Emily

Her duty to the Prophet’s inquisition was to root out demons, heretics, and infidels foreign and domestic. She never needed to feel guilty or think about her actions. That was the role of her superiors. Emily’s only purpose was to question and report.

Some questions needed to be spoken louder than others but spoken they were.

At times the reports needed to be altered to fit the reader’s pious sensibilities. It was unfortunate, but Red appeared to fall into the least offensive of her enemies.

Red was an infidel.

He was bait to lure in a worse committer of the crimes against the Prophet. If by some miracle he managed to survive his subsequent encounter with the demon Ula Amon, Emily would execute him.

She glared up at the chaotic nature of a forest on the outskirts of Triad territory. By the Prophet’s three faces, she mistrusted the giggle of wood nymphs and call of black-winged reapers. Fawning bold golden stags pranced at the edge of her vision only to vanish to her full attention. They always planned some mischief and were hardly better than the disgusting homunculi. On the ground were Red arrogantly tromped through the forest she saw the slightest hint of goblin tracks. A young tribe by the size of the footprints was easily removed before they could gain a foothold. When they reached Panama town proper, she’d order a hunting team to remove the infestation. From the low light of dawn, she caught the faintest hint of tree markings. A Sun lion could hold this territory by the slight burns on the nearby trees. Emily would keep her eyes open for an ambush; it would take little effort for the hunting team to lure the beat into the goblin’s den. At Red’s feet, there were bent blades of grass and rabbit droppings; a burrow was most likely nearby; with a bit of effort, they could make a fine rabbit stew. Then she glanced up to see the doom of travelers.

Low hanging globs of purple fruit-filled to the brim with spiritual energy hung low a mere 12ft overhead. A light jump for any cultivator of the coalescence stage. Tiny threads of ghost weavers encircled the fruit forming an invisible barrier. Covered by the canopy, she was sure there were cocoons of untold victims of the weavers. Cackling black-winged fairies fluttered among the fruit like flies on a corpse.

No cultivator of the Triad would fall for such an obvious trap. Her mind whirled, but what of an infidel. Before she could open her mouth to warn him, he had already jumped. His hand stopped inches from the fruit.

“Don’t move,” Emily yelled even though she knew it was too late. The threads had become visible only by their vibrations warning the weavers.

She gasped when the infidel’s heretical spirit spun rapidly, feeding its tainted spiritual essence into the man. Emily had to fight the urge to execute Red here when black flames rose from his fingertips. Memories of a demon with black feathered wings and those same corrupt flames took her back in time even as her own spirit struggled to calm her.

Red fell back to the ground, much to the rage of fist-shaking fairies and fat weavers. The weavers shook their child-sized fists at the man as their lower spider bodies backed leaped away from a thrown ball of flame.

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“You don’t know what powers you play with,” Emily said, and her voice sounded weak even to her own ears.

“Should I burn down the tree then?” Red asked. “I like spiders; they feed on the annoying insects that spread disease. But if I find them in my home, I smash them to bits. Should it be any different to those in my way?” Red spoke with the impunity of a powerful cultivator, not an infidel who knew nothing.

The cub spin, and the man’s eyes seemed to clear up. He sucked in a breath and the flames running over his fingers sputtered out. “Well, we have the fruit. Is it edible, or did I take a big sack of spider eggs?”

Besides the parasitic seeds within the fruit, it was considered quite nutritious for young cultivators. Emily had partaken in its juice in her days of training.

“Never eat it raw; there are parasites that must be cooked out.” She took him a distance from the tree to a spot in the forest less traveled.

Red busied himself, preparing their fire as she checked her gun. It was essential to get him comfortable with her gun out. When the time came to execute him, he’d be less observant. “Why did you bond with such a heretical spirit?” Emily asked to fish for his character. If he confessed to weakness in the face of a demon, she’d ask for Prophet to forgive him before the execution. Not all could stand firm before demons. On the other hand, if he claimed it was to gain the strength to fight evil, she’d know he was a fool. A fool could at least be useful.

“Rubix was the right spirit for me. There is nothing else to consider.” Red said with finality. Emily nearly shot him for his impudence.

“It is forbidden in the book of laws to bond with nonhuman spirits. To pollute the human spirit with nonhuman entities is sacrilege.” Emily said.

He looked at her as if she were insane. “Why is it forbidden?” Red asked.

“You saw the demon and what accepting so many inhuman creatures do to a cultivator. Once, she was the daughter of high inquisitor Logan Amon and a promising future acolyte of our order. Unfortunately, her coalescence with so many inhuman spirits has corrupted her mind.” Emily said.

For a moment, Red went silent, perhaps finally seeing the error of his ways. It would make his executions more of the mercy it indeed was than the punishment of a criminal. He seemed to be genuinely ignorant. But, unfortunately, ignorance does not exempt someone from the law.

She sat the fruit beside the fire and cut a hole for the parasitic seeds to escape. If she didn’t, they would make their own holes or cling to life and ruin the fruit by releasing their venom on their deaths.

Red seemed to come to a decision. “I don’t believe you.” Emily blinked at the absurdity of the statement. Hadn’t he seen proof through his own eyes? Was he is holding out for hope, or was he so corrupted that he could no longer see the truth.

The parasites clawed their way out of the side of the fruit. Then, the black-rooted spider-like seeds threw themselves out of the fruit and into the fire.

A smile spread across her face. The appearance of an escape route often led to the greatest ambushes. Emily marveled at the total slaughter until one landed on the bodies of its fellows and leaped to the earth.

Red snatched it up with incredible speed. He held it between his fingers, and it spun around, contained by a bubble of qi. The application of such control before entering the coalescence realm proper wasn’t unheard of but rare enough. Then the seed vanished before her very eyes.

“From a single see, new trees may grow.” The wicked spirit spun in joy at the infidel’s proclamation.

“Yes, from one sin, many can grow,” Emily said darkly.

Red dined on the meaty flesh of the Judas fruit. A thick steak-like slab brimming with qi, the spiritual energy of wood, to be exact. Emily dutifully made her prayers before digging in herself. Red devoured it hungrily, even eating the peel with abandon. She felt his reserves of spiritual energy, his qi growing. Rubix, the named heretical spirit, spun in warbled, and Red nodded his head to the spirit.

She itched to kill him here. There were signs already that executing him wouldn’t be as easy as it should be. Black flames didn’t obey just anyone. She remembered the sound of its terrible wings, the black flames consuming everything, and the screaming. The cation from her spirit was all that restrained her. None other but this man had survived Ula Amon.

Emily would think he was a spy from the Endless Hungry Mouths Sect if not for how terribly his act indeed was. No spy would so brazenly expose how alien they were to this world. She had long guessed he was a foreigner from another land. That would explain the lack of even the most basic social cues.

Red turned to the Judas tree glaring hungrily at the remaining fruit. The weavers waited patiently, if a little anxious, to defend their bait. Nevertheless, she felt a sense of sinful satisfaction when the man gave up on a second fruit.

“What kind of spirit will we look for?” Red asked. His tone was all too presumptuous, but her orders were clear. First, she would find for him a spirit worthy of an inquisitorial hanger-on.

“Come, and I’ll show you,” Emily said but doubted any truly good spirit would bond to one so tainted.