This was Beth's only chance, nothing but the balcony curtain stood between her and her freedom. The scent of brine and drying fish assailed her senses as the wind blew the curtain agape.

Peering down the hallway, she confirmed she was alone, then darted for the balcony before fear could take hold. Without hesitating she leaped over the railing of the balcony, unpolished sandstone scraping her palms, and hurdled towards the ground. It was only a two story drop, and given her dexterity, she would be able to mitigate any damage with a well-timed somersault.

Regardless, the impact was jarring, as her vision flipped between ground and sky with every roll across the courtyard. The gently sloped gardens feeling more like a steep hill given the speed that she moved. Her tumble only stopped when she slammed into the basin of a fountain, causing her to yelp despite clenching her teeth hard enough to crack.

She had expected to mitigate all damage, but her health bar was slightly depleted. She cursed the weakness of the body she now possessed, but didn’t have time to lament. The priestess would notice her absence in a few minutes, when she was absent from morning prayers. If the priestess found out, Beth's escape would be thwarted.

Beth habitually reached for the blade she strapped to her thigh, but her hands only found smooth skin. “Shit!” she cursed, only calming when she noticed the blood that now dripped from her wounded hand. “How serendipitous” she smirked, no longer needing to cut herself for the necessary blood ritual. She placed her hand into the fountain, the water quickly turning ruby red with her blood.

After singing a ten second hymn, all ripples subsided on the fountain, despite a cherub statue’s continuous stream of piss splashing at the surface. The water was a mirror, momentarily reflecting the sky in a scarlet hue, before trembling and shattering as a clawed hand burst through. Without hesitation, the claws reached through her body and ripped her soul from the vessel she had been possessing.

“Took you long enough” Termadril’s voice echoed through her mind

“Just get me out of here now!” she retorted, panic starting to swell within her as the rattling of armoured guards approached.

Termadril just grunted in response and then pulled her soul back into the Abysses of Hell.

By the time the guard arrived to capture the runaway slave, only the corpse of a rotting peasant girl was found, half submerged in the fountain’s basin. Her body looked to be at least two weeks dead, the stench of decay causing half the guards to gag and vomit.

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Moments later, a voice as cold as ice pierced the sounds of heaving.

“How disappointing” the priestess sighed, the courtyard suddenly devoid of noise.

The dozen guards started to plead for forgiveness, but their words came out as gurgles as blood and spittle foamed from their mouths. Every pore began to weep blood as they convulsed and collapsed. Twelve corpses lay in the garden, the grass and soil surrounding them scarlet, creating the illusion that the bloodied fountain had overflown flooding the courtyard.

The priestess levitated slightly above the ground, her feet removed from the gore, but her robes still dragging in the pools of detritus and blood. The color of death dirtied the pristine white of her linens. She stopped where the peasant girl lay rotting, a bloated arm floating on the opposite side of the fountain. The body was falling into pieces, a clear sign of demonic possession.

The priestess furrowed her brow, agitation seeping out of her body and causing the surrounding air to shimmer. Taking a deep breath, the priestess turned back to the bodies that littered the courtyard, Raising one hand she summoned a staff that was wrapped in feathers. Slamming the heel of the staff into the bloodied earth, she began chanting. The song lasted for 12 minutes, one minute per deceased soul – the priestess’ eyes entirely black and her veins now pulsing amber through her skin like a web of fire. Her jaw unhinged as an inhumane wail filled the air. Twelve dark shadows seeped from the corpses of the guards, amalgamating into a hideous imitation of a human with featherless wings.

“Daaas Cramaniii” the priestess commanded while pointing to the fountain, speaking in a guttural language that was both grating and melodic.

Upon her command, the imitation of a man hobbled to the fountain and plunged his face into the liquid, drinking it all up. It’s stomach was distended and the sound of slushing filled the silence. When the beast couldn’t possibly appear more hideous, a jagged smile spread from ear to ear, the cheeks tearing to accommodate. A shiver ran down the priestess’ spine.

“Gurrtaaa Daaas” the monster replied, the torn skin around it's smile flapping listlessly. Without further command, the creature took flight, skeletal wings soundless as it ascended.

The priestess watched until the monster became a speck in the horizon, before turning back to the church. When she reached the marble veranda, her feet finally returned to the floor. Warily, the priestess stumbled and used the feathered staff to support her fatigued body. Blood had begun trickling from her mouth and she coughed up a black tar like substance.

“Lords of the Heavens grant me mercy, may we vanquish the darkness so no shadow exists in the light.” She recited. Chunks of her hair began to fall out, and she visibly aged a decade. With experienced motions the priestess took out a vial of purple molasses and swallowed its contents in one gulp. Her aging stopped and reversed until she was standing tall again.

To an outsider, nothing looked amiss except for the blood that trailed behind her as her robes dragged along the corridors.