Father Tremo sat in his chapel. Gusts of wind brought a fine mist of the rain-droplets through the broken windows and cracks in the walls to him. He felt sick, although he was in better health thanks to the additional food he had received. First the Divine Lord’s demon and then another dangerous looking stranger. What was he supposed to do? What was going to happen to him?

Tremo prayed for answers, although a growing part of him started to doubt. A doubt piercing his heart like a spear.

“To lose my faith…” he murmured while rubbing his hands over his face. “Oh Lord, please, help me. Send me an answer.”

A rush of feathers made his heart sink. Either God had truly abandoned this world or His humour was more than questionable. Either thought felt unbecoming to Tremo.

“Little brother!”, the Ravendemon greeted him from behind.

With a garbled scream, the Friar jumped to his feet and stumbled away, only to fall over his own feet.

“I expected a nicer greeting, little brother”, they said, and looked at him with a mischievous expression.

They seemed to be in their real shape this time. While Tremo could live with the white unsettling doll-like face, the spindly looking body covered in iridescent black feathers and sporting bird-like arms and legs as well as two pairs of wings made him queasy. As they reached their talons towards him, he made himself smaller. He felt like a rabbit, mere seconds before a giant bird of prey was about to kill him. With a weak outcry of despair, he raised his hands above his head and closed his eyes.

The Ravendemon didn’t hesitate nor did they seem to consider his feelings, they grabbed Tremo and pulled him at the lapels of his robes to his feet. At the same time, he froze like a prey animal and looked into the demon’s crimson eyes.

“I brought you more clothes and food”, they said with a smile exposing inhuman fangs. “My cruel master has once more chased me off. Told me he just needed me to fulfil his measly orders. Thusly, I seek shelter within this humble walls.”

“I-I…”, Tremo stammered, conscious of the sharp talons close to his throat — especially the claw of the thumb pointed directly at his aorta.

“Are you saying I’m unwelcome?”, the demon asked, narrowing their eyes and pressing their thumb-claw deeper into his skins without drawing blood — yet.

“I-I’m sorry!”, he squeaked, panicked. “I’m truly sorry! You are welcome! Welcome! Please be my guest! Please!”

“No need to worry, little brother, for I was merely teasing”, they replied laughing and let Tremo go.

But instead of keeping his weight, his knees gave in, and he fell against the demon. Soft feathers hid a thin, surprisingly firm body. The scent of incense clouded his nose for a moment, calling forth the faint echo of old church holidays spent with prayers and among his fellow monks. Although intense, the memory didn’t stick as strong talons dug into his arms without drawing blood but with enough strength to almost bruise.

Like a toddler, he was placed down on the wooden bench he had sat on. The Ravendemon looked at him inquisitive, almost scrutinising. But instead of remarking something, they left him where he was and walked to the remains of the altar.

One of the candles had fallen over and lay broken on the marble slope. Luckily, its light as well as the meagre flames of the others had gone out by the demon’s entrance. For a heartbeat, Father Tremo was afraid they would swipe down the other candles and break them. But before he could ask God for forgiveness for being too weak to protect the last altar dedicated to Him, the Ravendemon did something unexpected.

With great care and a flickering gesture, they mended the broken candle and placed it back where it belonged. Once this was done, they snapped their fingers and reignited all the candles.

Bewildered, Tremo kept silent and watched how the demon walked past the altar toward the few still intact stained-glass windows depicting the crucification and resurrection of Jesus Christ behind it. They tilted their head and spread their wings for a few seconds before tugging them in. A heartbeat later, they turned into the shape of a tall man with dark long hair in fine, very soft-looking clothes embroidered with silver thread. The wings each merged at the same time into a crimson cape.

“Those are beautiful”, the demon suddenly said and walked back to Tremo. “Were they commissioned by the late King’s father?”

“Y-yes”, he replied, vaguely recalling what he had heard of this church before the Divine Lord had taken over. “H-he had commissioned this church and made a considerable donation.”

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“Well, that explains why there is this familiar face among the disciples of Jesus”, the demon remarked with a snide expression. “For a moment I was confused and thought it to be the face of the man whose heart I ripped out and ate. It also explains the likeliness of someone else…”

“L-likeliness of whom?”, Father Tremo asked to ignore the other statement about the heart.

The man looked at Tremo as if he considered doing the same he had done to the late King with him. But luckily, the demon didn’t seem too keen on having another raw meal. At least for now.

“I’ll tell you while I cook you some lunch!”, he said, and grabbed Tremo’s hand to shake it. “The name of this flesh is Astatine, by the way.”

Before Tremo could react, he was dragged along out of the chapel into the rain. Astatine made a disgruntled sound as he noticed it. But before they could be drenched, the demon grabbed Tremo from behind by the shoulders and morphed the cape back into his wings. Before the Friar knew what was going to happen to him, a storm broke loose.

Wind gushed upwards and took the remainder of leaves from the trees, as well as stones and small debris, up into the air. Animals cried out, shaken out of their hiding spots, and ran off before they could be pulled up. If the demon didn’t hold him firm, Tremo knew with certainty he would’ve been blown into the sky along everything else.

The upward storm stopped as sudden as Astatine had created it, but the rain didn’t continue. Confused, Father Tremo looked up and saw the clear blue sky above him. Just a few iridescent black feathers floated down like snowflakes.

“This should do the trick for a while”, Astatine said, content, and let the Friar go. “No rain for at least an hour.”

Tremo stumbled away from the demon, who looked at him with a predatory smile.

“No need to fret, little brother, I won’t eat you”, Astatine remarked and closed in on him. “Today.”

Without further ado, the demon grabbed him again by the wrist and pulled him to the fireplace. Due to the rain, the pit and the firewood in it were too wet to ignite them. The demon seemed unbothered by it and kneeled next to the fireplace. With a flick of his hand, Astatine caused the water to evaporate in a sizzling white cloud. A heartbeat later, a sizeable fire crackled in the pit.

“I’m going to get a bit more firewood”, Astatine said, and was gone before Tremo could reply something.

Lost, he looked after the demon and said a small prayer, asking for safety. Once he was done, he took a deep breath and looked up once more. The grey cloud layer looked like someone had cut out a circle right above the church. If the Divine Lord’s demon wasn’t already with him, he would’ve feared it would seek him out now.

Suddenly, another possibility crashed into his head and made him jump to his feet. The stranger, who had been quite interested in Tremo’s dealings with the Divine Lord’s demon, would certainly find this sudden and very local change of weather to be of interest. For a moment, the Friar considered telling Astatine about this man. At the same time, he feared his reaction. After all, he hadn’t told him right from the start about the stranger.

“What with the haunted look, little brother?”, asked Astatine while seemingly appearing out of nowhere with his arms full of wood. “Does my countenance frighten you to your feet even before you lay your eyes upon it? Am I so uneasy to look at?”

“I’m sorry!”, gasped Father Tremo out of reflex and made a step backward. “Please, I didn’t mean to offend you!”

“Rest assured, little brother”, he continued while dropping the wood next to the fireplace. “I may be vain, but it takes much more to insult me as deeply as you suspect your words to cut. But what were you thinking about, for your heart to beat as loud as a drum?”

Taken aback, Tremo didn’t know what to do.

“Could it be that this form is enticing to you? Does my handsome face cause a certain carnal desire to tug at your conscience?”

“N-no!”, he replied hasty.

“Then you thought about this face and body?”, Astatine asked amused while his features softened and his body changed until he stood in front of Tremo as Astatine’s female twin — to his shock, she was naked and covered herself only up with her wings.

“Please stop this”, he replied, and turned away as fast as he could. “I don’t harbour such desires. To none. Never.”

“How boring”, the demon mused with a chuckle and turned back into the shape, which was called Astatine. “My master should take you as an example. Whenever I show him my preferred female face, he can barely keep his heart calm. On the other hand, if appear to him as poor Sunila, he feels utterly annoyed. Teasing him with the girl’s curves is just so delightful!”

“Sunila, you say?”, he asked surprised.

“You knew her?”, Astatine asked while letting a few eggs, a wheel of cheese, and some beacon appears from nowhere along butter and a pan.

“I heard from a young girl by this name”, Tremo explained reluctant, as the tone of the demon’s voice had seemed odd. “She was touted as a miracle healer and compared to the holy virgin. I never saw her myself, but I heard the stories. She lives with you and your master?”

“No”, the demon replied, unusually somber while scrambling the eggs. “She killed herself upon learning what Rosomil had done.”

“What? Oh, Lord, have mercy on her soul.”

“If you pray for her salvation, you might help her.”

“I’ll pray for her. But…”

Tremo hesitated. He didn’t know how the demon would react upon hearing his concern.

“Do continue, little brother”, Astatine said without taking his eyes off the meal he was preparing.

“I… I was just wondering… Why do you care?”, he asked, reluctant.

“Pray tell, what did you say?”

“I wonder why you care about that girl.”

“Why do I care…”, the demon murmured and looked up. “Why indeed? Perchance because otherwise I wouldn’t put up with this ordeal… Otherwise, I wouldn’t have suggested this play… But why dwell on those questions, right? Besides, I ought to tell you about what has happened between now and our last meeting. And thereafter, I’ll need to tell you about the boy my master adopted. But before all that, let me finish cooking your meal.”

Without much to object, Tremo sat down on the wet slope he usually sat on while eating his meals and waited in profound misery.