The streets were very dark, lightless with no street lamps for illumination except for the dim glow of the moon above and the candelabra Vanir carried. He moved hurriedly, his stomping on the cobblestones echoed. His black cloak hid his golden hair as he pushed through the darkness

‘It’s fine Vanir, the dirt only smeared your cloak—’ The voice echoed inside his head, soft and gentle.

Vanir gritted his teeth. “Don’t. Remind. Me,” he muttered under his breath, his blue eyes scanning the deserted streets for any signs of danger. He hated the fact that he couldn’t pull his sword from his waist.

The demon sighed. “Fine, I won’t remind you squirming throught the hole and getting stuck with yout ass.”

“Just,” Vanir groaned. “Shut up.”

The gate screeched as he pushed it closed. Vanir turned around and approached the towering building made of wooden planks. A large door stood in the center, flanked by two windows low enough for a child to jump through the wooden frame, yet high enough for any bird to fly unimpeded. He stood in front of the weathered, thick door, his hand moved to grasp the brass handle and swung it to knock. One knock after another, it took a while before a slow and gentle voice answered him.

“Coming.”

There was a heavy creak, the sound of a wooden bar being lifted, before the door opened. A woman with wrinkles forming around her face, her hair obscured by a white headdress, and her body covered in robes from the neck down. In her hand, she held an old candle holder, its bronze color already washed off.

“Greetings, please, come inside,” she smiled and ushered him in.

Vanir stepped in, his steps echoing through the large dark hall, not enough to illuminate with their candles alone. Still, he was familiar with its structure. They took the stairs, ascending to the podium. Up there, wherever he glanced, layers of chairs surrounded him. Two large pillars supported the tower, carved on the west is an eagle with an owl on the other. Together, they represented a progression of time as the eagle rises in the morning, ushering the time to work, to be in motion, and to be productive. While the owl rises in the evening, accentuating the need for study, familial bond, and finally, peace and rest. Then, at the top, where a whole carving pervaded the entire ceiling, was the vulture. All that is living must meet it upon reaching their end.

‘Wow, so massive, and beautiful. Definitely better than in game,’ the demon commented which he gracefully ignored.

The old lady placed down her candle on the table and faced him. “So, what brought you to the tower at this hour?”

“Make your oath first before I divulge my plight,” Vanir said, annoyed once again when he couldn’t cross his arms.

“Of course,” the old lady said as she raised her hand, her voice echoed within the hall. “May Somnycia, watcher of the night, seer of peace and rest, bear witness to this oath of mine: whatever these ears may hear, let these lips be sealed.” A beat before she lowers her hand.

“I have declared my oath, your secret is safe from me.”

Vanir grunted, “That should suffice.” His foot taps on the floor, thinking how he would reveal it before clicking his tongue. “A demon possessed me, and I need it banished.” He decided to say it straight. The old lady was clearly taken aback as she immediately rushed to their storage room to collect all the necessary materials. To his annoyance, it took ages for the acolyte to finally perform the ritual.

But, finally, the annoying demon would be gone.

Or so he thought.

“You claimed to be possessed by a demon?” the acolyte asked, bent down sitting on the floor with her hands clasped. Vanir got up from the floor with a large circle drawn in beads. He wiped his forehead with his cloak already drenched in sweat. Much to his dismay, the demon still remained, parroting him smugly. He tried lifting his hands, but he couldn’t, like a phantom hand.

‘Told you, I’m not a demon.’

Vanir clicked his tongue. “It is still there. You’ve performed the the ritual incorrectly!”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Apologies, if anything, the ritual was a success.” The old lady sighed. “It failed because the one possessing you isn’t a demon, but rather, a girl.”

‘What did I tell you?’ it grinned, through his damn mind.

Vanir scowled. “You’re lying.”

The acolyted sighed, she got up and began sifting through the different vials filled with liquids of different colors. “Are you aware of how a reanimation spell work?” She picked one bottle and swirled the dark red liquid, almost like a blood with its thick viscosity.

“It raises a dead,” he answered.

‘Sounds about right.’

The acolyte nodded. “Correct, but for a body to move it needed a soul, so practitioners of necromancy forcefully inject one, mostly an artificial soul but a wandering soul can work as well. This, however, won’t work on a living body as it cannot house two souls, but there is an extremely rare cases where the souls merges instead.”

“So, you’re claiming my soul merged with a rowdy, stupid girl?” his voice raised.

‘HEY!’ the demon — he would never refer to it as anything else — complained. He sifted through his memory, recalling his classmates, instructors, or staffs that could cast a dark magic. One of them could be the necromancer, and he would make sure to punish him accordingly, with torture and a slow death.

“Possibly, but I didn’t claim its the work of a necromancer. Reanimation is just one of the many, many ways to inject a soul.”

Vanir clicked his tongue, that expanded the possibilities. “So, who else could inject a soul?”

“Anyone, essentially, even a child could manipulate a soul with a bit of practice. There’s a reason why only the followers of Kharme were allowed to practice the art of necromancy.” The old lady lifted a small vial, very dark red, as she squinted her eyes. “So, would you allow me to practice tamper with your soul? I may not be the best, but I learned how to manipulate a soul.”

Vanir raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment on why she knew how. “So you can fix this?”

‘Hold on, are you seriously considering this? This is seriously dangerous, Vanir.’

“I can try untangling your souls, though I'm not the best at fiddling with them,” the old lady said, presenting the red vial to him. “Drink this. It makes your soul malleable, but be warned, it will make you feel giddy.”

Vanir stared for a while before taking the vial with resignation. Unlike the followers of the Avienery, he couldn’t trust a follower of Kharme to keep a secrecy as they didn’t have an oath of secrecy. “What is this even made of?” He asked as he swish the content beside a candle. To his surprise, the color was darker than expected which he didn’t notice at first.

“It’s better if you don’t know.”

‘A purified blood from a zombie, mixed with some grape juice or something,’ the demon answered, with a hint of revulsion from its voice. Vanir grimaced, but he still uncorked the vial before downing the content. He wanted to vomit.

The world wobbled, as he fell to his knees. The acolyted chanted an aria or hymn of some kind, he couldn’t tell as it sounded muffled as if he was deep down underwater.

And then, he felt pain. Undescribable, like something within him was being torn to pieces, phantom limbs being cut, piece by piece. No matter how much his body tensed or squirmed, he couldn’t ease down the pain. His scream of agony, intertwined with a sharp, piercing screech, eclipsing his own voice. As the pain intensified, the jumbled screams separated, becoming more defined until he felt a sudden pop within him. He staggered on the dirty mat, as two voices groaned in pain — a voice of a boy and a girl.

The chanting stops.

“Aw, please, no more,” his lips complained in a pitchier tone. “What?” he asked, confused.

The acolyte grimaced. “It seems… your body had gotten used to the new soul. It didn’t kick her out after I untangled your souls.”

“Then fix it—NO!” his tongue and lips suddenly moved on its own.

His body scrunched up as his arms embraced his legs in a fetal position. “Please, no more.”

Vanir fought for control, as his body tensed, stilled in place. He could feel the demon fighting back, like an urge to twitch his fingers, but it was simply an urge that he could ignore if he put his mind to it. He released his fetal position and stood up. He looked at his hands, flexing a finger, then five, both hands and then toes.. He flexed them all at once with ease. A smile formed on his lips.

He had overwhelmed the demon for control.

‘Please, no more,’ the demon pleaded.

‘Then stop, else I will take another one,’ he responded firmly. He felt the muscles tensed then, little by little, it relaxed.

“I am satisfied with the outcome, no need for a redo,” Vanir said.

“… Are you certain? I can redo the ritual—”

“No!—not required.” Vanir frowned at the scream.

‘Do. That. One. More. Time. And I will not hesitate to subject myself to another.’ He felt another tense in his muscle before it relaxed.

“No, need for another.”

The acolyte scrunched her eyes at him before she sighed. “I must warn you to remain vigilant as she may take over anytime.

“It won’t.” Vanir fished out 10 trills, silvery coins, from his pocket and dropped them on the jar. They made a clinking noise.

The old lady smiled and bowed at him. “Your donation is appreciated.” After that, he was guided out of the tower. He walked straight back to the academy, satisfied that he had conquered his inner demon.

‘Thank you,’ a voice spoke through his mind, sounding tired, ‘I don't want to experience that pain, ever again.’

‘You won’t, so long you don’t try to possess me.’

Silence followed them as Vanir walked down the very dark streets, illuminated only by the candelabra he carried. He walked assuredly as his footsteps echoed through the cobblestone. After a few more steps, the demon called his name.

‘Vanir…’

‘…What?’

It didn’t answered immediately, like it was contemplating how to word its sentence. ‘Tomorrow, after the match…’ its voice had gotten lower and lower, ‘let’s celebrate it with some ice cream,’ it said in a forced cheerful tone. ‘Win or lose, you will make it to class A.’

Vanir scoffed. ‘You didn’t need to worry, I never lose.’