Oppressive clouds reigned throughout the night sky as heavy rain fell in a ceaseless torrent. The murky black night obscured the dual celestial moons that would brighten the night of Aerden, leaving it with a rare moonless sky.

The air was thick with the sound of raindrops pounding against the muddied earthen streets of the upper peasant's sector, their dull thuds echoing through the quagmired alleyways. It was in this gloom that a priest emerged from the shadows of the moonless night, lantern in hand. The flickering light cast long shadows on the walls of nearby residences, illuminating his face with a soft glow. As the priest inhaled the drags from his Fleurel, he savored the fragrant aroma of its herbal smoke, which calmed his fraying nerves. The scent of the exotic herb filled his senses, dulling them just enough, as he always said.

With a contented sigh, he flicked the butt out into the rainy darkness and continued on his way, his thoughts turning inward. The priest wore the robes of Hadrian, the garments of a Senior exorcist of the Faiths, which inspired confidence in himself and the institution he had sworn his life to.

Despite projecting a calm exterior, gloom radiated from the priest. He was young and fresh-faced, his solemn demeanor perpetuated by a persistent scowl, holding back his overthinking nature. At only twenty-two years of age, his scars had jaded much of his earlier youth. On this night, the date was SU.158, A.A., and the heat led the rain to cause humidity, mucking up the summer storm brewing just outside.

Godrick, named under the authority of the Church, had achieved as much as he could with his meager upbringing. From the back alleys of the imperium to the solace of his once hamlet, it was a life that weighed heavily on his person. His faith provided him with solace, but there were times when he felt lost and adrift, a sea of uncertainty pulling him in all ways.

As he walked through the darkened streets, the rain that fell around him mired the area. The priest could not help but wonder about the purpose of his journey. He had been sent on a mission by his superior, unsure of the details, but assured it involved an exorcism. As far as he knew, it would be a straightforward task, so he would continue working on it as he always did, no matter how monotonous his life had become. He hoped that somehow his actions would make a difference to his community and the flock he was tasked with warding over.

Set and with a dulled heart, the young priest trudged onward, his footsteps schlepping against the quagmired streets. A peasant's abode appeared in front of him through the darkness of the moonless and stormy night—his most recent assignment. Knocking on its door, the priest was eager to escape from the sucking force of the road.

A poorly combed and hilariously dressed peasant opened the door. He gave a welcoming smile as he inspected the priest, his smile growing wider and wider as he took in the near six-foot frame and almost perfectly angular face of Godrick.

Hurriedly welcoming him inside, the peasant immediately began speaking in a dialect of sob-speak, "Good 'eavens, yu-yu-yu you're here, Fa-fa-fa Father Godrick. I tells you sh-sh-sh she's gone wicked she has."

The peasant took the priest's coat and hat, setting them aside in the Visitor's station.

"Room was burning up hot, up in them stairs. Demons 'ave got her, an' I'm fearin' for me, son an' daughter." Memories of his parents flooded his mind, and he felt a sudden melancholy. "Worry not, brother," he replied to the peasant.

"The Light of Hadrian has sent me by way of thy bishop, and I am here through our Lord to answer your prayers. Please allow me to assist in any way that I may." The eloquence of the well-bred flew out of Godrick, his 'knack' presenting itself as the personification of the peerage. This seemed to calm the erraticness of the peasant settling his nerves.

"Before I commence, I need an accounting of all the erratic events that have transpired, leave out the mundane...". The priest ceased talking as he noticed a young girl with no more than five or six new lights; new lights being the standard measure of a year within the empire. She was grasping fearfully upon her father's trousers.

Another child slightly older than the babe hiding behind their fathers pants, tried pulling her away from their father who was attempting to calm the frightened girl. "My childer please o please not now Matters a bein talked about 'ere." Stressfully the peasant tried to calm the children fruitlessly when Godrick kneeled down to their height placing both hands upon them, in as gentle a manner as he could.

They jumped, startled of his touch, fearful of what may come from this adult that held status over their father.

"As I have said to your father, worry not, for the light of Hadrian will guide us through this night and he does not fail." The calming aura of the priest emanated—combined with his words, they caused smiles to appear on the children’s faces, as just enough hope was kindled within their hearts.

Their faces lit up as the wave of his aura enveloped them, eyes growing alive as their downcast dull had progressed into liveliness. Happy with the children's calm, he stood back up as he smiled and ruffled their hair. Giggles escaped them as they ran to their father’s legs again one behind each, both of them were now staring at him, not with fear and uncertainty, but in a playful and curious manner.

Godrick continued where he had left off.

"Now then, back on topic Mr. Price." He hailed the happily affected father, snapping him back into subservient awareness.

"Within the phenomena that have occurred since you became aware of a need for an exorcism. What can you tell?" He asked grabbing a piece of charcoal to write in his notebook.

As the peasant spoke, Godrick's brown eyes wandered around the modest room while somehow still taking notes, annotating various details from the nuances of his surroundings. The cottage was well-built, with a sturdy wooden structure that spoke of generations of care and attention. It was evident, however, that it belonged to a slightly well-off peasant family rather than to the nobility. Its tacky artwork, paintings, and out-of-date fashions were of an older age in the Imperium.

These artworks depicted the humble beginnings of the Empire, imprinting the image of the well-off citizens of the empire, who were living in lavish and well-decorated manors. They were a work that went unnoticed by many, but it meant so much more to the small-minded peasants who were moved by such work. It inspired them to work harder, and it showed with men such as Price.

Though the art gathered was considered tacky by the ecclesiarchy's lead designers and the ‘Fadders’ of the nobility, the walls of the cottage were adorned with simple yet elegant etchings, the artworks of the house tasteful compared to the vulgar and depraved artworks of some of the upper echelon, each one a testament to the creativity and skill of its maker no doubt.

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Art pieces of the very families attempting to replicate what they had heard of high-class artistry. With small but carefully chosen items that added to the room's warmth and charm. The collection of books on the bookshelf caught his eye, which, although limited, showed the family's commitment to the ego that their wealth and education inflated, no matter how limited it was. Despite Mr. Price's broken dialect, he was rather articulate compared to some of the peasantry in the surrounding area.

No small wonder how he had managed to become a landed farmer, and now a full citizen of the empire.

Godrick’s task had become so urgent because Peasant Leonard Price had managed to maneuver himself into a better social status, striking a deal with the local governor, regarding the distribution of the town's supplies stores. This placed Mr. Price's family closer to the Servile class, escaping from the squalor of the peasantry and approaching one of the intermediary stations before Nobility.

As the priest scanned the titles of the books on the shelves, his eyes fell upon a book spine that made him do a double take, his heart skipping a beat with desire. It was a forbidden text in the form of a large tome, "Vol. 17 of the Encyclopedia of Aerden: Planet of the Cosmos," which contained detailed writings on how to control ritual magic - one of the most heinous practices of the Apostates. Due to his training and beliefs, he held a conviction towards his teachings trumping his dark desire for the learning of the mystic knowledge that lay in the book.

The forbidden knowledge contained within the pages of the book held a certain allure, a promise of control over reality that was hard to resist. As a priest, however, he was required to reject such temptations, standing firm in his beliefs and resisting the call of the dark arts.

As a well-read individual, he knew that the book's contents were not as dangerous as the Faiths had led people to believe. It was entirely harmless in comparison to the dark arts that some people had delved into in the past. In contrast, the neatly paragraphed and organized tome, explaining the casual use of ritual magic meant to enhance the positive outcomes in one's life, was honestly too big of a boon to ignore. An increase in stately luck overall was a minor offense that benefited the country as a whole.

It was seemingly benign in its practice; all that was needed to accomplish it was salt, gesture, prayer; and the power of belief, Faith. This would give rise to the good in your life.

He allowed himself the moment of blasphemy, silently questioning the dogmas and restrictions imposed by the Faiths. He had always been a curious soul, and the allure of knowledge had always been too strong to resist. Whether it was an accidental slip off of a forbidden scroll or the opened bindings of a heretical text, it always seemed consistent for him to be near.

The Faith’s teachings were the only way to preserve men's and women's souls, leading them toward salvation. That salvation, however, looked hollower every year considering the attitude that the ecclesiarchy was taking against advancement.

Godrick could not help but wonder if there was more to magic than what the scriptures had taught him. His original upbringing taught him how to commune with the magic within nature, using it as a tool meant to be used, not the superstitious nonsense of the Faiths.

Indoctrination, however, had placed a conflicting ideology, demonizing an art that had helped his old land prosper.

As he mulled over these thoughts, he realized that ritual magic, if conducted in the likeness of the traditional hexagram-mic circles of the Faiths' miracles. Might not be as blasphemous and heretical as preached; this was sacrilege, however. Blemishing the Divine's work would become the equivalent of the Ecclesiarchy sentencing execution.

On the one hand, the hexagram-mic circles were believed to be inspired and imbued with miraculous powers from the Divine gods of order. On the other, they were similar in structure to the ritual magic practices that were considered taboo. This was his professional analysis after having joined in countless mage hunts which had required the help of an exorcist.

There was no singular way that he could have avoided learning of the similarities between each of the forms for casting. When their hexagram-mic circles looked so similarly inspired within the magic circles of spell formulae.

Mages were known to leave all of their scrolls and parchments just lying all over their laboratories and hideout, exposure was inevitable.

His train of thought was broken once he realized the distraction. He came to, looking at the peasant now who, for some reason, looked more vivid and alive than he had remembered seeing at first.

Why was he getting so distracted, his mind seemed unfocused.

The fleurel he smoked on the way here was not the cause, its properties relaxed him but not to the point of fancies. He shook his head once again, clearing his mind against stray thoughts. He reminded himself of his duty to protect his flock from the dangers of the world, both seen and unseen.

"Is this all then, I am not feeling my most awake but this should be all of what you mentioned no?" The priest asked the peasant.

"Yes, yes, 'course good Father," the peasant said as he stood up, wiping his tears with his shirt. His eyes were red, but he was determined to help. "I can't have me new wife's beauty be ruined." The priest's left eye twitched ever so minutely.

"Yes,” Godrick said with a slight pause “of course. Let's sit down and run through this list of yours then." He said reading through the list with the peasant.

While the two men sat, the children next to their father listened intently as he retold the harrows listed down in the parchment.

The Priest noted down the testimony with the odd accounting or two from the children, breaking down the harrows collected from the Peasant. He nodded along every now and again, not understanding half of what the priest meant for the majority of the explanation.

Overall, Father Godrick was not happy with his analysis as everything rounded up to one thing, her possession was demonic indeed, but the worst part was that it was Aberrant.

Having received such unsatisfying news from the testimony, Godrick would formulate while investigating personally. After all, Aberrants were unknown demonic entities with a much wider range of possession than regular demons. On typical occasions, demons displayed clear signs such as sulfurous odor, heightened aggression and intelligence, telekinetic abilities, and a dislike of miracles and exorcisms. Godrick had identified these indicators early on in his career after studying all available information at the capital's university temple.

Aberrants, ran contrary to this profile; being creatures of such diversity that they could manifest within people in strangely weird ways. Spawning upon them magical abilities similar to those of apostate Mages. Mages were rarer still, outlawed to a certain degree by the church. It is written in the scriptures that: 'one could not save the soul of a mage, as they willingly partake in the abomination of magic. The possessed could, however, still find the light of Hadrian through the rite of exorcism as they are of a covenant forced upon the other.'

According to Godrick's notes, this woman could well be damned to the demon's grip. She showed no aversion to religious symbols, a primary weakness exploited by every exorcist alike in order to restrain the possessed. Her symptoms of possession included: 'a rise in the ambient and bodily core temperature, boiling bath water, changes in personality, violent and deranged ramblings in an unknown language, alternating between said personality and herself, magical ability to produce non-burning flames, levitation, and no aversion to religious symbols or holy water. Some of these symptoms could be separated into two, but he wanted to conserve the pages of his leather-bound notebook, as the Church did not spend funds on scholars to reproduce these books in large quantities, preferring to offer their members a modest salary and let them purchase their supplies instead.

Given the severity of the situation, Godrick decided to analyze the woman's condition and conduct an exorcism as he saw fit. He felt a sense of trepidation as he knew that he was about to confront an entity that was unlike any he had encountered before. He had been trained to deal with demonic possession. Aberrants were a different matter altogether, yet he would not be cowed by evil.

"Very well, Mr. Price. Please show me to the chambers." The two men stood up, proceeding up the stairs. As they approached the door to the marital chambers, Godrick paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and saying a quick prayer for strength and guidance. He felt the weight of responsibility settle on his shoulders as he began setting down his preparations.