( I didn’t get the opportunity to make another report so I’m using excerpts from my journal.)

Entry from August 14th

After three hours the train stopped at Dusthallow. I exit and step into a worn down desert station. Living up to its name the place is covered in dust and sand. Walking into the town square, I look around at all the bare wood threadbare shacks. Some scrawny horses milled around the streets, in the distance were barren fields of cattle. In the center of the square was a fountain with a broken stone statue on top of it , seemingly depicting a flower with a pair of legs coming out of it.

All right I’m here, now where do I go? I need a lead. This place doesn’t seem like it gets too many visitors, so people would definitely notice and discuss it. At this point a thirst came over me. “I need a drink.” I thought. That’s it a bar the bartender would be sure to know something, since all gossip is exchanged in bars, pubs, cafes or equivalent. So I’ll go to the local watering hole.

After a while of searching I found the local saloon. A saloon, soon I’m expecting to have to bring Augustus back with a lasso.

I walked in and sat at the counter, and perused the available drinks. I got the attention of the bartender. He was older, and looked as faded as his establishment. Having the drained look of those who have endured years of boredom.

“I’ll have a whiskey,” I said.

“Sorry sir but don’t we don’t serve whiskey,” he grumbled in a low pitched voice, “We don’t serve any alcohol, the pastor won’t allow it.”

“Okay, well what do you have,” I replied puzzled, so this pastor holds a lot of power, and is one of those Prohibitionists.

“We only have ginger ale and water,” he told me flatly, “Only thing we had that the pastor permitted.”

I asked for the ginger ale, the water would probably be a massive markup. It was cloudy, and was strongly bitter. I nearly spit out. Looking round I saw how empty the place was, obviously not many people viewed ginger ale as worth their earnings, I definitely didn’t disagree.

“So… anything interesting happen around here?” I asked, attempting to sound casual.

The bartender gave this question a long consideration. Eventually he said, “One of the farmer’s prized cows ‘pparently gave birth to a two headed calf.”

“I more meant anyone unusual passing through here?” I pushed on.

The bartender chewed at this one for a while. “There were the cultists,” he said at last, “Ten men rented some of the rooms upstairs, they wore black robes and only one of them ever spoke to me. Gave me the creeps. Plus they scared off the other customers.”

“Tell me more,” I ordered

“Why, you want to know?” He asked conspiratorially.

“I’m a private investigator, they are linked with a missing person case.” I answered.

“Well, let’s see. They mostly kept to their rooms when they were down here they’d huddle around a table and look at some old book. Their leader went to see the pastor and caused some uproar. The group left town this morning with a group of hired men.”

I saw the church immediately after I left. Its crossed spire towered over the wood shack like a skyscraper. The cross was black against the sun’s light. It was the tallest and largest building here, I felt tiny in its shadow. The church was pristine white washed.

I reached for the doors and knocked twice, the sound echoed through in the silence. There was not a sound of stirring from inside. I waited a minute then I timidly opened the door. The church was pretty empty, no stained glass or portraits, but the high arched roof made the interior feel massive ,and me insignificant. Stirring a part of my soul that hadn’t been moved for a long time.

I noticed the pastor behind the altar staring daggers at me. Couldn’t exactly blame him. I did look a bit dirty and unshaven. The pastor was younger than I expected. He was clean shaven, slim and had well maintained short cut sleack black hair. As he walked towards me, he held himself with confidence and dignity. Though, I could see a blazing firebrand soul in his eyes.

“Ehm, what is the meaning of this intrusion?” announced, “You’re not local, I don’t recognise from my flock, perhaps you are a repenting soul from the city, or maybe you’re with the heretics?”

“I’m neither, I don’t exactly care for the spiritual,” I answered nonchalantly, not wanting to humour the firebrand and get this done quickly as the place made me feel uneasy. “But what do you mean by the heretics?”

“Oh, just some madman and his friends came to the town. The madman began to ramble about something about a temple and the fountain.” He answered dismissively. “Anyway, what do you want, my child?”

“I’m a private investigator hired to track down Augustus McClare, the heretic you speak of.” I flatly declared. “ I was wondering if you could possibly assist me?"

The pastor was quiet for a second then answered, "In what way can I help you apprehend this criminal."

I felt it best not to bother correcting him. "Augustus came here to discuss something with you, what did he talk about?"

"He came here after one of my sermons, we began talking on matters of theology and philosophy. He was quite knowledgeable in that area." The pastor's brow stiffened, he continued spotting the words out "Then he brought up some pagan demon, Ambrosia or something like that, I told him I knew nothing of what he talked about. But he continued to rant about this describing it as the queen of everything beautifully, he said she’d make the world perfect. There was something about the fountain being the key.”

“Is that all?” I inquired

He reluctantly went on, “Well,I tried to convince him of his madness but he wouldn’t see reason. He went off in a rage, and hired some men and a horse and headed off into the desert with the rest of his cult.”

“And when did this happen?” I asked

“Oh, this morning.”

I ran out of the church. I bought supplies and began tracking. Which was easy as twelve men and a horse leave a lot of footprints and with no wind, rain and their recentness, their tracks were as plain as day.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I walk across the desolate plain, the sun beating down on me. I marched on, following the path of a deluded occultist and away from a town of fiery faith. Dust clouds rolled along the horizon. The land was empty punctuated by the odd boulder. There was no life here. Not even a fly.

The sun still relentless beat down on me, and with a long boring track up ahead, I got to thinking about what I was doing. Yesterday I was in a country manor , now I’m in the arsehole of nowhere probably going to die. And what was doing this for? Well, for money, a good deal of money. But still…

My mind spiraled along this argument for sometime, not paying attention to my surroundings. When something caught my eye, a horse. It was tied to a rock and looked pretty sad. It was likely Augustus’ horse.

The tracks turned into a canyon. Mercifully the rock cliffs provided shelter from the sun. I took pleasure in the feeling of sweat rolling down my body cooling me down after walking through that hell scape. The canyon acted as a haven of life; moss and heather grew sporadically down the path. There was a weak stream and I think I saw a lizard.

The canyon reached a dead end but the path did not end. From where I was I could make out a wide doorway into the rock face. This must be where Augustus was headed, upon realizing this I quickened my pace.

Getting closer I could see more details, the doorway had two pillars on either side, they were intricately carved with spiraling shapes. Above in the middle of the doorway was a bust of a woman’s face. It would have been beautiful if it hadn’t been shattered.

Then I saw the body. He was clad in a black robe, blood pooled around his head. I inspected the corpse’s head. He had blunt force trauma to forehead. I was unnerved. What happened here?

I stared into the darkness of the temple. There was only one way to find out and do what I was hired to do. To go into the mouth of hell.

I stepped into the temple.

It took some time for my eyes to adjust to the perpetual darkness. Making my way down the corridor keeping to the wall as a guide, I made out the arches with intricately carved spiralling patterns. There were some gargoyles at the base of the arches that sorta resembled vulture heads. Their stone eyes leered at me. The path seemed to stretch on for infinity, nothing but an empty abyss. I felt alone and insignificant, a similar insignificance to the one I felt at the church.

Then there was a break in the endlessly repeating hallway. Through the darkness I made out a body sprawled out on the floor. I couldn’t make out a lot of the features of it. He wasn’t wearing the black robes of Augustus’ cult, so one of the hired men. There was no blood or wound on the man. But his face was a twisted expression of horror, though I couldn’t make out his eyes. I checked the man’s corpse, stone cold dead. What happened to this man?

I continue down the path, it was where answers must lay.

I went on for a bit until I tripped up by a cuddle being swung at my legs.

“Begon siren! You have no power over me.” My assailant yelled.

“Bloody hell!” I grunted.

“Hm, you’re not the siren are you?” He apologised, the zeal in his voice, gone.

“What siren?” I murmured, pain still clouding my vision.

“You’re not one of them, you sound unfamiliar.” He continued to muse.

“Couldn’t you see that?” I spat

“No sir, I’m wearing a blind fold,” he said, conspiratorially pointing to the blind fold. “You should be wearing one too if you don’t want the siren to get you.”

“Siren? What are you on about ?” I asked.

“Augustus, the man who hired us, summoned a demon. It sucked the some out of poor Derek by forcing him to look at its face.” He explained

“What about the body outside?” I continued to question.

“We was told to wait outside the temple, one of those robed people waited with us. Derek is… was a real christian you see, an’ he got the feeling they was doing somethin’ demonic in there. He went to go in but the robed fella tried to stop him, so Derek hit him on the head with his cuddle.” He explained. “But what are you doing here, sir?”

“I’m a private investigator, I’m here for Augustus.” I answered.

We parted ways and I heard him run out of the temple. I reached the altar room. A large circular domed room, lit by torches on pillars that dotted the edge of the room. At the center of the room was the altar which looked like an intact version of the fountain in the town. It had a woman coming out of a plant bulb or maybe a serpent’s mouth. The woman held up a light pink cracked crystal ball which gave off a slight glow, illuminating the middle of the room. I gazed at it transfixed, I had to wrench my eyes away.

That’s when I took the remains of Augustus’ cult. They were hard to see in the darkness due to their dark robes, but I could see them lying sprawled on the floor around the altar. I’m pretty sure they were dead, I didn’t check.

My eyes went back to the altar where I saw the kneeling figure of Augustus.

I walked up to him, I cleared.

“Another penitent soul here to join our flock,” Augustus announced, without turning around.

“No, I’m here to take you back.” I replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry but I’d don’t think Lady Andromeda would like that,” he said softly

“Listen buddy, I don’t care about any of your occult crap, you are coming with me.” I growled. I slammed my hand onto his shoulder, then he turned around and I saw his eyes or his lack of. His eyes were gone. Not even like they had been gouged or cut , there was no blood, it's like they simply vanished . As I stared into the empty voids of his sockets I wanted to be sick.

“What happ…ened t-to your e-eyes?” I stuttered.

“I stared into the face of true beauty,” he said fondly, “a small price to pay for the enlightenment that Andromeda provides.”

“So-o you c-can’t see?” I asked compulsively.

“Oh I can see and on a higher plain.” He explained.

I snapped out of my horror momentarily, “We’re leaving now!” He commanded.

I felt a chilling breeze blow into the room and cold hands clapped on my shoulders. A feminine voice like a winter’s wind whispered into my ear, “Turn around.” I froze.

“Lady Andromeda, queen of everything beautiful, show this poor soul your divine beauty, and take his soul away to a higher place, like you took all our souls away.” Augustus chimed.

“I’ll show you enlightenment, just look at my face.” Said the icy voice.

I wrenched my eyes shut, refusing to even allow this siren to have a chance at my soul. I grabbed Augustus and dragged him away, he must’ve gotten knocked unconscious by the siren as he put up no resistance. I crawled and groped in the darkness until I found the corridor out of here. I continued, eyes shut down the corridor, all the while the siren promised me infinite apologies of paradise if only I opened my eyes. Every time it spoke shivers ran across my body.

Eventually, after what felt like an eternity I left the dark temple, and went into the blazing light of the canyon. Even with my eyes closed I could tell it brighter. I rejoiced at the hot air wafting over me. But I dared not open my for even though the siren had become silent, I didn’t think it was gone. So I continued to crawl down the canyon. It was grueling. The heat had begun to beat me down and I kept slipping into the small muddy trickle, I did myself a nasty smack to the jaw.

But I made it out. I finally risked opening my eyes, I couldn’t see, there was only a white haze. Had the siren taken my eyes?

No, thank goodness I had only been blinded by the sun. As the world came into focus around me I felt glad to be alive. I noticed the horse, still tied to the rock. I gave it some of my water, and hoisted Augustus over its back. Hopped on and rode back to town. It dawned on me that I really did resemble a cowboy.

When I reached town, many people had gathered by the gates. I spotted the hired man who had swapped his blindfold for a crucifix. The pastor approached.

“Ah, you got the heretics!” The pastor announced, “So what happened?”

“Listen, don’t go into the desert, the idiot summoned a demon, it’ll kill anyone who goes near. Just let it starve out there in the dust.” I warned. “Anyway I got a train to catch.”