Craeft felt his stomach lurch, bile rising from his gut as he took in the scene.

Two bodies lay on the floor, a woman and a man.  Both Ascean natives, though the married couple varied wildly in appearance.  Or at least, what he could make of their appearance considering their bodies looked as if they had been shredded apart by a particularly nasty dark curse.

Once upon a time, the woman may have been beautiful.  Luscious lips, long flowing dark hair, and sun-kissed skin, a bit rare this far into the bogs and marshes that dotted the middle of the Ascean landscape, made her out to be a bit of an exotic woman, one highly prized by any man.

Not so anymore with her face torn open and large gashes ripped through her body.

Her husband was not so fortunate as her.  Mutation wracked his form, the pale blue skin and large eyes denoting him as a fish-man, if the gills along his neck hadn’t given that away.  An unfortunate and strange alteration that, while very rare, plagued the swamplands.  His bright green eyes were wide open in terror with his mouth stuck open revealing large shark-like teeth. 

Magic was a blessing by Miion, but in some instances, it could be a curse.

He didn’t envy the poor bastard.

“Mister and Missus Tergenev, age twenty-five and twenty-nine respectively.”  Sir Finguine’s heavy boot falls caused the wood to groan as he carefully navigated around the corpses.  “Happily married with four children.”  The pale-blond man glanced towards the kitchen, eyes narrowing as he saw blood with no bodies.  “Currently missing.  The woman was eight months pregnant.”

Craeft eyed the small mound covered beneath a blanket lying next to the woman.  He felt sick rising up within him before he swallowed it back down.  His partner Veliane was not so lucky.

“Murdered in their homes.”  The Inquisitor let out a sigh as he rubbed his temples.  “Hate to say it but I have to deal with this more often than I like.”  He clicked his tongue.  “But it’s rarely so gruesome.”

“…Gruesome?”  Veliane wiped her mouth, her amulet glowing as a spell flew out and vanished the nasty bit.  “You call this gruesome?!  I’ve seen fish who were less gutted than this!” She averted her bright purple eyes away from the corpses, the normally calm and composed girl seeming to try and rid her mind from the image.

Craeft didn’t think she could.  Hell, he didn’t think he could and he’d seen some messed up stuff within his single year of being a squire.

This was definitely at the top of the list.

“You sure it wasn’t a Lusus?”  Craeft tore his stare away from the bodies, the empty eyes and the still bodies unnerving him even more than the grizzly wounds they had been dealt.  “This looks more in line with what those abominations would do.”

“Perhaps…”  Sir Finguine carefully levitated the man’s body.  “But I know of very few Lusus that know how to create rituals, and they aren’t on this plane of existence.” 

A circle with three straight lines running through it had been painted on the floor with the victim’s blood, the red just a slight bit lighter than the essence it had been created from.  Craeft’s eyes widened as he saw it pulse with power, his fingers twitching as he felt it call towards him.

He reached his arm out towards it, only for Sir Finguine to grab his arm.

“What do you think you’re doing?”  Sir Finguine chided, his grip tight on Craeft’s arm.  The teen winced, leaning back and ripping his eyes away from the ritual mark, the design somehow beautiful yet revolting at the same time.  Like the animal part of his brain was screaming for him to get away, yet the logical part couldn’t help but be drawn in by it.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Sorry.”  His superior let go, Craeft rubbing his wrist as he used his ice magic to quickly numb it.  The Inquisitor had quite the nasty grip, probably the result of years of hard work in the field and possible enhancements.  “It’s just so…beautiful.”

“That’s because you aren’t keeping your mental defenses up.”  Veliane said, running a hand through her hair.  “You did remember to do that, didn’t you?”

“…Yes.”  Craeft lied as he sequestered some of his magic for his mental protections.  It was a pitiful amount, and he had never been good at mental magics, but Sir Finguine had been insistent on learning it after the Lusus attack the year prior.

Very insistent.

The Squire still swore he could feel some bruises even after such a long time.

“Regardless, keep your mental defenses up while we’re here.”  The man crouched down, the amulet on his hand glowing as he ran a finger along the outer edges of the circle.  Craeft felt something alien brush up against his mind, the blonde closing his eyes in pain as it scratched and clawed against his mental defenses.

Whatever the presence was, there was only one-word Craeft could use to describe it.

Wrong.

Its nail carved into his brain, drawing out a quick grasp from him as he tried to hide the pain.  His eyes darted around the room, his instincts telling him to look for an enemy that wasn’t there, that didn’t even truly exist outside of his mind. 

But in his mind…in his mind it was like a creature slowly tearing down castle walls. 

Veliane grit her teeth, her hands clenching so hard that the metal of her gauntlets ground together.  It seemed to take everything she had to keep it together.  Yet, she was still far more composed than Craeft, the teen letting out quick pants as he felt his mind begin to crumble.

Then, with a quick snap, it was over.

Craeft nearly collapsed, falling to one knee as he stared where the ritual circle had been.  The bloody pattern had turned an ethereal purple, squirming and writhing as if it were alive.  Only for a few moments though, as Finguine slammed his hand down.  The magic screamed, a hoarse inhuman thing as it died, the Inquisitor pushing more and more magic into his spell before the circle finally disappeared as if it were never there.

Sweat dripped down the man’s brow, Sir Finguine looking more worn down then Craeft had ever seen him.  The man muttered a curse underneath his breath, shaking his head as he stood up and wiped his face with the back of his gauntlet.

“Heretics…”  Sir Fignuine looked disturbed, spitting out the word with all the venom he could muster.  “Archonists to be more precise.  Nothing we shouldn’t be able to handle, but nasty freaks all the same.”  He eyed the bodies.  “Very nasty ones.  Looked like our victims were sacrificed rather than just horribly murdered.”

“Don’t know who that is,” Veliane spoke up, having put room between herself and the area where the circle laid.  There was fear in her eyes, but not the cowardly kind.  More like the fear of the unknown, of a threat they would need to fight.  “But if they are cruel enough to do this?”  She waved a hand towards the mutilated corpses.  “Then I’m guessing that I don’t want to know.”

“They’re Lusus worshippers.”  Craeft hissed through gritted teeth.  “Traitors of the worst sort.  They sell out their fellow man and use them in heinous rituals to give themselves unnatural powers, even for magics standards.”  He shivered, remembering all the horror stories he had heard over the years.  “I even heard a few rumors that some could turn into Lusus themselves.”

“Those aren’t merely rumors.”  Sir Finguine added.  “Well, not exactly.  But I know what you’re talking about.  Blighting, they call it.”  A sigh escaped him as he seemed to age before Craeft’s eyes.  “This mission is going to be a pain, but we’ll get it done.”

“Lusus worshippers huh?”  Veliane chimed in.  “Didn’t think I’d ever see that.”  Her gaze drifted over to the corpses.  “What about them?”

“We’ll leave them for the Enforcers to handle.  They’ll make sure to give them a proper burial.”  Sir Finguine narrowed his eyes.  “Unless they’re working for them.  Nevertheless, I have to inform the reigning lord.”  He began to make his way out of the small wooden home.  Sir Finguine turned, motioning for them to follow.  “Come.”

“Yes sir.”  Two squires shouted back, Craeft feeling a bit giddy as they continued on with the mission.  Despite the poor start, it was still a chance.  A chance to fulfill the ambition that had curled around his heart and refused to let go since he had been a child.

To become a knight and gain entrance to the nobility.

While the situation he had found himself in was a bit…disturbing, it would be a small price to pay to further his social status and bring him to where he should’ve been in life. 

His comfort was a tiny sacrifice on his alter of ambition.

It would be worth it in the end.