The snow fell softly as a lone rider trudged through the Ruthenian countryside. His breath formed clouds in the crisp air, each exhale mingling with the falling snow. The rider's horse, a sturdy chestnut, moved steadily despite the growing blanket of white. Ahead, the outline of a small village emerged, its lights flickering warmly in the distance.
As he approached, the village seemed to come alive with subtle sounds—children's laughter, the faint hum of conversations, and the occasional bark of a dog. He guided his horse towards the largest building, likely the inn, where warmth and a meal awaited.
The inn door creaked open, releasing a wave of heat and the rich scent of roasting meat. The rider stepped inside, shaking the snow from his cloak. The room fell silent for a moment as the patrons took in the sight of the newcomer. Conversations soon resumed, but curious glances continued to follow the rider as he made his way to the bar. The innkeeper, a burly man with a kind face, approached him with a steaming mug of ale.
"Long road, eh?" the innkeeper said, sliding the drink across the counter.
The rider nodded, his face hidden as he took a long drink of the ale. He placed the mug down and glanced around the room, assessing the faces of those present. A mix of villagers and travelers, all engrossed in their own stories and meals. The rider's eyes narrowed slightly, searching for any sign of recognition or interest that might hint at trouble.
"Tell me," he said quietly, turning his attention back to the innkeeper. "Have you heard any news lately? Anything interesting?”
The innkeeper's eyes flicked momentarily to the window, where the snow continued to fall. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "Well since you mentioned it… something is going on at the old church…”
The rider's interest piqued, and he leaned in as well, his face partially illuminated by the flickering firelight. "What about the church?" he asked, his tone hushed.
The innkeeper glanced around, ensuring no one was listening too closely. "It's been abandoned for years, but lately, there's been lights seen through the windows at night. Strange, bluish lights. And folks say they've heard chanting—low and eerie, like nothing they've ever heard before."
The rider's brow furrowed. "Has anyone gone to investigate?"
"A few brave souls," the innkeeper said, shaking his head. "None of them came back the same. Those that returned at all, that is. Most won't talk about what they saw, and those who do... well, they don't make any sense.”
The rider nodded thoughtfully, processing this new information. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind." He turned to leave, then paused, looking back at the innkeeper. "Thank you for the mead and the information”. Without another word, the cloaked rider stepped back outside into the cold.
Looking to the door where the rider had been moments ago, the innkeeper had a bad feeling growing in the back of his mind…
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Stepping back into the biting cold, the rider pulled his cloak tighter around himself and mounted his horse. Tapping his spurs into the sides of the horse, he urged his steed towards the old church in the distance, its dark silhouette standing stark against the snow-covered landscape. The path was narrow and treacherous, the snow concealing hidden dangers. The rider's horse moved cautiously, each step crunching through the icy surface. As they drew nearer, the church's ancient, weathered stones became more distinct, and a sense of foreboding settled over the rider.
Reaching the churchyard, he dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby tree. The wind howled through the broken windows and gaping doorways, carrying with it the faintest hint of something burning. The rider approached the entrance, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
Inside, the air was colder, almost unnaturally so. Much of the ceiling was missing and piles of snow piled up between the remains of what were once pews. The rider advanced slowly, each step echoing in the desolate space. As he neared the altar, the chanting grew louder, more distinct.
"Kthoth ka'ren salkura, drath'en morn thal'ka. Veshara kael thun'gar, naxen khal'eth mor'tha."
The rider closed his eyes as he stepped closer to the altar, seeing the group of 20 men standing in the room behind it. They were standing in a circle, chanting as a skeleton lay on the floor in front of them. The rider was only a few meters away when suddenly, dark runes scribbled on the walls and floors glowed brightly, revealing both the rider and a hooded figure at the head of the group, their face hidden in darkness. The chanting stopped immediately, replaced by a heavy silence that pressed in from all sides. Seeing as how he had been spotted, the rider drew his sword, its silver blade gleaming in the eerie blue light.
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Hearing the blade being drawn, the figure raised its head slightly, a black void where his face should have been, and spoke.
"Who…are you and why do you intrude on our sanctuary?” the figure intoned, its voice a chilling whisper that seemed to emanate from the darkness itself.
The rider did not respond as he pulled a necklace from his cloak, its likeness depicting a golden sun surrounded by small beads of ruby.
“I am a templar of the order of Solarus and I have come to purge you Baldrick of Canterheit,” the rider said as his sword ignited into a yellow flame, illuminating those in front of him further. “Or should I say, “The Butcher of Adelheim?”
The hooded figure recoiled slightly, the darkness within his hood seeming to writhe. The men behind the altar, previously motionless, began to stir uneasily, their eyes reflecting the flickering blue flames as they drew small daggers and swords from underneath their dingy robes.
"So, the Order of Solarus finally sends its hound," Baldrick hissed, his voice dripping with disdain. "You think you can stop what has already begun? Fool.”
Without another word, the rider lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air. The yellow flame clashed with the blue, creating a burst of light that momentarily blinded those present. The chanting men stumbled back, shielding their eyes from the brilliance. When they pulled their hands away from their eyes, the rider was already amongst them, swinging and stabbing his sword into those nearby.
The rider moved with lethal precision, each swing of his flaming sword cutting through the men who had been chanting moments before. The yellow flames burned fiercely, casting a warm glow over the cold stone walls as his blade found its mark again and again, bright red blood staining the snow around them.
Baldrick roared in fury, his hands summoning more blue flames that surged toward the rider as he chanted. But the rider was relentless as he ducked and dodged, the heat of his sword scorching the very air around him as he cleaved through the remaining men, their cries of pain echoing in the vast, empty church.
With the last of the cult members falling to the ground, the rider turned his full attention to Baldrick. The hooded figure's eyes, now visible within the void of his hood, burned with uncontrolled hate. "You think you can stop us?" he spat, raising his hands to conjure another spell. “You will not stop what is coming, you murderer.”
The rider's grip tightened on his sword, the yellow flames casting long shadows across the ancient stones. "We stopped you before, and I will finish it this time," he replied, his voice steady and very calm. He advanced, each step echoing through the now-silent church.
Baldrick's hands crackled with blue energy, arcs of power spiraling around him as he chanted in an unknown language. "You may have slain my followers, but you cannot kill the darkness itself," he snarled. "The goddess looks down upon me at this very moment. You are but a flickering light in her vast, eternal night."
The rider met his gaze, unflinching. "Then let this light burn brighter." With a swift motion, he lunged at Baldrick, his sword blazing with the righteous fire of the sun god.
Baldrick unleashed his spell, a torrent of blue flames surging toward the rider. But the rider's faith and determination propelled him forward, his blade cutting through the magical onslaught. The clash of their powers filled the church with blinding light, illuminating the faces of the fallen cult members and the crumbling stone walls.
With a final, desperate swing, the rider's sword struck true. The yellow flames surged towards and engulfed Baldrick, the light piercing through the darkness. Baldrick screamed, his voice a twisted mix of fury and pain, as his form was consumed by the purging fire. He flailed around, trying desperately to put out the flames that consumed him yet as the seconds went on, his struggles became less and less before he eventually fell to the floor, his body a burned husk.
The rider stood over the remains, breathing heavily, his sword still glowing with the lingering power of his order. He took a moment to steady himself, wiping away the sweat and blood that covered his face. Once he was sure everyone inside was dead, he turned and walked out of the church, the silence behind him deafening. The snow continued to fall gently, covering the village in a serene blanket of white. The rider was done and ready to head back to Canterheit to report his success to the GrandMaster yet as he rode back to the village he failed to notice the blue lights flashing behind him…
Inside the ruined church, where the bodies lay sprawled on the floor either by themselves or in small piles, the fires still burned. Due to the snow, many of them were put out very quickly yet for those that still burned, they used the bodies as fuel. The blue flames roared as each body was consumed one by one until only Baldrick's burnt husk remained.
As the flames inched closer and closer to him, however, he twitched. Perhaps due to his power as a mage or perhaps due to some unholy interference, he still lived and ever so slowly, he placed what remained of his left hand on top of the skeleton's head and spoke, slowly.
"Kthoth…ka'ren salkura…,drath'en morn thal'ka," he whispered, his voice a raspy echo of its former self. The blue flames responded, flaring brighter, their intensity feeding off the dark incantation.
"Veshara…kael thun'gar, naxen…khal'eth…mor'tha," his hand slowly began to fall towards the ground as the flames inched towards his body. With a final look towards the skeleton, before the flames engulfed him, he spoke ever so quietly.
“Arise…Lord…of the…night, arise…our…ladies…champion…”
Baldrick's body was reduced to ashes in moments, a blessing one would think, and the flames that consumed him and the others converged on the skeleton. The skeleton began to tremble, its bones clattering together as if animated by an unseen force. The blue fire seeped into the bones, carving hundreds of markings into every bone.
Slowly, the skeletal form began to rise as the flames finished flowing into it, its movements jerky at first, then gradually becoming more fluid and deliberate. The hollow eye sockets of the skeleton glowed dark blue as it looked around at the carnage around it. The church itself was already close to collapsing as the intense heat of the magical flame began to break apart even the stone structure of the building. Yet as the skeleton looked to flames around it and then to the moon hanging high in the sky, a single thought rang through its skull:
Where the fuck am I?