In this cramped, claustrophobic apartment, I witnessed an indescribable horror. Something that defied all reason. It was the aftermath of Pecca’s demonically driven malevolence.
The dismembered bodies of his unfortunate victims lay scattered throughout, lying on the floor haphazardly, stuffed together in a rusty cooking pot on cold coals, arranged in unholy shapes everywhere—tied and nailed to the wall and ceiling, on his mold-covered bed, and sharp bones sticking out of the yellow lavatory pot.
I almost threw up twice before I calmed myself.
All of this death was arranged to create an aura of dark magic that would spread out and influence whoever it touched.
Then I heard Florencia enter the room, but she stopped dead and stumbled backward. I turned around quickly, caught her arm, pulled her close and held her as she fought her natural instincts to flee or throw up. While she calmed down, I looked at the circular-shaped runes written with blood and feces all over the floor and walls and ceiling.
I could almost see how the letters and words pulsed with dark energy and could hold power over a weak and susceptible mind.
“I guess that’s why I can’t feel anyone around,” mumbled Florencia, standing wearily behind me, gripping my arm. “He’s been doing this for less than two months. Think how much he would’ve done if….”
“Don’t,” I said. “That didn’t happen.”
“I’ve seen some bad things, Jonas, but… but this is…”
Before Florencia could finish her thought, Iskander, Jaxine, and Jace entered.
Jaxine screamed but quickly composed herself and advanced into this madness. Jace’s face went white, and his knees wobbled.
“By the Gods,” said Iskander. “How can one do this?”
But that was also a rhetorical question. He knew perfectly well the evil that drove one to do this.
Quick to think on his feet, Iskander opened a window to make our presence here more sufferable. But Pecca had closed them all with nails and glue, and he had to break it open with a forceful will of his mind, and the windowsill splintered with a thunderous crack.
Fresh air stormed in, but some somehow made it worse.
The smell of rot and feces and everything in between mixed strangely with the fresh air we all had to step outside until a breeze had run through. When we came back, we tried to find something amidst this horror. None dared to touch anything, and only did so when absolutely necessary using either their swords or a stick they found from outside. But it was difficult to move anything with our minds—the terrible runes interfered with our powers.
Jace broke first. He did his best to hold firm and see whether there was anything to be found, but soon he fell to his knees. Holding his mouth and stomach, he ran downstairs and turned a corner, where he hurled all that he had eaten into the dark dirt.
Then we heard the guards slowly creep up, along with the captain. When they entered the room, they stood in horror, only for most of them to turn around, storm out, and join Jace. Captain Leze held out longer and poked a pile of clothes with his sword before he escaped.
It was the most gruesome thing I’ve had to do, but we dug through the remains of the apartment. There was a desk that was buried under a mountain of trash, along with a small nightstand, and we looked through all of them but found not a thing. All Pecca had been doing was this dark torture to appease the demon living inside his mind, and feeding it strength.
And then I heard something I was already expecting.
“What are you moping around here for?” shouted a guard. “Get back up there!”
“How about you shut your mouth and go yourself?”
“You dare speak to me like this? I’m your corporal. I’d whip you back in the ‘racks!”
I understood that the slow hold of the evil here began to wear down the minds of the guardsmen the moment we arrived here. It was only a matter of time before they would be at each other’s throats.
“Flo, you need to tell them to move away until we’re done. Widen the perimeter. They must not come close,” I told Florencia, and she nodded and went down without a second thought. I heard some angered voices and a calm one explaining what needed to be done. When she came back upstairs, we passed only another nod at each other, and we continued to sift through the junk.
It was not too long afterward that Jaxine exclaimed a victorious cry.
She had been investigating a corner for some time, poking and prodding the pile of trash with her dagger. After her shout, we looked up, and she was holding up a crumpled-up paper.
“I had a feeling there was something in there,” she said triumphantly.
If only she would conquer her thirst for revenge and help us with this much enthusiasm.
“I am Goro, the chosen leader of the Zekt. I extend my invitation unto you, o chosen vessel of the powers beyond. It would make all of us glad if you were to come and join our sect in Lottie. Right now we are but a meager assemblage, but our faith is resolute and our will is strong, and we are growing by the day. With us you would find devout followers of the Great Ones, who you are intimately familiar with…” read Jaxine. “I can’t read what follows. It’s all covered in blood and scribbled out. Pecca seemed angry over this letter, and I think he threw it away and forgot about it.”
“Strange that he would ignore it,” said Florencia.
“Can you see a date on it?” asked Iskander.
Jaxine examined the letter. “Nothing. See, Jonas? We have even more reason to go immediately!”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
“We don’t know how much time ago this was sent,” I said calmly. “We will go to Lottie, but not yet. Remember that we have to stay for Pitties.”
“Pff! What of him?”
“I promised I would wait for his word in Caffria. Once I have it, we’ll leave immediately. Please, don’t worry.”
“Whatever,” she huffed, putting on her usual act of frustration and anger before storming off. Florencia, in response, rolled her eyes and in that moment, there was something especially captivating about her. I couldn’t think of a more ill-fitting place for these types of thoughts.
While the letter was a victory, we had to keep digging. We didn’t know whether Pecca hid any secrets for us to uncover. But as the hours passed, we only found decomposing stuff that had once been alive, some belongings, some old tools, packages, and bones. The only other curious object was what Iskander found—a massive book with dried skin as the pages, but all blank, and nothing was written on it.
“This sick fuck only did it for sport,” said Iskander with overflowing contempt.
We’ve all had enough. I couldn’t stand another moment in here. None of us said it out loud, but we all just stopped and went back downstairs and stayed away, simply looking at the dark place. Sensing around us now, I felt nothing alive close by. Pecca had probably killed every one of his neighbors. This was why nobody was complaining—there was nobody alive to complain or tell the authorities.
“We need to burn this place down,” I told Florencia, enjoying the fresh and invigorating air again. “This dark magic will corrupt everything around it, and anyone who comes close. The guards are already at each other’s throats. They won’t last long.”
“I see it,” said Florencia, her eyes scanning the guardsmen, who all stood around tensely. None talked, and the captain was barking nonsensical orders left and right, growing ever angry as time went on.
Once Florencia had explained to him what had to be done, he swiftly set about making the arrangements, seemingly overcoming the dark spell. Access to the building was forbidden, and the front door was nailed shut. Then, the whole place was torched, and quickly the inferno consumed all in its wake. Black smoke rose into the sky and it grew thick, and the street was filled with an even worse reek of decomposition and death.
But we could not leave yet; we had to see the job through, as none of us knew if burning the place down would utterly cleanse the corruption or not. And Florencia had to use much of her remaining strength to keep the flames at bay, only contained to that one house.
It was until the day broke that we stayed staring into the flames in a somber satisfaction, and slowly, as the fire purged all inside it, the malice of the demonic corruption burned away.
*
We slept little, as it was already light outside when we fell into our beds, and we were quickly woken by the noise coming from all around us. I thought it might’ve been better that way—to not dwell on that gruesome day for too long. A fresh start would do us all good.
By midday we were already talking with the guards again at the barracks, hoping not to find any strange rumors that might lead us down another dark path. Fortune, however, was with us that time, and we found nothing that was worrying, and we went away.
It was time to return to Catia Zyla.
Traveling on horseback that day, we reached the church at a good speed. Upon arrival, Iskander and Jaxine volunteered to tend to our horses by the lone aster tree, while Florencia, Jace, and I went inside.
As we entered the church of Iscia once again, we found Catia Zyla holding a passionate sermon at the altar. She had on dark robes that were simple and very modest, cut wide and long, that concealed any indication of her close connection to the King’s mother. It was only a plum-sized golden brooch, pinned to her collar, that betrayed her high standing in the royal hierarchy.
The crowd before her was almost in a strange craze, listening to every word she spoke. There were a hundred men and women at least, almost all emaciated with shaved heads, tattooed necks, and ears. With arms raised high, some mumbled, and others shouted in a fervor words of worship to all the major and minor gods.
The atmosphere in the church had transformed overnight, becoming almost suffocating. Where the previous day, the church had been contagiously depressing, it now veered towards the realm of fanaticism—something none of us had witnessed in Lienor before.
As the unnaturalness grew and weighed heavily upon us, Florencia unconsciously stepped close to me, holding my hand tightly in hers. Florencia stayed silent when I told Catia Zyla that her troubles with the guards had been solved and that she would now have an easier time aiding the souls in need.
But there was another change that had taken place during that one day. My conversation with Catia had taken a new form. When before she had been casual, almost dismissive with me, now she clung to each word I spoke, scarcely even blinking. Talking to her, I felt a strange power, as though I could ask her to do anything, and she would willingly comply. I understood this dangerous situation far too late.
Of course, she tried to hide her attitude and maintain a composed facade, but she could not conceal the fire that burned behind her eyes. With guiding her flock, she had found a new purpose and an unquenchable drive that consumed her.
But what concerned Florencia and me the most, as we walked in this shadowy nave that was filled with incense and countless candles and chanting, was that there were not only the Veneiea survivors here but also simple Caffrian people of all kinds. And they were all intently listening to the words coming from those with broken minds.
“Catia,” I told her. “I have to ask you to forbid your flock to tell everyone what happened in Veneiea. Please. Can you do that?”
She nodded with overwhelming enthusiasm, her almost pitch-black eyes glowing.
“Of course, master Espian,” she said.
There! She wanted to call me by another name, but the stray thought went by too quickly, and I couldn’t catch it.
“If that is your wish,” said Catia quickly, before I could focus on it. “I’ll do anything I can. No one can know of this dark secret! None can know what you know and what you did there. I understand now. You can trust me, you really can. My congregation will never reveal their terrible trials. They’ll offer hope and purpose instead, against the tyrants of the dark, those who come and take. Thank you! Thank you!”
We couldn’t get away quickly enough. It was all a bit too much.
After we closed the front door behind us, broke into a jog and jumped atop our horses. We turned left and unleashed our horses into a full gallop through the streets. Charging at speed towards the ocean, we hoped the ocean wind would carry away the newfound worries.
“Would you stop and tell me what happened?” asked Iskander, whose frustration had bubbled up. “Why’d you run away like that?”
How could I even explain? I hardly understood what my heart was warning me against.
“Zyla has gone crazy,” said Florencia in my stead. “When that woman threw herself at his feet yesterday, I think Zyla saw it and must’ve talked to her later. It must be that she’s taken Jonas as some kind of savior figure, and she misinterpreted what Jonas told her in her own twisted way. Those religious nutcases are dangerous.”
“What?” said Iskander, wiping his wild black hair off his face, as the ocean breeze was strong and salty.
“She’s going to go around and convert all weak-minded people to her zealous worshippers, instead of keeping religion as a private thing,” said Florencia.
Seagulls cried loudly overhead, and a trio of seagrey shoregliders dove into the waters, grabbing some small fish between their beak.
“Religion is not a private thing!” said Jace suddenly. “It is the very thing that will hold the country together against this darkness. Catia sees that. But I think you’re right. She is going to take that and twist it into something bad.”
“I don’t agree with you, Jace,” said Florencia. “But I’m too tired to argue religion with you again. I have to admit, I liked you more when your focus was in the realms of academia.”
“Books cannot wage war against the demonic,” said Jace.
“Nor can the Gods.”
“You’re wrong,” said Jace, and we left it at that. The two had discussed and argued over this many times over the past few days, and it was already growing dark. We’ve had nothing to eat since the late breakfast, and we returned to the Seaside House.
There we ate dinner before retiring for the night.