Clarissa watched the militia men as they dug out another shrine to Istania and threw it upon the large bonfire built into the center of the little village. A sick knot of doubt was busy tying itself up in her guts, but she leaned on the confidence given to her by her Divine Gift to keep a strong face.

  Clarissa was a Priestess of Light, one step above Acolyte, the basic job, and she had both at their maximum levels. If it wasn't for the need for certain feats and gifts to advance she probably never would have agreed to lead a force of Inquisition at all, but she knew at least the theory behind what could happen if those who prayed to a fallen god or goddess were allowed to keep on doing so. In Istania's case a Dark Goddess could very easily rise. She was beloved by her people and many other cultures and religions besides.

  It didn't please her to be here. It didn't please her to see people suffer. She didn't pretend to understand why her God had struck out against the friendly Goddess of Healing except that there were rumors that she had been harboring some kind of evil. Evidence of it had already been found, and one of her former followers had made off with a book once hidden away in her capital of Istan. Clarissa was simply doing her duty and trying her best to make sure it went as smoothly as possible for everyone involved. Even these poor people.

  “Do NOT hurt them. Simply secure the artifacts and dispose of them.” Clarissa said again as some of the militia men struggled with a woman who was trying hard to keep them from the wooden Caduceus talisman around her neck.

  The village people were miserable. Mothers held children close who watched the fire made of books and altars and other items related to the teachings or ideals of Istania like it was their own family members put upon the fire. Clarissa was empathetic, but the work had to be done. For the good of all. She hated how much she had to keep telling herself that. The sun was beginning to set too, reminding her again of how little she felt like a 'Worker of the Light' as her church praised so many to be, when it seemed all her recent acts brought darkness into people's lives.

  The Militia sergeant, Barns, came to her looking worriedly down the village lane toward the outskirts.

  “What is it?” Clarissa asked, her voice a bit more harsh than she meant it. She felt her Divine Spark thrum in response to her distress. Her God's energy filled her, readying her against the coming night, and gave her some much needed confidence. She let out a breath and made her face more gentle.

  “What is it Sergeant Barnes?” She asked, reiterating what she had said before. It came out much better this time and the man approached.

  “Could be nothing, but the boys I sent up the way haven't come back yet. I was going to go check on them.” Barnes said. He looked worriedly up at the darkening sky.

  The two met eyes knowing why they even had so many men in the first place. Villagers maybe, but still the people were fighting back here and there. The village they were in now wasn't too far from where the last patrol had gone missing too. It had them both a little nervous.

  “Okay, but go there and come back with or without them. We'll return to camp and our greater numbers then. It won't be long and I can keep away the worst of the night.” Clarissa told him.

  He nodded, adjusted his belt, and headed up the village lane toward the houses.

  Clarissa frowned as he went. The houses hadn't put up their lanterns yet, and it was getting quite dark. How could the people stand it?

  She tapped her staff on the ground and spread her aura of light about as the night continued to close in. She surveyed the people and the militia who came from houses nearby with this or that thing to add to the fire. They all gave her a look like they weren't expecting to find much more.

  “Go into your homes, good people. Please try to understand that like this or not we must do what is best for the safety of all now that Istania is gone. And she is gone. I'm sorry that it pains you, but there is no changing the actions of the past no matter who makes them whether they be high or low. Please go into your homes and try to rest. We will be nearby to keep safe from the night.” She said, feeling a little cold sweat go down the back of her neck like it always did when she spoke to any sort of crowd.

  The people didn't exactly seem heartened by her words, but they took to their homes and one by one lanterns and other lights came on. That was good. Clarissa glanced down the dark village lane once more.

  And then blinked.

  She stepped forward and directed the light of her staff at the center of her aura of light to cast a ray of light down the lane. Golden amber light shot out against the shadows and peeled away the dreadful inky darkness. Sergeant Barnes was nowhere in sight.

  “Sergeant Barnes?” Clarissa called. “Sergeant Barnes?”

  Clarissa tapped her staff on the ground again, blasting light all around her. The militia men looked at her nervously and began to peer down the lane. None of them stepped past her. She suddenly began to feel very alone and exposed in the packed dirt streets of this little village.

  “Hey. Where's Hugh?” One militia man asked another.

  The other cast about a panicked gaze. Both men tore their swords from their scabbards.

  “Formation!” Clarissa ordered. “Head count. Everyone to...” Her words slid off her tongue as she spotted a humanoid form, a beast kin, coming from the shadow. Then she quickly realized that it wasn't coming from the shadow. It was bringing it with her on a tide of magic.

  The creature's pale flesh seemed to catch the golden rays of her aura of light and turn them into moon beams, but the rest of her seemed to eat away all the light that touched her. The curled horns on her head were just shadows buried in more shadows, like an absence of light and everything made flesh. Bladed claws slowly slipped from her fingers like thin razor edged knives of the same dark material.

  She was about to order the men to attack when they shuffled about behind her, following her earlier unfinished order, and one of them shouted.

  “You there! Back into your home! Stay back!” The man called.

  Clarissa couldn't look away from the creature in the dark. Her light couldn't touch anything on her, but her bare naked flesh. The wind rushed through the trees and down the lane and a scent came to her that filled her with a naked raw need. She tried to shield her mind realizing what was happening, and just what this thing might be.

  Amber eyes flashed from square to focused in the pale skinned creature's face.

  “Too late....” She whispered, the softness of her voice suddenly all the priestess could pay attention to as the men behind her panicked. Swords and other weapons were drawn. The men shouted. Metal rang as they came under attack.

  Clarissa still couldn't look away from the creature even though the fighting was right behind her.

  “Demon!” She hissed.

  She focused her will, and leaned into her Divine Gifts seeking strength. Her will began to work off the claws of mental attack, and the light of her staff shone all the brighter about her. Behind her men were screaming and dying. The sound of it already had her heart racing and lances of fear raced through her mind.

  Blades met with blades. The men tried to coordinate themselves, and they called out to her, but she couldn't yet turn to help them. She couldn't even get her mind to focus on what words the men were using. She was sweating as bad as any of her worst times in training. The Inquisitors had come and trained anyone with the Priest or Paladin Jobs for this very reason, but Clarissa had never expected to meet a demon like this. Not this shadowy thing. She fought, summoning all her will against the creature of darkness and after what felt like an eternity she turned its hold up her mind.

  “Ray of Light!” She called and cast forth her hand and will. The lance of magical energy shot forth as the creature began to move, but Clarissa didn't stop there. “Radiance of the Light!” She called in a trembling voice and slammed her staff into the ground.

  Blinding light shot from her in all directions. It would stun her foes and allies alike with its blinding effect, but it would give her time to act and address what was happening.

  Clarissa turned ready with a healing spell for the nearest of the men she had heard fighting.

  A fist slammed into her gut before she was able to properly get a look at the man facing her.

  He tried and failed to kick her staff away and the pommel of his weapon crashed into her back. She felt ribs break. He was fast. He was strong too. Multiple combat jobs strong and...and....she suddenly realized with horror that whatever this man was he was practically dripping with Demonic Corruption. It was nothing like the small sample she had been shown by the Inquisitors. The demon had distracted her just in time to block her senses or she would have felt him coming. She hit the ground hard just as the three men thought lost by Sargent Barnes appeared with torches held high. They rushed for her and the man, but even as she fell Clarissa tried to cast out a hand in warning to stop them. This man and this creature were beyond them.

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  The shadows behind them warped and that creature appeared. It's shadowy claws parted the last man's skull into five sections like one might cut a loaf of bread with a magically sharp blade. Clarissa gasped as she hit the dirt, even then using her long cool-down, no cast time ability gained from being a Level 10 Priestess called 'Immediate Invocation' to heal herself.

  She had held onto her staff, and rolled onto her back readying herself to cast another Ray of Light. She would need to take the time to aim since her attacker would now be in melee with the two men.

  She turned, horrified at what she saw.

  The man held a knight’s longsword in his right hand, and some kind of magical dagger in the other. At his feet lay eight men dead, their wounds blackened and bloodless. The flashing red blade of the magical dagger seemed to her mystically gifted sight to be dripping with the missing blood, gushing with it in fact, and delighted in every moment of the slaughter. By just looking at that blade she felt the physic fingers of the demon’s will inside cackling with laughter, and dark hunger for her blood.

  The man himself wore a bloodstained tabard of the militia of light, and one by its fit that was clearly taken from one of the men he had previously killed. Whatever disguise it may have offered then was now gone as the three rays of light were soaked in blood and grime. The man himself was filthy, his short cut hair rough and out of sorts as if he hadn't bathed in days. His eyes were bloodshot and twisted in a hatred that honestly startled Clarissa. It shook her to her very core to meet his gaze as his eyes flashed to her in the middle of the melee. Her sense of Insight had always been high, but she had never felt an emotion like this. Even the vague sensation of bloodlust and malice coming from the blade in his hand and that creature could not compare to what she sensed inside this man now.

  In this moment the man must have been insane. Nothing else could explain what she felt from him. The militia men with their Warrior and supplemented Militiamen Jobs were nothing compared to how this man fought. He was clearly a decently leveled Fighter from his ability with Dual Weapon fighting and ease of movement in mail armor. Pommel Strike with its stunning effects and the damage that had required one of Clarissa's most potent heals to fix meant he was also a Knight. Cold and honest terror filled her gut as her gaze landed upon the magic knife, and her mind recalled the Demon's presence. He had summoned that thing. He had conjured the knife. That meant he also had magic, and likely was the one who had struck and stolen from the temple in Istan. He might have the thief or assassin job as well as whatever other knowledge or spells he had gained from the dark artifact Istania had been hiding.

  She realized with terror that her God had been right looking at this man. This was why he had struck out at Istania. In fear of this. How could such a gentle Goddess think to contain such evil? And in turn how long had the Goddess held this madness at bay with her malice or perhaps her own insanity? Could nothing have been done?

  Clarissa watched in horror as the man batted away the weapons of the recklessly charging militia men and ripped that deadly magic knife over their throats and through their armor. It cut through flesh and simple armor like a hot knife through butter. And that dreadful blade soaked in every single drop of blood that should have been shed. There was no spray and the edges of the wounds turned black and dry as though already rotting with afflictions.

  She raised her staff to cast Ray of Light at the man, but suddenly her staff rang as it struck the ground. A curious sensation rolled through her limb and she stared uncomprehendingly at the stump of her right arm that now ended just above the elbow. Blood fountained from the end of her limb covering her face and turning her vision red with each beat of her heart. But before she could even begin to process what was happening to her another wave of magic flooded over her mind.

  That scent filled her nose and in cold terror she looked up to see the shadow creature, the demon, eat the light of aura with her presence as it stood above her. She couldn't think, and she couldn't look away from its pale flesh. It made her hunger to taste its skin just as much as looking upon it made her want to be sick. The men were crying out, one of them needing just a little healing to get back on his feet, but she heard him, and then the other man die moments later. And she couldn't look away from the demon.

  It was smiling down at her, as it circled her as she lay upon the ground, her arm still spraying blood into the dirt. Each beat of her heart seemed to rob more and more heat from the rest of her limbs.

  “Ivan...” It called. “I've caught the pretty one for you. She's bleeding rather badly. She'll need your attention before we move her.”

  “I see that. You've got her?” He asked.

  “Oh yes. She's very frightened.” The demon answered him.

  Clarissa was just barely able to look away as the man moved toward her. He had a burning piece of one of the lovingly crafted shrines to Istania in his hands. She stared at that flaming brand in his hand as the demon stepped over her and sat on her chest. Suddenly she could breath and move, but the creature had hold of her arms and held her too dark, too shadowy horns close to Clarissa's neck.

  “Don't move little one. Your mind needs to be clear, and Ivan's not so gentle as he used to be.” The demon said, her voice a thing too lovely and too sweet to be anything but a sickness to Clarissa's mind. Clarissa tried to speak, but only rough sounds would come out as the man took hold of her stump arm.

  She screamed as the burning wood was pressed into her flesh, sealing the bleeding stump of her arm in a hot flash of pain that cut through the shock of losing it in the first place. Clarissa tried to move or get away from the thing, but it was too strong. Her gaze shot frantically about for a way to escape for help. The villagers…

  The lights in their houses had gone out. One house even had the door open, but the man who had been coming out lay upon the floor. He was breathing, and appeared to be asleep. Clarissa stared in horror at that. And then back up at the Demon.

  It smiled at her showing pearly white fangs that shone in the light of the bonfire in drastic comparison to the way her horns seemed to eat at the light.

  “Did you spot any place that might work?” The man, Ivan, asked the demon.

  The Demon's grin went wide as she turned to her master, and motioned to the northeast with a little flick of her chin.

  “Over there master. There's a small storage shed. Well sealed and taken care of. It should contain the darkness we need for the ritual.” She told him.

  “Up then. I'll handle her.” He said. His voice was rough and cold. Like wood left out in the depths of winter. Like he had forgotten all warmth.

  The demon stood and before Clarissa could act or think the man had her by the hair and dragged her about onto her knees.

  “This is the way your god treated my family priestess. Expect no less in return. None of you should expect any less.” The man growled as he stepped fearlessly into the darkness dragging her by the hair like she was an unruly farm animal.

  She tried to fight against him, panicked at first, her eyes locked on the shed. But she felt like a child being pulled along by an adult. Quickly she moved back into her training, calming her mind, and gathering her will so that she might form any sort of spell craft. Her aura began shining again.

  Even with her hand cut off and the pain in the seared stomp of her limb she was still a priestess of the God of Light. She could reach out to her god and through her faith be blessed with light to sear away this man and the demon following after him.

  Then she was thrown into the door of the shed. She struck it, and crumpled against it awkwardly. It wasn't a moment before she was grabbed by the head again and a fist met with her face. The world spun as she was dragged to her feet. She tried to remember her combat training. She held onto her will and formed it into a spell even as the door to the shed was tossed open.

  “Cure Light Wounds.” She mumbled. The healing didn't do much, but it cleared her head. She staggered into the wall of the shed, tools caught and stung on her remaining hand, but she stayed upright this time.

  “Light Pulse!” She choked out before a hand closed on her throat.

  She was hit in the face again. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but she was still in the light. She could fight as long as she was still in the light. She glared at the man whenever she could. She wouldn't go down without a fight.

  Light Pulse did no damage, but it had a mild stunning effect. He had fought through it, but still had recoil and shield his eyes. She tried to think. She tried to memorize his face. She would get out of this somehow. She had to have faith. She was reaching out. Her God would feel her need. She was just a priestess, but he would feel her need for help if she tried hard enough.

  What she saw was a broken man moving in a shell filled with anger. His face was streaked with dirty lines where tears must have fallen and he smelled of blood and worse. He might have been a killer who had lost everything, even his sanity if she had to guess, and the terrible state of his mind and person couldn't have been reflected better than by the smiling demon who closed the door to the little shed behind them.

  “You're being tricked. The demon is influencing your thoughts. Don't do this!” Clarissa said hastily, her voice begging, showing the fear she was fighting against. She clawed for breath under the weight of his hand.

  Her words were enough to slow him down. She acted.

  “Light of the Mind be Cleansed!” She chanted in that moment, using his lack of care for her single remaining hand to stroke her fingers across his forehead. There was no doubt he was influenced by the creature outside and it likely wouldn't stop him, but it might give her another moment. He recoiled at her touch as it brought the cleansing magic, and for just a moment she felt the grip of his hand slip.

  Then she was put into the wall so hard that one of the tools hanging there bit into her back. She tried to scream, but his hand was too tight around her throat. His fist came down on her face again and again. She tried to fight, to kick him away, to do anything. It did nothing against the strength of the combat jobs he had, but she had to try.

  The light of her holy aura dimmed and the blows stopped raining down, but by then all she knew was that she was hurt and coming closer to death with every second. That made it even more vital that she get away. The darkness was the first thing she noticed. She always hated the dark. She hadn’t been afraid of it since she was a child, but she was now. She didn't want to be in the dark with this man, and with his empty eyes didn't see her as another person.

  It wasn't the darkness of death that surrounded her. Her breath was still coming out ragged and awful. She was choking on her own blood and missing teeth. Her thoughts only existed in the vaguest fashion barely registering that she had been dropped onto the ground. The only clear one in her mind holding desperately to the concept around a single word. 'Survive.' Everything in her mind boiled down to that simple concept. Without pride or shame, she would survive any way she could.

  She had no idea where the door was. All the light was gone, and with the state her head was in spell casting was completely out. Her training kicked in again. She remembered Paladin Vetross's kind old face throughout the years smiling down at his favorite niece and she remembered all the lessons he had taught her, the squires and acolytes. Her remaining hand found the pouch at her hip, and the enchanted little vial. She thumbed the stopper and poured contents into her mouth.

  “Always have a backup plan. Always prepare for the worst.” That was what Paladin Vetross had said. Whether it was going into a dungeon or out on some kind of patrol or to the battlefield. Always have something extra to give you an edge your enemy won't expect. Like having a high ranked healing potion on hand even when you had divine spells to normally heal yourself.

  The familiar stinging pain of healing lanced all through her body, and down into the stump end of her arm especially. Her next problem was where to go. She had no idea where she was facing or in which direction the door was. There was no light. No light at all. She still had to try. She made her best guess trusting her instincts and surged that way with all the speed her hands and feet could lend her.

  She stumbled several feet, much too large to have been contained within the shed, and fell forward. She gasped and writhed as the healing potion dug at the burn on the end of her arm, the potions magic enough to at least attempt to regrow the limb, and it might have if she had the chance to combine her own healing with it. She had seen it done at her rank like that. Potent alchemy and a priestess's healing put together. Right now it was only hindering her as the process was very painful.

  She reached out for her Divine Gift as her mind cleared and she could once again draw mana into her body.

  And horror struck her.

  She couldn't feel it. She couldn't feel the light of her God.

  “There, there little one.” A new voice came from the darkness, it was kind, and filled with an almost familiar presence that her still functional mystic senses recognized. Now that her head wasn't spinning so much from being struck about the head she realized she had been ignoring the ability to sense her attacker's clearly tainted soul.

  He was behind her. Just standing there. It made her realize she had traveled more than twice the space inside that little tool shed. Where had she gone? Where was she? Why couldn't she see any lights?

  Clarissa clawed her way toward the voice in the dark. The floor was strange. She certainly wasn't inside the shed any more, it had been on a slight hill near the forested edge of the village. This was flat and well kept ground like a yard. She pressed on anyway until she found a pair of legs. Hope surged in her heart and she heard herself sobbing as she grasped at him.

  “Please. Please help me.” She begged.

  “It's already too late for that little one. Ivan has brought you to me. You did instinctively recognize my long forgotten divinity however.” The new voice said, sending chills down her spine.

  Clarissa stared up at the source of the voice, her mouth open, yet unable to scream as the thing gently touched her cheeks and wiped blood and tears from her face. Despite his words his kind touch sparked some tiny hope in her heart. The healing potion had nearly run its course too. She could still act. She could still keep fighting. She had to try.

  “For that...” The new voice said gently, and as if speaking patiently to a child. “-I will kill you with my own hands.”