Lost

He pushed the hatch open, popping his headed through and assessing his surroundings. Deciding it was safe, he climbed up the ladder.

The hatch was hidden behind a large alabaster statue. Stepping out from behind it, he stopped, surprised. At least a hundred elves were sitting on long rows of pews. A elf stood on a raised dias reading from a large book on an lecture.

They were in a stone church, with a arched ceiling and large stain glass windows.

Lost and the crowd both stared back at each other in surprise.

“Hey, what’s…” Fen trailed off as she approached Lost and eventually stopped.

‘So much for making it into the city unnoticed.’ Lost thought bemused.

He gathered his mana and directed it outwards, encompassing the whole of the church. The shadows started to lurch and shift, slowly growing.

“Boo!” Lost snarled raising his hands and forming them into pretend claws. The shadows shifted around him, clawing at the light.

The entire crowd of elves moved, scrambling to their feet and running for the entrance, shouting and screaming as if the devil was right behind them.

‘Well, they do think the devil is behind them.’ Lost mused. He laughed at their panic, chuckling darkly. He knew when he used his power in an area it could induce fear and make him look quite sinister.

Releasing his grip on the shadows, he turned toward the priest, who was cowering behind the lectern.

Stalking over to the elf priest, who scrambled backwards in a panic, trying to get as far from Lost as possible. Eventually the elf fell off the raised platform, landing on his behind.

Hopping down, Lost grabbed a handful of the elf’s robe and pulled the priest up to his face. “You have a mortuary here, right?”

The priest's eyes seemed to widen even more with fear, as if he didn’t think Lost was going to talk. “Y-yes!”

“Where is it?” Lost growled, just to make sure the elf was thoroughly afraid.

The priest pointed a shaky finger to a door behind the statue.

Lost looked up at the alabaster giant. It depicted a rather plain faced woman, her arms spread wide in what looked like a hug. She wore a soft, loving smile.

Dragging the priest to his feet, Lost dusted none existent dust off the elf’s robe. Pushing in the direction of the door, he followed behind the priest.

The elf opened the door, breathing erratically and shaking slightly.

Inside the room were a few coffins along the walls. The heavy, sickly sweet smell of herbs and flowers filled the room.

Shoving the priest into the mortuary, Lost summoned his power. It permeated through the air and congealed in the corpses. The cadaver on the table sat up, black flames burning in its eye sockets.

Wood splintered as undead broke free of their wooden coffins and stood. They looked almost alive, that is, ignoring the black flame eyes. They were dressed up, their skin a tad to pale for the living and were eerily silent.

“Seven in all, not bad,” Lost said. Looking at the silent and fear ridden priest, a malevolent grin spread across Lost’s lips. “You know your way around the city?”

The elf didn’t move.

“If you don’t answer I have no use of you,” Lost growled. The undead in the room lurched toward the priest.

“Wait!” The elf yelled franticly. The undead shuffled to a stop. “I can take you anywhere you want. J-just don’t kill me, please!”

Lost looked the elf in the eyes, searching for any deceit. The priest blanched even more.

Grunting in acknowledgement, Lost walked out of the room and back into the main part of the church, the undead surrounding the priest and making sure he followed.

Fen was looking up at the statue, her face impassive and tail swishing slowly.

“What's your deity?” Lost directed his question to the priest as he stepped over to the pedestal.

“Vey. The U-Uniter and Bringer of Light.” The elf said, worry in his voice.

Lost stopped cold. “Vey?”

The elf priest nodded quickly, he probably wanted to cower behind the statue, the way he was glancing at it.

“Interesting,” Lost said as he started to flip through the book. He found it amusing that she was worshipped like a god. A sneaking suspicion creeped out from the back of his mind. “And what of her brother?”

“You mean the Dark God?” The priest asked, he was starting to visibly calm, though tension was still in his frame.

“Yes, tell me about him. What was his name?” Lost was curious and had the time.

“He is the bringer of chaos and darkness. Destruction and death. His n-name is Cereus.”

“Cereus?” That was surprising. Lost was also a little insulted that it wasn't his name but the name of his sword that was remembered. “Do you know what Cereus even means?”

“He is the Dark God. The enemy of Vey, the sower of chaos,” The priest said with surety.

“Cereus means Black Hope. It is not the name of a god.”

“It is the name of the evil god.” The priest snapped stubbornly, but he still seemed scared of Lost and he paled when he realized what he had done. That was good. Lost needed to play this role well if he was to live up to the reputation he apparently had.

“Believe what you want,” Lost stepped back from the book and approached the priest, the undead parting around him. Pulling the vial out of the pouch on his belt, he held it out in front of the priest. “Who gave you this drug?”

The elf’s face was conflicted, switching between fear and anger. “I cannot say.”

Lost upped his aura, glaring at the priest. “Who sold you this powder?”

The priest puffed up, “May lady Vey protect my soul.”

“I said, WHO SOLD YOU THIS?!” Lost yelled, kicking the priest in the shin and causing the man to fall to the ground with a scream.

“Vey will protect my-” He was cut off from Lost grabbing his throat. Lost’s eyes glowed brighter and burrowed into the man’s eyes.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“Who. Sold. You. The. Fairy Dust.” Lost growled. “Your god cannot save you, she won’t even hear you scream.”

The priest was shivering in fear, his breathing ragged and sweat poured down his face. “I-I cannot…” Lost squeezed his throat hard and loosened his grip again. “It was the Coetus. T-they came to me to help them store it! That's all I know, I swear!”

Releasing his grip, Lost stepped back from the priest and looked over at Fen. She looked at his impassively.

“Is something wrong, kid?” Lost asked her.

“Its… This place reminds me of the orphanage I liv- used to live at,” She said sadly, looking back up at the statue. “We came to the church when they gave food out.”

“Alright,” Lost said, turning back to the priest. “What do you know of this ‘coetus’?”

“They are a group of traders, they have the backing of nobles and provide numerous… illegal items.”

“Like a Black Market? How many are there and where do they operate from?”

“I-I don’t know! I told you everything I know… J-just please, don-n’t kill me!” The priest grovelled on the floor, weeping.

Lost was about to order the zombies to take him to a secluded room and add another to their ranks when a thought stopped him. “Do you know your way around the city well?”

A confused expression passed over the elf priest's face, shifting to hope. He nodded vigorously.

Looking around at the church thoughtfully, Lost contemplated his next action. 7 undead, even as primly dressed as they were, are not enough to siege a castle with. He needed more troops. “Am I assuming right that you know your way around the underworld of this city?”

“Y-yes, my lord! I know the criminal world well from my… dealings with them.”

“How many entrances are in this church? Excluding the underground entrance.”

“There are 2, sir. The main entrance and the back door.” The priest was clearly still afraid, but he was cooperating.

Lost nodded and walked away from the priest, moving towards Fen. He put a hand on her shoulder, startling her from her thoughts. “Time to get ready, kid. It’s about to get messy.”

“What?” Fen asked looking at him confusedly.

“We didn’t enter the city… exactly how I planned, but I’m making due with what I got. The city guard will be here soon, we have to set up a welcoming party for them. It would be improper and rude to not be ready to receive visitors when you know they are coming,” Lost said in a joking tone.

He ordered the skeletal rabbit to guard the underground entrance, pushing that it was to warn him if anyone approached that way. 3 undead broke off the group and went to the back door and hid from sight, these were the ones that were clearly dead.

Lost was about to order the rest of the undead into place when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He looked up, quickly scanning his surroundings. His eyes stopped on one of the windows.

There, floating in front of a stained glass picture of a man in black and a woman in white locked in combat, was the Wraith. It’s face was unseeable in the black hood, a thick gray mist pouring from it.

‘Your time is nearing,’ it hissed at him.

Lost took on a battle stance, his hand straying to the blade on his back. His amber eyes smoldering with anger and fear.

He blinked.

Then the wraith was no longer there, like it never had been. Perhaps it hadn’t been there.

Lost relaxed as the chill in the air faded, but he didn’t take his eyes off the window.

“Mr. Lost, are you okay?” Fen asked worriedly.

Lost’s attention snapped to her, “Yea… I’m just fine, kid. Nothing to worry about.” He said nonchalantly. Fen didn’t look completely convinced but didn’t question him further.

He needed more power.

Fast.

Lost needed it if he was going to deal with the Wraith and the King.

Turning back to his preparations, Lost started getting everything set up. All the while a small voice in the back of his head urged him to gain more strength and power.

********

North Upper District City Guard Captain Murdoc

“Get your hineys in gear, we’re heading out!” Murdoc bellowed at his men.

He set a swift pace. The ten city guards following close behind him. Their chain mail clinked as they jogged through the city.

Murdoc grumbled at having to leave his office this late in the evening. He should be right about now packing up his things and heading home for a nice dinner with his wife and son. But it had all been ruined by that damn report.

One of his men had delivered it to him hastily, standing by nervously. When he opened the report he quickly glanced over it. It had an attachment; the Holy Church of Vey beseeching him to aid them in taking back one of their chapels from a ‘demon’.

‘Damn religious fanatics and their demons.’ He thought with irritation.

It was most likely just a bunch of youngsters playing a prank on the temple. Maybe even a robber there to steal the donations.

He was a strong believer that there was no such things as demons and monsters.

Murdoc had decided it best to still send some guards there to check it out, it was best to stay in the good breaches of the Church. After all they helped keep people inline within the city. He also didn’t want any of his guards to mess up, the Church held not an insignificant amount of sway in with the populace.  

As they approached the chapel, he called for a halt.

“You, you and you,” He said pointing at 3 guards in the back, “Go around to the back and enter through there. Make sure there ain’t no one hiding back there that shouldn’t. Wait for when I say to go.”

Looking back at the entrance to the chapel, he motioned for his remaining guards to follow close behind him.

Murdoc didn’t bother drawing his sword. There probably wasn't anything to really worry about. After all, demons weren’t real. Just configurations of fear used by the church to keep people in line. Much like the “Dark God” was nothing but a story used to terrify bad kids into being good.

“Right, men. It’s probably just some drunken elf who decided to try and rob the chapel. We’re only doing this ‘cause we were asked to investigate by the Church. No preemptive attacks, you got it?” Murdock looked each men in the eye. “Good. Now let's get moving.”

The 3 guards he had tasked with going to the back broke off from the group as they headed to the entrance of the chapel.

Murdoc pushed the door open with his chainmail gloved hand, the hinges let out a squeal of displeasure. As he peered in, he was met with a confusing site.

His boots clomped on the wooden floor as he strode in, looking around for any sign of danger.

A few elfs were sitting scattered amongst the pews, their hands clasped in prayer. A priest stood at the lectern, reciting words from a book.

The rest of his men filed in behind Murdoc, their spears and shields held at the ready.

“Hey, priest! What’s going on in here? We got a report of someone attacking this chapel,” Murdoc yelled at the priest. He didn’t look up and kept reading from the pages of the book.

“She would not go quietly. Vey struck him down with a piercing bolt of light through the heart! She would not let him live to spread his corruption throughout the world, instead deciding to take him with her! And so, with her last dying breath on this earth, she slipped into the void, killing the Dark God!” The Priest was shaking like a leaf in a storm. At first Murdoc thought it from religious devotion, but then he looked the elf in the eyes.

What he saw was fear and the begging for help.

The elf’s sitting on the pews exploded in movement. Screams of rage ripped from their throats as they charged the city guards.

Murdoc was too stunned to react in time. The undead, their eyes glowing with black flame, hit the guard’s shields like a tidal wave.

Recovering from his surprise, he drew his sword and held up his shield. “Form up men!” He yelled at them, slipping into their center.

The guards pushed back the roaring undead, forming a tight circle around Murdoc, shields raised in defense and spears at the ready.

“Retreat to the doors!” Murdoc shouted at his men. As they stabbed at the undead to keep them at bay, the guards quickly shuffled back to the doors.

As one of his men pulled the door open, Murdoc was mystified. There, where there used to be a door into the street, was a cobble wall. Solid and strong, like it had been there the entire time.

They were trapped.

The undead retreated back. There were only 4, but they had shown inhuman strength.

“Get ready men!” Murdoc shouted. He could see their terrified faces, but years of military training had been ground into them, overriding the urge to panic and ignore orders.

The undead charged with a roar. Guards raised their shields, deflecting the blows but splintering their wood and iron shields.

Murdoc looked over the attacking force. There were only four and 7 guards should be enough to kill them.

That's what he thought till the shadows seemed to pool themselves together at his feet. A hooded black shape formed right in front of him. It’s eyes glowing a ghastly amber.

The phantom raised its blade quickly, so quickly that Murdoc didn’t have a chance to defend as the sword sliced through his jugular. Sliding cleanly between his helmet and chest armor.

Crimson flew through the air as he let out a gurgling scream.

He fell to the wooden planked floor, his eyes looking at the spector’s boots as it shifted around to attack the guards from behind.

His last thought was, ‘Demons really do exist.’

The black void of death consumed him.