I would not describe the screaming and squirming as something many men haven’t heard or seen before. Were we in a different place and in different circumstances, those who heard Elinora might have thought she was giving birth. She was more lucid during the procedure than she had been for weeks. I had to cut deeply, through the tissue and nerves right down to her bone. Though she tried to form pleas to Kastyn to make it stop, he did a creditable job in keeping her steady. For but a moment I thought I may even remove her mark with a clean scar.

With only a third to go, however, we both heard a familiar scream, and I felt that both mine and Kastyn’s hearts sank concurrently.

‘That thing is coming back,’ I growled. I kicked myself for being hopeful it would not be drawn by Elinora’s wailing.

‘It didn’t wander far then,’ Kastyn replied. ‘You’re almost done, correct?’ He reached for his sword, drawing it with grim determination writ on his face. ‘I’ll halt it’s advance.’

I could see Elinora was glad for a reprieve and I moved her to sit against the side of the altar. ‘Honourable, Kastyn, and a one way trip to meet the Vestige. We fend it off together, and we do it my way, understood?’

A roar punctuated the growing dread of fighting something I had never encountered before. You may think, dear reader, that constant battle would harden the heart against such ventures; but I can assure you, the more death brushes you with her icy touch, the more fragile one becomes.

‘Keep your distance,’ I said, ‘and attack only when you’re sure there will be no retaliation. One blow from a daemon that size and we’ll be promptly relieved of our mortal coil.’

Before long the Effigy Daemon emerged from the same path it had taken, all stringy sinew on lanky limbs wrapped around a frame it wasn’t made for. Its eyes were the most haunting part, brilliant and bright and observing the two of us with clear intent to harm. This was not a creature driven by instinct, but a hunter steered by some form of intelligence.

‘Have at you, fiend!’ Kastyn clanked a gauntlet against his breastplate and retreated to my left, bidding the beast to make its first move. Roaring, it slammed a rangy arm down to open the engagement, and continued to swipe at Kastyn who weaved in and out of its range. The daemon proved itself a frustratingly capable combatant, for even though I wasn’t its target the length of its limbs swung wide enough to catch me if I got too close. One such blow I was forced to deflect, the claws drawing sparks across my blade, paired with a sharp ringing sound. I almost lost grip on my weapon but, thankfully, Kastyn was making himself a nuisance, catching the ire of the beast time after time.

Though the young knight was initially lithe and limber despite his injury, he began to tire and received a deep cut to his hip, courtesy of the daemon’s long claws. The fire of camaraderie was lit inside me then. There is a certain bond that, however fleeting, is certain to form between two men that have engaged in battle together. I had known Kastyn for all of a day, yet the desire to see him free of this place along with his lady love burned strong within me.

I yelled an expletive to catch the monster’s attention and reopened the cut on my wrist, drawing deep and wiping blood on my chest, setting another internal incantation. It was dizzying, and more than I had planned to use, but it had to push to the edges of my capabilities if we were both going to escape with our lives.

‘Watch yourself!’ Kastyn tried to round the beast and divert it, but it would not be swayed from its new prey. Though neither wild swipe connected I could feel claws severing the air over my head, then to my left flank. It moved slower than before now, thanks to my heightened senses. Excessive blood loss had left my balance wanting, but my mind was sharper, my muscles and bones hardened against any assault.

A furious attack formed of a flurry of claws was thrown at me. Were I not empowered by blood magicks I am sure I couldn’t have kept as close to the daemon as I did. Whereas before we were dancing in and out of its range, now I was in the midst of it, just a few paces from its lissom torso. What I discovered during this more dangerous dance was that getting close enough would cause the creature to step back in order to attack effectively, such was the nature of its lanky build.

And so I conditioned it. I would get close enough to nick the inside of the bicep or the groin. It was plain to see my tactics were vexing as after a few choice cuts upon its flesh, the Effigy Daemon would attempt to bite down with fangs that would dwarf a strongman’s finger. But, like Kastyn, it began to tire.

I saw the opening after a cumbersome retreat from the beast, just below the elbow, where the wood of the effigy was laid bare.

I struck.

What followed was a blinding light. Then, searing heat. And finally, a percussive force.

I was thrown into the flesh-ridden walls of The Bowels. Crashing to the floor, my fingers lost purchase on my pommel just as my mind lost purchase on my consciousness for but a moment. The brunt of the blow was borne my magicks, and shortly thereafter, their effects faded. I struggled to one knee, my heart pumping hard and quick, blood flowing from my wrist-wound and down the back of my neck.

My vision came snapping back with forced urgency. The Effigy Daemon loomed over Kastyn who was holding firm and defending the enfeebled Elinora. I think I heard him call my name, but I was pre-occupied with getting back into the fray, to buy time for them both to escape. I had struck at what was underneath that great, sinewy bulk, and it was not something we could hope to fell. It was far outside the understanding of everything we knew about Ferals. Someone needed to survive, if not for their own sake, but to warn others of what we had witnessed: a blessed daemon.

Stolen story; please report.

‘You will not take her.’ Kastyn ducked and swerved, hacking at the Daemon’s flesh whenever possible. ‘You will not take me.’

‘Kastyn…’ I groaned. My lungs were yet to properly reclaim air. Get it back, I thought. Warn him. He cannot strike the effigy. He must not strike the effigy.

He never did. I did not witness the blast of steel clashing with whatever unholy power drove this monstrosity. Instead – just as I lay hands on my consecrated blade – I witnessed Kastyn’s body being severed by one ferocious swipe of the daemon’s claw. His legs tumbled themselves as they dashed across the ground and the rest of him soared over the top of them in utter silence.

I was alone. At odds with a beast I knew not how to topp

le. I could not run, it would catch me. Sir Wymond would oft remind me that a knight’s duty was to stand against evil, not only to protect those behind him, but to ensure that his own heart would not be overtaken by fear. Fear was just another fiend to conquer, and to meet the Vestige sporting a killing blow to the back would earn one a place in the Dreadhallows for such cowardice.

I like to believe that the squire that listened intently to his knight still lived. Curled up inside the darkest parts of my heart – but alive nonetheless.

I roared and summoned all blood spilled within the chapel, willing the recesses of my mind to conjure something that would at least hurt the beast. I wanted to make it suffer. I wanted to make it scream in horror. I wanted it to regale with dread at being wounded by a human.

I summoned a whip made of blood, barbed and dripping and designed to cause as much pain as possible. It was longer than the Effigy Daemon’s arms and getting longer as my wrist-wound continued to pump it full of my ichor.

I began to lash at it, pure venom spilling from my mouth as I did so. The daemon cried out and after a few thrashings grabbed onto the whip as its bright blue eyes burrowed into me.

‘Not a fucking chance, you filth!’ I spewed, yanking it out of its hands and cleaving away two of its fingers with the barbs. ‘You won’t have me so easily.’

The daemon bellowed and its two-toned cry made me wince. My very being was flowing into this weapon and my vision was beginning to fade. I had to make the next move count, as it could very well have been my last. It lunged forward without the precision it had employed in previous assaults – with the benefit of hindsight I surmise that the beast inside had come to the fore, instinct wrenching the reins away from the intelligence of the effigy inside.

I darted out of the way rather clumsily but I regained my footing sooner than my opponent, and I saw that same opening again. The wood, just below the elbow. All common sense would implore me not to strike at the same place again, but it was different this time; my previous attack was from a blade consecrated in the Numen’s blessing, this time, Daemonic power was my weapon of choice.

I cracked the whip at the exposed arm. Instead of a bright flash of light I heard the crunching and cracking of wood giving way. As quickly as I had struck, the Daemon’s forearm was cut away, causing it to howl in pain. It clutched at its amputation, gaze turning back and forth between it and myself.

‘Come on, you son of whore!’ I shouted, a daemonic timbre edging my voice. ‘You’re not the only monster down here.’ I lashed it once more. Pure adrenaline fueled me, my rage serrated and ugly. ‘This is what humans do. This is what we are. We are not easy prey.’

Much to my entirely relieved surprise, the Daemon did back away, looking back and forth between myself and Elinora. I had made myself as convincing of a threat as I could, when in reality my mind was swimming far too close to the riptide leading to stupor. It screamed, and I screamed back, threats ripping raw from my throat. I did it as much to keep myself conscious as to intimidate it.

‘I am not shackled by the taint of your kind. It will be the instrument of your undoing. So take flight, Daemon, I give you the gift of your life so that you may tell your kind that Vyde Embris awaits them above. Your days of lurking in our dark are numbered.’

And the Daemon did flee, gangly limbs scurrying away down another tunnel and howling in what sounded like raging frustration. Through channeling the essence of my old mentor, the beast had decided its life was of far more import than its pride. After all these years, Sir Wymond was still by my side, guiding my words in the name of destroying all things blasphemous and protecting the innocent. It was his memory that allowed me to stand.

Promptly however, as soon as the danger was removed, my legs gave way to sweet exhaustion. My vision span in a dizzying spiral and my limbs held a severe weight, as if lead had replaced my flesh. Unable to control the spittle leaking from my numbed mouth I crawled to my pack like a wounded animal and rummaged inside desperately. ‘Blood,’ I muttered to myself. ‘Need… blood.’ Mercifully, a vial found its way into my palm and I guzzled the lot of it, the sour metallic tang sweet on my lips. The placebo my mind had carefully curated told me that the blood was already feeding my muscles and dispersing itself through my veins, when in fact it took a few hours to recover even somewhat.

Still crawling, I moved towards Elinora. She was shaking, which meant she was alive at least, if utterly terrified. ‘Elinora?’ I asked, her gaze fixed upon something. ‘Are you harmed?’

She raised a hand weakly and pointed at something behind me. ‘Kastyn… Kastyn’s… hurt…’

I found to my horror that Kastyn was still alive, his intestines laying upon the ground and loosely winding into what remained of the poor man’s body. He was shaking as well, though this was a symptom of a different kind of shock. His eyes were feverish, like a blind man panicking, and his skin was already cold. His life was ebbing away even though he clung to it miserably.

‘Eli… Eli…’

‘She’s safe, Kastyn. She’s alright.’ I tried to take his hand but he shook it away and started reaching down his sides, digging through a pocket that wasn’t there.

‘My… my…’ He leveled a stare that clamped me down with the intensity of the dying. It rooted me to the spot. ‘S-save…’ was all he managed before his death rattle began, and though I had seen worse horrors, I had to look away. I had beheld much suffering before this time in my life, but I was not immune to it. ‘Mama, mama, mama…’ he whimpered, his voice turning to whispers before the end.

His eyes turned glassy and vacant. His struggling ceased. A last breath eked out in a pitiful whistle.

Sometimes we fight to protect, Sir Wymond had also told me. And sometimes, despite the nobility of that pursuit, we simply fail.