After stopping the mob, the town’s Pere watched with tired eyes as the little demon was beaten to within an inch of its life, and then beaten an inch further. Resigned to return to his studies, he turned back to his chapel before a red glint caught his eye. The red motes flitted into a dilapidated crypt and seconds later, the crowd hauled the same demon out and repeated the grisly execution.

The Pere watched with morbid fascination as the scene repeated itself. He was stuck to the spot until the guard captain jogged up to him.

“What in the hells is going on here?” Asked the captain

The Pere blinked.

The captain tried again “Why did you send up the beacon?”

The pere shook his head. “I… believe these people have captured a demon.” He watched as the demon dissipated only to be pulled back out of the crypt again. “One that can’t be killed.”

The guard followed the Pere’s gaze and was transfixed as well. “You don’t think…” He couldn’t finish his thought. It was all wrong. The legends spoke of great immortal heroes but for a demon to have the ability to respawn, what could it mean? He looked back to the Pere.

“I’m not sure,” The Pere stroked his beard considering the implications “Let's keep this quiet for now. The demon is weak and a panic could cause more harm than this single monster. I’ll write the citadel and have a contingent of paladins sent over for the time being. Can your men keep him in town until then?”

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The guard turned back to the Pere. “ I don’t think he’s going anywhere with that mob on his heels but I’ll post a guard detail to be sure.”

The Pere nodded “Good, try and keep that crowd from rioting again while you’re at it. ” He turned on his heels and plodded back up the steps to his chapel. His pace increased with each step until he was practically flying up the steps and he burst into his office. The old, cobweb-draped wheels in his head were grinding, sparking from turning so fast. This was his chance! He could finally get out of this dingy backwater.

He clenched his fists. Those overstuffed politicians who never smote so much as a goblin in their lives relegated him to this post. “The frontier needs a strong guardian” they said.

It wasn’t hard to see past their thin veneer of protocol. Some didn’t even bother to hide their smirks as they carted him off to this far away town where he couldn’t cause trouble. They were scared of the sway he held with the army of light. He spent all his time hunting the enemies of the church and what was his reward? The stewardship of some ramshackle little town pressed up against the wilds but this… This demon was his ticket back to the citadel, back to the seat of power, back to the light.

The Pere sat at his old, abused wooden desk and flipped his beard over his shoulder to protect it from stray ink. He began his letter.

Outside, past the thick shutters and the patter of rain, he could still faintly hear the sporadic cries of a demon in pain.