Fortunately, he knew why, and he maintained his patience's as he always had done throughout his long years in life.
        A familiar light rose above the horizon, dispelling the dark and gave the blood its crimson hue. It appeared slow moving due to the distance, but as it came closer, it flew with a remarkable pace. The blood was split in its flight’s wake and rippled outwards, disturbing the vast ocean – stretching beyond what his eyes could see – creating a flow where only stillness existed prior. Soon the light would be upon him, and he welcomed it like an old friend. It felt warm.
        “Nessia,” He said when it came near enough for his voice to reach it, “My greetings.”
        The light stopped with a sudden and powerful thunder. Air gusted forward – blowing away his misted breath – causing the blood to wave up against his shins.
        “Achamus,” The Celestial greeted. Its form could be described as female by its chest’s bust and slender hips, despite the flawless almost transparent robes hiding much of its form. Wings of pure illuminous light shone out across the ocean – expelling darkness from the sky like a newborn sun. Its wings folded in after a final beat, and the Celestial landed softly atop the blood as if it were solid dry earth.
        “Thank you for what you did,” Achamus said.
        The hood covering the darkness where the Celestial’s face should have been, nodded. It asked, “Will he heed your warning?”

        “Talinnius will,” Achamus replied, “He will figure out what must be done.”
        “It is a shame your kind have been made into those things.”
        “They are no longer my kind... not since she freed me and those who have fallen since the final day of the God’s War.”
        Again, the Celestial nodded in agreement.
        “Does it... the shadow approach Talinnius? Can you tell me?”
        “I gave you the chance to warn him. I cannot interfere anymore. I will already pay a high price.”
        Achamus sighed. If he had the power, he would prevent Talinnius’s fate and take the burden away onto himself. He would face his own challenge, however.
        “Is it time?” he asked.
        “It is.”
        “Will you be okay, Nessia?”
        Nessia gave a smile’s impression, though she had no face to give the gesture form beneath her cowl. “She asked me the same after she freed you by giving you that scar across your face.”
        “She has always had a caring soul. Strange that one with so much power could be so.”
        Nessia laughed softly, “Her compassion is what gives her, her strength.”
        Achamus smiled knowingly, “I knew that. My mind grows foggy in this place.”
        “It is the way of the dead, but you’ll be returned near the end.”
        Achamus nodded, “Until then...”
        Nessia smiling impression vanished, “Until then.”
        Light enveloped Achamus and he felt its gentle warmth caress his core. The ocean dropped away but he did not fly. Instead, he fell in Nessia arms into the Beyond’s depths; into the final layer, the final level – just before mortal souls become one with the slumbering and hungry Gods. 

Afterword

What a ride...

I made the first post for this novel on Sept 15th 2020 and started writing this novel long before that on the Aug 13th 2018. Of course that was not consistent and I have written other things in between and many of the words I first wrote when I started hammering out this idea have changed vastly (there were not even Ghoul's at the beginning!), but the first paragraph's of the prologue were written all the way back then... What is interesting about that Aug 13th date is that 11 days from that point I would be in a relationship with the woman who is about to become my wife. I have always had a dream to put my writing into the wild but it was her love and support that pushed me over the cliff. I love you and thank you Shelby - also thank you for only "bugging" me a little while I tried to dig in deep for this project. You are a double edged sword, if I did not have you in my life I am not sure I would have ever done this, but since I started you have been the perfect distraction to not be as dedicated as I would have liked haha. All my trademark bratty-ness aside, thank you my love.

My mom also deserves a big thank you. She struggles with the material written and gave a solid effort to get through it, but she supported me by not questioning my dream and helping me overcome the real world barriers that held back my writing, such as getting me a tablet that could actually open Microsoft Word, unlike my stupid laptop ever other day.

Lastly, Auntie Dadye thank you for being my biggest fan. Your consistent feedback has kept me going until the end... or I guess to get through the beginning (I'll explain that next). I cannot express my thanks and appreciation enough for you following along with this story. I am glad you enjoyed it and for the next one, I will give it all to you in advance unlike everyone else.

My biggest feedback for this project was the release schedule. Every two weeks was a bit long for those who attempted to follow along. Until the last few chapters I am happy I made that consistency though - life got busy with work - it killed me to not be able to maintain that consistency towards the end, but it taught me what I need to do and what goes into an endeavour like this. Although, I have written in a near daily manner for years this project put structure and gave me deadlines to push me harder. I learned a lot in this process and want to refine my workflow to be able to do weekly updates - but those will have to wait for now.

In a few months I am getting married and I cannot wait. What that means for writing is that I am going to look at smaller scale projects. This novel is only part one in a long long series (I have written multiple unreleased novels that take place later in the timeline of this story - so when I get to those, hopefully you'll be picking them up at Chapters or something). This novel is by no means the end as evident by the epilogue. I am so excited to share the next part and at this time it is about a third done in its first draft. That being said, I am getting married and that needs my complete focus. 

What does that mean for this blog? 

Somewhat business as usual. My posting frequency is going to be on the more random side for a bit (until after I get married) and I am focusing on smaller scale projects. I want to start drawing again and create some supplement materials for the Carthirose Sage, such as: Character pages and artwork, maps, etc. Furthermore, to keep my writing muscles strong, I want to take on some smaller projects like short stories to develop my craft. I will share all of these and hope you find interest in them.

As for part two, you have my word it will be out by no later than the fall of 2022 and the goal is to do weekly posts when it is ready to go. This winter will be busy! Looks like I should stop rambling and get to work...

Also, I need to figure out marketing.

Again, thank you to all those who have followed me this long. You few are what keep me going! And I am not just saying that to be humble. 

~Brett  

Wait if you have not read the previous Chapters, click the Carthirose Saga button above or Click here.

Chapter 20 - The Demon

I

        Immediately, the nest’s unnatural taint sought to overwhelm the Demon’s senses. This was no surprise – since vanquishing the nest in the inn’s cellar, the Demon had awoken more powers. The Demon was still nowhere near as strong as it once had been, while the Gods walked on the World, but with each hour passed it regained more.
        With a blink, its true sight inverted the dark to a grey colourless light. With a snort, the stench from the stigma, from the Ghouls presence, was repelled from its nostrils. It felt its body change and adapt – both internally and externally – to the inhospitable environ. Organs changed to combat and overcome the taint and its armour became waxen bone, which prevent the air from grazing its skin. Its long-serrated teeth spread to where its ears should have been.
        The infestation had grown rapidly, faster than the Demon thought possible. This fact did not trouble it, but the Demon wondered if it should have pursued the one-armed Ghoul rather than follow the greater taint it smelled on the wind, which turned out to be a burnt-out ruin. Of all its powers, the one it lacked was the ability to predict the future, and it would have never thought a mortal would so thoroughly destroy a town when the taint showed itself. It was a feat that impressed the Demon and one that made it capture the Untouched Champion Veturius. From a practical standpoint, it needed the manpower to vanquish this disease, this blight; so, the divergent journey was not a complete waste. The Untouched were weak, but they would serve its needs by culling the herd. As for it… it would ravage the source.
        Confident with its body's metamorphosis, the Demon marched heedlessly into the dark with its sword drawn and the weapons pure white glow lit the way.

II

        The rat’s fled from the Demon’s path and it snarled in rage. The vermin were just as corrupt as the Ghouls. It could smell the reason. The taint had seeped into the sewer’s water from where the rats drank and lived. It was little wonder the taint had taken the town and the surrounding land so quickly. Everything would have to be cleansed with rage and fury that only flames could provide.
        From an alcove, a moan floated – sluggish in the rancid and thick humid air. The Demon peered inside and snarled. With a speed and force that would have been impossible for a human, it reached in to snatch the occupant by the throat. It casually pulled the flaying creature out from its hiding place and the Demon showed its disgust by spitting acidic saliva onto the cobblestones.
        If the Ghoul had been uninflected, it would have been little more than a child – eight or nine years in age – likely a girl by its structure. Black veins webbed around its jet eyes and its fangs clamoured together in its struggle to break free. Despite this, it somehow retained some innocents in its twisted and skeletally thin features.
        The Demon met the child Ghoul’s jet eyes. It watched the orbs grow slack as it swept its sword – bisecting the Ghoul’s chest to witness its heart be severed. Its legs and lower body fell wetly to the floor and sloshing into the sewage channel. The Ghoul’s hands slid from the Demon’s wrist that still held its throat. The Demon casually cast aside the arms, shoulders, and head once it was sure the Ghoul was truly dead. It refused to chance one escaping again. This misbegotten task ended now.
        Without further pause, the Demon continued down the sewer channel, allowing its clear senses to guide it to its true prey. The oppressive stench sought to consume it the deeper it went, but it brushed it aside with minimal effort. It was ready to face the tumour growing within the depths.

III

        The sewer channel opened to a room a few metres ahead and was flooded with foul grey- brown water: up past the walkways and beyond the Demon’s ankles. The Demon did not pause, nor did it slow its inexorable advance. With each sloshing step it grew closer to its goal. It knew this was the nest’s heart. The smell told it so. It knew what it would find in the room beyond. It could feel the Ghoul’s presence and felt their numbers. Ready to burst, the nest was about to flood across the town – the Demon would dam the tide. With sword, teeth, and talon it would dispatch the unclean from the World.
        It crossed the threshold into the square chamber, bearing witness to a charnel house beyond. Bodies – none whole – were flung carelessly and without design throughout the room. They were piled and savaged with such a destructive fury that it seemed unfathomable such mutilation could exist in a sane world. This was far from sane, it was the unclean, the unnatural, and the unholy. It was a carnage that would destroy a person’s mental safety net by showing them a hunger that should have been impossible; for the Ghoul’s not only ate to quench their hunger but also to erase their past lives. By destroying others, they vanquished all that they had once been and became the animals their thirst demanded them to be. Into this chaos, the Demon strolled, again without hesitation, as if it were casually walking through open plains with long, swaying grass and blue skies on a warm sunny day.
        Bodies shifted and thin skeletal forms began to rise from amongst the flesh debris. Somehow, the Ghouls’ black eyes reflected in the lightless void, like a feline. The Demon’s grin rose high, revealing its angular teeth and dagger-like fangs. Slowly, a horde rose – between thirty and forty in number. They crawled onto the flesh mounds, unwilling to draw to near, but groaning with unsatiated, and glutenous hunger.
        The one-armed Ghoul lifted from the tallest corpse pile and growled like a cornered feral dog. The Demon could see recognition in that Ghoul’s black eyes and could feel its fear. The grin grew, revealing more serrated teeth. A particular self-satisfaction twisted the Demon’s mind to put fright into the tainted.
        “Who seeks their freedom from this World first?” The Demon announced with a snarl and pointed its sword’s tip at the horde.
        The closest Ghoul shrieked and flung itself, headfirst – with its fangs bared and drool strands running from its lips and down its chin. It gagged as the Demon’s free hand caught and gripped it by the lower jaw with fingers down the Ghoul’s throat. If the Demon moved at a mortal's pace, the Ghoul would have bit down and severed the fingers. Instead, the world blurred, and the Ghoul’s skull was shattered. Necrotic brains dashed across the wall as the Ghoul was forced against the stone by the Demon’s incredible strength and speed. The first Ghoul was dead, before it even realized its charge had been stalled just as its feet had propelled it into the air.
        The Ghoul’s limp form was not allowed to fall. The Demon yanked hard on the Ghoul’s tongue and freed it with a savage twist and pull. Not once did the Demon break eye contact with the one-armed Ghoul as the first kill was made. Rancid blood filled the air; somehow, overpowering the sewage. With a sinister chuckle the Demon raised the tongue – with all the meaty innards still attached – as a trophy and presented it to the snarling horde. It tossed the tongue into the crowd and its mirth grew into a laughter darker than any night. The nest stirred into a fever. Every Ghoul roared. It was deafening. Through it all the Demon’s laughter and smile merely grew.

IV

        The Demon smashed its fist into the supporting arch at the room’s entrance. Cracks flew through the stone like lightning. A new roar filled the sewer – brought on by collapsing earth – as the arch sagged inwards. The Demon stepped forward casually as the tunnel behind it collapsed in a dust torrent. Debris launched throughout the room, shifting the piled bodies and knocked the closest Ghoul’s to their backs.
        Without warning, the Demon launched from the dust and gave credence to its name. Its sword lashed out with a silver white flash and a new body was added to the piles. Black gore spilled from the vanquished Ghoul as it writhed in its death throes. The Demon bellowed its rage at the tainted, extending its jaw far wider than should have been possible.
        Its sword was not the only weapon the Demon used. With a growl, the Demon turned on the next Ghoul and with a gale’s force, struck. Midnight black claws and silver teeth tore through pale flesh with ruthless abandon. It was a carnage that could only be described as a whirlwind. The Demon was remorseless and untiring. In a blink, several Ghouls were in as many pieces as it crashed into the horde. Flesh and hunks of meat flew from its rampage and flopped atop discarded flesh that littered the floor.
        The Demon raged in its bloodlust, “Die abominations! This is the God’s will!”
        As one, the remaining Ghoul’s charged – except for their sire, the one-armed Ghoul. They were not without number, but still numerous enough to be a threat. The Demon may have gotten faster and was able to overcome the sickness they spread into the air, but the Ghouls were still creatures from a similar stalk as itself – albeit lesser forms. They moved with speed – as one, as a herd – forcing the Demon back a step. Despite dying in droves and being split apart from the Demon’s remorseless onslaught they heedlessly kept up the pressure. They circled like sharks around a prey and lashed until they got inside the Demon’s guard. The Demon felt their clawed fingers knife into its bone-like armour as they grappled over each other to get closer. The Ghoul’s were ravenous – hunger incarnate – and the Demon was the most delicious feast ever presented to them. Even if it cost all their lives, they wanted to taste the Demon’s flesh more than anything else; only then, might their hunger cease for a time. Their numbers began to tell, and the Demon took another step back. It no longer smiled but snarled with contempt now that the Ghoul’s were no longer afraid and were presenting a near overwhelming front. Bright as the sun, the Demon’s sword lashed out just as the Ghoul’s tide became an avalanche. The act freed the Demon from their clawing hands and gave it space to spin its blade in a vicious overhand arc that caused the wave to crumble and the Ghouls to sprawl over each other in an uncoordinated mass.
        The one-armed Ghoul gave its own bellow; spittle launched from its stretched and gapping mouth. As one, the Ghoul’s ceased their attack and backed away from the Demon’s reach. Over half their number lay in heaps of broken flesh – marking the Demon’s fury.
        Breathing hard, the Demon’s snarl twisted back into a grin. Exhilaration filled its breast. Not since the God’s Wars had it felt so alive. Fresh powers surged into its limbs as it awoke further. Its body wanted to twist itself into a truer representation of what it could be. Its claws grew longer, and its armour shifted into more pronounced bone-like plates. Its skull-like mask conformed to its face and horned spikes sprouted from its crown and jawline. The transformation was nowhere near complete and not what it had been in the past, but to come so close to its true form and the perfection that form represented... it was a sensation it would have not thought possible with the World’s lacking power while the God’s slumbered.
        The ground rumbled.
        The air sucked back into the stinking passage on the room’s opposite side. A new smell entered the Demon’s upturned skeletal nostrils. The air shot back out in a rolling wave. As one, the remaining Ghouls smiled and chittered as they backed away to the room’s edges. The Demon could see pleasure in their black eyes and wanted to pull them out, one by one in response.
        Again, the ground rumbled.
        The one-armed Ghoul squatted and crawled to the side – freeing itself from the tunnel’s path, joining the Ghoul’s already hugging the walls. Only the corpses and torn limbs provided any barrier from what was coming.
        Another rumble.
        Debris and grit fell from the ceiling as the very earth rocked with a distant earth-quaking fury. The Demon lowered its stance and braced for whatever was coming. It drew back its sword so that blade was in line with its clavicle, with the point aimed at the far tunnel; its grin did not subside, and anticipation stormed in its heart. Nothing could threaten it with the fresh power surging through its limbs
        The rumble repeated – over and over again – gaining speed.
        It was as if a drum were being savagely beaten.
        The tempo increased.
        A shadow consumed the passage.

V

        Air was pushed from the tunnel in a ferocious gust. The Demon squinted and picked out the hazed form in the tunnel. With each step it took more air rushed out. The Demon’s grin twisted to something that held no humour and for a second a knot twisted its innards.
        In a blink, a massive creature was in the room and thundered across it. With a force that could fell mountains, the Demon was rocked from its feet by a boulder-sized fist. Spittle flew from its mouth as it collapsed sideways. The creature’s other fist collided, redirecting the Demon’s momentum in the opposite direction, and sent it sprawling, end over end through the air. The Demon came to rest against a wall and spider webbed crackers split the bricks behind it. It slid to its hands and knees – noticing its sword had escaped its grasp. Blood drooled from its mouth in long strands; the broken bodies beneath it smoked with acidic haze wherever its life fluid touched. With wobbling legs, it rose shakily to its feet. Metal returned where bone had once been, a ghost-like after image hovered around its outline, and the flames in its eyes lacked their previous brilliance. The smile, however, returned and grew wider than before.
        It laughed as only a madman could. The dual aspects in its voice were separated now, but with each mirthful note they grew closer and closer together – eventually becoming one, once more. Its eyes blazed with renewed fury the instance the two voices meshed, and the metallic armour bent and twisted back into bone-like protrusions. Fresh strength surged through its muscles and the laughter grew deeper like the bass notes in an orchestra.
        The creature bellowed its hatred and beat its chest, like a rampaging ape. The Demon rose steadily and met the creature’s rage-filled gaze, before letting its laughter die into a rolling echo throughout the room.
        The creature was vast beyond any human proportions. Where the taint had shriveled the other Ghouls, this one had become swollen beyond its human frame. While the others were skeletal, this behemoth was fat with both muscle and blubber. Its form was so vast, it was a wonder it could fit in the room, let alone the tunnel it had just travelled through. While the other Ghouls grew claws, this creature grew sword length talons. Somewhere in its transformation, its neck was consumed by rolls and bulging shoulders, which were littered with black and throbbing veins. The only feature to mark this creature as the others of its kind were its fangs – though they were long and proportional to its bulk– and the pale corpse skin dressing its girth.
        In short, it was hideous and an abomination – even when compared to the others. For that crime, the Demon would take delight in vanquishing it from the God’s creation.
        The creature did not wait for the laughter’s echo to fade. Again, it lashed out with a speed that belied its size. The Demon leapt into a roll from the creature’s stampeding feet. It snarled as it found its leg enclosed in the creature’s tree trunk fingers. Suddenly and violently, the room spun and rounded upside down. The creature’s free hand seized the Demon’s throat. The Demon gagged as the creature’s strength stole its breath. With a gut churning twist, the corpse covered ground race up to meet the Demon’s face and the impact caused even its vision to snap out.
        Unlike a mortal, it would not suffer unconsciousness from physical trauma. But, like a mortal, its form could be damaged beyond repair should enough force be thrust upon it. The impact was hard, but softer than it should have been. The Demon found the bodies had served as an island of sorts. They were thick and solid enough to accommodate its graceful and agile movements without a ripple – so much so that it did not realize the bodies solidity had capped the sewage beneath. It was forced through them by the creature’s savage strength and was awash with drowning filth. The creature’s long thick shins stretched through the sewage depths and were firmly planted on the stone below. It explained why the thing was able to push through the rotten flesh mounds so fast and fit in the room.
        With the Demon fully submerged beneath the thick grey murk, the creature squeezed with all its might – causing the Demon’s throat protection to crack – and the Demon’s mouth opened to scream. Sewage poured into its gasping maw, swirling around its tongue, and caused it to gag as the thick liquid rolled down its throat to fill its lungs.
        Drowning was a concern it had not realized before, and, in a fatalistic manner, it found that dying in mortal sewage was a sardonic way to be released from its flesh form and returned to Gods.

VI

        Its vision blurred and its mundane mortal sight was beginning to return as the sewage flooding its lungs stole its strength. So, it did what any predator would do when pinned. It bit. With a mouth that stretch from ear to ear, it knifed every single tooth it had into the massive creature’s wrist. Rancid blood spirted into the sewage water and clouding it with black tendrils. It preferred the sewage’s taste, but, unlike the sewage, it did not allow a single drop down its throat. The taint could consume the Demon, just as it had consumed the town. Even in its dire straits it felt the God’s testing presence; it felt thirst. It far preferred to die in mortal filth than to become what the others had – they who had become weak and succumbed to their thirst.
        Even beneath the sewage, the Demon could hear the creature’s pain-filled bellows. The Demon spat a flesh chunk – letting it float away in the thick excrement – and bit down again to rip more meat free. After two more savage bites, its teeth severed a tendon in the closest finger and the pressure released at last.
        It pulled free. With freedom, its vision focused. With a defiant roar, it launched itself from the sewage and threw itself at the creature’s face. Having lost its sword, it used its claws to rip through the creature’s corneas and push deep into the eyes. Fluids and jelly erupted from creature’s sockets and mixed with the sewage pouring from the Demon’s gapping mouth.
        The massive Ghoul howled its pain, thrashed wildly, and swung its weight around with reckless abandon. The remaining Ghoul’s scattered, lest they be crushed by their rampaging giant.
        The creature’s massive hands raced to its face, but the Demon was gone. Leaping high – away from the creature’s reach – the Demon spiraled, end over end, to land softly on its feet atop a thick mound of ruined bodies in a crouch.
        A Ghoul launched itself and the Demon reached out casually. It took the Ghoul by its throat. With its free hands, it pulled the Ghoul’s upper jaw upwards and pried the Ghoul’s head off, before throwing it at another at the flank. A snarl escaped the Demon’s lips as a third Ghoul pounced on its back and bit down. The fangs could not find purchase against the bone plates on the Demon’s shoulder and the Demon dislodged its attacker with a barrel roll over the corpses. From instinct, it dodged to the side as it came out from the roll; the massive blind creature raced to the confrontation, using sound alone to find its foe. Its sheer bulk was a violent destructive tornado of movement as it waded through the room.
        Before any others could attack, the Demon reached out with all its senses to find its sword as it slid across the rolling corpses beneath its taloned feet. The blade was nearby, and the Demon used its momentum to dive through the loosened floating bodies, back into the sewage, in the massive creature’s wake.
        The Demon kicked furiously at the perusing Ghouls, who swam after it like hideous fish grasped at its ankles. Just as the Ghouls dug their claws into the Demon’s feet and hips, the Demon grasped its sword from the sewer’s floor. The blade flared with renewed life – having gone dull when it was flung from the Demon’s touch. Light entered the first Ghoul and it simply exploded from the sword’s renewed power. The second closest gasped wide – sending bubbles in a torrent from its gaping mouth – and made to get away with a panicked push. With a glowing white flash, the second Ghoul’s upper body was cleanly split from its legs and the two halves fell away in different directions, lost to the grey murk. The others were beyond the Demon’s immediate reach and disappeared into the sewage.
        The bodies exploded upwards as the Demon launched itself from the sewer’s floor and irrupted like a being from myth and legend. It gained its feet, arched its back, and roared with a savage cry that froze the Ghoul’s diseased hearts. Only the creature was not cowed. It turned to face the Demon with black ichor pouring form its eye sockets and gave its own bellow in challenge. Its face twisted with a hatred that was beyond natural as its muscles flexed with raged filled power.
        It charged.
        And the Demon met the creature’s assault.
        Both blurred from with the speed at which they collided. A pure white flash filled the room with its radiance. The Demon seemed to vanish for a second that lasted an eternity as its image was burned into the Ghoulish onlookers. It reappeared on the creature’s hunched back and spun the sword into a reverse grip; then drove the blade into the creature’s skull with a two-handed thrust.
        The hatred on the creature’s face grew slack and it became stupid as death stole its rabid mind. It took two stuttering steps and moaned its last breath. Its hands did not reach to its head, but instead held guts spilling onto the bodies in long grotesque ropes and into the sewage when their weight became too much for the floating bodies to hold – the result of Demon’s first devastating strike, which radiant flesh only just dissipated within the room.
        Almost casually, the Demon freed its blade from the massive Ghoul’s skull, and it stepped onto the bodies with the creature’s downward momentum at the remaining tunnel’s mouth, similar to a sailor walking onto a dock to tie his ship.
        The few remaining Ghouls hissing and snarling their contempt, like beaten feral dogs. The Demon had no eyes for them. Its burning gaze settled on the first. This was the closest the Demon had come to death in nearly a century and a cool rage burned in its breast. The prey it had missed in the inn those weeks ago was only the immediate cause to this blight and it would soon punish the one-armed Ghoul for its part, but it reserved a special hatred for those who had started it all by creating these abominations.
        The Demon would never stop and never quit; not until those who had lost their way lay dead at its feet – sent to the Gods to be judged by its sword.
        The one-armed Ghoul slinked backwards at the Demon’s approach and hissed continuously, like a wounded rat. With its customary grin returning, the Demon seemed to vanish, but reappeared with its sword punched into the Ghoul – forcing it deep, until the hilt smashed into the Ghoul’s ribs. The Demon stared at the skewered Ghoul and took a deep satisfied breath. It met the Ghoul’s cold black eyes and saw its own burning gaze reflected in them. Somehow, the Ghoul no longer seemed monstrous as its features slackened. It had once been a young man and a small part of that past life showed through in those last moments it suckled air into its lungs. Its lids grew heavy, making the flames in the Demon’s eyes look like they were dying out, which was far from reality.
        Without warning, the Demon punched so hard that the one-armed Ghoul’s head crumpled into wet ruin beneath the blow's fury. With another savage cry, it tossed the broken body from its sword to land amongst those few remaining. They glanced at each other with an animal’s desperation, as the Demon turned to face them. It stood before their only exit.
        As the Demon met their fear-filled gazes, its grin grew wider with a sadist's passion, and it aimed its sword at their black eyes.

Thank you for reading! The conclusion will be up next week at 7am on Tuesday 27-Jul-21!

~Brett

Wait if you have not read the previous Chapters, click the Carthirose Saga button above or Click here.

Chapter 19 - Talinnius

I

        Marching at the Champon’s fore, the Demon effortless lead the pace on foot. Talinnius kept his sight firmly on the Demon’s back as he trailed it by a few strides atop his horse. Its form had become more metallic – losing the flesh-like quality it had in the farmhouse – and the shadowed double that occupied the same space was no longer apparent. It was solid and there was little to distinguish it from one of the twenty-one Champions – with Veturius’s return to their ranks – who followed. Only the Demon’s eyes remained inhuman and burned with an inferno’s intensity.
        The Demon was the single greatest threat Talinnius had ever faced, and he was found lacking in every aspect during their brief encounter. Not since he was first inducted into the order as an orphan had he found himself so wanting when challenged by an opponent. Since vowing to accompany it, Talinnius had not allowed the Trance to subside. He knew he would pay for maintaining such awareness and strength, but there was no choice. So, he practiced a talent Achamus was only just beginning to teach him. It was Achamus’s theory that Trance could be separated into levels or depths – the less deep, the less tole on the body and the longer the Trance could be supported. As with all things, there was a tradeoff. His emotions could still be felt, although distantly, and he could still feel severe pains, but he benefited from increased strength, and balanced mind. It was both numbing and awakening at once. Even with the Trance leveling his emotional state, he could feel his injured confidence and vowed to demand more from his training when this was all complete. He would perfect this skill as Achamus had done and achieve the perfect Trance state all Champions sought.

        How the Demon had Achamus’s sword weighed more heavily on his thoughts than any self-doubt. Did this thing – this Demon – kill Achamus? Talinnius theorized with a growing rage. Was this what Quintis feared and refused to tell me? He could not answer these questions and was not one to speculate or guess. So, he decided to bide his time and quell his anger until the answers became apparent. Achamus’s sword felt heavy strapped to his back. It was as if it weighed on his soul and demanded justice. A constant pang, like a ringing in the air. He pushed away and ignored the imaginary sensation, reaffirming to his rebellious thoughts that for now, he must keep within striking distance – knowing his only chance was to catch the Demon unawares – should the need arise to face the Demon once more.        “You may turn your killer’s eyes away from our back, Untouched,” The Demon said with a single deep voice. Its eyes remained forward – watching only the road– and it kept to its steady unyielding pace.

        Talinnius arrested his mount slightly. Every time the Demon spoke, his and the other horses sought flight. His gaze narrowed. and he concluded that whatever senses the Demon possessed it could read his intent to harm it and his indecision in this quest. This did not surprise him. For some reason, he believed it would have been more shocking if the Demon did not possess such a talent.

        “Can you blame me, Demon?” Talinnius retorted.

        The Demon chuckled in a way that felt like both a wild dog as well as a man. Humour – no matter how unnatural it sounded – was the most human thing it had done since their first encounter, which sent a shiver down Talinnius’s spine. The laughter was wholly foreign coming from the Demon – causing more discomfort and apprehension. Somehow, it made it easier to be around it when it did not show any humanity.

        “No,” It replied after its mirth died to quiet air.
        It said no more and Talinnius was not one to start up a conversation. So, their truce continued in silence as the Demon lead the Champion’s column down the road without rest.

II

        Eventually, Talinnius dropped back to be amongst his fellow Champions. There was little point in keeping an offensive against the Demon if it could read his intent.
        Veturius remained unusually quiet – something that was far from his norm. Talinnius guessed Veturius shared his own misgivings. To be so easily beaten was tough to digest – especially their entire being was dedicated to not letting that happen. That fact would not dissuade Talinnius though. He needed his friend’s focus for whatever was to come and sought to get Veturius’s mind working once more.
        He pulled alongside Veturius, slightly away from the rest of the column. He would not insult him by asking how he was feeling and instead inquired about what Veturius had found when following Tettius footsteps, “What did you find?”
        Veturius showed his understanding, as if he possessed the Demon’s talent for mind reading. He spoke calmly – though there was a near imperceptible tremour at his speech’s edges – “A horror that is hard to explain and not the one that leads us. I am not sure which is worse...”
        “Speak Veturius.”
        “I know not what to call it... and barely know how to describe it...”
        Talinnius gave Veturius silence to contemplate what to say.
        “It was... an abomination,” Veturius began. He started by describing Tettius’s devastation of the town. After another pause, he spoke about the cellar and the half dead creature that assailed him. Lastly and briefly, he told how he was captured the Demon. With a sigh, Veturius finished, “I believe we were wrong to execute Tettius.”
        Talinnius had already come to that same conclusion and if were not for the partial Trance, he would have been crippled by guilt and more self-doubt. Instead, he remained silent and held the distant feelings at bay. He kept his breathing steady and centered himself. An instinct told him that should the Trance break, he would become broken by his failure.

III

        The sun was toying with the western horizon, by casting brilliant oranges mixed with purples and violets across the sky. Talinnius felt it almost poetic, like something from a bard’s tale. Such a brilliant backdrop for the town. He studied the economic and rowed buildings from a hill large enough to overlook them. He could just see over the walls from his angle and therefore was afforded a view of the red tiled rooves that were standard to all Carthirosian architecture. However, they were much simpler when compared to the capital – in both scale and structure – but were still a testament to the Empire’s majesty. Everything aspect was designed with purpose and to last. The streets were well ordered, and the larger buildings were supported by decorated concrete columns. There were even statues depicting the God’s and great heroes scattered through the two central squares.
        He felt Cordia slowly shifting to his side and met her gaze. Not even the Trance could steal her large eye’s majesty and beauty from turning his chest. Again, he could not give the feeling a name or understand it – but as always, he was thankful she was beside him.
        “How many people would you say live here?” He asked quietly, so only she could hear.
        She matched his volume and pitch, “Around a thousand, not including the outlying farms.”
        His heart sank and he pulled away from her gaze. He had to will his hold on the Trance and pushed deeper into it. Slowly, his emotions were buried; he met her eyes once more. They shared his pain. She knew what he was about to order.
        “I killed Tettius for what I am about to order,” he said. Saying his guilt aloud did not supply any relief.
        “He acted without word,” She tried to justify, “Had he-”
        Talinnius interjected, “He tried to explain... I did not listen. I must be better Cordia. I cannot fail. I can’t fail anymore.”
        Before she could reply, he pressed a hand on her shoulder and met her eyes once more. She nodded in understanding, but he could tell she wanted to defend him. He gave a melancholic smile before turning away. He made his way down towards the hill’s base – where the Demon stood. It turned to regard him; the fire in its eyes blazed with fresh intensity.
        “And so, we come to this, Untouched,” The two voices spoke as one. “Will your vow hold?”
        “I must know more before I order my Champions to slaughter our own people,” Talinnius said.
        The Demon smiled with its dual aspect – one flesh and one metallic. Its voice separated further as it spoke, and its armour began to resemble a wet bone-like texture. Talinnius could feel the air shimmering around it as if it exuded power like an electrical storm. “We believe your friend – the one we captured as bait – told you all you need to know, Untouched.”
        “We will find those things in there? The burnt monster he saw before he encountered you?”
        “Ghouls?” The Demon paused as if to think on the word further. “Yes, that is their name. We will find a town consumed by their taint. They are abominations to the Gods’ will. We are the Gods instrument. We are their Slayer. We alone have not lost the path. We alone will kill those who would betray the Gods and vanquish all their abhorrent children they have created.”
        “I don’t understand,” Talinnius said.
        “Your understanding is not what we need,” The Demon growled, “We must admit our weakness. We have slumbered for many years and the Gods are distant in their own slumber. We cannot draw on their power as we once did – not until they reawaken. With each day, we feel the God’s strength growing and I grow stronger with them, but we cannot wait. This plague will spread. So, for now, we will use you and those you have come with. Your armour holds power that you are blind too. It will protect you against the Ghouls’ claws and their bite. Your swords hold more. They will cut into their diseased flesh and purify it. For these reasons, you will be an asset in this fight.”
        Talinnius knew both his armour and his weapons were gifted to the Order by the Gods, but beyond their ability to protect – using thinner material than any other comparable armour but holding much more strength – and the ability to carve through almost any material with ease with his swords, he was unaware of any additional powers. He very much doubted the Demon would tell him anymore and so did not deem in prudent to ask.
        “All must die,” The Demon sneered, “They all carry the taint. Only fire and your weapons will consume this plague. If we do not, the land will be consumed by their taint. We will use both.”
        With an empty chest, Talinnius bowed his head in shame. He thought about Tettius and about what Veturius described. He felt heavy and had to push himself even further into the Trance’s void. “I and my Champions are at your disposal Demon, my vow stands.”
        “Good,” It gave its twin smile.

IV

        His doubts would not shrink, despite how deep in dove into the Trance. However, he still gave the command and the Champions split up into four parties - one group to approach the town from each gate.
        Lavici was not a large town. Therefore, he knew it would not take his fellow Champions long to assume their places around the town’s entrances. He entrusted a group to Nigilus, a stoic veteran who was nothing but reliable and Attia – knowing it would do them both well to lead. The third he entrusted to Drusus – a reliable warrior who was quickly making a name for himself within the Order and acted well beyond his youth.
        He kept Cordia and Veturius at his side for no other purpose than greed. He knew Drusus could handle this assignment but was not the best pick for the task when compared to Nigilus and Attia. Cordia was the more natural pick to lead the last group. She had more experience and a greater skill at arms. To her credit, she did not question his decision and did not appear to take offense. His intuition told him she did not want to leave his side in this moment, just as much as he wanted her to stay by him. He felt he was proven right by how eagerly she accepted her appointment at his side. He would also not risk Veturius to lead while his humours were distracted. This task had started with rescuing Veturius, and Talinnius would not fail at that task despite the new circumstances.
        With the other groups no longer in sight, he closed his eyes and willed himself forward. The first step came from its own accord, and it felt heavy. He followed it with another, which was heavier than the last. Tettius’s words came unasked for:
        “I wish I could show you Talinnius,” Tettius had said, “Then it would all change. You would free me from these chains and care for my wounds. You would place a sword in each of my hands and ask me to charge beside you once more. I am not afraid to die. I am afraid that my death will not be the warning you need to save what we hold dear. You must take up the cause I started.”
        “Your warning will not go unanswered, Tettius,” Talinnius whispered, “I am sorry I doubted you.”
        “What?” Cordia asked.
        “Let’s get this over with,” Talinnius said and marched towards Lavici. His focus sharpened like a knife’s edge, now unhindered and with lighter feet.

V

        Lavici’s streets were quiet – almost ghostly. Every shutter was sealed, and doors closed. It was all uninviting. Beyond the inhospitality, everything seemed normal, aside from a gloom feeling that could not be explained. There were no signs of conflict or disaster. It all made Talinnius uncomfortable, and his hairs rose to express his tension. He slowly withdrew a sword and held it low at his side gestured for his party to spread out.
        The Demon walked a few yards ahead in an almost casual manner. It looked totally at home in the tense atmosphere. Talinnius had not noticed before, but it did not fit in with the rest of the world. However, now it did. He did not know what that meant and guessed that meant ill for everyone and everything else in this forsaken town.
        As they pressed forward, a distant voice rolled softly through the streets. It had an edge to it that Talinnius could not quiet place. He detested its tone. He could tell the preacher sounded like a madman – similar to the deranged doom preachers in Carthirose’s poorer areas – despite not being able to clearly hear the words.
        The Demon at last showed some discontent. It growled, while freeing its sword. Before Talinnius could question it, the Demon raced heedlessly into the night at an impossible speed. Talinnius impulse was to follow but did so with prudence. He pushed even deeper into the Trance so that he only felt what his senses told him. The voice grew clearer and louder as he carefully sprinted after the Demon.
        “Have faith!” The voice cried – now clear as the distance was eaten by Talinnius soft footfalls. “I know your fears, I see them in your eyes! But we must have faith noble people of Lavici!”
        The Demon stood shadowed and out from sight at the square’s arching entrance. Talinnius took a space opposite and scanned the scene playing out.
        Lavici’s buildings opened into a wide square, where a small crowd had gathered. Marble statues overlooked them atop plinths at the square’s corners. The preacher stood atop a dried fountain and looked as deranged as Talinnius had imagined in his approach. The madman was thin to the point of being frail and black veins webbed across his hairless head and gaunt face. His skin gleamed with sweat, which reflected the dim lamps at the square’s border. A few equally sick looking guards stood around the fountain with their spears leveled at the crowd, but it seemed unnecessary. Whatever the crowd’s nature, they seemed to agree with the preacher’s madness. Their fervor was up, but the hostile intent was yet to be directed. The explosion would happen, but not yet. The madman had to finish preaching before they could unleash their pent-up emotions.
        The preacher pointed an accusing finger at the spectators and paused dramatically. He lifted the finger to the sky, and all was silent. He broke the quiet with a deranged cry, “The Gods are pleased, my friends! They have sent their divine messengers to free us from our burdens! To free us in order to do their will! Your suffering is caused by your fear! Let go of your fears. This sickness is a gift! We must embrace the Gods’ will noble citizens of Lavici! I have seen it! Their bite has brought me closer to the Gods and I have become their messenger. Look-” the preacher lowered his finger and directed it towards a nearby sewer covering near the crowd's periphery. “-Our deliverance comes!”

VI

        With a clank, the sewer cover spat open as if it were a poor magician’s trick. At first, nothing came but just when doubt crept into the crowd’s minds, a pale white hand clawed its long fingers into the cobblestone. Attached to the hand a monster followed. It was skeletal in aspect and looked more dead than alive. Thin hair strands hung heavily from its skull as if damp. Its body was exposed except for a tattered clothing so soiled with filth that their original colour and design could not be defined. Coal black eyes darted over the crowd with animalistic hunger and sinister intent. Their utter soullessness caused the crowd to step back a fraction as they panned.
        “Bow my friends! To your knees!” The preacher screamed louder than before, “The God’s bless us with their deliverance!”
        Whether from massed insanity or stupidity, the crowd dropped to their haunches with their heads bowed to the road.
        The Demon snarled its distaste, “Fools!”
        It marched forward with an authoritative and purposeful stride, like a master who was about to discipline its pupils with a stick or rod. The crowd was too far away for it to stop what was about to come and Talinnius doubted the Demon cared. The Demon was not here to prevent – it was here to give a lesson.
        The pale creature revealed its fanged maw as two others identically afflicted creatures lifted themselves from the sewer behind it. They flanked the first and, as one, they flung themselves into the passive crowd – letting their fanged maws lead the way.
        Talinnius struggled to explain what he was witnessing but knew the creature’s matched Veturius description perfectly. The Demon had called them Ghouls and the name fit them as naturally as describing a person as a man or woman. They bloodied themselves with savage delight. Thick crimson jetted as they tore out throats with their teeth.
        “Kill them all,” Talinnius begrudgingly ordered to the others, who had gathered in the arch’s shadowed concealment, “Be careful around the Ghoul creatures.”
        It was apparent that the Ghouls thin and wirily frame was not to be underestimated. In a few seconds, they had mutilated half the crowd. They seemed extraordinarily eager to reach the preacher but could not help but satiate their thirst on those closest. It was as if his voice called to them and that was close to the truth – but Talinnius doubted there was any magic to it; more likely an animalistic need to silence the loudest in the herd.
        The crowd became less willing, and screams spread throughout. People scattered, fleeing for their lives. Their panic did not matter. None would make it out alive. Talinnius would see to that.
        Four more Ghouls crawled from the sewer behind the first three and sniffed the air, like dogs seeking a rabbit's trail. They cried their delight at the carnage as they raced to join it. Again, they were beyond fast; their bodies blurred, and they appeared to be little more than darting pale white flashes amongst the mayhem. When they caught their prey, they forced them to their will with strength that handled any weight ease and broke bones as if they were dry branches. The newly arrived Ghoul’s spread out and gave chase to those who ran – leaping through the air like a leopard from a tree.
        One woman skidded to a halt as the Demon came within a few feet of her, seeming to materialize from the dark. A Ghoul – unaware as to why the woman stopped – collided and took the woman from her feet. Its fangs tore into her without hesitation and life fluid spattered onto the Demon’s feet. She screamed her pain and cried for a mercy that would not come.
        With its initial bloodlust sated, the Ghoul lifted its hungry eyes as the Demon’s shadow fell over it. The savage glee in its twisted features fell away and whatever intelligence it possessed, made it withdraw with a hiss. The woman kicked and rose as soon as its weight was off her. She held her bleeding neck and her eyes were wild with fight.
        The Demon’s sword took its first life by bisecting her as a farmer would casually scythe wheat. The two halves slumped wetly onto the cobbles. The Demon seemed materialize around the corpse and its blade easily sailed deep into the Ghoul’s exposed throat on the return stroke. A black blood geyser flew up and mixed with the red spilling from the Lavician woman, who spasmed her remaining life out.
        As one, the other Ghoul’s stopped their slaughter and perked up like ground squirrels scanning for danger atop their mounds. The delight in their expressions turned to a dark hatred and their thin faces twisted with anger as the Demon stepped over their fallen without second thought or remorse.
        Talinnius watched this all as he drew his second sword, while racing to the crowd’s deteriorating edge. He began to move his blades into the circles and pirouetted around the first Lavician to come near. His heart almost broke as he took that first life with his crisscrossing swords; knowing full well the man – barely old enough to be call so – was an innocent, but the Trance refused his emotions full fury, and he continued without hesitation. Blood droplets dance off his swords creating raining spirals through the air as they harvested meat with each slash. Each successive kill became easier, and he withdrew into the combat’s rhythm – letting his body move as instinct demanded.
        The others were a step behind him and began to encircle the disorganized mob. Their swords flashed white and with each swing a crimson stream sailed into the air to land heavily onto the cobbles. Each was a mercy stroke – made to kill as quickly as possible. Even en-masse, the crowd was no threat to any single Champion. None had arms or armour and the pressing bodies were unorganized. They could not resist the skilled warriors intermixing themselves into in their chaotic numbers. Like the Ghouls, the Champions fought their way to the madness’s epicentre - the fountain and the madman atop it.
        Talinnius pushed faster and harder than the rest. Only Cordia kept pace. With a grace that was beautiful but as deadly as a viper, she stayed a step behind him. He almost paused when a guard, who had kept his mind – at least partially – thrust his spear at Cordia, who batted it away without breaking stride. The guard’s head jumped from his shoulders with her second stroke, and she moved on without a pause. She slew two more people for the body decided to crumple.
        For a second, Talinnius lost the Demon in the swirling chaos as he fought. After a blink, he found it launching itself up the fountain in a feat no man could match. It was as if it were lifted by great wings rather than the power it generated from its legs. Its sword blazed with a furious power that was beyond the Champions’ swords silver-white glow. It savagely skewered a Ghoul who had just reached the madman preacher, causing the creature’s whole chest to collapse from the blow’s strength.
        Miraculously or luckily, the preacher survived the encounter, but fell clumsily from the fountain’s heights now that the Ghoul’s weight no longer held him aloft. Unluckily, his skull and brains were splattered on the fountain basin’s lip as he landed. After a perverse twitch, the man lay still and dead.

VII

        Talinnius nor any other Champion were given a chance to confront a Ghoul; the Demon had taken on that task by itself and was a force beyond nature in doing so. In the slaughter’s swirling confusion, Talinnius saw the Demon’s might a few more times after the preacher’s demise. It moved with a speed and force that sent those in its way sprawling as it seemed to fly towards each Ghoul. Each blow was delivered with impossible skill and earth-shattering force. Every life it took was dealt a blow that both cut cleanly and crushed its brutal force. Talinnius had never seen a living human being pop from such explosive force. It was like each blow was done by lightning bolts rather than a sword.
        A single Ghoul managed to survive and fled back into the sewer; its escape was covered by the chaotic melee. Aside from it, not a single soul left the square. The Demon stood over the open sewer, having followed the last Ghoul to its escape route, and its eyes glowed with a fresh burning intensity, beyond anything Talinnius had witnessed prior.
        He approached carefully and said, “What next?”
        “This whole town is already dead. I can smell the infection – the rot. They will all die – consumed by this Plague – or become more of the abominations. A nest this large will spread and consume your fledgling empire if allowed to continue,” It growled in reply with no humanity traced in its singular animalistic voice. “You will burn and kill everything above. I will go below into the sewer’s depths and cleanse the nest.”
        Talinnius noticed it no longer spoke in plural when referring to itself and desperately wished he knew the Demon’s aspects. He felt there were somehow two beings occupying the same body, which felt both obvious and the most impossible thing to imagine. Especially now that it had a singular voice – one with no inflection he could relate to. He asked, “You can do so alone?”
        The Demon chuckled with inhuman mirth that seemed wholly genuine and made Talinnius more uncomfortable in its presence.
        “To think a mortal has concern for me. Do not worry Untouched, I will not allow myself to be killed by such abhorrent abominations.”
        With a casual step, the Demon plunged into the sewer – vanishing into the dark below.

VIII

        Talinnius lead his group back to the gate, where they had entered Lavici, and bowed his head in contemplation. He had to build up his nerve for what was about to be done. Even with the Trance’s help in, he had to place his will over his feelings. He did so by pushing deeper and he felt detached, like he was floating above his body. He took a final deep breath and was ready. To cement his resolve, he at once turned to the closest dwelling and with a swift kick, he caved in the door barring his way.
        He did not have to look for long to find the dwelling’s occupants. They gathered in a huddle – pale white and black veined – just beyond the entrance in the common space. They shivered as winter touched their bones. Their eyes watered in fear.
        There were five total – three were children. With cold acceptance and an even deeper push into the Trance, Talinnius heart retched in his chest to a point he had never reached before. He silenced his turmoil and committed to what must be done. With a forward stride, he leveled his swords to bring mercy to their suffering.

IX

        Flames grew from the rowed and slim multi-floored, housing with savage glee. It spread quickly. Black smoke jumped above the leaping flames creating a new dark shade in the night sky, turning it grey as it gained distance and began to settle in a rolling carbon haze over Lavici.
        Talinnius moved through each building mechanically and without thought at the smoke wave’s head. There was no skill needed for what he did. He felt each blow like a hammer in his muscles and took in each sorrowful face as he sent to them to the underworld. Many accepted their fates, which somehow made the whole endeavor worse. He much preferred those who resisted, but they were the pitiful few.
        Being so deep in the Trance, it was as if he were two minds. The buried mind, he normally used, watched in horror as another emotionless mind compelled his body to slaughter the innocents. It all happened in flashes as if his sight turned off between kills, yet he remembered every step, every breath, alongside ever horror he committed in perfect detail. He could not tell if minutes or hours had passed. No Ghouls showed themselves and he began to wish for them to make an appearance – if only to remind him why they were doing this. His wish would come to fruition.

X

        His group spread out as they went about their business and fell from each other’s sight. The killing became methodical, like a chore. Falling into a sense of safety was a human trait even a Champion was totally not immune to. Any other time, this would have not happened, but their wanton slaughter had pushed their them into an introspective melancholy. They all acted without thinking, it was the only way to protect their sanity against the atrocities they committed – no matter how justified their deeds. The Order was made to protect the Empire, and this felt opposite to that.
        Talinnius pushed the latest Lavician from his sword. He was an old man and crumbled to the floor weakly. His light in his eyes faded quickly and his pained expression became soft. He had tried to defend his wife and, what Talinnius could only assume, his granddaughter before he ended up on Talinnius’s sword, but it was a fruitless effort. Talinnius ran the old man through when he had charged from hiding. Talinnius had simply spun to face him – allowing the Lavician’s momentum and weight to do the murderous work. Without remorse, Talinnius watched the life in the old man’s eyes disappear completely and turned to finish those who remained.
        The old man’s wife charged as well and Talinnius gave her a mercy stroke that took her head. She collapsed softly as if she had merely stumbled to the ground. Talinnius took a deep breath in order to stomach the turmoil wanting to breach out from his twisted guts. What he had to do next threatened his morality no matter how many times he repeated the act and it had been many since the slaughter’s start.
        His eyes pulled away from the grandmother and settled on the little girl. Her innocence's was clearly rite upon her face. She had no understanding as to what was taking place. Talinnius wondered if she even fully understood that her grandparents would never rise again. Tears rolled down the girl’s face and she showed no discomfort in their passing – no sting in the eye or twist in her expression. A blank shock left her soft features untwisted by the sorrow that would fill her heart once time passed. Her tears came from the horror that Talinnius’s demonic appearance portrayed.
        Cordia cried out – interrupting him as he lifted his sword to send the small girl away. The cry was hard and not from fear but from exertion. Without thinking, he left the girl and raced out into the street.
        In a nearby alley, Cordia snarled, prone on her back, and did her best to fight off the trashing pale monster – who held her down with its savage strength. She thrust her forearm under its jaw to hold it at bay and prevent its fangs from sinking into her throat. The Ghoul’s jaw chattered hungrily and pressed down with all its might. Inch by inch it brought its fangs closer. She screamed against it, which gave her the strength to push it back an inch. She was losing the fight and the Ghoul immediate redoubled its efforts.
        Talinnius charged with a speed he did not know he had and swung his blade horizontally at the Ghoul’s face. The Ghoul saw his approach at the last second and, with an inhuman effort, it launched backwards from the sword’s edge. The tip narrowly grazed its pale flesh, sending a black blooded ribbon down its Adam's Apple. The Ghoul expressed its frustration as it gathered itself on all fours, like a hissing feline.
        Stepping forward to keep pressure on it, Talinnius pointed his sword towards the Ghoul’s throat. The Ghoul eased away from the blade is if were poisonous. White light emanating from the sword brightened in intensity. Cordia jumped graceful to her feet from her back and aimed her sword in the same way – horizontally, at shoulder height.
        The Ghoul growled and sprang. Even with his Trance heightened senses, Talinnius found the Ghoul was a pale blur in his sight. It impacted him such force that his vision blacked out. He did not feel his feet leave the ground – nor his back slamming against the cobbles.
        His vision came back as adrenaline surged through his veins and the Trance allowed him to control its release into his muscles. He reacted and thrust upwards. The Ghoul moaned and spittle dribbled from its fangs. He slammed his fist into its jaw causing the bone to snap and sag. Only after he realized it was an unnecessary gesture, with his sword was firmly planted in the Ghoul’s chest – hilt deep with the blade pointing from its severed spine. Jet black blood poured onto his hand and his armour seemed to react to its touch. It hummed slightly and seemed to push the tainted life fluid away, similar to oil on water. With a clenched breath, he tossed the Ghoul aside and freed his blade in a roll. His sword burned with more light than he had ever seen and soon the creature’s blood was dislodged from its length – repelling it in a similar manner as his armour. He regarded the Ghoul for a second and then let his blade’s tip lash out against its thin throat, sending a bloody spray across the cobles and up the alley’s wall.
        “Are you okay?” Cordia asked.
        Talinnius met her worried gaze and replied, “I was about to ask the same of you.”
        “How can something so thin and frail be so strong...”
        He wondered the same but did not have an answer. His gaze trailed back to dwelling the Ghoul’s distraction had taken him away from. The little girl stood horrorstruck in the doorway. Talinnius could tell it was not the Ghoul’s corpse that caused the girl’s fright as her eyes were locked with his. With a sigh, he sheathed his sword and freed his head from his helm. The act stole some fear from the girl’s face, but she was far from sure – the shock was leaving, allowing her mind to process what was going on.

        Talinnius approached the girl slowly and careful, like a rancher carefully trying to calm a distressed horse. When he was a few feet away, he knelt so that their eyes were at the same height. He stared into those hazel eyes and wanted nothing more than to let the Trance go and hold her. This did not happen. His face remained unblemished by emotion as if carved from stone.
        “What is happening?” The girl’s voice trembled. “Was that a monster?”
        Talinnius bowed his head slightly and looked back at the dead Ghoul, “Yes, it was a monster.”
        “Why are you here? Why did you hurt my grandparents?”
        “There is a sickness in Lavici,” Talinnius explained calmly.
        “Is that why my dad disappeared?” She asked. If Talinnius could read her mind, he would have known the girl’s father was not a victim of Lavici’s plague. He had left years before for another cause.
        “Likely, yes,” he said softly and stroked her hair with a tender kindness.
        “Is the sickness why my grandma made me stay indoors?”
        “Yes,” Talinnius said. “What is your name, little one?”
        “Auria,” she said meekly. “What is yours?”
        Talinnius took her by the shoulder, and she trembled at his firm touch. For the first time, he noticed feint black veins just visible beneath her pale skin. He replied, sadly, with a whisper, “Talinnius. Your name is very beautiful, Auria.”
        "Thank you, Talinnius." She then asked with a wobble in her voice, “Am I sick?”
        Talinnius nodded.
        “Are you going to kill me?”
        “I need you to be brave now, Auria,” Talinnius whispered.
        She nodded and fresh tears rolled from her eyes.
        Talinnius freed a dagger hidden in his vambrace and placed the tip under the girl’s jaw. Cordia placed a reassuring hand on his arm, but he could not acknowledge it – no matter how much his trapped emotions wanted him too. He pulled away from her and firmed his grip on his dagger’s handle.
        “I am sorry,” he said.
        She accepted her fate without protest. Her life ended in a single upward thrust. Her meek body collapsed into Talinnius’s arms as he freed his weapon. She felt heavy despite being so small...

XI

        Since the encounter with the Ghoul, Talinnius ordered caution those with him, which allowed the fires to catch up as their pace slowed. Smoke trailed and swallowed them as they continued this holocaust. Talinnius ignored the dead faces that haunted his vision’s periphery and kept the ghost images in his mental box with his emotions. With time, he felt he could better understand why these deaths bugged him, whereas no deaths had done so before. But that was a deep thought that we would not consider for some time.
        Traditional housing was replaced by drinking halls and other common use buildings towards the town’s centre. The killing grew more intense. He could tell that the groups of people holed up in the small apartment rooms above the hall’s common room were not native to Lavici. These rooms were normally occupied by traders and other travelers for a few nights at most. In this case they were housing entire family groups and other people for much longer. He confirmed this by gazing over their sorry states. Many had already expired due to sickness, while others appeared ready to do so, but he and the others still ensured either would not rise with a stab to the heart from their swords. Nothing was natural about this situation, yet it felt proper to commit these final mutilations.
        He took a moment to look down the street as he exited the latest cleared building. As he stared, he knew this duty was nearing its end. The smoke gathered around his ankles and swallowed them as the others paired up to clear the next closest hall. Their work was swift and, as they went about it, Talinnius remained outside to keep watch.
        A shutter from a nearby hall’s second story ease open a fraction and Talinnius met the occupant’s eyes. The same plague that savaged the populace was easily recognizable upon the man’s gaunt face and in that moment, knew the man would be the last he would kill this evening. Smoke brushed around Talinnius in a wave – blocking his vision for a few seconds. After it settled, the shutter was closed once more.
        For a reason he could not explain, he felt drawn to the occupant. Whatever the feeling was, he would soon find out – for the occupant’s hall was to be next.

XII

        “It smells wrong,” Cordia announced.
        Talinnius could not disagree. Dust and decay flavoured the air, with feces rounding out the bouquet. Even if there were no smell – the violently shattered door was a sign to be cautious. “I will take the lead,” he said and ignored his urge to draw his second sword.
        With the same stealth he used when approaching the farmhouse, he entered the hall. The interior was cold and dead – as if the very air wanted to suck the warmth from his skin. Chairs were overturned and tables shattered. Dried blood was splattered throughout room, but there were no bodies in sight. This was the first time he saw the aftermath from a Ghoul’s attack since starting this cleansing holocaust and it did not sit well with him. The sheer violence was astounding. Even the violent and wild beasts brought to the Capital throughout the Empire for great spectacle games hosted in Carthirose grand Colosseum seemed tame in comparison.
        He ordered the other Champions with a few sharp waves of his hand, and they fanned out slowly to the room's peripheries. His senses strained to gather everything in, and, after a minute’s silence, he heard an almost suckling sound from behind the bar – very much like a hungry babe at its mother’s breast. There was no need to issue another signal to his fellow Champions, they converged on the noise with him in a seamless manner that only warriors who had spent years together could. He put extra emphasis on controlling his breathing and forced the Ghoul’s twisted features from his mind’s eye. The Trance was slipping...
        The spattered blood grew fresh and wet as he closed with the bar. It was spread everywhere as if a painter had used a brush to flick and spread the crimson everywhere. Coppery iron filled his nose and he snarled at its unpleasant taint. His sword’s point led the way as he rounded the bar’s edge and was unsurprised to find the hall’s occupants. None were whole and few were recognizable. Parts lay discarded and mutilated in messy piles. Their faces were locked in horror by death’s paralyzing embrace. Their rictus misery would hold until their flesh greyed and slipped from their bones.
        A throaty growl emanated in the darkness at his sight’s edge from under the bar. His eyes quickly adjusted to the Ghoul’s silhouette, mostly hidden within the bar’s deeper shadows. It reminded him of a feral dog protecting a bone as it gnawed.
        Slowly, the Ghoul crawled out and reared up onto its legs. All its gruesome unnatural visage could be seen in the faded moonlight that entered the hall from the door. The light also showed its meat swollen belly as if it carried child. Its lips quivered and peeled back revealing blood-soaked fangs. With an ear splitting shriek, it detached its jaw and opened its mouth wide, like a snake readying itself to devouring a rat. Thick muscles bulged in its neck, and they were separated by a silver white flash – ending its shrill cry.
        Talinnius let his sword fall to his side at the same pace that the Ghoul’s head rolled and slowly fell from its shoulders to the ground. He turned without waiting to see the body slump and sheathed his sword. The Ghoul’s body gave a heavy thump behind him. The others ensured they were well away from his path as he marched towards the stairs and his final task in this cursed place.

XIII

        The door attracted him, like a moth to the flame. Talinnius forced himself deeper into the Trance with significant effort. He could not support it indefinitely and his body would give out soon. Still, he pushed forward. There was no way he would be found wanting with the end so near. He felt the dust dancing around him in the air and smelled rot in the open rooms he passed. Those, he left for the others to clear; his mind was only for the door at the hall’s end. With a few long strides the hall passed behind him. He fought the great weight hold his muscles and with effort rested a hand on the door’s handle. Slowly, he exerted pressure on it. It did not move. He took a step back and stared in silence as if were an impenetrable barrier.
        Violently and without warning, he kicked with all his might. The door’s frame cracked. There was an anguished cry on the other side, but he knew it was not directed towards him. His second kick sent the door from its hinges. It clattered over the chair used to block it and crushed the simple furniture piece. Fresh dust rose in a wave. He scanned the room, slowly – methodically. His gaze settled on a thin and sickly young man. The man hovered over an almost skeletal corpse, with thin blonde hair scattered in clumps on the bed – likely the man’s spouse by how he stood protectively over her. Immediately, Talinnius could tell that she was very recently strangled by the pink marks on her throat, which was the only colour in her grey skin aside from the black veins.
        “You killed her?” Talinnius asked.
        “Saved you the trouble,” The man said. His legs wobbled but Talinnius could tell it was not from fear. The man showed all the same corrupted signs as the corpse and was beyond weak. His end would be soon whether Talinnius aided or not. Talinnius found acceptance in the man’s features. The man spoke once more, “I granted her mercy.”
        Talinnius nodded in understanding and for the first time since entering Lavici allowed his humanity to show through, “I am sorry, but thankfully you will join her in the next life.”
        The man dropped to his knees and lifted his hands as if in prayer, “Thank you, Demon... I welcome the end.”
        Talinnius crossed the room and drew his sword. He rested his its tip against the man’s chest – drawing blood in a small bead – and met the man’s eyes with his own. His voice was level, “Thank you for your understanding.”
        “I have seen what happened to the others,” the man said. “I do not want to become that... even if it does not happen to everyone.”
        Talinnius nodded and gripped the man’s shoulder to brace him. It would make the thrust clean. The man closed his eyes in acceptance.
        As Talinnius was about to stab, the female corpse rose slowly into a sitting position and caused him to look her way. Her eyes 0flashed opened and blacker than a moonless night. Her lips rolled back to reveal long fangs. She was a corpse no longer and the Ghoul she had become launched itself at Talinnius. He had no chance to react and crashed against the apartment’s far wall – near where he had entered – by the force from the freshly arisen Ghoul’s charge. The wall caved as it drove him into it with all its strength. He braced against in incredible force with all his might and gritted his teeth until they felt as if they would shatter from the force he exerted onto his clenched jaw.
        A silver white sword flash into the Ghoul’s side. At once the force pinning him to the wall subsided and he had to take a step to balance his weight. The Ghoul gagged on its blood and collapsed as Cordia withdrew her sword.
        Talinnius’s eyes darted to the prone young man and saw no life remaining. Strangely and almost lovingly, the Ghoul used its last dying breath to crawl closer to the man. It flopped to the ground and reached a thin clawed to the man’s chest. A sigh left its lips and somehow it looked more human than creature as its muscles loosened in death. Now that he saw her as human once more, he could tell she would have once been beautiful.
        “Thank you,” he said to Cordia and tentatively made to kneel beside the couple. He could feel Cordia’s emotions and they stirred with his own.
        She did not reply.
        A tear rolled from his eye. The dagger hidden in his vambrace sang as it came free. He pressed its tip under the man’s jaw and thrust upwards into the brain – just to be sure. Another tear fell, and it was followed by others. Whoever these people were, their ravaged bodies told the tale of the plight destroyed everything within sight.
        The Trance slipped, allowing his emotions to flow.

Only one more Chapter and the Epilogue to go! Thank you so much for making it this far! I cannot express my gratitude! Let me know what you think in the comments!

~Brett