The shadows of the street wavered and separated, forming into a large calcine. It let loose a piercing screech and opened its fang filled mouth wide.

Parcival stumbled caught his balance then broke into a run. Beekaa and Opial didn't see the second calcine that crawled through the buildings' window. "Behind—you!" He puffed, it was still hard to breathe, his lungs still held some of the thick water.

He stretched as tall as he could and took a quick check on Maxwell. He's still there. Need to get his staff away from him, but not now. And faced forward again.

Opial turned. "Blaze!" And, shot a fireball from her palm at the thing.

Beside him Merryn groaned.

She held her head in her hands while shaking her head back and forth. Streaks of a malevolent bright gray cloudy energy flared, swirled from her chest then streamed out wrapping around her.

He gasped and shaded his eyes, the streaks spread and spread further brightening the street.

"Crushing hells!" He hustled over to the right while avoiding the calcines.

At the same time they started to disintegrate, their fingers began to break apart into minute light motes.

Still shaking her head in her hands she stomped to the middle of the street.

Opial went behind the last calcine that still stood and pushed it into the light, it screeched as it died.

"Parcival, don't just stand there do something!" Opial said. She started to touch Merryn's hand, the gray energy flowed over hers, she turned it away and sucked on her fingers. "Don't touch her."

What was left of the pendent shattered, thin blue lines slowly worked down the sides of Merryn's face and onto her shoulders, the rays of the sun brought out a network of thin runes that reflected wherever they touched, much like the finely crafted ritual crystal goblets of the south.

Merryn dropped her hands stared off at nothing, a long bubbly gurgle followed by the longest shriek she'd let out yet, the hairs on his arms and back of his neck lifted, a chill washed over his arms followed by a smattering of goose bumps.

The aura was the worst, all this time it went from a small light blue mixed with white and a touch of gilded of the blessed It wasn't a mix you saw too often.

A dark gray aura now cloaked it fading the others, threading to snuff the other out. This couldn't be anything other then the god's she'd mentioned. Maybe.

"What is it?" Beekaa flicked a paper talisman at Merryn and it burst into a cloud of ash and heat.

Parcival jumped away. "A warning before you do that!"

Opial skirted behind her staying well away from the gray, she spread her feet into a more stable position and began to chant.

She set her hands out before her, rested one hand on top of the other, spread them apart, and brandished each hand in a gesture of tossing something.

"Ensnare!"

A huge brown urn fell out of the sky, turned upside down covering Merryn.

"Whatever that is isn't getting away." She smirked.

"Listen, I don't think—"

"Very good. Try that on them next," Beekaa said.

A thump.

It rustled and clanged.

Another thump, and it shook again, fine mesh of cracks started at the top then scattered over it.

Clank with a thud and her fist broke through the urns upturned bottom, it shattered into chunks that fell in piles.

Merryn threw her shoulders back and stood. She turned her head and studied him, then Beeka and Opial. Her eyes held a film like that of swirling gray storm clouds it completely covering them.

"Your lives and spirits will make a fine sacrifice, worthy of me," it wasn't her normal voice, it came out more rough and airy. She cracked her neck from side to side.

She leapt several feet in the air spun around and landed on Beeka's back, her hand shot out, yanked his staff from his hands and tossed it high it spun up over the rooftops out of sight.

One hand grasped him under an arm, while the other seized the collar of his robe. She bent backwards flipped over and tossed him at the building wall behind her. Beeka smashed into the wall creating a dent.

"We've got to stop her! It?" Opial chanted once more, faster than before.

Parcival ran over and placed a hand on his chest. For a moment nothing, but then a week heartbeat followed by more. He's alive. "Thank Olenus and his protection." He tapped Beeka's forehead then his own.

Merryn if that was still her, stalked Opial, in a half crouch she-it advanced by degrees, her arms dangled low as her fingers flexed open-and-closed cracking her knuckles each time. She growled. "Spell weavers shall die first."

Faster chants flew past Opial's lips, she finished the last of the intense words and reached into her robes and lobed a tan stitched cloth doll at Merryn's face. The doll elongated it's padded mitts around they coiled about her tight.

Merryn snarled and flashed her teeth, she strained against the bonds and they ripped along the sides, her hands slipped free, pulled on the coils fell away.

With a snap she broke off one of the dagger sheaths, charged at Opial and cracked her across the temple.

Opial slumped into a heap blood trickling from her head.

I want to scream and throw a fit. Blast it all to the netherworld!

Parcival held his hands out before him, as she walked over. "Quit this! We're your friends, remember?" What was it doing to her?

Merryn's head turned a near 360° angle then the body cranked and wound about to match. "Foolish man." She wagged a finger. "The one you know of as Merryn is sleeping. I am...I am?" Her eyes squinted and brows pinched together. "Doesn't matter. I am that what makes even the other gods fear to interfere in this realm." She nodded to herself and her eyes lowered. "Yes."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Swallowing he gulped, and swished around what moisture was left. He shifted though his robe into the inside pocket and lightly took out the tallest bottle there, and uncorked it with a thumb. A peppery scent wafted out, his nose twitched. Don't sneeze! Suppressing the sneeze he tossed the bottle at Merryn.

And then, ran over to Opial, grabbed the collar of her robe, and hefted her on top of Beekaa.

Immediately, the bottle burst and exploded a small burst of flame, and heat. The god-thing yelled and patted it's hair and armor putting the fire out.

The clomp of hiyori geta and strained voices verged. "I'm glad that' is over, and you're all right." He grasped Beeka's hand, and dragged them both over to the voices.

A shuffle from behind.

He turned, Merryn sprinted at him with a chunk of wood in her hand, she raised it over his head.

Then froze. She grunted, her arm shook and one by one her fingers opened until the wood dropped. "You dare to interfere?" Her already-strained face became more worn and pinched. "No-t hi-m. Leave him alone! Foul god, get out!"

Merryn's eyes unclouded to the sun warmed brown before the cloudy film covered them again.

She staggered, then began weaving her way back down the alleyway her feet dragged and jerked, her movements became smoother and she bolted off; her figure became like streaks of light.

Two merchants came into view, their with assistants pulled a heavy covered cart.

"Don't just stand there help, me!" He gestured them over. "Hurry!"

"Do as he says." The older merchant said the assistants.

They bowed quickly and helped him Beeka and Opial on the cart.

"Where to Parcival-sama?"

"The Magistrate's building."

They bowed again, turned the cart around, and pulled it south.

He walked alongside them, while rotating a sore arm and rubbing the muscles.

Light glinted off a transparent jade robe clasp on the elder merchants robes. "Hajime? Is that you?" He's changed so much, from the last time we met.

"I was wondering when you'd recognize me."

"My apologies, the past few hours have been—hectic."

Hajime nodded. "I keep jumping every time a shadow moves, do you think those things will return?"

"Perhaps."

Both of the assistants shuttered. I need to talk to the Magistrate immediately, could you?"

"Of course my friend, say no more!"

"You heard him, get going!"

Spry for his age Hajime climbed up on the wheels and flipped in the cart. He held out a hand, his eyes alight and his lip twitched. Still mischievous as ever.

Parcival climbed up and sat near the edge on a covered barrel.

A chime from the large Chronos timekeeper encased on the street poll, the metal sun ticked down a notch while the metal moon went up.

It was already noon!

"Go faster!"

The assistants groaned but pulled the cart faster and broke into a trot.

Hajime held onto the edge of the cart. "Really now, you're going to wear them out, they still need to unload my wares later!"

"There might not be a later if we don't hurry! I'll treat them to a meal sometime." He pushed away a ripped flap of tarp edge that slapped against his leg.

"Mhumm." Hajime said.

Soon, the slightly curved eaves that poked above the smaller plain housing. The buildings gave way to a wider more elaborate street leading to the entrance.

Two battered and bruised dōshin stood with hands resting on their blunt weapon hilts. The guards were nowhere in sight. It's pretty bad if they're all that's left!

They sidestepped together in perfect sync and blocked the way.

"The powerful and grand daimyo, magnate is busy, and isn't accepting visitors, come back later!"

"That's that then, how about I take you to the new deep-fried sweet shop on lake street they have the—"

Parcival shook his head. "They'll let me in." He jumped down and started to drag Beeka off the cart.

"Let us help you," both the assistants said.

He nodded his head slightly. "Thank you."

A few tugs and pulls later Beeka and Opial were leaned against a wooden fence.

Parcival went straight to the dōshin. He pointed at his face and the emblem. "Let me and my friends in now or you'll be demoted to tanners."

One nearly fell back and other gulped loudly.

"Begging your pardon Parkn—urr—Parcival-sama!" They hustled over to Beeka and Opial and each of them picked one up and carried them over their shoulders, slipped their sandals off at the genkan and brought them inside.

Parcival did the same.

Streaks of blood stained the wooden floors and bloody hand prints still dripped on the walls.

They went so far as to rest them in a nearby closed off room. They slid the shoji back into place with care.

"Where's father?"

"Here's in the back, your mother's tending to his wounds."

He grimaced. Should have got here sooner! "Thank you."

They bowed and went back to their posts.

He strode briskly through the large hall and went into the large back bedroom. He knocked on the wooden frame.

A small shadow appeared behind it. "State your purpose." An almost undetectable clink followed.

"Excuse me for interrupting, Mother. It's me!" He held still, mother wasn't one to surprise, especially at a time like this.

No doubt she stood by father during these hellish last few hours.

"So you say. Don't move." She slid the shoji open so fast it wobbled on the tracks and banged into the wall.

She held a long dagger, posed to strike.

"Mother!" Parcival dropped down into a deep bow his head touched the floor and palms slapped the wood.

She sniffed. "Parcy?" Warm arms wrapped around him.

"I'm sorry my son—it's was terrible!" She squeezed him.

Parcival sat up. "I know, I need to speak to father is he...?"

"He's alive." She stood and went back to sit beside him. A bowl of steaming water with a cloth was on the floor besides her.

"His injuries have given him a fever, I fear a spirit has entered him." She wrung her hands. A thin line of tears formed on her lids. She sniffed again and wiped them away.

"When Beeka awakes have him tend to him."

Her head snapped up. "Is he here in my house?" Her mouth opened and closed.

He nodded.

"Oh! I'll have to go make something special, for such a guest!" She frowned. "If he awakens."

"He will, I'm sure it'll take a lot more to take him out." He went over and sat beside her. "Please, wake father I need his help."

She sighed. "He's not going to be in a good mood."

He nodded.