The snake made of light felt calmness spread through its being when it entered this place. The realm of the Crystal Throne was an endless meadow, blanketed by short lush green grass and mighty osiers. Their heavy crowns forming numerous passages and protecting the clear waters of countless streams from the gentle spring sun that bathed the area with its golden rays.
Yet, no matter from which direction the snake had come, it would always see the Crystal Thorne at the centre of this place. And on top of it sat the glorious Ludwig. The King of Spits was a monumental figure of titanic proportions. A thousand faces dominated his features at any given time. But anyone of them filled the thing with serenity. An unimaginable variety of vines covered his legs in a soft blanket, each one eager to provide comfort to such a being.
Yet, it all paled to the crown of ice adorning its brow. Such a simple circlet, but within it was the essence of creation. The souls of thousands of good mortal creations slumbered peacefully inside it. Waiting for the time when they would become a part of creation or to be called to serve again the mortal world.
Now, that the snake had seen the embodiment of perfection, it felt that weight of its actions. The glorious one would see this as betrayal and the creature could not be the one cause such feelings to darken the heart of the one it served.
“You are Selenthia’s servant,” Ludwig song spread like a wave of gentle wind through the realm. “Cast away your doubts, my sweet. Those I brought to assist my children, are always welcomed to approach me and share their burdens with me.”
“Your Greatness,” the snake felt its song sound crude in comparison to the powerful baritone, “I am not sure, I should have intruded here, before completing my task. Yet, I fear that the most glorious one is acting too rashly.”
Ludwig stood motionless atop the Crystal Throne, giving the creature all the time, it needed to compose its song. There was no anger or annoyance in the Spirt King’s posture.
“It is the Conduit, Your Greatness. One of the glorious one’s children found it and my mistress meant to surprise you with this news…” The snake paused its song, unsure how to reveal what had occurred. “Sadly, someone destroyed the Conduit before it could fulfil its purpose. In her displeasure, the most glorious one tasked me with something I do not approve of.”
“These are grim tidings, my sweet.” The sun lost some of its warmth, mirroring Ludwig’s troubled thoughts. “Fear not, I am not angry with Selentia. If anything, her yearning for my approval is endearing, although she has always had it. The mother of life is one of my most trusted and loyal children. Alas, her brother’s treachery has stung her deeply and that is a wound I cannot heal.”
At the slightest mention of Letum Mors, cursed be his name, the skies darkened and the sneak could hear thunder roll in the distance. Its mistress was not the only who had suffered the betrayer.
“I understand your doubts, my sweet. There is no need to tell me what my child has tasked you to do, I know her far too well and can guess. But the spirit I have created to protect the Conduit must survive. Use Selenthia’s gifts to give it new life. Find the one that has dared to oppose my will and bring them to me. Through the spring to your right, you will arrive at a time before completing my daughter’s task.”
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The serpent made of shadows found the path to the Jagged Throne unguarded. Its journey unchallenged. None of Letum Mors’ slaves were anywhere to be seen. Only a sea of thousands of tormented damned souls, cursed to spend eternity in perpetual suffering, stood between it and the gate leading to the Throne.
From the depths of the chaotic mess emerged the grotesquely bloated carcass of Arkwar Luur. The appearance of the first abomination was as unwanted as it was expected. For an eternity it had stood here, gorging itself on the pain of others, barring anyone from entering its cruel master’s domain. Septic puss and bile spewed from its four mouths and covered its abnormally bloated belly. Always hungry, it would devour everything if its bindings were broken.
Although not one of the infernal lords, it was not be taken lightly. Alone, the cruel ones stood no chance against it. Only by working together could they hope to overcome it. The thought was enough to make the serpent burst into laughter. As if such a thing could ever happen. They would be stabbing and sabotaging each other long before they reached this place.
“Worm, have you lost your way?” Each of the abomination’s mouths took turns to speak a word. “Or does your master wish to challenge me again?”
“Step aside, foul creation. I am here to seek the one who allowed to spent eternity here.” The sneak hissed, venom coating its fangs. “Open the gate. This is a matter of utmost urgency.”
Arkwar Luur spasmed and convulsed while a sound resembling someone choking to death issued from its fat gangrenous throat. It took the serpent a moment to comprehend that this was what passed for a chuckle.
“The Bringer of Chaos is not to be disturbed.” Ravenous mouths formed on the palms of the abomination’s six hands and it scooped generously from the sea of tormented souls, condemning them to be digested for millennia to come.
“If the five wish to speak to him, they can put their petty squabbles aside and come beg in person. Not send a worthless slave to do it for them.”
“You imbecile!” The snake hissed and coiled its body, ready to strike. “I am Qvar Hes, devourer of light. I was born at the dawn of time, long before the long war started. I am no one’s slave. I serve the one I choose.”
“Be careful little morsel.” Arkwar Luur gurgled. “Long speeches make me hungry.”
“Enough…” The snake swallowed its anger and forced its body to relax. Antagonising the abomination was pointless and would only drain too much of its energy. “If you will not let me pass, you will have to relay my message to Letum Mors. The Conduit was located and killed before it could be corrupted. Your master needs to be informed about this. If he does nothing, the five will do something.”
Fountains of bile spewed from every orifice Arkwar Luur possessed as the abomination laughed. A hundred mangled souls were returned to their suffering when the thing vomited at the end of its outburst.
“Is that all, little morsel?” The guard said while whipping and consuming the rotting leftovers of its organs from its four mouths. “The cursed one is aware. He always is. But you can inform Asmodai Val that he can do as he pleases. As long as he does not disturb my master. And one last thing, little morsel, should your lord fail in exacting punishment to the guilty, I and my kin will bring him to answer before Letum Mors.”
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To see the Witch Hunter brooding on the chair with arms crossed on her chest was concerning. Usually, she was either detached or rude. At least that was the impression Nathaniel had of her. It was very likely that her current state of mind had to do with the dried blood smeared on her face and attire and the wrapped body placed on the table behind her. Because of this, the poorly lit large room they had been taken to, felt oppressive and the walls seemed to be closing in on them. The young man couldn’t help but dart worried glance at the shadows, something he and Calypso had in common.
Although the young Hunter tried to keep an unperturbed façade on her face, she was frightened. Nathaniel could see only a young girl, barely a woman, and not one of the protectors of humanity. Even the mighty Zan Tetradon had paused at the door when the three of them entered and now walked a couple of steps behind them. Those two had to know more than him because the young man couldn’t believe that Irene was such a frightening person. Insane and a little dangerous – yes. But one of his companions was a Witch Hunter, even if she was inexperienced. Nathaniel didn’t need to be a genius to have figured that much from their short conversations. But the Marsha… Lord Tetradon was a warrior of unmatched skilled and had hundred Silent Knights that would rush the room if he called them. No matter how he looked at it, there was no explanation for their behaviour.
“Tell me everything,” Irene demanded in a cold voice.
“Lady Navina, I…” Calypso closed her mouth when the woman on the chair lift her finger.
“Listen very carefully, kid. I’m not in the mood for games.” She stood up from her seat and walked towards the pale girl. “When I say everything, I mean everything. The order can shove their rules up their collective ass.”
Lady Navina turned to face the Marshal of the Silent Knights and growled at him. “Zan, if that mouthpiece of yours keeps lingering by the door, I will make sure he remains silent for eternity.”
Nathaniel saw Lord Tetradon shiver slightly before he snapped his fingers. The motion was followed by a satisfied nod from the Witch Hunter. She then returned her attention to Calypso, who could not look any paler even if a vampire drained all her blood. However, the young realised that she was not looking at her supposed comrade, instead, her eyes were fixed on the shadows behind Irene.
“Sailor, I’d remain ignorant if I were you. Your skill to notice things is a curse right now.” The woman warned him and Nathaniel snapped his eyes to her feet.
As she had said, he thought he saw something in that oppressive darkness. But it was too brief and it could be just his mind playing tricks on him. He wouldn’t be the first person to be scared of shadows. In fact, this should be a constant fear, one Nathaniel had tried his best to overcome. Many horrors lurked in the darkness and a lot of them did not take kindly to being looked at.
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“Good to see we all understand each other.” Irene’s sharp voice conveyed her impatience quite clearly. “Now then, speak.”
Calypso took a deep breath and once she let it go, the walls guarding her words crumbled into nothingness. As the Witch Hunter had asked, she told everything. From the moment Lady Ire had informed her of their task, through seeing Irene allegedly assault Nathaniel, to the two women reaching the clearing in the bog. At the last, the former sailor felt icy fingers creep inside his chest. When she described the man at the clearing, he felt them wrap around his heart and squeeze.
“Paul…” Nathaniel whispered and was awarded a withering glare from Irene. He closed his mouth, but that had to be his dead friend the young Witch Hunter spoke of. Then the body on the table had to be that of Helen. This was shaping up as fine mess and he was stuck right in the middle of it.
No, he was wrong. This was becoming very dangerous for him, he realised when Calypso revealed that Witch Hunters had spirits reside in them. Not just one, but many and if he understood correctly, the girl had most of hers stollen by the thing Paul had become. It was obvious Nathaniel was not meant to know this and the worried looks Calypso directed his way ever so often, only reinforced this.
His thoughts drifted back to the thing Paul had become. According to what the young Witch Hunter said, he was something else. Something that was not human. No matter how he looked at it, Nathaniel could only blame himself for this. If only he had insisted, they stick to the safer route, none of this would have happened. Well, there was also Irene, but her part in all of this deserved a special kind of blame.
Nathaniel looked at Helen’s body. Only one thing bothered him about the dead witch. Why was she here? He doubted that Lady Navina had brought the body out of sympathy. A piece of this puzzle was missing and the young man pushed hard to figure what it was. And then Calypso hit them with the end of her tale and the reanimated monsters that had hunted her all the way to the gates of Esthergrad.
“And what were you two looking for there?” Irene asked after it became clear that the girl had nothing more to add. The question was met with silence. “You were too busy plotting against me to pay attention, weren’t you?”
It was impossible not to notice the mighty Lord Tetradon flinch at the last. Nathaniel was convinced that the Marshal had done something similar in the past and was deeply regretting his actions. The young man could emphasise with the veteran warrior, having learned that the Witch Hunter was not someone to go against. Then again, Calypso was one too, so it might not be fair to draw the same parallel between her and them.
“It’s all because you…” The girl’s outburst died as soon as it had formed and she lowered her head. “Forgive me. This is not how I should address a senior member of our order.”
“At least there is hope for you,” Irene shook her head in disappointment and stalked the young Hunter. “Let me guess. Your companion,” the word came out as a curse from her lips, “told you to close your mouth and be a good girl.”
“Remember this. That thing in you is a spirit and although it is not evil, it is not good.” The woman continued as she slowly walked towards Helen’s corpse. “However, their kind is strict on enforcing obedience and stagnation. They are quite the insidious bugger, not so different from demons really.”
“That is a very dangerous claim to make, Lady Navina.” Fire had replaced the fear in the girl’s mismatched eyes.
“Is it now?” The Witch Hunter stopped at the edge of the table and turned around to look at the one who had challenged her. “Here is another one. Witch Hunters are narrow-minded, bigoted fanatics, who are unwilling to explore and exploit the full extent of what the world has to offer.”
She pulled the cloth hiding the decapitated body. Considering how much time had passed and the last Nathaniel saw of the young witch was her corpse falling into the still waters of the bog, her remains were remarkably well preserved. It was difficult to tell if she had died over a week ago or just a handful of hours prior to being brought here.
“I take it, you can see them.” Irene smiled at the stunned Calypso.
After a few failed attempts the girl her thoughts to for a response. “Yes… Are those spirits?”
“I suppose, although they are quite lesser and lean towards the wild-born elemental essences. But, yes. They are spirits nonetheless.”
The Witch Hunter’s face twisted and her fingers danced for a moment, leaving a line of orange fire as they moved. She finished by slamming her open palm into the sigil that was drawn in the air and a wave of sparks peppered the corpse. Nathaniel could swear he heard screaming, but it was so faint and distant that he was not sure, if it was real or something that he thought was appropriate following the scene he had observed. The young man was lost for words and felt his mouth hanging open. This was amazing and for a brief moment, being so close to the true power of a Witch Hunter, made all his worries evaporate. Calypso, on the other hand, had a very different reaction to Irene’s show of superiority.
Hands clenched into fists, teeth bared into a snarl and unfiltered mask of rage on her face, she took a step forward and hissed. “Witchcraft!” The young woman shouted without moving her eyes from Irene. “Lord Tetradon, call upon your Knights and help me detain this fiend!”
There was a problem with her call for aid and unlike her, Nathaniel could see Zan’s shoulders drop and the strong warrior become an old broken man. The Marshal was not going to do anything to help her. On the contrary. He wore his thoughts on his face, and if only Calypso turned to look at him, she would see the legendary hero contemplate stopping her instead.
“You are adorable, my dear.” Irene chuckled. “Alas, this is nothing more than pest control. And here is the real treat.”
She pushed her arm through the fading sigil and from it, the Witch Hunter pulled out a deformed shadow that left tar-like puddles on the polished floor as it was flung away from Helen’s body. Looking at the creature, made Nathaniel stand on edge and prepare to flee at the first opportunity he could get. He did not need Calypso’s shriek to inform him that this grotesque monstrosity was a demon.
Thankfully, there was not much time to see if the thing was as dangerous as the stories said. Irene’s great sword cleaved the thing in half and sent it back to the infernal realm. This time, Nathaniel was certain that there was a blood-chilling death-knell issue from the thing. These were the kind of monsters Witch Hunters fought, no wonder Irene was borderline insane. Nathaniel would have lost his mind completely if he was forced to hunt demons until the day he died.
“How did I not see it?” Calypso whispered, a little less astonished than the two men, but shaken all the same.
“Because, those so-called servants of good, protected it and hid it, while it tried in vain to undo the damage done to the witch.” Irene smiled like she had a small animal cornered. “Given time and if it were someone else, it might have succeeded. Alas, my blade renders such attempts pointless.”
At her words, the runes on her great sword shone a menacing red. If he did not know better, Nathaniel would say, that the weapon took joy in killing the demon and was proud of being praised by its wielder. Such a thought was ridiculous, however, a lot of things were just a few hours ago. So, for what difference it made, this could be the case. He cursed Helen and Paul for stripping his ignorance away. It was because of them he was here, learning things no normal person was supposed to know. Nathaniel’s goal of becoming a defender of the people was losing its appeal with every passing minute.
“It changes nothing,” Calypso said bluntly. “You used witchcraft. This transgression cannot be overlooked. According to the rules of our order, I order you to surrender peacefully. If not, I will be forced to subdue you, Lady Navina.”
Unexpectedly, it was neither Irene nor Nathaniel that chuckled at the young Witch Hunter’s words. Instead, it was Lord Tetradon. In a somewhat exaggerated way, he wiped the tears that had formed on his eyes and politely shook his head.
“You are welcomed to try.” The woman smiled mockingly at Calypso. Nathaniel was not sure how strong the girl was, but he doubted that she stood a chance against the mad Witch Hunter. Despite how unnerving the revelation that she had used witchcraft was, Zan’s reaction was confirmation enough that the Silent Knights and perhaps some of her comrades, knew of this for quite some time now.
“That is enough, my dear.” A new voice spoke from the shadows.
“Lady Nox!” Calypso exclaimed and dropped to one knee when a second later an identical twin to Irene Navina stepped out of the darkness. However, Nathaniel felt his heart stop, when the initial shock of the name passed. The woman looked like the Witch Hunter and her features resembled those of the God-slayer, but there was no mistaking the demon he saw on the clearing after Lady Navina killed Paul. How had the girl missed the bottomless dark pits of despair with bright red pupils, burning with cruelty and malice, which bore into her? For the first time, Nathaniel wished he had died after jumping from the inn’s window.
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Esthergrad was not a small hamlet that would fall at the slightest show of force. Not, the town was protected by a stone wall and had a full contingent of two hundred men and women serving in its Dusk Brigade and was home to a fortress belonging to those damned Silent Knights. Usually, a covenant would avoid attacking such a well-defended settlement. But this was the Raven’s Wing and if anyone could conquer Esthergrad, it was them.
However, Amberly was having second thoughts about the whole thing. She recognised the one the young Witch Hunter had sought out – Irene Nox. The murderer of the leaving god Uther. Her presence was enough to shake her conviction. If there was anyone who could challenge Margo, it was this damned woman. And going by what happened at the vision pool, their leader had a personal vendetta to prosecute against the Witch Hunter.
True, her new sisters were busy summoning demons and preparing a grand hex to unleash upon the town. There were also the ancient werewolves that protected the tomb and a number of ancient vampires and all manner of dangerous monsters and beast waiting for the sun to set. Yet, Amberly could not see this ending well.
“Then why did you not tell her?” Her companion whispered in her ear. The young witch kept her mouth shut, unwilling to engage in this conversation. “You thought you could use this information to your advantage, didn’t you? And how is that working for you?”
She ignored the comment and focused her attention on the grimoire on her lap. In its aged pages were some of the secrets the Raven’s Wing had gathered through the ages. Spells and incantations, that were hidden from the other covenants. There had to be something in it, that would help her survive this doomed assault.
“You know, this reminds me of the time we took Casper’s Rest.” Margo sat down next to her.
“I’m sorry, I am not familiar with such a town.” Amberly closed the grimoire and looked at her new matron.
“I’d be surprised if you had.” The ancient witch laughed, but it was not enough to hide the bitterness in her eyes. “There was nothing but ash left when we were done with it. The unbreakable city they called it. We were a small unknown covenant back then. Not that people knew that such things existed.”
There were so many questions Amberly wanted to ask, but she felt it was not in her interest to interrupt. If she was lucky, perhaps after this story was over, the young witch would have the chance to ask one or two of them.
“It’s not like people did not know about witches. They just didn’t know we could gather in organised groups.” Sadness found its way in Margo’s voice. “They slighted my matron and her fury was something to behold. That was before she went soft and turned her back on her sisters and daughters. Before she betrayed me.”
The sadness was replaced by anger and the witch’s face darkened. But as soon as the emotion had appeared, it was gone. In its place a seductive smile and a carefree voice.
“Back then I still respected her, but inevitable, I grew stronger, while she limited herself on exploring the limits of the basic spells and curses.” Margo’s smile turned cruel. “Although I have to admit that the spell that she unleashed on Casper’s Rest was basic, it was quite the thing. It is actually quite similar to what I have your sisters prepare. But this time it will not be so tame. I’ve added a little extra to it.”
Margo stood up and dusted her dress. “True power is not in basic things. When this is over, remind me to prepare a suitable reading to advance your talents.” The witch’s hands danced, drawing a complex sigil into the air in blue flames. As the sun dropped beneath the horizon a predatory smile split her lips and with voice fuelled by hatred, she made her final proclamation.
“Now, let this town feel the kiss of the inferno.”
A mighty conflagration consumed Esthergrad and the army the Raven’s Wing had prepared began its assault.